The Project Gutenberg EBook of Emile, by Jean-Jacques Rousseau This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost

an with almost no restrictions whatsoe!er" #ou may co$y it, gi!e it away or re-use it un er the terms of the Project Gutenberg %icense inclu e with this eBook or online at www"gutenberg"org Title& Emile 'uthor& Jean-Jacques Rousseau Posting (ate& )e$tember *+, *,-- .EBook /01*23 Release (ate& '$ril, *,,1 .This file was first $oste on July -4, *,,*3 %anguage& English 555 )T'RT 67 T89) PR6JE:T G;TE<BERG EB66= E>9%E 555 Pro uce by )te!e 8arris, :harles 7ranks an the 6nline (istribute Proofrea ing Team"

EMILE
By Jean-Jacques Rousseau Translate by Barbara 7o?ley 'uthor@s Preface This collection of scattere thoughts an obser!ations has little or er or continuityA it was begun to gi!e $leasure to a goo mother who thinks for herself" >y first i ea was to write a tract a few $ages long, but 9 was carrie away by my subject, an before 9 knew what 9 was oing my tract ha become a kin of book, too large in ee for the matter containe in it, but too small for the subject of which it treats" 7or a long time 9 hesitate whether to $ublish it or not, an 9 ha!e often felt, when at work u$on it, that it is one thing to $ublish a few $am$hlets an another to write a book" 'fter !ain attem$ts to im$ro!e it, 9 ha!e eci e that it is my uty to $ublish it as it stan s" 9 consi er that $ublic attention requires to be irecte to this subject, an e!en if my own i eas are mistaken, my time will not ha!e been waste if 9 stir u$ others to form right i eas" ' solitary who casts his writings before the $ublic without any one to a !ertise them, without any $arty rea y to efen them, one who oes not e!en know what is thought an sai about those writings, is at least free from one an?ietyBif he is mistaken, no one will take his errors for gos$el"

9 shall say !ery little about the !alue of a goo e ucation, nor shall 9 sto$ to $ro!e that the customary metho of e ucation is ba A this has been one again an again, an 9 o not wish to fill my book with things which e!eryone knows" 9 will merely state that, go as far back as you will, you will fin a continual outcry against the establishe metho , but no attem$t to suggest a better" The literature an science of our ay ten rather to estroy than to buil u$" Ce fin fault after the manner of a masterA to suggest, we must a o$t another style, a style less in accor ance with the $ri e of the $hiloso$her" 9n s$ite of all those books, whose only aim, so they say, is $ublic utility, the most useful of all arts, the art of training men, is still neglecte " E!en after %ocke@s book was written the subject remaine almost untouche , an 9 fear that my book will lea!e it $retty much as it foun it" Ce know nothing of chil hoo A an with our mistaken notions the further we a !ance the further we go astray" The wisest writers e!ote themsel!es to what a man ought to know, without asking what a chil is ca$able of learning" They are always looking for the man in the chil , without consi ering what he is before he becomes a man" 9t is to this stu y that 9 ha!e chiefly e!ote myself, so that if my metho is fanciful an unsoun , my obser!ations may still be of ser!ice" 9 may be greatly mistaken as to what ought to be one, but 9 think 9 ha!e clearly $ercei!e the material which is to be worke u$on" Begin thus by making a more careful stu y of your scholars, for it is clear that you know nothing about themA yet if you rea this book with that en in !iew, 9 think you will fin that it is not entirely useless" Cith regar to what will be calle the systematic $ortion of the book, which is nothing more than the course of nature, it is here that the rea er will $robably go wrong, an no oubt 9 shall be attacke on this si e, an $erha$s my critics may be right" #ou will tell me, DThis is not so much a treatise on e ucation as the !isions of a reamer with regar to e ucation"D Chat can 9 oE 9 ha!e not written about other $eo$le@s i eas of e ucation, but about my own" >y thoughts are not those of othersA this re$roach has been brought against me again an again" But is it within my $ower to furnish myself with other eyes, or to a o$t other i easE 9t is within my $ower to refuse to be we e to my own o$inions an to refuse to think myself wiser than others" 9 cannot change my min A 9 can istrust myself" This is all 9 can o, an this 9 ha!e one" 9f 9 sometimes a o$t a confi ent tone, it is not to im$ress the rea er, it is to make my meaning $lain to him" Chy shoul 9 $rofess to suggest as oubtful that which is not a matter of oubt to myselfE 9 say just what 9 think" Chen 9 freely e?$ress my o$inion, 9 ha!e so little i ea of claiming authority that 9 always gi!e my reasons, so that you may weigh an ju ge them for yoursel!esA but though 9 woul not obstinately efen my i eas, 9 think it my uty to $ut them forwar A for the $rinci$les with regar to which 9 iffer from other writers are not matters of in ifferenceA we must know whether they are true or false, for on them e$en s the ha$$iness or the misery of mankin " Peo$le are always telling me to make PR':T9:'B%E suggestions" #ou might as well tell me to suggest what $eo$le are oing alrea y, or at least to suggest im$ro!ements

which may be incor$orate with the wrong metho s at $resent in use" There are matters with regar to which such a suggestion is far more chimerical than my own, for in such a connection the goo is corru$te an the ba is none the better for it" 9 woul rather follow e?actly the establishe metho than a o$t a better metho by hal!es" There woul be fewer contra ictions in the manA he cannot aim at one an the same time at two ifferent objects" 7athers an mothers, what you esire that you can o" >ay 9 count on your goo willE There are two things to be consi ere with regar to any scheme" 9n the first $lace, D9s it goo in itselfD 9n the secon , D:an it be easily $ut into $racticeED Cith regar to the first of these it is enough that the scheme shoul be intelligible an feasible in itself, that what is goo in it shoul be a a$te to the nature of things, in this case, for e?am$le, that the $ro$ose metho of e ucation shoul be suitable to man an a a$te to the human heart" The secon consi eration e$en s u$on certain gi!en con itions in $articular casesA these con itions are acci ental an therefore !ariableA they may !ary in efinitely" Thus one kin of e ucation woul be $ossible in )witFerlan an not in 7ranceA another woul be a a$te to the mi le classes but not to the nobility" The scheme can be carrie out, with more or less success, accor ing to a multitu e of circumstances, an its results can only be etermine by its s$ecial a$$lication to one country or another, to this class or that" <ow all these $articular a$$lications are not essential to my subject, an they form no $art of my scheme" 9t is enough for me that, where!er men are born into the worl , my suggestions with regar to them may be carrie out, an when you ha!e ma e them what 9 woul ha!e them be, you ha!e one what is best for them an best for other $eo$le" 9f 9 fail to fulfil this $romise, no oubt 9 am to blameA but if 9 fulfil my $romise, it is your own fault if you ask anything more of me, for 9 ha!e $romise you nothing more"

BOOK I
Go makes all things goo A man me les with them an they become e!il" 8e forces one soil to yiel the $ro ucts of another, one tree to bear another@s fruit" 8e confuses an confoun s time, $lace, an natural con itions" 8e mutilates his og, his horse, an his sla!e" 8e estroys an efaces all thingsA he lo!es all that is eforme an monstrousA he will ha!e nothing as nature ma e it, not e!en man himself, who must learn his $aces like a sa le-horse, an be sha$e to his master@s taste like the trees in his gar en" #et things woul be worse without this e ucation, an mankin cannot be ma e by hal!es" ;n er e?isting con itions a man left to himself from birth woul be more of a monster than the rest" Preju ice, authority, necessity, e?am$le, all the social con itions into which we are $lunge , woul stifle nature in him an $ut nothing in her $lace" )he woul be like a sa$ling chance sown in the mi st of the highway, bent hither an thither an soon crushe by the $assers-by"

Ten er, an?ious mother, .7ootnote& The earliest e ucation is most im$ortant an it un oubte ly is woman@s work" 9f the author of nature ha meant to assign it to men he woul ha!e gi!en them milk to fee the chil " ' ress your treatises on e ucation to the women, for not only are they able to watch o!er it more closely than men, not only is their influence always $re ominant in e ucation, its success concerns them more nearly, for most wi ows are at the mercy of their chil ren, who show them !ery $lainly whether their e ucation was goo or ba " The laws, always more concerne about $ro$erty than about $eo$le, since their object is not !irtue but $eace, the laws gi!e too little authority to the mother" #et her $osition is more certain than that of the father, her uties are more tryingA the right or ering of the family e$en s more u$on her, an she is usually fon er of her chil ren" There are occasions when a son may be e?cuse for lack of res$ect for his father, but if a chil coul be so unnatural as to fail in res$ect for the mother who bore him an nurse him at her breast, who for so many years e!ote herself to his care, such a monstrous wretch shoul be smothere at once as unworthy to li!e" #ou say mothers s$oil their chil ren, an no oubt that is wrong, but it is worse to e$ra!e them as you o" The mother wants her chil to be ha$$y now" )he is right, an if her metho is wrong, she must be taught a better" 'mbition, a!arice, tyranny, the mistaken foresight of fathers, their neglect, their harshness, are a hun re fol more harmful to the chil than the blin affection of the mother" >oreo!er, 9 must e?$lain what 9 mean by a mother an that e?$lanation follows"3 9 a$$eal to you" #ou can remo!e this young tree from the highway an shiel it from the crushing force of social con!entions" Ten an water it ere it ies" 6ne ay its fruit will rewar your care" 7rom the outset raise a wall roun your chil @s soulA another may sketch the $lan, you alone shoul carry it into e?ecution" Plants are fashione by culti!ation, man by e ucation" 9f a man were born tall an strong, his siFe an strength woul be of no goo to him till he ha learnt to use themA they woul e!en harm him by $re!enting others from coming to his ai A .7ootnote& %ike them in e?ternals, but without s$eech an without the i eas which are e?$resse by s$eech, he woul be unable to make his wants known, while there woul be nothing in his a$$earance to suggest that he nee e their hel$"3 left to himself he woul ie of want before he knew his nee s" Ce lament the hel$lessness of infancyA we fail to $ercei!e that the race woul ha!e $erishe ha not man begun by being a chil " Ce are born weak, we nee strengthA hel$less, we nee ai A foolish, we nee reason" 'll that we lack at birth, all that we nee when we come to man@s estate, is the gift of e ucation" This e ucation comes to us from nature, from men, or from things" The inner growth of our organs an faculties is the e ucation of nature, the use we learn to make of this growth is the e ucation of men, what we gain by our e?$erience of our surroun ings is the e ucation of things" Thus we are each taught by three masters" 9f their teaching conflicts, the scholar is ill-e ucate an will ne!er be at $eace with himselfA if their

teaching agrees, he goes straight to his goal, he li!es at $eace with himself, he is well-e ucate " <ow of these three factors in e ucation nature is wholly beyon our control, things are only $artly in our $owerA the e ucation of men is the only one controlle by usA an e!en here our $ower is largely illusory, for who can ho$e to irect e!ery wor an ee of all with whom the chil has to o" Giewe as an art, the success of e ucation is almost im$ossible, since the essential con itions of success are beyon our control" 6ur efforts may bring us within sight of the goal, but fortune must fa!our us if we are to reach it" Chat is this goalE 's we ha!e just shown, it is the goal of nature" )ince all three mo es of e ucation must work together, the two that we can control must follow the lea of that which is beyon our control" Perha$s this wor <ature has too !ague a meaning" %et us try to efine it" <ature, we are tol , is merely habit" Chat oes that meanE 're there not habits forme un er com$ulsion, habits which ne!er stifle natureE )uch, for e?am$le, are the habits of $lants traine horiFontally" The $lant kee$s its artificial sha$e, but the sa$ has not change its course, an any new growth the $lant may make will be !ertical" 9t is the same with a man@s is$ositionA while the con itions remain the same, habits, e!en the least natural of them, hol goo A but change the con itions, habits !anish, nature reasserts herself" E ucation itself is but habit, for are there not $eo$le who forget or lose their e ucation an others who kee$ itE Chence comes this ifferenceE 9f the term nature is to be restricte to habits conformable to nature we nee say no more" Ce are born sensiti!e an from our birth onwar s we are affecte in !arious ways by our en!ironment" 's soon as we become conscious of our sensations we ten to seek or shun the things that cause them, at first because they are $leasant or un$leasant, then because they suit us or not, an at last because of ju gments forme by means of the i eas of ha$$iness an goo ness which reason gi!es us" These ten encies gain strength an $ermanence with the growth of reason, but hin ere by our habits they are more or less war$e by our $reju ices" Before this change they are what 9 call <ature within us" E!erything shoul therefore be brought into harmony with these natural ten encies, an that might well be if our three mo es of e ucation merely iffere from one anotherA but what can be one when they conflict, when instea of training man for himself you try to train him for othersE 8armony becomes im$ossible" 7orce to combat either nature or society, you must make your choice between the man an the citiFen, you cannot train both" The smaller social grou$, firmly unite in itself an welling a$art from others, ten s to with raw itself from the larger society" E!ery $atriot hates foreignersA they are only men, an nothing to him".7ootnote& Thus the wars of re$ublics are more cruel than those of monarchies" But if the wars of kings are less cruel, their $eace is terribleA better be their foe

than their subject"3 This efect is ine!itable, but of little im$ortance" The great thing is to be kin to our neighbours" 'mong strangers the )$artan was selfish, gras$ing, an unjust, but unselfishness, justice, an harmony rule his home life" (istrust those cosmo$olitans who search out remote uties in their books an neglect those that lie nearest" )uch $hiloso$hers will lo!e the Tartars to a!oi lo!ing their neighbour" The natural man li!es for himselfA he is the unit, the whole, e$en ent only on himself an on his like" The citiFen is but the numerator of a fraction, whose !alue e$en s on its enominatorA his !alue e$en s u$on the whole, that is, on the community" Goo social institutions are those best fitte to make a man unnatural, to e?change his in e$en ence for e$en ence, to merge the unit in the grou$, so that he no longer regar s himself as one, but as a $art of the whole, an is only conscious of the common life" ' citiFen of Rome was neither :aius nor %ucius, he was a RomanA he e!er lo!e his country better than his life" The ca$ti!e Regulus $rofesse himself a :arthaginianA as a foreigner he refuse to take his seat in the )enate e?ce$t at his master@s bi ing" 8e scorne the attem$t to sa!e his life" 8e ha his will, an returne in trium$h to a cruel eath" There is no great likeness between Regulus an the men of our own ay" The )$artan Pe aretes $resente himself for a mission to the council of the Three 8un re an was rejecte A he went away rejoicing that there were three hun re )$artans better than himself" 9 su$$ose he was in earnestA there is no reason to oubt it" That was a citiFen" ' )$artan mother ha fi!e sons with the army" ' 8elot arri!e A trembling she aske his news" D#our fi!e sons are slain"D DGile sla!e, was that what 9 aske theeED DCe ha!e won the !ictory"D )he hastene to the tem$le to ren er thanks to the go s" That was a citiFen" 8e who woul $reser!e the su$remacy of natural feelings in social life knows not what he asks" E!er at war with himself, hesitating between his wishes an his uties, he will be neither a man nor a citiFen" 8e will be of no use to himself nor to others" 8e will be a man of our ay, a 7renchman, an Englishman, one of the great mi le class" To be something, to be himself, an always at one with himself, a man must act as he s$eaks, must know what course he ought to take, an must follow that course with !igour an $ersistence" Chen 9 meet this miracle it will be time enough to eci e whether he is a man or a citiFen, or how he contri!es to be both" Two conflicting ty$es of e ucational systems s$ring from these conflicting aims" 6ne is $ublic an common to many, the other $ri!ate an omestic" 9f you wish to know what is meant by $ublic e ucation, rea Plato@s Re$ublic" Those who merely ju ge books by their titles take this for a treatise on $olitics, but it is the finest treatise on e ucation e!er written" 9n $o$ular estimation the Platonic 9nstitute stan s for all that is fanciful an unreal" 7or my own $art 9 shoul ha!e thought the system of

%ycurgus far more im$racticable ha he merely committe it to writing" Plato only sought to $urge man@s heartA %ycurgus turne it from its natural course" The $ublic institute oes not an cannot e?ist, for there is neither country nor $atriot" The !ery wor s shoul be struck out of our language" The reason oes not concern us at $resent, so that though 9 know it 9 refrain from stating it" 9 o not consi er our ri iculous colleges .7ootnote& There are teachers ear to me in many schools an es$ecially in the ;ni!ersity of Paris, men for whom 9 ha!e a great res$ect, men whom 9 belie!e to be quite ca$able of instructing young $eo$le, if they were not com$elle to follow the establishe custom" 9 e?hort one of them to $ublish the scheme of reform which he has thought out" Perha$s $eo$le woul at length seek to cure the e!il if they realise that there was a reme y"3 as $ublic institutes, nor o 9 inclu e un er this hea a fashionable e ucation, for this e ucation facing two ways at once achie!es nothing" 9t is only fit to turn out hy$ocrites, always $rofessing to li!e for others, while thinking of themsel!es alone" These $rofessions, howe!er, ecei!e no one, for e!ery one has his share in themA they are so much labour waste " 6ur inner conflicts are cause by these contra ictions" (rawn this way by nature an that way by man, com$elle to yiel to both forces, we make a com$romise an reach neither goal" Ce go through life, struggling an hesitating, an ie before we ha!e foun $eace, useless alike to oursel!es an to others" There remains the e ucation of the home or of natureA but how will a man li!e with others if he is e ucate for himself aloneE 9f the twofol aims coul be resol!e into one by remo!ing the man@s selfcontra ictions, one great obstacle to his ha$$iness woul be gone" To ju ge of this you must see the man full-grownA you must ha!e note his inclinations, watche his $rogress, followe his ste$sA in a wor you must really know a natural man" Chen you ha!e rea this work, 9 think you will ha!e ma e some $rogress in this inquiry" Chat must be one to train this e?ce$tional manH Ce can o much, but the chief thing is to $re!ent anything being one" To sail against the win we merely follow one tack an anotherA to kee$ our $osition in a stormy sea we must cast anchor" Beware, young $ilot, lest your boat sli$ its cable or rag its anchor before you know it" 9n the social or er where each has his own $lace a man must be e ucate for it" 9f such a one lea!e his own station he is fit for nothing else" 8is e ucation is only useful when fate agrees with his $arents@ choiceA if not, e ucation harms the scholar, if only by the $reju ices it has create " 9n Egy$t, where the son was com$elle to a o$t his father@s calling, e ucation ha at least a settle aimA where social gra es remain fi?e , but the men who form them are constantly changing, no one knows whether he is not harming his son by e ucating him for his own class"

9n the natural or er men are all equal an their common calling is that of manhoo , so that a well-e ucate man cannot fail to o well in that calling an those relate to it" 9t matters little to me whether my $u$il is inten e for the army, the church, or the law" Before his $arents chose a calling for him nature calle him to be a man" %ife is the tra e 9 woul teach him" Chen he lea!es me, 9 grant you, he will be neither a magistrate, a sol ier, nor a $riestA he will be a man" 'll that becomes a man he will learn as quickly as another" 9n !ain will fate change his station, he will always be in his right $lace" D6ccu$a!i te, fortuna, atque ce$iA omnes-que a itus tuos interclusi, ut a me as$irare non $osses"D The real object of our stu y is man an his en!ironment" To my min those of us who can best en ure the goo an e!il of life are the best e ucate A hence it follows that true e ucation consists less in $rece$t than in $ractice" Ce begin to learn when we begin to li!eA our e ucation begins with oursel!es, our first teacher is our nurse" The ancients use the wor DE ucationD in a ifferent sense, it meant D<urture"D DE ucit obstetri?,D says Garro" DE ucat nutri?, instituit $ae agogus, ocet magister"D Thus, e ucation, isci$line, an instruction are three things as ifferent in their $ur$ose as the ame, the usher, an the teacher" But these istinctions are un esirable an the chil shoul only follow one gui e" Ce must therefore look at the general rather than the $articular, an consi er our scholar as man in the abstract, man e?$ose to all the changes an chances of mortal life" 9f men were born attache to the soil of our country, if one season laste all the year roun , if e!ery man@s fortune were so firmly gras$e that he coul ne!er lose it, then the establishe metho of e ucation woul ha!e certain a !antagesA the chil brought u$ to his own calling woul ne!er lea!e it, he coul ne!er ha!e to face the ifficulties of any other con ition" But when we consi er the fleeting nature of human affairs, the restless an uneasy s$irit of our times, when e!ery generation o!erturns the work of its $re ecessor, can we concei!e a more senseless $lan than to e ucate a chil as if he woul ne!er lea!e his room, as if he woul always ha!e his ser!ants about himE 9f the wretche creature takes a single ste$ u$ or own he is lost" This is not teaching him to bear $ainA it is training him to feel it" Peo$le think only of $reser!ing their chil @s lifeA this is not enough, he must be taught to $reser!e his own life when he is a man, to bear the buffets of fortune, to bra!e wealth an $o!erty, to li!e at nee among the snows of 9celan or on the scorching rocks of >alta" 9n !ain you guar against eathA he must nee s ieA an e!en if you o not kill him with your $recautions, they are mistaken" Teach him to li!e rather than to a!oi eath& life is not breath, but action, the use of our senses, our min , our faculties, e!ery $art of oursel!es which makes us conscious of our being" %ife consists less in length of ays than in the keen sense of li!ing" ' man maybe burie at a hun re an may ne!er ha!e li!e at all" 8e woul ha!e fare better ha he ie young" 6ur wis om is sla!ish $reju ice, our customs consist in control, constraint, com$ulsion" :i!ilise man is born an ies a sla!e" The infant

is boun u$ in swa ling clothes, the cor$se is naile 'll his life long man is im$risone by our institutions"

own in his coffin"

9 am tol that many mi wi!es $rofess to im$ro!e the sha$e of the infant@s hea by rubbing, an they are allowe to o it" 6ur hea s are not goo enough as Go ma e them, they must be moul e outsi e by the nurse an insi e by the $hiloso$her" The :aribs are better off than we are" The chil has har ly left the mother@s womb, it has har ly begun to mo!e an stretch its limbs, when it is e$ri!e of its free om" 9t is wra$$e in swa ling ban s, lai own with its hea fi?e , its legs stretche out, an its arms by its si esA it is woun roun with linen an ban ages of all sorts so that it cannot mo!e" 9t is fortunate if it has room to breathe, an it is lai on its si e so that water which shoul flow from its mouth can esca$e, for it is not free to turn its hea on one si e for this $ur$ose" The new-born chil requires to stir an stretch his limbs to free them from the stiffness resulting from being curle u$ so long" 8is limbs are stretche in ee , but he is not allowe to mo!e them" E!en the hea is confine by a ca$" 6ne woul think they were afrai the chil shoul look as if it were ali!e" Thus the internal im$ulses which shoul lea to growth fin an insurmountable obstacle in the way of the necessary mo!ements" The chil e?hausts his strength in !ain struggles, or he gains strength !ery slowly" 8e was freer an less constraine in the wombA he has gaine nothing by birth" The inaction, the constraint to which the chil @s limbs are subjecte can only check the circulation of the bloo an humoursA it can only hin er the chil @s growth in siFe an strength, an injure its constitution" Chere these absur $recautions are absent, all the men are tall, strong, an well-ma e" Chere chil ren are swa le , the country swarms with the hum$-backe , the lame, the bow-legge , the rickety, an e!ery kin of eformity" 9n our fear lest the bo y shoul become eforme by free mo!ement, we hasten to eform it by $utting it in a $ress" Ce make our chil ren hel$less lest they shoul hurt themsel!es" 9s not such a cruel bon age certain to affect both health an tem$erE Their first feeling is one of $ain an sufferingA they fin e!ery necessary mo!ement ham$ere A more miserable than a galley sla!e, in !ain they struggle, they become angry, they cry" Their first wor s you say are tears" That is so" 7rom birth you are always checking them, your first gifts are fetters, your first treatment, torture" Their !oice alone is freeA why shoul they not raise it in com$laintE They cry because you are hurting themA if you were swa le you woul cry lou er still" Chat is the origin of this senseless an unnatural customE )ince mothers ha!e es$ise their first uty an refuse to nurse their own chil ren, they ha!e ha to be entruste to hire nurses" 7in ing themsel!es the mothers of a stranger@s chil ren, without the ties of nature, they ha!e merely trie to sa!e themsel!es trouble" ' chil unswa le woul nee constant watchingA well swa le it is cast into a corner an its cries are

unhee e " )o long as the nurse@s negligence esca$es notice, so long as the nursling oes not break its arms or legs, what matter if it ies or becomes a weakling for life" 9ts limbs are ke$t safe at the e?$ense of its bo y, an if anything goes wrong it is not the nurse@s fault" These gentle mothers, ha!ing got ri of their babies, e!ote themsel!es gaily to the $leasures of the town" (o they know how their chil ren are being treate in the !illagesE 9f the nurse is at all busy, the chil is hung u$ on a nail like a bun le of clothes an is left crucifie while the nurse goes leisurely about her business" :hil ren ha!e been foun in this $osition $ur$le in the face, their tightly ban age chest forba e the circulation of the bloo , an it went to the hea A so the sufferer was consi ere !ery quiet because he ha not strength to cry" 8ow long a chil might sur!i!e un er such con itions 9 o not know, but it coul not be long" That, 9 fancy, is one of the chief a !antages of swa ling clothes" 9t is maintaine that unswa le infants woul assume faulty $ositions an make mo!ements which might injure the $ro$er e!elo$ment of their limbs" That is one of the em$ty arguments of our false wis om which has ne!er been confirme by e?$erience" 6ut of all the crow s of chil ren who grow u$ with the full use of their limbs among nations wiser than oursel!es, you ne!er fin one who hurts himself or maims himselfA their mo!ements are too feeble to be angerous, an when they assume an injurious $osition, $ain warns them to change it" Ce ha!e not yet eci e to swa le our kittens an $u$$iesA are they any the worse for this neglectE :hil ren are hea!ier, 9 a mit, but they are also weaker" They can scarcely mo!e, how coul they hurt themsel!esH 9f you lay them on their backs, they will lie there till they ie, like the turtle, unable to turn itself o!er" <ot content with ha!ing cease to suckle their chil ren, women no longer wish to o itA with the natural result motherhoo becomes a bur enA means are foun to a!oi it" They will estroy their work to begin it o!er again, an they thus turn to the injury of the race the charm which was gi!en them for its increase" This $ractice, with other causes of e$o$ulation, forbo es the coming fate of Euro$e" 8er arts an sciences, her $hiloso$hy an morals, will shortly re uce her to a esert" )he will be the home of wil beasts, an her inhabitants will har ly ha!e change for the worse" 9 ha!e sometimes watche the tricks of young wi!es who $reten that they wish to nurse their own chil ren" They take care to be issua e from this whim" They contri!e that husban s, octors, an es$ecially mothers shoul inter!ene" 9f a husban shoul let his wife nurse her own baby it woul be the ruin of himA they woul make him out a mur erer who wante to be ri of her" ' $ru ent husban must sacrifice $aternal affection to omestic $eace" 7ortunately for you there are women in the country istricts more continent than your wi!es" #ou are still more fortunate if the time thus gaine is not inten e for another than yourself" There can be no oubt about a wife@s uty, but, consi ering the contem$t in which it is hel , it is oubtful whether it is not just as goo for the chil

to be suckle by a stranger" This is a question for the octors to settle, an in my o$inion they ha!e settle it accor ing to the women@s wishes, .7ootnote& The league between the women an the octors has always struck me as one of the o est things in Paris" The octors@ re$utation e$en s on the women, an by means of the octors the women get their own way" 9t is easy to see what qualifications a octor requires in Paris if he is to become celebrate "3 an for my own $art 9 think it is better that the chil shoul suck the breast of a healthy nurse rather than of a $ette mother, if he has any further e!il to fear from her who has gi!en him birth" 6ught the question, howe!er, to be consi ere only from the $hysiological $oint of !iewE (oes not the chil nee a mother@s care as much as her milkE 6ther women, or e!en other animals, may gi!e him the milk she enies him, but there is no substitute for a mother@s lo!e" The woman who nurses another@s chil in $lace of her own is a ba motherA how can she be a goo nurseE )he may become one in timeA use will o!ercome nature, but the chil may $erish a hun re times before his nurse has e!elo$e a mother@s affection for him" 'n this affection when e!elo$e has its rawbacks, which shoul make any feeling woman afrai to $ut her chil out to nurse" 9s she $re$are to i!i e her mother@s rights, or rather to ab icate them in fa!our of a strangerA to see her chil lo!ing another more than herselfA to feel that the affection he retains for his own mother is a fa!our, while his lo!e for his foster-mother is a utyA for is not some affection ue where there has been a mother@s careE To remo!e this ifficulty, chil ren are taught to look own on their nurses, to treat them as mere ser!ants" Chen their task is com$lete the chil is with rawn or the nurse is ismisse " 8er !isits to her foster-chil are iscourage by a col rece$tion" 'fter a few years the chil ne!er sees her again" The mother e?$ects to take her $lace, an to re$air by her cruelty the results of her own neglect" But she is greatly mistakenA she is making an ungrateful foster-chil , not an affectionate sonA she is teaching him ingratitu e, an she is $re$aring him to es$ise at a later ay the mother who bore him, as he now es$ises his nurse" 8ow em$hatically woul 9 s$eak if it were not so ho$eless to kee$ struggling in !ain on behalf of a real reform" >ore e$en s on this than you realise" Coul you restore all men to their $rimal uties, begin with the mothersA the results will sur$rise you" E!ery e!il follows in the train of this first sinA the whole moral or er is isturbe , nature is quenche in e!ery breast, the home becomes gloomy, the s$ectacle of a young family no longer stirs the husban @s lo!e an the stranger@s re!erence" The mother whose chil ren are out of sight wins scanty esteemA there is no home life, the ties of nature are not strengthene by those of habitA fathers, mothers, chil ren, brothers, an sisters cease to e?ist" They are almost strangersA how shoul they lo!e one anotherE Each thinks of himself first" Chen the home is a gloomy solitu e $leasure will be sought elsewhere"

But when mothers eign to nurse their own chil ren, then will be a reform in moralsA natural feeling will re!i!e in e!ery heartA there will be no lack of citiFens for the stateA this first ste$ by itself will restore mutual affection" The charms of home are the best anti ote to !ice" The noisy $lay of chil ren, which we thought so trying, becomes a elightA mother an father rely more on each other an grow earer to one anotherA the marriage tie is strengthene " 9n the cheerful home life the mother fin s her sweetest uties an the father his $leasantest recreation" Thus the cure of this one e!il woul work a wi e-s$rea reformationA nature woul regain her rights" Chen women become goo mothers, men will be goo husban s an fathers" >y wor s are !ainH Chen we are sick of worl ly $leasures we o not return to the $leasures of the home" Comen ha!e cease to be mothers, they o not an will not return to their uty" :oul they o it if they woul E The contrary custom is firmly establishe A each woul ha!e to o!ercome the o$$osition of her neighbours, league together against the e?am$le which some ha!e ne!er gi!en an others o not esire to follow" #et there are still a few young women of goo natural is$osition who refuse to be the sla!es of fashion an rebel against the clamour of other women, who fulfil the sweet task im$ose on them by nature" Coul that the rewar in store for them might raw others to follow their e?am$le" >y conclusion is base u$on $lain reason, an u$on facts 9 ha!e ne!er seen is$ute A an 9 !enture to $romise these worthy mothers the firm an stea fast affection of their husban s an the truly filial lo!e of their chil ren an the res$ect of all the worl " :hil -birth will be easy an will lea!e no ill-results, their health will be strong an !igorous, an they will see their aughters follow their e?am$le, an fin that e?am$le quote as a $attern to others" <o mother, no chil A their uties are reci$rocal, an when ill one by the one they will be neglecte by the other" The chil shoul lo!e his mother before he knows what he owes her" 9f the !oice of instinct is not strengthene by habit it soon ies, the heart is still-born" 7rom the outset we ha!e straye from the $ath of nature" There is another by-way which may tem$t our feet from the $ath of nature" The mother may la!ish e?cessi!e care on her chil instea of neglecting himA she may make an i ol of himA she may e!elo$ an increase his weakness to $re!ent him feeling itA she war s off e!ery $ainful e?$erience in the ho$e of with rawing him from the $ower of nature, an fails to realise that for e!ery trifling ill from which she $reser!es him the future hol s in store many acci ents an angers, an that it is a cruel kin ness to $rolong the chil @s weakness when the grown man must bear fatigue" Thetis, so the story goes, $lunge her son in the waters of )ty? to make him in!ulnerable" The truth of this allegory is a$$arent" The cruel mothers 9 s$eak of o otherwiseA they $lunge their chil ren into softness, an they are $re$aring suffering for them, they o$en the way to e!ery kin of ill, which their chil ren will not fail to e?$erience after they grow u$"

7i? your eyes on nature, follow the $ath trace by her" )he kee$s chil ren at work, she har ens them by all kin s of ifficulties, she soon teaches them the meaning of $ain an grief" They cut their teeth an are fe!erish, shar$ colics bring on con!ulsions, they are choke by fits of coughing an tormente by worms, e!il humours corru$t the bloo , germs of !arious kin s ferment in it, causing angerous eru$tions" )ickness an anger $lay the chief $art in infancy" 6ne half of the chil ren who are born ie before their eighth year" The chil who has o!ercome har shi$s has gaine strength, an as soon as he can use his life he hol s it more securely" This is nature@s lawA why contra ict itE (o you not see that in your efforts to im$ro!e u$on her han iwork you are estroying itA her cares are waste E To o from without what she oes within is accor ing to you to increase the anger twofol " 6n the contrary, it is the way to a!ert itA e?$erience shows that chil ren elicately nurture are more likely to ie" Pro!i e we o not o!er o it, there is less risk in using their strength than in s$aring it" 'ccustom them therefore to the har shi$s they will ha!e to faceA train them to en ure e?tremes of tem$erature, climate, an con ition, hunger, thirst, an weariness" (i$ them in the waters of )ty?" Before bo ily habits become fi?e you may teach what habits you will without any risk, but once habits are establishe any change is fraught with $eril" ' chil will bear changes which a man cannot bear, the muscles of the one are soft an fle?ible, they take whate!er irection you gi!e them without any effortA the muscles of the grown man are har er an they only change their accustome mo e of action when subjecte to !iolence" )o we can make a chil strong without risking his life or health, an e!en if there were some risk, it shoul not be taken into consi eration" )ince human life is full of angers, can we o better than face them at a time when they can o the least harmE ' chil @s worth increases with his years" To his $ersonal !alue must be a e the cost of the care bestowe u$on him" 7or himself there is not only loss of life, but the consciousness of eath" Ce must therefore think most of his future in our efforts for his $reser!ation" 8e must be $rotecte against the ills of youth before he reaches them& for if the !alue of life increases until the chil reaches an age when he can be useful, what ma ness to s$are some suffering in infancy only to multi$ly his $ain when he reaches the age of reason" 9s that what our master teaches usH >an is born to sufferA $ain is the means of his $reser!ation" 8is chil hoo is ha$$y, knowing only $ain of bo y" These bo ily sufferings are much less cruel, much less $ainful, than other forms of suffering, an they rarely lea to self- estruction" 9t is not the twinges of gout which make a man kill himself, it is mental suffering that lea s to es$air" Ce $ity the sufferings of chil hoo A we shoul $ity oursel!esA our worst sorrows are of our own making" The new-born infant cries, his early ays are s$ent in crying" 8e is alternately $ette an shaken by way of soothing himA sometimes he is threatene , sometimes beaten, to kee$ him quiet" Ce o what he wants or we make him o what we want, we submit to his whims or subject him

to our own" There is no mi le courseA he must rule or obey" Thus his earliest i eas are those of the tyrant or the sla!e" 8e comman s before he can s$eak, he obeys before he can act, an sometimes he is $unishe for faults before he is aware of them, or rather before they are committe " Thus early are the see s of e!il $assions sown in his young heart" 't a later ay these are attribute to nature, an when we ha!e taken $ains to make him ba we lament his ba ness" 9n this way the chil $asses si? or se!en years in the han s of women, the !ictim of his own ca$rices or theirs, an after they ha!e taught him all sorts of things, when they ha!e bur ene his memory with wor s he cannot un erstan , or things which are of no use to him, when nature has been stifle by the $assions they ha!e im$lante in him, this sham article is sent to a tutor" The tutor com$letes the e!elo$ment of the germs of artificiality which he fin s alrea y well grown, he teaches him e!erything e?ce$t self-knowle ge an self-control, the arts of life an ha$$iness" Chen at length this infant sla!e an tyrant, cramme with knowle ge but em$ty of sense, feeble alike in min an bo y, is flung u$on the worl , an his hel$lessness, his $ri e, an his other !ices are is$laye , we begin to lament the wretche ness an $er!ersity of mankin " Ce are wrongA this is the creature of our fantasyA the natural man is cast in another moul " Coul you kee$ him as nature ma e himE Catch o!er him from his birth" Take $ossession of him as soon as he comes into the worl an kee$ him till he is a manA you will ne!er succee otherwise" The real nurse is the mother an the real teacher is the father" %et them agree in the or ering of their uties as well as in their metho , let the chil $ass from one to the other" 8e will be better e ucate by a sensible though ignorant father than by the cle!erest master in the worl " 7or Feal will atone for lack of knowle ge, rather than knowle ge for lack of Feal" But the uties of $ublic an $ri!ate businessH (uty in ee H (oes a father@s uty come last" .7ootnote& Chen we rea in Plutarch that :ato the :ensor, who rule Rome with such glory, brought u$ his own sons from the cra le, an so carefully that he left e!erything to be $resent when their nurse, that is to say their mother, bathe themA when we rea in )uetonius that 'ugustus, the master of the worl which he ha conquere an which he himself go!erne , himself taught his gran sons to write, to swim, to un erstan the beginnings of science, an that he always ha them with him, we cannot hel$ smiling at the little $eo$le of those ays who amuse themsel!es with such follies, an who were too ignorant, no oubt, to atten to the great affairs of the great $eo$le of our own time"3 9t is not sur$rising that the man whose wife es$ises the uty of suckling her chil shoul es$ise its e ucation" There is no more charming $icture than that of family lifeA but when one feature is wanting the whole is marre " 9f the mother is too elicate to nurse her chil , the father will be too busy to teach him" Their chil ren, scattere about in schools, con!ents, an colleges, will fin the home of their affections elsewhere, or rather they will form the habit of oaring for nothing" Brothers an sisters will scarcely know each otherA when they are together in com$any they will beha!e as strangers" Chen there is no confi ence between relations, when the family society ceases to gi!e sa!our to life, its $lace

is soon usur$e by !ice" 9s there any man so stu$i that he cannot see how all this hangs togetherE ' father has one but a thir of his task when he begets chil ren an $ro!i es a li!ing for them" 8e owes men to humanity, citiFens to the state" ' man who can $ay this threefol ebt an neglect to o so is guilty, more guilty, $erha$s, if he $ays it in $art than when he neglects it entirely" 8e has no right to be a father if he cannot fulfil a father@s uties" Po!erty, $ressure of business, mistaken social $reju ices, none of these can e?cuse a man from his uty, which is to su$$ort an e ucate his own chil ren" 9f a man of any natural feeling neglects these sacre uties he will re$ent it with bitter tears an will ne!er be comforte " But what oes this rich man o, this father of a family, com$elle , so he says, to neglect his chil renE 8e $ays another man to $erform those uties which are his alone" >ercenary manH o you e?$ect to $urchase a secon father for your chil E (o not ecei!e yourselfA it is not e!en a master you ha!e hire for him, it is a flunkey, who will soon train such another as himself" There is much iscussion as to the characteristics of a goo tutor" >y first requirement, an it im$lies a goo many more, is that he shoul not take u$ his task for rewar " There are callings so great that they cannot be un ertaken for money without showing our unfitness for themA such callings are those of the sol ier an the teacher" DBut who must train my chil ED D9 ha!e just tol you, you shoul o it yourself"D D9 cannot"D D#ou cannotH Then fin a frien " 9 see no other course"D ' tutorH Chat a noble soulH 9n ee for the training of a man one must either be a father or more than man" 9t is this uty you woul calmly han o!er to a hirelingH The more you think of it the har er you will fin it" The tutor must ha!e been traine for his $u$il, his ser!ants must ha!e been traine for their master, so that all who come near him may ha!e recei!e the im$ression which is to be transmitte to him" Ce must $ass from e ucation to e ucation, 9 know not how far" 8ow can a chil be well e ucate by one who has not been well e ucate himselfH :an such a one be foun E 9 know not" 9n this age of egra ation who knows the height of !irtue to which man@s soul may attainE But let us assume that this $ro igy has been isco!ere " Ce shall learn what he shoul be from the consi eration of his uties" 9 fancy the father who realises the !alue of a goo tutor will contri!e to o without one, for it will be har er to fin one than to become such a tutor himselfA he nee search no further, nature herself ha!ing one half the work" )ome one whose rank alone is known to me suggeste that 9 shoul e ucate his son" 8e i me a great honour, no oubt, but far from regretting my refusal, he ought to congratulate himself on my $ru ence" 8a the offer been acce$te , an ha 9 been mistaken in my metho , there woul ha!e been an e ucation ruine A ha 9 succee e , things

woul ha!e been worseBhis son woul ha!e renounce his title an refuse to be a $rince" 9 feel too ee$ly the im$ortance of a tutor@s uties an my own unfitness, e!er to acce$t such a $ost, whoe!er offere it, an e!en the claims of frien shi$ woul be only an a itional moti!e for my refusal" 7ew, 9 think, will be tem$te to make me such an offer when they ha!e rea this book, an 9 beg any one who woul o so to s$are his $ains" 9 ha!e ha enough e?$erience of the task to con!ince myself of my own unfitness, an my circumstances woul make it im$ossible, e!en if my talents were such as to fit me for it" 9 ha!e thought it my uty to make this $ublic eclaration to those who a$$arently refuse to o me the honour of belie!ing in the sincerity of my etermination" 9f 9 am unable to un ertake the more useful task, 9 will at least !enture to attem$t the easier oneA 9 will follow the e?am$le of my $re ecessors an take u$, not the task, but my $enA an instea of oing the right thing 9 will try to say it" 9 know that in such an un ertaking the author, who ranges at will among theoretical systems, utters many fine $rece$ts im$ossible to $ractise, an e!en when he says what is $racticable it remains un one for want of etails an e?am$les as to its a$$lication" 9 ha!e therefore eci e to take an imaginary $u$il, to assume on my own $art the age, health, knowle ge, an talents require for the work of his e ucation, to gui e him from birth to manhoo , when he nee s no gui e but himself" This metho seems to me useful for an author who fears lest he may stray from the $ractical to the !isionaryA for as soon as he e$arts from common $ractice he has only to try his metho on his $u$ilA he will soon know, or the rea er will know for him, whether he is following the e!elo$ment of the chil an the natural growth of the human heart" This is what 9 ha!e trie to o" %est my book shoul be un uly bulky, 9 ha!e been content to state those $rinci$les the truth of which is selfe!i ent" But as to the rules which call for $roof, 9 ha!e a$$lie them to Emile or to others, an 9 ha!e shown, in !ery great etail, how my theories may be $ut into $ractice" )uch at least is my $lanA the rea er must eci e whether 9 ha!e succee e " 't first 9 ha!e sai little about Emile, for my earliest ma?ims of e ucation, though !ery ifferent from those generally acce$te , are so $lain that it is har for a man of sense to refuse to acce$t them, but as 9 a !ance, my scholar, e ucate after another fashion than yours, is no longer an or inary chil , he nee s a s$ecial system" Then he a$$ears u$on the scene more frequently, an towar s the en 9 ne!er lose sight of him for a moment, until, whate!er he may say, he nee s me no longer" 9 $ass o!er the qualities require in a goo tutorA 9 take them for grante , an assume that 9 am en owe with them" 's you rea this book you will see how generous 9 ha!e been to myself" 9 will only remark that, contrary to the recei!e o$inion, a chil @s tutor shoul be young, as young in ee as a man may well be who is also wise" Cere it $ossible, he shoul become a chil himself, that he may be

the com$anion of his $u$il an win his confi ence by sharing his games" :hil hoo an age ha!e too little in common for the formation of a really firm affection" :hil ren sometimes flatter ol menA they ne!er lo!e them" Peo$le seek a tutor who has alrea y e ucate one $u$il" This is too muchA one man can only e ucate one $u$ilA if two were essential to success, what right woul he ha!e to un ertake the firstE Cith more e?$erience you may know better what to o, but you are less ca$able of oing itA once this task has been well one, you will know too much of its ifficulties to attem$t it a secon timeBif ill one, the first attem$t augurs ba ly for the secon " 9t is one thing to follow a young man about for four years, another to be his gui e for fi!e-an -twenty" #ou fin a tutor for your son when he is alrea y forme A 9 want one for him before he is born" #our man may change his $u$il e!ery fi!e yearsA mine will ne!er ha!e but one $u$il" #ou istinguish between the teacher an the tutor" 'nother $iece of follyH (o you make any istinction between the $u$il an the scholarE There is only one science for chil ren to learnBthe uties of man" This science is one, an , whate!er Ieno$hon may say of the e ucation of the Persians, it is in i!isible" Besi es, 9 $refer to call the man who has this knowle ge master rather than teacher, since it is a question of gui ance rather than instruction" 8e must not gi!e $rece$ts, he must let the scholar fin them out for himself" 9f the master is to be so carefully chosen, he may well choose his $u$il, abo!e all when he $ro$oses to set a $attern for others" This choice cannot e$en on the chil @s genius or character, as 9 a o$t him before he is born, an they are only known when my task is finishe " 9f 9 ha my choice 9 woul take a chil of or inary min , such as 9 assume in my $u$il" 9t is or inary $eo$le who ha!e to be e ucate , an their e ucation alone can ser!e as a $attern for the e ucation of their fellows" The others fin their way alone" The birth$lace is not a matter of in ifference in the e ucation of manA it is only in tem$erate climes that he comes to his full growth" The isa !antages of e?tremes are easily seen" ' man is not $lante in one $lace like a tree, to stay there the rest of his life, an to $ass from one e?treme to another you must tra!el twice as far as he who starts halfway" 9f the inhabitant of a tem$erate climate $asses in turn through both e?tremes his a !antage is $lain, for although he may be change as much as he who goes from one e?treme to the other, he only remo!es half-way from his natural con ition" ' 7renchman can li!e in <ew Guinea or in %a$lan , but a negro cannot li!e in Tornea nor a )amoye in Benin" 9t seems also as if the brain were less $erfectly organise in the two e?tremes" <either the negroes nor the %a$s are as wise as Euro$eans" )o if 9 want my $u$il to be a citiFen of the worl 9 will choose him in the tem$erate Fone, in 7rance for e?am$le, rather than elsewhere" 9n the north with its barren soil men e!our much foo , in the fertile south they eat little" This $ro uces another ifference& the one is

in ustrious, the other contem$lati!e" )ociety shows us, in one an the same s$ot, a similar ifference between rich an $oor" The one wells in a fertile lan , the other in a barren lan " The $oor man has no nee of e ucation" The e ucation of his own station in life is force u$on him, he can ha!e no otherA the e ucation recei!e by the rich man from his own station is least fitte for himself an for society" >oreo!er, a natural e ucation shoul fit a man for any $osition" <ow it is more unreasonable to train a $oor man for wealth than a rich man for $o!erty, for in $ro$ortion to their numbers more rich men are ruine an fewer $oor men become rich" %et us choose our scholar among the richA we shall at least ha!e ma e another manA the $oor may come to manhoo without our hel$" 7or the same reason 9 shoul not be sorry if Emile came of a goo family" 8e will be another !ictim snatche from $reju ice" Emile is an or$han" <o matter whether he has father or mother, ha!ing un ertaken their uties 9 am in!este with their rights" 8e must honour his $arents, but he must obey me" That is my first an only con ition" 9 must a that there is just one other $oint arising out of thisA we must ne!er be se$arate e?ce$t by mutual consent" This clause is essential, an 9 woul ha!e tutor an scholar so inse$arable that they shoul regar their fate as one" 9f once they $ercei!e the time of their se$aration rawing near, the time which must make them strangers to one another, they become strangers then an thereA each makes his own little worl , an both of them being busy in thought with the time when they will no longer be together, they remain together against their will" The isci$le regar s his master as the ba ge an scourge of chil hoo , the master regar s his scholar as a hea!y bur en which he longs to be ri of" Both are looking forwar to the time when they will $art, an as there is ne!er any real affection between them, there will be scant !igilance on the one han , an on the other scant obe ience" But when they consi er they must always li!e together, they must nee s lo!e one another, an in this way they really learn to lo!e one another" The $u$il is not ashame to follow as a chil the frien who will be with him in manhoo A the tutor takes an interest in the efforts whose fruits he will enjoy, an the !irtues he is culti!ating in his $u$il form a store lai u$ for his ol age" This agreement ma e beforehan assumes a normal birth, a strong, wellma e, healthy chil " ' father has no choice, an shoul ha!e no $reference within the limits of the family Go has gi!en himA all his chil ren are his alike, the same care an affection is ue to all" :ri$$le or well-ma e, weak or strong, each of them is a trust for which he is res$onsible to the Gi!er, an nature is a $arty to the marriage contract along with husban an wife" But if you un ertake a uty not im$ose u$on you by nature, you must secure beforehan the means for its fulfilment, unless you woul un ertake uties you cannot fulfil" 9f you take the care of a sickly, unhealthy chil , you are a sick nurse, not a tutor" To $reser!e a useless

life you are wasting the time which shoul be s$ent in increasing its !alue, you risk the sight of a es$airing mother re$roaching you for the eath of her chil , who ought to ha!e ie long ago" 9 woul not un ertake the care of a feeble, sickly chil , shoul he li!e to four score years" 9 want no $u$il who is useless alike to himself an others, one whose sole business is to kee$ himself ali!e, one whose bo y is always a hin rance to the training of his min " 9f 9 !ainly la!ish my care u$on him, what can 9 o but ouble the loss to society by robbing it of two men, instea of oneE %et another ten this weakling for meA 9 am quite willing, 9 a$$ro!e his charity, but 9 myself ha!e no gift for such a taskA 9 coul ne!er teach the art of li!ing to one who nee s all his strength to kee$ himself ali!e" The bo y must be strong enough to obey the min A a goo ser!ant must be strong" 9 know that intem$erance stimulates the $assionsA in course of time it also estroys the bo yA fasting an $enance often $ro uce the same results in an o$$osite way" The weaker the bo y, the more im$erious its eman sA the stronger it is, the better it obeys" 'll sensual $assions fin their home in effeminate bo iesA the less satisfaction they can get the keener their sting" ' feeble bo y makes a feeble min " 8ence the influence of $hysic, an art which oes more harm to man than all the e!ils it $rofesses to cure" 9 o not know what the octors cure us of, but 9 know this& they infect us with !ery ea ly iseases, cowar ice, timi ity, cre ulity, the fear of eath" Chat matter if they make the ea walk, we ha!e no nee of cor$sesA they fail to gi!e us men, an it is men we nee " >e icine is all the fashion in these ays, an !ery naturally" 9t is the amusement of the i le an unem$loye , who o not know what to o with their time, an so s$en it in taking care of themsel!es" 9f by ill-luck they ha ha$$ene to be born immortal, they woul ha!e been the most miserable of menA a life they coul not lose woul be of no !alue to them" )uch men must ha!e octors to threaten an flatter them, to gi!e them the only $leasure they can enjoy, the $leasure of not being ea " 9 will say no more at $resent as to the uselessness of me icine" >y aim is to consi er its bearings on morals" )till 9 cannot refrain from saying that men em$loy the same so$hism about me icine as they o about the search for truth" They assume that the $atient is cure an that the seeker after truth fin s it" They fail to see that against one life sa!e by the octors you must set a hun re slain, an against the !alue of one truth isco!ere the errors which cree$ in with it" The science which instructs an the me icine which heals are no oubt e?cellent, but the science which mislea s us an the me icine which kills us are e!il" Teach us to know them a$art" That is the real ifficulty" 9f we were content to be ignorant of truth we shoul not be the u$es of falsehoo A if we i not want to be cure in s$ite of nature, we shoul not be kille by the octors" Ce shoul o well to steer clear of both, an we shoul e!i ently be the gainers" 9 o not eny that me icine is useful to some menA 9 assert that it is fatal to mankin "

#ou will tell me, as usual, that the octors are to blame, that me icine herself is infallible" Cell an goo , then gi!e us the me icine without the octor, for when we ha!e both, the blun ers of the artist are a hun re fol greater than our ho$es from the art" This lying art, in!ente rather for the ills of the min than of the bo y, is useless to both alikeA it oes less to cure us of our iseases than to fill us with alarm" 9t oes less to war off eath than to make us rea its a$$roach" 9t e?hausts life rather than $rolongs itA shoul it e!en $rolong life it woul only be to the $reju ice of the race, since it makes us set its $recautions before society an our fears before our uties" 9t is the knowle ge of anger that makes us afrai " 9f we thought oursel!es in!ulnerable we shoul know no fear" The $oet arme 'chilles against anger an so robbe him of the merit of courageA on such terms any man woul be an 'chilles" Coul you fin a really bra!e manE )eek him where there are no octors, where the results of isease are unknown, an where eath is little thought of" By nature a man bears $ain bra!ely an ies in $eace" 9t is the octors with their rules, the $hiloso$hers with their $rece$ts, the $riests with their e?hortations, who ebase the heart an make us afrai to ie" Gi!e me a $u$il who has no nee of these, or 9 will ha!e nothing to o with him" <o one else shall s$oil my work, 9 will e ucate him myself or not at all" That wise man, %ocke, who ha e!ote $art of his life to the stu y of me icine, a !ises us to gi!e no rugs to the chil , whether as a $recaution, or on account of slight ailments" 9 will go farther, an will eclare that, as 9 ne!er call in a octor for myself, 9 will ne!er sen for one for Emile, unless his life is clearly in anger, when the octor can but kill him" 9 know the octor will make ca$ital out of my elay" 9f the chil ies, he was calle in too lateA if he reco!ers, it is his oing" )o be itA let the octor boast, but o not call him in e?ce$t in e?tremity" 's the chil oes not know how to be cure , he knows how to be ill" The one art takes the $lace of the other an is often more successfulA it is the art of nature" Chen a beast is ill, it kee$s quiet an suffers in silenceA but we see fewer sickly animals than sick men" 8ow many men ha!e been slain by im$atience, fear, an?iety, an abo!e all by me icine, men whom isease woul ha!e s$are , an time alone ha!e cure " 9 shall be tol that animals, who li!e accor ing to nature, are less liable to isease than oursel!es" Cell, that way of li!ing is just what 9 mean to teach my $u$ilA he shoul $rofit by it in the same way" 8ygiene is the only useful $art of me icine, an hygiene is rather a !irtue than a science" Tem$erance an in ustry are man@s true reme iesA work shar$ens his a$$etite an tem$erance teaches him to control it" To learn what system is most beneficial you ha!e only to stu y those races remarkable for health, strength, an length of ays" 9f common obser!ation shows us that me icine neither increases health nor $rolongs life, it follows that this useless art is worse than useless, since it wastes time, men, an things on what is $ure loss" <ot only must we e uct the

time s$ent, not in using life, but $reser!ing it, but if this time is s$ent in tormenting oursel!es it is worse than waste , it is so much to the ba , an to reckon fairly a corres$on ing share must be e ucte from what remains to us" ' man who li!es ten years for himself an others without the hel$ of octors li!es more for himself an others than one who s$en s thirty years as their !ictim" 9 ha!e trie both, so 9 think 9 ha!e a better right than most to raw my own conclusions" 7or these reasons 9 ecline to take any but a strong an healthy $u$il, an these are my $rinci$les for kee$ing him in health" 9 will not sto$ to $ro!e at length the !alue of manual labour an bo ily e?ercise for strengthening the health an constitutionA no one enies it" <early all the instances of long life are to be foun among the men who ha!e taken most e?ercise, who ha!e en ure fatigue an labour" .7ootnote& 9 cannot hel$ quoting the following $assage from an English news$a$er, as it throws much light on my o$inions& D' certain Patrick 6@<eil, born in -+12, has just marrie his se!enth wife in -2+," 9n the se!enteenth year of :harles 99" he ser!e in the ragoons an in other regiments u$ to -21,, when he took his ischarge" 8e ser!e in all the cam$aigns of Cilliam 999" an >arlborough" This man has ne!er runk anything but small beerA he has always li!e on !egetables, an has ne!er eaten meat e?ce$t on few occasions when he ma e a feast for his relations" 8e has always been accustome to rise with the sun an go to be at sunset unless $re!ente by his military uties" 8e is now in his -J,th yearA he is healthy, his hearing is goo , an he walks with the hel$ of a stick" 9n s$ite of his great age he is ne!er i le, an e!ery )un ay he goes to his $arish church accom$anie by his chil ren, gran chil ren, an great gran chil ren"D3 <either will 9 enter into etails as to the care 9 shall take for this alone" 9t will be clear that it forms such an essential $art of my $ractice that it is enough to get hol of the i ea without further e?$lanation" Chen our life begins our nee s begin too" The new-born infant must ha!e a nurse" 9f his mother will o her uty, so much the betterA her instructions will be gi!en her in writing, but this a !antage has its rawbacks, it remo!es the tutor from his charge" But it is to be ho$e that the chil @s own interests, an her res$ect for the $erson to whom she is about to confi e so $recious a treasure, will in uce the mother to follow the master@s wishes, an whate!er she oes you may be sure she will o better than another" 9f we must ha!e a strange nurse, make a goo choice to begin with" 9t is one of the misfortunes of the rich to be cheate on all si esA what won er they think ill of mankin H 9t is riches that corru$t men, an the rich are rightly the first to feel the efects of the only tool they know" E!erything is ill- one for them, e?ce$t what they o themsel!es, an they o ne?t to nothing" Chen a nurse must be selecte the choice is left to the octor" Chat ha$$ensE The best nurse is the one who offers the highest bribe" 9 shall not consult the octor about Emile@s nurse, 9 shall take care to choose her myself" 9 may not argue about it so elegantly as the surgeon, but 9 shall be more reliable, 9 shall be less ecei!e by my Feal than the octor by his gree "

There is no mystery about this choiceA its rules are well known, but 9 think we ought $robably to $ay more attention to the age of the milk as well as its quality" The first milk is watery, it must be almost an a$erient, to $urge the remains of the meconium cur le in the bowels of the newborn chil " %ittle by little the milk thickens an su$$lies more soli foo as the chil is able to igest it" 9t is surely not without cause that nature changes the milk in the female of e!ery s$ecies accor ing to the age of the offs$ring" Thus a new-born chil requires a nurse who has recently become mother" There is, 9 know, a ifficulty here, but as soon as we lea!e the $ath of nature there are ifficulties in the way of all well- oing" The wrong course is the only right one un er the circumstances, so we take it" The nurse must be healthy alike in is$osition an in bo y" The !iolence of the $assions as well as the humours may s$oil her milk" >oreo!er, to consi er the bo y only is to kee$ only half our aim in !iew" The milk may be goo an the nurse ba A a goo character is as necessary as a goo constitution" 9f you choose a !icious $erson, 9 o not say her foster-chil will acquire her !ices, but he will suffer for them" 6ught she not to bestow on him ay by ay, along with her milk, a care which calls for Feal, $atience, gentleness, an cleanliness" 9f she is intem$erate an gree y her milk will soon be s$oiltA if she is careless an hasty what will become of a $oor little wretch left to her mercy, an unable either to $rotect himself or to com$lain" The wicke are ne!er goo for anything" The choice is all the more im$ortant because her foster-chil shoul ha!e no other guar ian, just as he shoul ha!e no teacher but his tutor" This was the custom of the ancients, who talke less but acte more wisely than we" The nurse ne!er left her foster- aughterA this is why the nurse is the confi ante in most of their $lays" ' chil who $asses through many han s in turn, can ne!er be well brought u$" 't e!ery change he makes a secret com$arison, which continually ten s to lessen his res$ect for those who control him, an with it their authority o!er him" 9f once he thinks there are grown-u$ $eo$le with no more sense than chil ren the authority of age is estroye an his e ucation is ruine " ' chil shoul know no betters but its father an mother, or failing them its foster-mother an its tutor, an e!en this is one too many, but this i!ision is ine!itable, an the best that can be one in the way of reme y is that the man an woman who control him shall be so well agree with regar to him that they seem like one" The nurse must li!e rather more comfortably, she must ha!e rather more substantial foo , but her whole way of li!ing must not be altere , for a su en change, e!en a change for the better, is angerous to health, an since her usual way of life has ma e her healthy an strong, why change itE :ountry women eat less meat an more !egetables than towns-women, an this !egetarian iet seems fa!ourable rather than otherwise to themsel!es an their chil ren" Chen they take nurslings from the u$$er classes they eat meat an broth with the i ea that they will form better

chyle an su$$ly more milk" 9 o not hol with this at all, an e?$erience is on my si e, for we o not fin chil ren fe in this way less liable to colic an worms" That nee not sur$rise us, for ecaying animal matter swarms with worms, but this is not the case with !egetable matter" .7ootnote& Comen eat brea , !egetables, an airy $ro uceA female ogs an cats o the sameA the she-wol!es eat grass" This su$$lies !egetable juices to their milk" There are still those s$ecies which are unable to eat anything but flesh, if such there are, which 9 !ery much oubt"3 >ilk, although manufacture in the bo y of an animal, is a !egetable substanceA this is shown by analysisA it rea ily turns aci , an far from showing traces of any !olatile alkali like animal matter, it gi!es a neutral salt like $lants" The milk of herbi!orous creatures is sweeter an more wholesome than the milk of the carni!orousA forme of a substance similar to its own, it kee$s its goo ness an becomes less liable to $utrifaction" 9f quantity is consi ere , it is well known that farinaceous foo s $ro uce more bloo than meat, so they ought to yiel more milk" 9f a chil were not weane too soon, an if it were fe on !egetarian foo , an its foster-mother were a !egetarian, 9 o not think it woul be trouble with worms" >ilk eri!e from !egetable foo s may $erha$s be more liable to go sour, but 9 am far from consi ering sour milk an unwholesome foo A whole nations ha!e no other foo an are none the worse, an all the array of absorbents seems to me mere humbug" There are constitutions which o not thri!e on milk, others can take it without absorbents" Peo$le are afrai of the milk se$arating or cur lingA that is absur , for we know that milk always cur les in the stomach" This is how it becomes sufficiently soli to nourish chil ren an young animalsA if it i not cur le it woul merely $ass away without fee ing them" .7ootnote& 'lthough the juices which nourish us are liqui , they must be e?tracte from soli s" ' har -working man who ate nothing but sou$ woul soon waste away" 8e woul be far better fe on milk, just because it cur les"3 9n !ain you ilute milk an use absorbentsA whoe!er swallows milk igests cheese, this rule is without e?ce$tionA rennet is ma e from a calf@s stomach" 9nstea of changing the nurse@s usual iet, 9 think it woul be enough to gi!e foo in larger quantities an better of its kin " 9t is not the nature of the foo that makes a !egetable iet in igestible, but the fla!ouring that makes it unwholesome" Reform your cookery, use neither butter nor oil for frying" Butter, salt, an milk shoul ne!er be cooke " %et your !egetables be cooke in water an only seasone when they come to table" The !egetable iet, far from isturbing the nurse, will gi!e her a $lentiful su$$ly of milk" .7ootnote& Those who wish to stu y a full account of the a !antages an isa !antages of the Pythagorean regime, may consult the works of (r" :occhi an his o$$onent (r" Bianchi on this im$ortant subject"3 9f a !egetable iet is best for the chil , how can meat foo be best for his nurseE The things are contra ictory" 7resh air affects chil ren@s constitutions, $articularly in early years" 9t enters e!ery $ore of a soft an ten er skin, it has a $owerful effect on

their young bo ies" 9ts effects can ne!er be estroye " )o 9 shoul not agree with those who take a country woman from her !illage an shut her u$ in one room in a town an her nursling with her" 9 woul rather sen him to breathe the fresh air of the country than the foul air of the town" 8e will take his new mother@s $osition, will li!e in her cottage, where his tutor will follow him" The rea er will bear in min that this tutor is not a $ai ser!ant, but the father@s frien " But if this frien cannot be foun , if this transfer is not easy, if none of my a !ice can be followe , you will say to me, DChat shall 9 o instea ED 9 ha!e tol you alrea y BD(o what you are oingAD no a !ice is nee e there" >en are not ma e to be crow e together in ant-hills, but scattere o!er the earth to till it" The more they are masse together, the more corru$t they become" (isease an !ice are the sure results of o!er-crow e cities" 6f all creatures man is least fitte to li!e in her s" 8u le together like shee$, men woul !ery soon ie" >an@s breath is fatal to his fellows" This is literally as well as figurati!ely true"

>en are e!oure by our towns" 9n a few generations the race ies out or becomes egenerateA it nee s renewal, an it is always renewe from the country" )en your chil ren to renew themsel!es, so to s$eak, sen them to regain in the o$en fiel s the strength lost in the foul air of our crow e cities" Comen hurry home that their chil ren may be born in the townA they ought to o just the o$$osite, es$ecially those who mean to nurse their own chil ren" They woul lose less than they think, an in more natural surroun ings the $leasures associate by nature with maternal uties woul soon estroy the taste for other elights" The new-born infant is first bathe in warm water to which a little wine is usually a e " 9 think the wine might be is$ense with" 's nature oes not $ro uce fermente liquors, it is not likely that they are of much !alue to her creatures" 9n the same way it is unnecessary to take the $recaution of heating the waterA in fact among many races the new-born infants are bathe with no more a o in ri!ers or in the sea" 6ur chil ren, ma e ten er before birth by the softness of their $arents, come into the worl with a constitution alrea y enfeeble , which cannot be at once e?$ose to all the trials require to restore it to health" %ittle by little they must be restore to their natural !igour" Begin then by following this custom, an lea!e it off gra ually" Cash your chil ren often, their irty ways show the nee of this" 9f they are only wi$e their skin is injure A but as they grow stronger gra ually re uce the heat of the water, till at last you bathe them winter an summer in col , e!en in ice-col water" To a!oi risk this change must be slow, gra ual, an im$erce$tible, so you may use the thermometer for e?act measurements" This habit of the bath, once establishe , shoul ne!er be broken off, it must be ke$t u$ all through life" 9 !alue it not only on groun s of cleanliness an $resent health, but also as a wholesome means of making the muscles su$$le, an accustoming them to bear without risk or effort e?tremes of heat an col " 's he gets ol er 9 woul ha!e the chil traine to bathe occasionally in hot water of e!ery bearable egree, an often in e!ery egree of col water" <ow water being a enser flui touches us at more $oints than air, so that, ha!ing learnt to bear all the !ariations of tem$erature in water, we shall scarcely feel this of the air" .7ootnote& :hil ren in towns are stifle by being ke$t in oors an too much wra$$e u$" Those who control them ha!e still to learn that fresh air, far from oing them harm, will make them strong, while hot air will make them weak, will gi!e rise to fe!ers, an will e!entually kill them"3 Chen the chil raws its first breath o not confine it in tight wra$$ings" <o ca$, no ban ages, nor swa ling clothes" %oose an flowing flannel wra$$ers, which lea!e its limbs free an are not too hea!y to check his mo!ements, not too warm to $re!ent his feeling the air" .7ootnote& 9 say Dcra leD using the common wor for want of a better, though 9 am con!ince that it is ne!er necessary an often harmful to rock chil ren in the cra le"3 Put him in a big cra le, well $a e , where he can mo!e easily an safely" 's he begins to grow stronger, let him crawl about the

roomA let him e!elo$ an stretch his tiny limbsA you will see him gain strength from ay to ay" :om$are him with a well swa le chil of the same age an you will be sur$rise at their ifferent rates of $rogress" .7ootnote& The ancient Peru!ians wra$$e their chil ren in loose swa ling ban s, lea!ing the arms quite free" %ater they $lace them unswa le in a hole in the groun , line with cloths, so that the lower $art of the bo y was in the hole, an their arms were free an they coul mo!e the hea an ben the bo y at will without falling or hurting themsel!es" Chen they began to walk they were entice to come to the breast" The little negroes are often in a $osition much more ifficult for sucking" They cling to the mother@s hi$, an cling so tightly that the mother@s arm is often not nee e to su$$ort them" They clas$ the breast with their han an continue sucking while their mother goes on with her or inary work" These chil ren begin to walk at two months, or rather to crawl" %ater on they can run on all fours almost as well as on their feet"B Buffon" >" Buffon might also ha!e quote the e?am$le of Englan , where the senseless an barbarous swa ling clothes ha!e become almost obsolete" :f" %a %ongue Goyage e )iam, %e Beau Goyage e :ana a, etc"3 #ou must e?$ect great o$$osition from the nurses, who fin a half strangle baby nee s much less watching" Besi es his irtyness is more $erce$tible in an o$en garmentA he must be atten e to more frequently" 9n ee , custom is an unanswerable argument in some lan s an among all classes of $eo$le" (o not argue with the nursesA gi!e your or ers, see them carrie out, an s$are no $ains to make the attention you $rescribe easy in $ractice" Chy not take your share in itE Cith or inary nurslings, where the bo y alone is thought of, nothing matters so long as the chil li!es an oes not actually ie, but with us, when e ucation begins with life, the new-born chil is alrea y a isci$le, not of his tutor, but of nature" The tutor merely stu ies un er this master, an sees that his or ers are not e!a e " 8e watches o!er the infant, he obser!es it, he looks for the first feeble glimmering of intelligence, as the >oslem looks for the moment of the moon@s rising in her first quarter" Ce are born ca$able of learning, but knowing nothing, $ercei!ing nothing" The min , boun u$ within im$erfect an half grown organs, is not e!en aware of its own e?istence" The mo!ements an cries of the new-born chil are $urely refle?, without knowle ge or will" )u$$ose a chil born with the siFe an strength of manhoo , entering u$on life full grown like Pallas from the brain of Ju$iterA such a chil -man woul be a $erfect i iot, an automaton, a statue without motion an almost without feelingA he woul see an hear nothing, he woul recognise no one, he coul not turn his eyes towar s what he wante to seeA not only woul he $ercei!e no e?ternal object, he woul not e!en be aware of sensation through the se!eral sense-organs" 8is eye woul not $ercei!e colour, his ear soun s, his bo y woul be unaware of contact with neighbouring bo ies, he woul not e!en know he ha a bo y, what his han s han le woul be in his brain aloneA all his sensations woul be unite in one $lace, they woul e?ist only in the common Dsensorium,D he

woul ha!e only one i ea, that of self, to which he woul refer all his sensationsA an this i ea, or rather this feeling, woul be the only thing in which he e?celle an or inary chil " This man, full grown at birth, woul also be unable to stan on his feet, he woul nee a long time to learn how to kee$ his balanceA $erha$s he woul not e!en be able to try to o it, an you woul see the big strong bo y left in one $lace like a stone, or cree$ing an crawling like a young $u$$y" 8e woul feel the iscomfort of bo ily nee s without knowing what was the matter an without knowing how to $ro!i e for these nee s" There is no imme iate connection between the muscles of the stomach an those of the arms an legs to make him take a ste$ towar s foo , or stretch a han to seiFe it, e!en were he surroun e with itA an as his bo y woul be full grown an his limbs well e!elo$e he woul be without the $er$etual restlessness an mo!ement of chil hoo , so that he might ie of hunger without stirring to seek foo " 8owe!er little you may ha!e thought about the or er an e!elo$ment of our knowle ge, you cannot eny that such a one woul be in the state of almost $rimiti!e ignorance an stu$i ity natural to man before he has learnt anything from e?$erience or from his fellows" Ce know then, or we may know, the $oint of e$arture from which we each start towar s the usual le!el of un erstan ingA but who knows the other e?tremeE Each $rogresses more or less accor ing to his genius, his taste, his nee s, his talents, his Feal, an his o$$ortunities for using them" <o $hiloso$her, so far as 9 know, has are to say to man, DThus far shalt thou go an no further"D Ce know not what nature allows us to be, none of us has measure the $ossible ifference between man an man" 9s there a min so ea that this thought has ne!er kin le it, that has ne!er sai in his $ri e, D8ow much ha!e 9 alrea y one, how much more may 9 achie!eE Chy shoul 9 lag behin my fellowsED 's 9 sai before, man@s e ucation begins at birthA before he can s$eak or un erstan he is learning" E?$erience $rece es instructionA when he recognises his nurse he has learnt much" The knowle ge of the most ignorant man woul sur$rise us if we ha followe his course from birth to the $resent time" 9f all human knowle ge were i!i e into two $arts, one common to all, the other $eculiar to the learne , the latter woul seem !ery small com$are with the former" But we scarcely hee this general e?$erience, because it is acquire before the age of reason" >oreo!er, knowle ge only attracts attention by its rarity, as in algebraic equations common factors count for nothing" E!en animals learn much" They ha!e senses an must learn to use themA they ha!e nee s, they must learn to satisfy themA they must learn to eat, walk, or fly" Kua ru$e s which can stan on their feet from the first cannot walk for all thatA from their first attem$ts it is clear that they lack confi ence" :anaries who esca$e from their cage are unable to fly, ha!ing ne!er use their wings" %i!ing an feeling creatures are always learning" 9f $lants coul walk they woul nee senses an knowle ge, else their s$ecies woul ie out" The chil @s first mental e?$eriences are $urely affecti!e, he is only aware of $leasure an $ainA it takes him a long time to acquire

the efinite sensations which show him things outsi e himself, but before these things $resent an with raw themsel!es, so to s$eak, from his sight, taking siFe an sha$e for him, the recurrence of emotional e?$eriences is beginning to subject the chil to the rule of habit" #ou see his eyes constantly follow the light, an if the light comes from the si e the eyes turn towar s it, so that one must be careful to turn his hea towar s the light lest he shoul squint" 8e must also be accustome from the first to the ark, or he will cry if he misses the light" 7oo an slee$, too, e?actly measure , become necessary at regular inter!als, an soon esire is no longer the effect of nee , but of habit, or rather habit a s a fresh nee to those of nature" #ou must be on your guar against this" The only habit the chil shoul be allowe to contract is that of ha!ing no habitsA let him be carrie on either arm, let him be accustome to offer either han , to use one or other in ifferentlyA let him not want to eat, slee$, or o anything at fi?e hours, nor be unable to be left alone by ay or night" Pre$are the way for his control of his liberty an the use of his strength by lea!ing his bo y its natural habit, by making him ca$able of lasting self-control, of oing all that he wills when his will is forme " 's soon as the chil begins to take notice, what is shown him must be carefully chosen" The natural man is intereste in all new things" 8e feels so feeble that he fears the unknown& the habit of seeing fresh things without ill effects estroys this fear" :hil ren brought u$ in clean houses where there are no s$i ers are afrai of s$i ers, an this fear often lasts through life" 9 ne!er saw $easants, man, woman, or chil , afrai of s$i ers" )ince the mere choice of things shown him may make the chil timi or bra!e, why shoul not his e ucation begin before he can s$eak or un erstan E 9 woul ha!e him accustome to see fresh things, ugly, re$ulsi!e, an strange beasts, but little by little, an far off till he is use to them, an till ha!ing seen others han le them he han les them himself" 9f in chil hoo he sees toa s, snakes, an crayfish, he will not be afrai of any animal when he is grown u$" Those who are continually seeing terrible things think nothing of them" 'll chil ren are afrai of masks" 9 begin by showing Emile a mask with a $leasant face, then some one $uts this mask before his faceA 9 begin to laugh, they all laugh too, an the chil with them" By egrees 9 accustom him to less $leasing masks, an at last hi eous ones" 9f 9 ha!e arrange my stages skilfully, far from being afrai of the last mask, he will laugh at it as he i at the first" 'fter that 9 am not afrai of $eo$le frightening him with masks" Chen 8ector bi s farewell to 'n romache, the young 'styana?, startle by the no ing $lumes on the helmet, oes not know his fatherA he flings himself wee$ing u$on his nurse@s bosom an wins from his mother a smile mingle with tears" Chat must be one to stay this terrorE Just what 8ector i A $ut the helmet on the groun an caress the chil " 9n a calmer moment one woul o moreA one woul go u$ to the helmet, $lay with the $lumes, let the chil feel themA at last the nurse woul take the

helmet an $lace it laughingly on her own hea , if in ee a woman@s han are touch the armour of 8ector" 9f Emile must get use to the soun of a gun, 9 first fire a $istol with a small charge" 8e is elighte with this su en flash, this sort of lightningA 9 re$eat the $rocess with more $ow erA gra ually 9 a a small charge without a wa , then a largerA in the en 9 accustom him to the soun of a gun, to fireworks, cannon, an the most terrible e?$losions" 9 ha!e obser!e that chil ren are rarely afrai of thun er unless the $eals are really terrible an actually hurt the ear, otherwise this fear only comes to them when they know that thun er sometimes hurts or kills" Chen reason begins to cause fear, let use reassure them" By slow an careful stages man an chil learn to fear nothing" 9n the awn of life, when memory an imagination ha!e not begun to function, the chil only atten s to what affects its senses" 8is sense e?$eriences are the raw material of thoughtA they shoul , therefore, be $resente to him in fitting or er, so that memory may at a future time $resent them in the same or er to his un erstan ingA but as he only atten s to his sensations it is enough, at first, to show him clearly the connection between these sensations an the things which cause them" 8e wants to touch an han le e!erythingA o not check these mo!ements which teach him in!aluable lessons" Thus he learns to $ercei!e the heat, col , har ness, softness, weight, or lightness of bo ies, to ju ge their siFe an sha$e an all their $hysical $ro$erties, by looking, feeling, .7ootnote& 6f all the senses that of smell is the latest to e!elo$ in chil ren u$ to two or three years of age they a$$ear to be insensible of $leasant or un$leasant o oursA in this res$ect they are as in ifferent or rather as insensible as many animals"3 listening, an , abo!e all, by com$aring sight an touch, by ju ging with the eye what sensation they woul cause to his han " 9t is only by mo!ement that we learn the ifference between self an not selfA it is only by our own mo!ements that we gain the i ea of s$ace" The chil has not this i ea, so he stretches out his han to seiFe the object within his reach or that which is a hun re $aces from him" #ou take this as a sign of tyranny, an attem$t to bi the thing raw near, or to bi you bring it" <othing of the kin , it is merely that the object first seen in his brain, then before his eyes, now seems close to his arms, an he has no i ea of s$ace beyon his reach" Be careful, therefore, to take him about, to mo!e him from $lace to $lace, an to let him $ercei!e the change in his surroun ings, so as to teach him to ju ge of istances" Chen he begins to $ercei!e istances then you must change your $lan, an only carry him when you $lease, not when he $leasesA for as soon as he is no longer ecei!e by his senses, there is another moti!e for his effort" This change is remarkable an calls for e?$lanation" The iscomfort cause by real nee s is shown by signs, when the hel$ of others is require " 8ence the cries of chil renA they often cryA it must be so" )ince they are only conscious of feelings, when those feelings are $leasant they enjoy them in silenceA when they are $ainful they say so in

their own way an eman relief" <ow when they are awake they can scarcely be in a state of in ifference, either they are aslee$ or else they are feeling something" 'll our languages are the result of art" 9t has long been a subject of inquiry whether there e!er was a natural language common to allA no oubt there is, an it is the language of chil ren before they begin to s$eak" This language is inarticulate, but it has tone, stress, an meaning" The use of our own language has le us to neglect it so far as to forget it altogether" %et us stu y chil ren an we shall soon learn it afresh from them" <urses can teach us this languageA they un erstan all their nurslings say to them, they answer them, an kee$ u$ long con!ersations with themA an though they use wor s, these wor s are quite useless" 9t is not the hearing of the wor , but its accom$anying intonation that is un erstoo " To the language of intonation is a e the no less forcible language of gesture" The chil uses, not its weak han s, but its face" The amount of e?$ression in these un e!elo$e faces is e?traor inaryA their features change from one moment to another with incre ible s$ee " #ou see smiles, esires, terror, come an go like lightningA e!ery time the face seems ifferent" The muscles of the face are un oubte ly more mobile than our own" 6n the other han the eyes are almost e?$ressionless" )uch must be the sort of signs they use at an age when their only nee s are those of the bo y" Grimaces are the sign of sensation, the glance e?$resses sentiment" 's man@s first state is one of want an weakness, his first soun s are cries an tears" The chil feels his nee s an cannot satisfy them, he begs for hel$ by his cries" 9s he hungry or thirstyE there are tearsA is he too col or too hotE more tearsA he nee s mo!ement an is ke$t quiet, more tearsA he wants to slee$ an is isturbe , he wee$s" The less comfortable he is, the more he eman s change" 8e has only one language because he has, so to say, only one kin of iscomfort" 9n the im$erfect state of his sense organs he oes not istinguish their se!eral im$ressionsA all ills $ro uce one feeling of sorrow" These tears, which you think so little worthy of your attention, gi!e rise to the first relation between man an his en!ironmentA here is forge the first link in the long chain of social or er" Chen the chil cries he is uneasy, he feels some nee which he cannot satisfyA you watch him, seek this nee , fin it, an satisfy it" 9f you can neither fin it nor satisfy it, the tears continue an become tiresome" The chil is $ette to quiet him, he is rocke or sung to slee$A if he is obstinate, the nurse becomes im$atient an threatens himA cruel nurses sometimes strike him" Chat strange lessons for him at his first entrance into lifeH 9 shall ne!er forget seeing one of these troublesome crying chil ren thus beaten by his nurse" 8e was silent at once" 9 thought he was frightene , an sai to myself, DThis will be a ser!ile being from whom nothing can be got but by harshness"D 9 was wrong, the $oor wretch was choking with

rage, he coul not breathe, he was black in the face" ' moment later there were bitter cries, e!ery sign of the anger, rage, an es$air of this age was in his tones" 9 thought he woul ie" 8a 9 oubte the innate sense of justice an injustice in man@s heart, this one instance woul ha!e con!ince me" 9 am sure that a ro$ of boiling liqui falling by chance on that chil @s han woul ha!e hurt him less than that blow, slight in itself, but clearly gi!en with the intention of hurting him" This ten ency to anger, !e?ation, an rage nee s great care" Boerhaa!e thinks that most of the iseases of chil ren are of the nature of con!ulsions, because the hea being larger in $ro$ortion an the ner!ous system more e?tensi!e than in a ults, they are more liable to ner!ous irritation" Take the greatest care to remo!e from them any ser!ants who tease, annoy, or !e? them" They are a hun re fol more angerous an more fatal than fresh air an changing seasons" Chen chil ren only e?$erience resistance in things an ne!er in the will of man, they o not become rebellious or $assionate, an their health is better" This is one reason why the chil ren of the $oor, who are freer an more in e$en ent, are generally less frail an weakly, more !igorous than those who are su$$ose to be better brought u$ by being constantly thwarte A but you must always remember that it is one thing to refrain from thwarting them, but quite another to obey them" The chil @s first tears are $rayers, beware lest they become comman sA he begins by asking for ai , he en s by eman ing ser!ice" Thus from his own weakness, the source of his first consciousness of e$en ence, s$rings the later i ea of rule an tyrannyA but as this i ea is arouse rather by his nee s than by our ser!ices, we begin to see moral results whose causes are not in natureA thus we see how im$ortant it is, e!en at the earliest age, to iscern the secret meaning of the gesture or cry" Chen the chil tries to seiFe something without s$eaking, he thinks he can reach the object, for he oes not rightly ju ge its istanceA when he cries an stretches out his han s he no longer misju ges the istance, he bi s the object a$$roach, or or ers you to bring it to him" 9n the first case bring it to him slowlyA in the secon o not e!en seem to hear his cries" The more he cries the less you shoul hee him" 8e must learn in goo time not to gi!e comman s to men, for he is not their master, nor to things, for they cannot hear him" Thus when the chil wants something you mean to gi!e him, it is better to carry him to it rather than to bring the thing to him" 7rom this he will raw a conclusion suite to his age, an there is no other way of suggesting it to him" The 'bbe )aint-Pierre calls men big chil renA one might also call chil ren little men" These statements are true, but they require e?$lanation" But when 8obbes calls the wicke a strong chil , his statement is contra icte by facts" 'll wicke ness comes from weakness" The chil is only naughty because he is weakA make him strong an he will be goo A if we coul o e!erything we shoul ne!er o wrong" 6f all the attributes of the 'lmighty, goo ness is that which it woul be har est to issociate from our conce$tion of 8im" 'll nations who ha!e acknowle ge a goo an an e!il $ower, ha!e always regar e the e!il as inferior to the goo A

otherwise their o$inion woul ha!e been absur " :om$are this with the cree of the )a!oyar clergyman later on in this book" Reason alone teaches us to know goo an e!il" Therefore conscience, which makes us lo!e the one an hate the other, though it is in e$en ent of reason, cannot e!elo$ without it" Before the age of reason we o goo or ill without knowing it, an there is no morality in our actions, although there is sometimes in our feeling with regar to other $eo$le@s actions in relation to oursel!es" ' chil wants to o!erturn e!erything he sees" 8e breaks an smashes e!erything he can reachA he seiFes a bir as he seiFes a stone, an strangles it without knowing what he is about" Chy soE 9n the first $lace $hiloso$hy will account for this by inbre sin, man@s $ri e, lo!e of $ower, selfishness, s$iteA $erha$s it will say in a ition to this that the chil @s consciousness of his own weakness makes him eager to use his strength, to con!ince himself of it" But watch that broken own ol man re uce in the ownwar course of life to the weakness of a chil A not only is he quiet an $eaceful, he woul ha!e all about him quiet an $eaceful tooA the least change isturbs an troubles him, he woul like to see uni!ersal calm" 8ow is it $ossible that similar feebleness an similar $assions shoul $ro uce such ifferent effects in age an in infancy, if the original cause were not ifferentE 'n where can we fin this ifference in cause e?ce$t in the bo ily con ition of the two" The acti!e $rinci$le, common to both, is growing in one case an eclining in the otherA it is being forme in the one an estroye in the otherA one is mo!ing towar s life, the other towar s eath" The failing acti!ity of the ol man is centre in his heart, the chil @s o!erflowing acti!ity s$rea s abroa " 8e feels, if we may say so, strong enough to gi!e life to all about him" To make or to estroy, it is all one to himA change is what he seeks, an all change in!ol!es action" 9f he seems to enjoy estructi!e acti!ity it is only that it takes time to make things an !ery little time to break them, so that the work of estruction accor s better with his eagerness" Chile the 'uthor of nature has gi!en chil ren this acti!ity, 8e takes care that it shall o little harm by gi!ing them small $ower to use it" But as soon as they can think of $eo$le as tools to be use , they use them to carry out their wishes an to su$$lement their own weakness" This is how they become tiresome, masterful, im$erious, naughty, an unmanageableA a e!elo$ment which oes not s$ring from a natural lo!e of $ower, but one which has been taught them, for it oes not nee much e?$erience to realise how $leasant it is to set others to work an to mo!e the worl by a wor " 's the chil grows it gains strength an becomes less restless an unquiet an more in e$en ent" )oul an bo y become better balance an nature no longer asks for more mo!ement than is require for self$reser!ation" But the lo!e of $ower oes not ie with the nee that arouse itA $ower arouses an flatters self-lo!e, an habit strengthens itA thus ca$rice follows u$on nee , an the first see s of $reju ice an obstinacy are sown"

79R)T >'I9>"B7ar from being too strong, chil ren are not strong enough for all the claims of nature" Gi!e them full use of such strength as they ha!eA they will not abuse it" )E:6<( >'I9>"B8el$ them an su$$ly the e?$erience an strength they lack whene!er the nee is of the bo y" T89R( >'I9>"B9n the hel$ you gi!e them confine yourself to what is really nee ful, without granting anything to ca$rice or unreasonA for they will not be tormente by ca$rice if you o not call it into e?istence, seeing it is no $art of nature" 76;RT8 >'I9>B)tu y carefully their s$eech an gestures, so that at an age when they are inca$able of eceit you may iscriminate between those esires which come from nature an those which s$ring from $er!ersity" The s$irit of these rules is to gi!e chil ren more real liberty an less $ower, to let them o more for themsel!es an eman less of othersA so that by teaching them from the first to confine their wishes within the limits of their $owers they will scarcely feel the want of whate!er is not in their $ower" This is another !ery im$ortant reason for lea!ing chil ren@s limbs an bo ies $erfectly free, only taking care that they o not fall, an kee$ing anything that might hurt them out of their way" The chil whose bo y an arms are free will certainly cry much less than a chil tie u$ in swa ling clothes" 8e who knows only bo ily nee s, only cries when in $ainA an this is a great a !antage, for then we know e?actly when he nee s hel$, an if $ossible we shoul not elay our hel$ for an instant" But if you cannot relie!e his $ain, stay where you are an o not flatter him by way of soothing himA your caresses will not cure his colic, but he will remember what he must o to win themA an if he once fin s out how to gain your attention at will, he is your masterA the whole e ucation is s$oilt" Their mo!ements being less constraine , chil ren will cry lessA less wearie with their tears, $eo$le will not take so much trouble to check them" Cith fewer threats an $romises, they will be less timi an less obstinate, an will remain more nearly in their natural state" Ru$tures are $ro uce less by letting chil ren cry than by the means taken to sto$ them, an my e!i ence for this is the fact that the most neglecte chil ren are less liable to them than others" 9 am !ery far from wishing that they shoul be neglecte A on the contrary, it is of the utmost im$ortance that their wants shoul be antici$ate , so that they nee not $roclaim their wants by crying" But neither woul 9 ha!e unwise care bestowe on them" Chy shoul they think it wrong to cry when they fin they can get so much by itE Chen they ha!e learne the !alue of their silence they take goo care not to waste it" 9n the en they will so e?aggerate its im$ortance that no one will be able to $ay its $riceA then worn out with crying they become e?hauste , an are at length silent"

Prolonge crying on the $art of a chil neither swa le nor out of health, a chil who lacks nothing, is merely the result of habit or obstinacy" )uch tears are no longer the work of nature, but the work of the chil @s nurse, who coul not resist its im$ortunity an so has increase it, without consi ering that while she quiets the chil to- ay she is teaching him to cry lou er to-morrow" >oreo!er, when ca$rice or obstinacy is the cause of their tears, there is a sure way of sto$$ing them by istracting their attention by some $leasant or cons$icuous object which makes them forget that they want to cry" >ost nurses e?cel in this art, an rightly use it is !ery usefulA but it is of the utmost im$ortance that the chil shoul not $ercei!e that you mean to istract his attention, an that he shoul be amuse without sus$ecting you are thinking about himA now this is what most nurses cannot o" >ost chil ren are weane too soon" The time to wean them is when they cut their teeth" This generally causes $ain an suffering" 't this time the chil instincti!ely carries e!erything he gets hol of to his mouth to chew it" To hel$ forwar this $rocess he is gi!en as a $laything some har object such as i!ory or a wolf@s tooth" 9 think this is a mistake" 8ar bo ies a$$lie to the gums o not soften themA far from it, they make the $rocess of cutting the teeth more ifficult an $ainful" %et us always take instinct as our gui eA we ne!er see $u$$ies $ractising their bu ing teeth on $ebbles, iron, or bones, but on woo , leather, rags, soft materials which yiel to their jaws, an on which the tooth lea!es its mark" Ce can o nothing sim$ly, not e!en for our chil ren" Toys of sil!er, gol , coral, cut crystal, rattles of e!ery $rice an kin A what !ain an useless a$$liances" 'way with them allH %et us ha!e no corals or rattlesA a small branch of a tree with its lea!es an fruit, a stick of liquorice which he may suck an chew, will amuse him as well as these s$len i trifles, an they will ha!e this a !antage at least, he will not be brought u$ to lu?ury from his birth" 9t is a mitte that $a$ is not a !ery wholesome foo " Boile milk an uncooke flour cause gra!el an o not suit the stomach" 9n $a$ the flour is less thoroughly cooke than in brea an it has not fermente " 9 think brea an milk or rice-cream are better" 9f you will ha!e $a$, the flour shoul be lightly cooke beforehan " 9n my own country they make a !ery $leasant an wholesome sou$ from flour thus heate " >eat-broth or sou$ is not a !ery suitable foo an shoul be use as little as $ossible" The chil must first get use to chewing his foo A this is the right way to bring the teeth through, an when the chil begins to swallow, the sali!a mi?e with the foo hel$s igestion" 9 woul ha!e them first chew rie fruit or crusts" 9 shoul gi!e them as $laythings little bits of ry brea or biscuits, like the Pie mont brea , known in the country as Dgrisses"D By int of softening this brea in the mouth some of it is e!entually swallowe the teeth come through of themsel!es, an the chil is weane almost im$erce$tibly" Peasants ha!e usually !ery goo igestions, an they are weane with no more a o"

7rom the !ery first chil ren hear s$oken languageA we s$eak to them before they can un erstan or e!en imitate s$oken soun s" The !ocal organs are still stiff, an only gra ually len themsel!es to the re$ro uction of the soun s hear A it is e!en oubtful whether these soun s are hear istinctly as we hear them" The nurse may amuse the chil with songs an with !ery merry an !arie intonation, but 9 object to her bewil ering the chil with a multitu e of !ain wor s of which it un erstan s nothing but her tone of !oice" 9 woul ha!e the first wor s he hears few in number, istinctly an often re$eate , while the wor s themsel!es shoul be relate to things which can first be shown to the chil " That fatal facility in the use of wor s we o not un erstan begins earlier than we think" 9n the schoolroom the scholar listens to the !erbiage of his master as he listene in the cra le to the babble of his nurse" 9 think it woul be a !ery useful e ucation to lea!e him in ignorance of both" 'll sorts of i eas crow in u$on us when we try to consi er the e!elo$ment of s$eech an the chil @s first wor s" Chate!er we o they all learn to talk in the same way, an all $hiloso$hical s$eculations are utterly useless" To begin with, they ha!e, so to say, a grammar of their own, whose rules an synta? are more general than our ownA if you atten carefully you will be sur$rise to fin how e?actly they follow certain analogies, !ery much mistaken if you like, but !ery regularA these forms are only objectionable because of their harshness or because they are not recognise by custom" 9 ha!e just hear a chil se!erely scol e by his father for saying, D>on $ere, irai-je-t-yED <ow we see that this chil was following the analogy more closely than our grammarians, for as they say to him, DGas-y,D why shoul he not say, D9rai-je-t-yED <otice too the skilful way in which he a!oi s the hiatus in irai-je-y or y-irai-jeE 9s it the $oor chil @s fault that we ha!e so unskilfully e$ri!e the $hrase of this eterminati!e a !erb Dy,D because we i not know what to o with itE 9t is an intolerable $iece of $e antry an most su$erfluous attention to etail to make a $oint of correcting all chil ren@s little sins against the customary e?$ression, for they always cure themsel!es with time" 'lways s$eak correctly before them, let them ne!er be so ha$$y with any one as with you, an be sure that their s$eech will be im$erce$tibly mo elle u$on yours without any correction on your $art" But a much greater e!il, an one far less easy to guar against, is that they are urge to s$eak too much, as if $eo$le were afrai they woul not learn to talk of themsel!es" This in iscreet Feal $ro uces an effect irectly o$$osite to what is meant" They s$eak later an more confuse lyA the e?treme attention $ai to e!erything they say makes it unnecessary for them to s$eak istinctly, an as they will scarcely o$en their mouths, many of them contract a !icious $ronunciation an a confuse s$eech, which last all their life an make them almost unintelligible" 9 ha!e li!e much among $easants, an 9 ne!er knew one of them lis$, man or woman, boy or girl" Chy is thisE 're their s$eech organs ifferently ma e from our ownE <o, but they are ifferently use " There

is a hillock facing my win ow on which the chil ren of the $lace assemble for their games" 'lthough they are far enough away, 9 can istinguish $erfectly what they say, an often get goo notes for this book" E!ery ay my ear ecei!es me as to their age" 9 hear the !oices of chil ren of tenA 9 look an see the height an features of chil ren of three or four" This e?$erience is not confine to meA the towns$eo$le who come to see me, an whom 9 consult on this $oint, all fall into the same mistake" This results from the fact that, u$ to fi!e or si?, chil ren in town, brought u$ in a room an un er the care of a nursery go!erness, o not nee to s$eak abo!e a whis$er to make themsel!es hear " 's soon as their li$s mo!e $eo$le take $ains to make out what they meanA they are taught wor s which they re$eat inaccurately, an by $aying great attention to them the $eo$le who are always with them rather guess what they meant to say than what they sai " 9t is quite a ifferent matter in the country" ' $easant woman is not always with her chil A he is oblige to learn to say !ery clearly an lou ly what he wants, if he is to make himself un erstoo " :hil ren scattere about the fiel s at a istance from their fathers, mothers an other chil ren, gain $ractice in making themsel!es hear at a istance, an in a a$ting the lou ness of the !oice to the istance which se$arates them from those to whom they want to s$eak" This is the real way to learn $ronunciation, not by stammering out a few !owels into the ear of an attenti!e go!erness" )o when you question a $easant chil , he may be too shy to answer, but what he says he says istinctly, while the nurse must ser!e as inter$reter for the town chil A without her one can un erstan nothing of what he is muttering between his teeth" .7ootnote& There are e?ce$tions to thisA an often those chil ren who at first are most ifficult to hear, become the noisiest when they begin to raise their !oices" But if 9 were to enter into all these etails 9 shoul ne!er make an en A e!ery sensible rea er ought to see that efect an e?cess, cause by the same abuse, are both correcte by my metho " 9 regar the two ma?ims as inse$arableBalways enoughBne!er too much" Chen the first is well establishe , the latter necessarily follows on it"3 's they grow ol er, the boys are su$$ose to be cure of this fault at college, the girls in the con!ent schoolsA an in ee both usually s$eak more clearly than chil ren brought u$ entirely at home" But they are $re!ente from acquiring as clear a $ronunciation as the $easants in this wayBthey are require to learn all sorts of things by heart, an to re$eat alou what they ha!e learntA for when they are stu ying they get into the way of gabbling an $ronouncing carelessly an illA it is still worse when they re$eat their lessonsA they cannot fin the right wor s, they rag out their syllables" This is only $ossible when the memory hesitates, the tongue oes not stammer of itself" Thus they acquire or continue habits of ba $ronunciation" %ater on you will see that Emile oes not acquire such habits or at least not from this cause" 9 grant you une ucate $eo$le an !illagers often fall into the o$$osite e?treme" They almost always s$eak too lou A their $ronunciation is too e?act, an lea s to rough an coarse articulationA their accent is too $ronounce , they choose their e?$ressions ba ly, etc"

But, to begin with, this e?treme strikes me as much less angerous than the other, for the first law of s$eech is to make oneself un erstoo , an the chief fault is to fail to be un erstoo " To $ri e oursel!es on ha!ing no accent is to $ri e oursel!es on ri ing our $hrases of strength an elegance" Em$hasis is the soul of s$eech, it gi!es it its feeling an truth" Em$hasis ecei!es less than wor sA $erha$s that is why well-e ucate $eo$le are so afrai of it" 7rom the custom of saying e!erything in the same tone has arisen that of $oking fun at $eo$le without their knowing it" Chen em$hasis is $roscribe , its $lace is taken by all sorts of ri iculous, affecte , an e$hemeral $ronunciations, such as one obser!es es$ecially among the young $eo$le about court" 9t is this affectation of s$eech an manner which makes 7renchmen isagreeable an re$ulsi!e to other nations on first acquaintance" Em$hasis is foun , not in their s$eech, but in their bearing" That is not the way to make themsel!es attracti!e" 'll these little faults of s$eech, which you are so afrai the chil ren will acquire, are mere triflesA they may be $re!ente or correcte with the greatest ease, but the faults which are taught them when you make them s$eak in a low, in istinct, an timi !oice, when you are always criticising their tone an fin ing fault with their wor s, are ne!er cure " ' man who has only learnt to s$eak in society of fine la ies coul not make himself hear at the hea of his troo$s, an woul make little im$ression on the rabble in a riot" 7irst teach the chil to s$eak to menA he will be able to s$eak to the women when require " Brought u$ in all the rustic sim$licity of the country, your chil ren will gain a more sonorous !oiceA they will not acquire the hesitating stammer of town chil ren, neither will they acquire the e?$ressions nor the tone of the !illagers, or if they o they will easily lose themA their master being with them from their earliest years, an more an more in their society the ol er they grow, will be able to $re!ent or efface by s$eaking correctly himself the im$ression of the $easants@ talk" Emile will s$eak the $urest 7rench 9 know, but he will s$eak it more istinctly an with a better articulation than myself" The chil who is trying to s$eak shoul hear nothing but wor s he can un erstan , nor shoul he say wor s he cannot articulateA his efforts lea him to re$eat the same syllable as if he were $ractising its clear $ronunciation" Chen he begins to stammer, o not try to un erstan him" To e?$ect to be always listene to is a form of tyranny which is not goo for the chil " )ee carefully to his real nee s, an let him try to make you un erstan the rest" )till less shoul you hurry him into s$eechA he will learn to talk when he feels the want of it" 9t has in ee been remarke that those who begin to s$eak !ery late ne!er s$eak so istinctly as othersA but it is not because they talke late that they are hesitatingA on the contrary, they began to talk late because they hesitateA if not, why i they begin to talk so lateE 8a!e they less nee of s$eech, ha!e they been less urge to itE 6n the contrary, the an?iety arouse with the first sus$icion of this backwar ness lea s $eo$le to tease them much more to begin to talk than those who articulate earlierA an this mistaken Feal may o much to make their

s$eech confuse , when with less haste they might ha!e ha time to bring it to greater $erfection" :hil ren who are force to s$eak too soon ha!e no time to learn either to $ronounce correctly or to un erstan what they are ma e to sayA while left to themsel!es they first $ractise the easiest syllables, an then, a ing to them little by little some meaning which their gestures e?$lain, they teach you their own wor s before they learn yours" By this means they o not acquire your wor s till they ha!e un erstoo them" Being in no hurry to use them, they begin by carefully obser!ing the sense in which you use them, an when they are sure of them they a o$t them" The worst e!il resulting from the $recocious use of s$eech by young chil ren is that we not only fail to un erstan the first wor s they use, we misun erstan them without knowing itA so that while they seem to answer us correctly, they fail to un erstan us an we them" This is the most frequent cause of our sur$rise at chil ren@s sayingsA we attribute to them i eas which they i not attach to their wor s" This lack of attention on our $art to the real meaning which wor s ha!e for chil ren seems to me the cause of their earliest misconce$tionsA an these misconce$tions, e!en when correcte , colour their whole course of thought for the rest of their life" 9 shall ha!e se!eral o$$ortunities of illustrating these by e?am$les later on" %et the chil @s !ocabulary, therefore, be limite A it is !ery un esirable that he shoul ha!e more wor s than i eas, that he shoul be able to say more than he thinks" 6ne of the reasons why $easants are generally shrew er than townsfolk is, 9 think, that their !ocabulary is smaller" They ha!e few i eas, but those few are thoroughly gras$e " The infant is $rogressing in se!eral ways at onceA he is learning to talk, eat, an walk about the same time" This is really the first $hase of his life" ;$ till now, he was little more than he was before birthA he ha neither feeling nor thought, he was barely ca$able of sensationA he was unconscious of his own e?istence" DGi!it, et est !itae nescius i$se suae"DB6!i "

BOOK II
Ce ha!e now reache the secon $hase of lifeA infancy, strictly so-calle , is o!erA for the wor s infans an $uer are not synonymous" The latter inclu es the former, which means literally Done who cannot s$eakAD thus Galerius s$eaks of $uerum infantem" But 9 shall continue to use the wor chil L7rench enfantM accor ing to the custom of our language till an age for which there is another term" Chen chil ren begin to talk they cry less" This $rogress is quite naturalA one language su$$lants another" 's soon as they can say D9t hurts me,D why shoul they cry, unless the $ain is too shar$ for wor sE 9f they still cry, those about them are to blame" Chen once Emile has sai , D9t hurts me,D it will take a !ery shar$ $ain to make him cry"

9f the chil is elicate an sensiti!e, if by nature he begins to cry for nothing, 9 let him cry in !ain an soon check his tears at their source" )o long as he cries 9 will not go near himA 9 come at once when he lea!es off crying" 8e will soon be quiet when he wants to call me, or rather he will utter a single cry" :hil ren learn the meaning of signs by their effectsA they ha!e no other meaning for them" 8owe!er much a chil hurts himself when he is alone, he rarely cries, unless he e?$ects to be hear " )houl he fall or bum$ his hea , or make his nose blee , or cut his fingers, 9 shall show no alarm, nor shall 9 make any fuss o!er himA 9 shall take no notice, at any rate at first" The harm is oneA he must bear itA all my Feal coul only frighten him more an make him more ner!ous" 9n ee it is not the blow but the fear of it which istresses us when we are hurt" 9 shall s$are him this suffering at least, for he will certainly regar the injury as he sees me regar itA if he fin s that 9 hasten an?iously to him, if 9 $ity him or comfort him, he will think he is ba ly hurt" 9f he fin s 9 take no notice, he will soon reco!er himself, an will think the woun is heale when it ceases to hurt" This is the time for his first lesson in courage, an by bearing slight ills without fear we gra ually learn to bear greater" 9 shall not take $ains to $re!ent Emile hurting himselfA far from it, 9 shoul be !e?e if he ne!er hurt himself, if he grew u$ unacquainte with $ain" To bear $ain is his first an most useful lesson" 9t seems as if chil ren were small an weak on $ur$ose to teach them these !aluable lessons without anger" The chil has such a little way to fall he will not break his legA if he knocks himself with a stick he will not break his armA if he seiFes a shar$ knife he will not gras$ it tight enough to make a ee$ woun " )o far as 9 know, no chil , left to himself, has e!er been known to kill or maim itself, or e!en to o itself any serious harm, unless it has been foolishly left on a high $lace, or alone near the fire, or within reach of angerous wea$ons" Chat is there to be sai for all the $ara$hernalia with which the chil is surroun e to shiel him on e!ery si e so that he grows u$ at the mercy of $ain, with neither courage nor e?$erience, so that he thinks he is kille by a $in-$rick an faints at the sight of bloo E Cith our foolish an $e antic metho s we are always $re!enting chil ren from learning what they coul learn much better by themsel!es, while we neglect what we alone can teach them" :an anything be sillier than the $ains taken to teach them to walk, as if there were any one who was unable to walk when he grows u$ through his nurse@s neglectE 8ow many we see walking ba ly all their life because they were ill taughtE Emile shall ha!e no hea -$a s, no go-carts, no lea ing-stringsA or at least as soon as he can $ut one foot before another he shall only be su$$orte along $a!ements, an he shall be taken quickly across them" .7ootnote& There is nothing so absur an hesitating as the gait of those who ha!e been ke$t too long in lea ing-strings when they were little" This is one of the obser!ations which are consi ere tri!ial because they are true"3 9nstea of kee$ing him mewe u$ in a stuffy room, take him out into a mea ow e!ery ayA let him run about, let him struggle an fall again an again, the oftener the betterA he will learn all the sooner to $ick himself u$" The elights of liberty will make u$ for many bruises" >y $u$il will

hurt himself oftener than yours, but he will always be merryA your $u$ils may recei!e fewer injuries, but they are always thwarte , constraine , an sa " 9 oubt whether they are any better off" 's their strength increases, chil ren ha!e also less nee for tears" They can o more for themsel!es, they nee the hel$ of others less frequently" Cith strength comes the sense to use it" 9t is with this secon $hase that the real $ersonal life has its beginningA it is then that the chil becomes conscious of himself" (uring e!ery moment of his life memory calls u$ the feeling of selfA he becomes really one $erson, always the same, an therefore ca$able of joy or sorrow" 8ence we must begin to consi er him as a moral being" 'lthough we know a$$ro?imately the limits of human life an our chances of attaining those limits, nothing is more uncertain than the length of the life of any one of us" Gery few reach ol age" The chief risks occur at the beginning of lifeA the shorter our $ast life, the less we must ho$e to li!e" 6f all the chil ren who are born scarcely one half reach a olescence, an it is !ery likely your $u$il will not li!e to be a man" Chat is to be thought, therefore, of that cruel e ucation which sacrifices the $resent to an uncertain future, that bur ens a chil with all sorts of restrictions an begins by making him miserable, in or er to $re$are him for some far-off ha$$iness which he may ne!er enjoyE E!en if 9 consi ere that e ucation wise in its aims, how coul 9 !iew without in ignation those $oor wretches subjecte to an intolerable sla!ery an con emne like galley-sla!es to en less toil, with no certainty that they will gain anything by itE The age of harmless mirth is s$ent in tears, $unishments, threats, an sla!ery" #ou torment the $oor thing for his goo A you fail to see that you are calling (eath to snatch him from these gloomy surroun ings" Cho can say how many chil ren fall !ictims to the e?cessi!e care of their fathers an mothersE They are ha$$y to esca$e from this crueltyA this is all that they gain from the ills they are force to en ure& they ie without regretting, ha!ing known nothing of life but its sorrows" >en, be kin to your fellow-menA this is your first uty, kin to e!ery age an station, kin to all that is not foreign to humanity" Chat wis om can you fin that is greater than kin nessE %o!e chil hoo , in ulge its s$orts, its $leasures, its elightful instincts" Cho has not sometimes regrette that age when laughter was e!er on the li$s, an when the heart was e!er at $eaceE Chy rob these innocents of the joys which $ass so quickly, of that $recious gift which they cannot abuseE Chy fill with bitterness the fleeting ays of early chil hoo , ays which will no more return for them than for youE 7athers, can you tell when eath will call your chil ren to himE (o not lay u$ sorrow for yoursel!es by robbing them of the short s$an which nature has allotte to them" 's soon as they are aware of the joy of life, let them rejoice in it, go that whene!er Go calls them they may not ie without ha!ing taste the joy of life" 8ow $eo$le will cry out against meH 9 hear from afar the shouts of that false wis om which is e!er ragging us onwar s, counting the $resent as nothing, an $ursuing without a $ause a future which flies as we $ursue,

that false wis om which remo!es us from our $lace an ne!er brings us to any other" <ow is the time, you say, to correct his e!il ten enciesA we must increase suffering in chil hoo , when it is less keenly felt, to lessen it in manhoo " But how o you know that you can carry out all these fine schemesA how o you know that all this fine teaching with which you o!erwhelm the feeble min of the chil will not o him more harm than goo in the futureE 8ow o you know that you can s$are him anything by the !e?ations you hea$ u$on him nowE Chy inflict on him more ills than befit his $resent con ition unless you are quite sure that these $resent ills will sa!e him future illE 'n what $roof can you gi!e me that those e!il ten encies you $rofess to cure are not the result of your foolish $recautions rather than of natureE Chat a $oor sort of foresight, to make a chil wretche in the $resent with the more or less oubtful ho$e of making him ha$$y at some future ay" 9f such blun ering thinkers fail to istinguish between liberty an licence, between a merry chil an a s$oilt arling, let them learn to iscriminate" %et us not forget what befits our $resent state in the $ursuit of !ain fancies" >ankin has its $lace in the sequence of thingsA chil hoo has its $lace in the sequence of human lifeA the man must be treate as a man an the chil as a chil " Gi!e each his $lace, an kee$ him there" :ontrol human $assions accor ing to man@s natureA that is all we can o for his welfare" The rest e$en s on e?ternal forces, which are beyon our control" 'bsolute goo an e!il are unknown to us" 9n this life they are blen e togetherA we ne!er enjoy any $erfectly $ure feeling, nor o we remain for more than a moment in the same state" The feelings of our min s, like the changes in our bo ies, are in a continual flu?" Goo an ill are common to all, but in !arying $ro$ortions" The ha$$iest is he who suffers leastA the most miserable is he who enjoys least" E!er more sorrow than joyBthis is the lot of all of us" >an@s ha$$iness in this worl is but a negati!e stateA it must be reckone by the fewness of his ills" E!ery feeling of har shi$ is inse$arable from the esire to esca$e from itA e!ery i ea of $leasure from the esire to enjoy it" 'll esire im$lies a want, an all wants are $ainfulA hence our wretche ness consists in the is$ro$ortion between our esires an our $owers" ' conscious being whose $owers were equal to his esires woul be $erfectly ha$$y" Chat then is human wis omE Chere is the $ath of true ha$$inessE The mere limitation of our esires is not enough, for if they were less than our $owers, $art of our faculties woul be i le, an we shoul not enjoy our whole beingA neither is the mere e?tension of our $owers enough, for if our esires were also increase we shoul only be the more miserable" True ha$$iness consists in ecreasing the ifference between our esires an our $owers, in establishing a $erfect equilibrium between the $ower an the will" Then only, when all its forces are em$loye , will the soul be at rest an man will fin himself in his true $osition"

9n this con ition, nature, who oes e!erything for the best, has $lace him from the first" To begin with, she gi!es him only such esires as are necessary for self-$reser!ation an such $owers as are sufficient for their satisfaction" 'll the rest she has store in his min as a sort of reser!e, to be rawn u$on at nee " 9t is only in this $rimiti!e con ition that we fin the equilibrium between esire an $ower, an then alone man is not unha$$y" 's soon as his $otential $owers of min begin to function, imagination, more $owerful than all the rest, awakes, an $rece es all the rest" 9t is imagination which enlarges the boun s of $ossibility for us, whether for goo or ill, an therefore stimulates an fee s esires by the ho$e of satisfying them" But the object which seeme within our gras$ flies quicker than we can followA when we think we ha!e gras$e it, it transforms itself an is again far ahea of us" Ce no longer $ercei!e the country we ha!e tra!erse , an we think nothing of itA that which lies before us becomes !aster an stretches still before us" Thus we e?haust our strength, yet ne!er reach our goal, an the nearer we are to $leasure, the further we are from ha$$iness" 6n the other han , the more nearly a man@s con ition a$$ro?imates to this state of nature the less ifference is there between his esires an his $owers, an ha$$iness is therefore less remote" %acking e!erything, he is ne!er less miserableA for misery consists, not in the lack of things, but in the nee s which they ins$ire" The worl of reality has its boun s, the worl of imagination is boun lessA as we cannot enlarge the one, let us restrict the otherA for all the sufferings which really make us miserable arise from the ifference between the real an the imaginary" 8ealth, strength, an a goo conscience e?ce$te , all the goo things of life are a matter of o$inionA e?ce$t bo ily suffering an remorse, all our woes are imaginary" #ou will tell me this is a common$laceA 9 a mit it, but its $ractical a$$lication is no common$lace, an it is with $ractice only that we are now concerne " Chat o you mean when you say, D>an is weakDE The term weak im$lies a relation, a relation of the creature to whom it is a$$lie " 'n insect or a worm whose strength e?cee s its nee s is strongA an ele$hant, a lion, a conqueror, a hero, a go himself, whose nee s e?cee his strength is weak" The rebellious angel who fought against his own nature was weaker than the ha$$y mortal who is li!ing at $eace accor ing to nature" Chen man is content to be himself he is strong in ee A when he stri!es to be more than man he is weak in ee " But o not imagine that you can increase your strength by increasing your $owers" <ot soA if your $ri e increases more ra$i ly your strength is iminishe " %et us measure the e?tent of our s$here an remain in its centre like the s$i er in its webA we shall ha!e strength sufficient for our nee s, we shall ha!e no cause to lament our weakness, for we shall ne!er be aware of it" The other animals $ossess only such $owers as are require for self$reser!ationA man alone has more" 9s it not !ery strange that this su$erfluity shoul make him miserableE 9n e!ery lan a man@s labour yiel s more than a bare li!ing" 9f he were wise enough to isregar this sur$lus he woul always ha!e enough, for he woul ne!er ha!e too much" DGreat nee s,D sai 7a!orin, Ds$ring from great wealthA an often

the best way of getting what we want is to get ri of what we ha!e"D By stri!ing to increase our ha$$iness we change it into wretche ness" 9f a man were content to li!e, he woul li!e ha$$yA an he woul therefore be goo , for what woul he ha!e to gain by !iceE 9f we were immortal we shoul all be miserableA no oubt it is har to ie, but it is sweet to think that we shall not li!e for e!er, an that a better life will $ut an en to the sorrows of this worl " 9f we ha the offer of immortality here below, who woul acce$t the sorrowful giftE .7ootnote& #ou un erstan 9 am s$eaking of those who think, an not of the crow "3 Chat resources, what ho$es, what consolation woul be left against the cruelties of fate an man@s injusticeE The ignorant man ne!er looks beforeA he knows little of the !alue of life an oes not fear to lose itA the wise man sees things of greater worth an $refers them to it" 8alf knowle ge an sham wis om set us thinking about eath an what lies beyon itA an they thus create the worst of our ills" The wise man bears life@s ills all the better because he knows he must ie" %ife woul be too early bought i we not know that sooner or later eath will en it" 6ur moral ills are the result of $reju ice, crime alone e?ce$te , an that e$en s on oursel!esA our bo ily ills either $ut an en to themsel!es or to us" Time or eath will cure them, but the less we know how to bear it, the greater is our $ain, an we suffer more in our efforts to cure our iseases than if we en ure them" %i!e accor ing to natureA be $atient, get ri of the octorsA you will not esca$e eath, but you will only ie once, while the octors make you ie aily through your isease imaginationA their lying art, instea of $rolonging your ays, robs you of all elight in them" 9 am always asking what real goo this art has one to mankin " True, the octors cure some who woul ha!e ie , but they kill millions who woul ha!e li!e " 9f you are wise you will ecline to take $art in this lottery when the o s are so great against you" )uffer, ie, or get betterA but whate!er you o, li!e while you are ali!e" 8uman institutions are one mass of folly an contra iction" 's our life loses its !alue we set a higher $rice u$on it" The ol regret life more than the youngA they o not want to lose all they ha!e s$ent in $re$aring for its enjoyment" 't si?ty it is cruel to ie when one has not begun to li!e" >an is cre ite with a strong esire for self-$reser!ation, an this esire e?istsA but we fail to $ercei!e that this esire, as felt by us, is largely the work of man" 9n a natural state man is only eager to $reser!e his life while he has the means for its $reser!ationA when self-$reser!ation is no longer $ossible, he resigns himself to his fate an ies without !ain torments" <ature teaches us the first law of resignation" )a!ages, like wil beasts, make !ery little struggle against eath, an meet it almost without a murmur" Chen this natural law is o!erthrown reason establishes another, but few iscern it, an man@s resignation is ne!er so com$lete as nature@s" Pru enceH Pru ence which is e!er bi ing us look forwar into the future, a future which in many cases we shall ne!er reachA here is the real source of all our troublesH 8ow ma it is for so short-li!e a creature as man to look forwar into a future to which he rarely attains, while he neglects the $resent which is hisE This ma ness is all the more fatal since

it increases with years, an the ol , always timi , $ru ent, an miserly, $refer to o without necessaries to- ay that they may ha!e lu?uries at a hun re " Thus we gras$ e!erything, we cling to e!erythingA we are an?ious about time, $lace, $eo$le, things, all that is an will beA we oursel!es are but the least $art of oursel!es" Ce s$rea oursel!es, so to s$eak, o!er the whole worl , an all this !ast e?$anse becomes sensiti!e" <o won er our woes increase when we may be woun e on e!ery si e" 8ow many $rinces make themsel!es miserable for the loss of lan s they ne!er saw, an how many merchants lament in Paris o!er some misfortune in the 9n iesH 9s it nature that carries men so far from their real sel!esE 9s it her will that each shoul learn his fate from others an e!en be the last to learn itA so that a man ies ha$$y or miserable before he knows what he is about" There is a healthy, cheerful, strong, an !igorous manA it oes me goo to see himA his eyes tell of content an well-beingA he is the $icture of ha$$iness" ' letter comes by $ostA the ha$$y man glances at it, it is a resse to him, he o$ens it an rea s it" 9n a moment he is change , he turns $ale an falls into a swoon" Chen he comes to himself he wee$s, laments, an groans, he tears his hair, an his shrieks re-echo through the air" #ou woul say he was in con!ulsions" 7ool, what harm has this bit of $a$er one youE Chat limb has it torn awayE Chat crime has it ma e you commitE Chat change has it wrought in you to re uce you to this state of miseryE 8a the letter miscarrie , ha some kin ly han thrown it into the fire, it strikes me that the fate of this mortal, at once ha$$y an unha$$y, woul ha!e offere us a strange $roblem" 8is misfortunes, you say, were real enough" Grante A but he i not feel them" Chat of thatE 8is ha$$iness was imaginary" 9 a mit itA health, wealth, a contente s$irit, are mere reams" Ce no longer li!e in our own $lace, we li!e outsi e it" Chat oes it $rofit us to li!e in such fear of eath, when all that makes life worth li!ing is our ownE 6h, manH li!e your own life an you will no longer be wretche " =ee$ to your a$$ointe $lace in the or er of nature an nothing can tear you from it" (o not kick against the stern law of necessity, nor waste in !ain resistance the strength bestowe on you by hea!en, not to $rolong or e?ten your e?istence, but to $reser!e it so far an so long as hea!en $leases" #our free om an your $ower e?ten as far an no further than your natural strengthA anything more is but sla!ery, eceit, an trickery" Power itself is ser!ile when it e$en s u$on $ublic o$inionA for you are e$en ent on the $reju ices of others when you rule them by means of those $reju ices" To lea them as you will, they must be le as they will" They ha!e only to change their way of thinking an you are force to change your course of action" Those who a$$roach you nee only contri!e to sway the o$inions of those you rule, or of the fa!ourite by whom you are rule , or those of your own family or theirs" 8a you the genius of Themistocles, .7ootnote& D#ou see that little boy,D sai Themistocles to his frien s, Dthe fate of Greece is in his han s, for he rules his mother an his mother rules me, 9 rule the 'thenians an the 'thenians rule the Greeks"D Chat $etty creatures we shoul often fin

controlling great em$ires if we trace the course of $ower from the $rince to those who secretly $ut that $ower in motion"3 !iFiers, courtiers, $riests, sol iers, ser!ants, babblers, the !ery chil ren themsel!es, woul lea you like a chil in the mi st of your legions" Chate!er you o, your actual authority can ne!er e?ten beyon your own $owers" 's soon as you are oblige to see with another@s eyes you must will what he wills" #ou say with $ri e, D>y $eo$le are my subjects"D Grante , but what are youE The subject of your ministers" 'n your ministers, what are theyE The subjects of their clerks, their mistresses, the ser!ants of their ser!ants" Gras$ all, usur$ all, an then $our out your sil!er with both han sA set u$ your batteries, raise the gallows an the wheelA make laws, issue $roclamations, multi$ly your s$ies, your sol iers, your hangmen, your $risons, an your chains" Poor little men, what goo oes it o youE #ou will be no better ser!e , you will be none the less robbe an ecei!e , you will be no nearer absolute $ower" #ou will say continually, D9t is our will,D an you will continually o the will of others" There is only one man who gets his own wayBhe who can get it singlehan e A therefore free om, not $ower, is the greatest goo " That man is truly free who esires what he is able to $erform, an oes what he esires" This is my fun amental ma?im" '$$ly it to chil hoo , an all the rules of e ucation s$ring from it" )ociety has enfeeble man, not merely by robbing him of the right to his own strength, but still more by making his strength insufficient for his nee s" This is why his esires increase in $ro$ortion to his weaknessA an this is why the chil is weaker than the man" 9f a man is strong an a chil is weak it is not because the strength of the one is absolutely greater than the strength of the other, but because the one can naturally $ro!i e for himself an the other cannot" Thus the man will ha!e more esires an the chil more ca$rices, a wor which means, 9 take it, esires which are not true nee s, esires which can only be satisfie with the hel$ of others" 9 ha!e alrea y gi!en the reason for this state of weakness" Parental affection is nature@s $ro!ision against itA but $arental affection may be carrie to e?cess, it may be wanting, or it may be ill a$$lie " Parents who li!e un er our or inary social con itions bring their chil into these con itions too soon" By increasing his nee s they o not relie!e his weaknessA they rather increase it" They further increase it by eman ing of him what nature oes not eman , by subjecting to their will what little strength he has to further his own wishes, by making sla!es of themsel!es or of him instea of recognising that mutual e$en ence which shoul result from his weakness or their affection" The wise man can kee$ his own $laceA but the chil who oes not know what his $lace is, is unable to kee$ it" There are a thousan ways out of it, an it is the business of those who ha!e charge of the chil to kee$ him in his $lace, an this is no easy task" 8e shoul be neither beast nor man, but a chil " 8e must feel his weakness, but not suffer through itA he must be e$en ent, but he must not obeyA he must ask, not comman " 8e is only subject to others because of his nee s, an because they see better than he what he really nee s, what may hel$ or hin er his

e?istence" <o one, not e!en his father, has the right to bi the chil what is of no use to him"

Chen our natural ten encies ha!e not been interfere with by human $reju ice an human institutions, the ha$$iness alike of chil ren an of men consists in the enjoyment of their liberty" But the chil @s liberty is restricte by his lack of strength" 8e who oes as he likes is ha$$y $ro!i e he is self-sufficingA it is so with the man who is li!ing in a state of nature" 8e who oes what he likes is not ha$$y if his esires e?cee his strengthA it is so with a chil in like con itions" E!en in a state of nature chil ren only enjoy an im$erfect liberty, like that enjoye by men in social life" Each of us, unable to is$ense with the hel$ of others, becomes so far weak an wretche " Ce were meant to be men, laws an customs thrust us back into infancy" The rich an great, the !ery kings themsel!es are but chil renA they see that we are rea y to relie!e their miseryA this makes them chil ishly !ain, an they are quite $rou of the care bestowe on them, a care which they woul ne!er get if they were grown men" These are weighty consi erations, an they $ro!i e a solution for all the conflicting $roblems of our social system" There are two kin s of e$en ence& e$en ence on things, which is the work of natureA an e$en ence on men, which is the work of society" (e$en ence on things, being non-moral, oes no injury to liberty an begets no !icesA e$en ence on men, being out of or er, .7ootnote& 9n my PR9<:9P%E) 67 P6%9T9:'% %'C it is $ro!e that no $ri!ate will can be or ere in the social system"3 gi!es rise to e!ery kin of !ice, an through this master an sla!e become mutually e$ra!e " 9f there is any cure for this social e!il, it is to be foun in the substitution of law for the in i!i ualA in arming the general will with a real strength beyon the $ower of any in i!i ual will" 9f the laws of nations, like the laws of nature, coul ne!er be broken by any human $ower, e$en ence on men woul become e$en ence on thingsA all the a !antages of a state of nature woul be combine with all the a !antages of social life in the commonwealth" The liberty which $reser!es a man from !ice woul be unite with the morality which raises him to !irtue" =ee$ the chil e$en ent on things only" By this course of e ucation you will ha!e followe the or er of nature" %et his unreasonable wishes meet with $hysical obstacles only, or the $unishment which results from his own actions, lessons which will be recalle when the same circumstances occur again" 9t is enough to $re!ent him from wrong oing without forbi ing him to o wrong" E?$erience or lack of $ower shoul take the $lace of law" Gi!e him, not what he wants, but what he nee s" %et there be no question of obe ience for him or tyranny for you" )u$$ly the strength he lacks just so far as is require for free om, not for $ower, so that he may recei!e your ser!ices with a sort of shame, an look forwar to the time when he may is$ense with them an may achie!e the honour of self-hel$" <ature $ro!i es for the chil @s growth in her own fashion, an this shoul ne!er be thwarte " (o not make him sit still when he wants to run about, nor run when he wants to be quiet" 9f we i not s$oil our chil ren@s wills

by our blun ers their esires woul be free from ca$rice" %et them run, jum$, an shout to their heart@s content" 'll their own acti!ities are instincts of the bo y for its growth in strengthA but you shoul regar with sus$icion those wishes which they cannot carry out for themsel!es, those which others must carry out for them" Then you must istinguish carefully between natural an artificial nee s, between the nee s of bu ing ca$rice an the nee s which s$ring from the o!erflowing life just escribe " 9 ha!e alrea y tol you what you ought to o when a chil cries for this thing or that" 9 will only a that as soon as he has wor s to ask for what he wants an accom$anies his eman s with tears, either to get his own way quicker or to o!er-ri e a refusal, he shoul ne!er ha!e his way" 9f his wor s were $rom$te by a real nee you shoul recognise it an satisfy it at onceA but to yiel to his tears is to encourage him to cry, to teach him to oubt your kin ness, an to think that you are influence more by his im$ortunity than your own goo -will" 9f he oes not think you kin he will soon think you unkin A if he thinks you weak he will soon become obstinateA what you mean to gi!e must be gi!en at once" Be chary of refusing, but, ha!ing refuse , o not change your min " 'bo!e all, beware of teaching the chil em$ty $hrases of $oliteness, which ser!e as s$ells to sub ue those aroun him to his will, an to get him what he wants at once" The artificial e ucation of the rich ne!er fails to make them $olitely im$erious, by teaching them the wor s to use so that no one will are to resist them" Their chil ren ha!e neither the tone nor the manner of su$$liantsA they are as haughty or e!en more haughty in their entreaties than in their comman s, as though they were more certain to be obeye " #ou see at once that D9f you $leaseD means D9t $leases me,D an D9 begD means D9 comman "D Chat a fine sort of $oliteness which only succee s in changing the meaning of wor s so that e!ery wor is a comman H 7or my own $art, 9 woul rather Emile were ru e than haughty, that he shoul say D(o thisD as a request, rather than DPleaseD as a comman " Chat concerns me is his meaning, not his wor s" There is such a thing as e?cessi!e se!erity as well as e?cessi!e in ulgence, an both alike shoul be a!oi e " 9f you let chil ren suffer you risk their health an lifeA you make them miserable nowA if you take too much $ains to s$are them e!ery kin of uneasiness you are laying u$ much misery for them in the futureA you are making them elicate an o!er-sensiti!eA you are taking them out of their $lace among men, a $lace to which they must sooner or later return, in s$ite of all your $ains" #ou will say 9 am falling into the same mistake as those ba fathers whom 9 blame for sacrificing the $resent ha$$iness of their chil ren to a future which may ne!er be theirs" <ot soA for the liberty 9 gi!e my $u$il makes u$ for the slight har shi$s to which he is e?$ose " 9 see little fellows $laying in the snow, stiff an blue with col , scarcely able to stir a finger" They coul go an warm themsel!es if they chose, but they o not chooseA if you force them to come in they woul feel the harshness of constraint a hun re fol more than the shar$ness of the col " Then what becomes of your grie!anceE )hall 9 make your chil miserable by e?$osing him to har shi$s which he

is $erfectly rea y to en ureE 9 secure his $resent goo by lea!ing him his free om, an his future goo by arming him against the e!ils he will ha!e to bear" 9f he ha his choice, woul he hesitate for a moment between you an meE

(o you think any man can fin true ha$$iness elsewhere than in his natural stateA an when you try to s$are him all suffering, are you not taking him out of his natural stateE 9n ee 9 maintain that to enjoy great ha$$iness he must e?$erience slight illsA such is his nature" Too much bo ily $ros$erity corru$ts the morals" ' man who knew nothing of suffering woul be inca$able of ten erness towar s his fellow-creatures an ignorant of the joys of $ityA he woul be har -hearte , unsocial, a !ery monster among men" (o you know the surest way to make your chil miserableE %et him ha!e e!erything he wantsA for as his wants increase in $ro$ortion to the ease with which they are satisfie , you will be com$elle , sooner or later, to refuse his eman s, an this unlooke -for refusal will hurt him more than the lack of what he wants" 8e will want your stick first, then your watch, the bir that flies, or the star that shines abo!e him" 8e will want all he sets eyes on, an unless you were Go himself, how coul you satisfy himE >an naturally consi ers all that he can get as his own" 9n this sense 8obbes@ theory is true to a certain e?tent& >ulti$ly both our wishes an the means of satisfying them, an each will be master of all" Thus the chil , who has only to ask an ha!e, thinks himself the master of the uni!erseA he consi ers all men as his sla!esA an when you are at last com$elle to refuse, he takes your refusal as an act of rebellion, for he thinks he has only to comman " 'll the reasons you gi!e him, while he is still too young to reason, are so many $retences in his eyesA they seem to him only unkin nessA the sense of injustice embitters his is$ositionA he hates e!ery one" Though he has ne!er felt grateful for kin ness, he resents all o$$osition" 8ow shoul 9 su$$ose that such a chil can e!er be ha$$yE 8e is the sla!e of anger, a $rey to the fiercest $assions" 8a$$yH 8e is a tyrant, at once the basest of sla!es an the most wretche of creatures" 9 ha!e known chil ren brought u$ like this who e?$ecte you to knock the house own, to gi!e them the weather-cock on the stee$le, to sto$ a regiment on the march so that they might listen to the ban A when they coul not get their way they screame an crie an woul $ay no attention to any one" 9n !ain e!erybo y stro!e to $lease themA as their esires were stimulate by the ease with which they got their own way, they set their hearts on im$ossibilities, an foun themsel!es face to face with o$$osition an ifficulty, $ain an grief" )col ing, sulking, or in a rage, they we$t an crie all ay" Cere they really so greatly fa!oure E Ceakness, combine with lo!e of $ower, $ro uces nothing but folly an suffering" 6ne s$oilt chil beats the tableA another whi$s the sea" They may beat an whi$ long enough before they fin contentment" 9f their chil hoo is ma e wretche by these notions of $ower an tyranny, what of their manhoo , when their relations with their fellowmen begin to grow an multi$lyE They are use to fin e!erything gi!e way to themA what a $ainful sur$rise to enter society an meet with o$$osition on e!ery si e, to be crushe beneath the weight of a uni!erse

which they e?$ecte to mo!e at will" Their insolent manners, their chil ish !anity, only raw own u$on them mortification, scorn, an mockeryA they swallow insults like waterA shar$ e?$erience soon teaches them that they ha!e realise neither their $osition nor their strength" 's they cannot o e!erything, they think they can o nothing" They are aunte by une?$ecte obstacles, egra e by the scorn of menA they become base, cowar ly, an eceitful, an fall as far below their true le!el as they formerly soare abo!e it" %et us come back to the $rimiti!e law" <ature has ma e chil ren hel$less an in nee of affectionA i she make them to be obeye an feare E 8as she gi!en them an im$osing manner, a stern eye, a lou an threatening !oice with which to make themsel!es feare E 9 un erstan how the roaring of the lion strikes terror into the other beasts, so that they tremble when they behol his terrible mane, but of all unseemly, hateful, an ri iculous sights, was there e!er anything like a bo y of statesmen in their robes of office with their chief at their hea bowing own before a swa le babe, a ressing him in $om$ous $hrases, while he cries an sla!ers in re$lyE 9f we consi er chil hoo itself, is there anything so weak an wretche as a chil , anything so utterly at the mercy of those about it, so e$en ent on their $ity, their care, an their affectionE (oes it not seem as if his gentle face an touching a$$earance were inten e to interest e!ery one on behalf of his weakness an to make them eager to hel$ himE 'n what is there more offensi!e, more unsuitable, than the sight of a sulky or im$erious chil , who comman s those about him, an im$u ently assumes the tones of a master towar s those without whom he woul $erishE 6n the other han , o you not see how chil ren are fettere by the weakness of infancyE (o you not see how cruel it is to increase this ser!itu e by obe ience to our ca$rices, by e$ri!ing them of such liberty as they ha!eE a liberty which they can scarcely abuse, a liberty the loss of which will o so little goo to them or us" 9f there is nothing more ri iculous than a haughty chil , there is nothing that claims our $ity like a timi chil " Cith the age of reason the chil becomes the sla!e of the communityA then why forestall this by sla!ery in the homeE %et this brief hour of life be free from a yoke which nature has not lai u$on itA lea!e the chil the use of his natural liberty, which, for a time at least, secures him from the !ices of the sla!e" Bring me those harsh masters, an those fathers who are the sla!es of their chil ren, bring them both with their fri!olous objections, an before they boast of their own metho s let them for once learn the metho of nature" 9 return to $ractical matters" 9 ha!e alrea y sai your chil must not get what he asks, but what he nee sA .7ootnote& Ce must recognise that $ain is often necessary, $leasure is sometimes nee e " )o there is only one of the chil @s esires which shoul ne!er be com$lie with, the esire for $ower" 8ence, whene!er they ask for anything we must $ay s$ecial attention to their moti!e in asking" 's far as $ossible gi!e them e!erything they ask for, $ro!i e it can really gi!e them $leasureA refuse

e!erything they eman from mere ca$rice or lo!e of $ower"3 he must ne!er act from obe ience, but from necessity" The !ery wor s 6BE# an :6>>'<( will be e?clu e from his !ocabulary, still more those of (;T# an 6B%9G'T96<A but the wor s strength, necessity, weakness, an constraint must ha!e a large $lace in it" Before the age of reason it is im$ossible to form any i ea of moral beings or social relationsA so a!oi , as far as may be, the use of wor s which e?$ress these i eas, lest the chil at an early age shoul attach wrong i eas to them, i eas which you cannot or will not estroy when he is ol er" The first mistaken i ea he gets into his hea is the germ of error an !iceA it is the first ste$ that nee s watching" 'ct in such a way that while he only notices e?ternal objects his i eas are confine to sensationsA let him only see the $hysical worl aroun him" 9f not, you may be sure that either he will $ay no hee to you at all, or he will form fantastic i eas of the moral worl of which you $rate, i eas which you will ne!er efface as long as he li!es" DReason with chil renD was %ocke@s chief ma?imA it is in the height of fashion at $resent, an 9 har ly think it is justifie by its resultsA those chil ren who ha!e been constantly reasone with strike me as e?cee ingly silly" 6f all man@s faculties, reason, which is, so to s$eak, com$oun e of all the rest, is the last an choicest growth, an it is this you woul use for the chil @s early training" To make a man reasonable is the co$ing stone of a goo e ucation, an yet you $rofess to train a chil through his reasonH #ou begin at the wrong en , you make the en the means" 9f chil ren un erstoo reason they woul not nee e ucation, but by talking to them from their earliest age in a language they o not un erstan you accustom them to be satisfie with wor s, to question all that is sai to them, to think themsel!es as wise as their teachersA you train them to be argumentati!e an rebelliousA an whate!er you think you gain from moti!es of reason, you really gain from gree iness, fear, or !anity with which you are oblige to reinforce your reasoning" >ost of the moral lessons which are an can be gi!en to chil ren may be re uce to this formulaA >aster" #ou must not o that" :hil " Chy notE >aster" Because it is wrong" :hil " CrongH Chat is wrongE >aster" Chat is forbi en you" enE

:hil " Chy is it wrong to o what is forbi

>aster" #ou will be $unishe for isobe ience" :hil " 9 will o it when no one is looking" >aster" Ce shall watch you" :hil " 9 will hi e"

>aster" Ce shall ask you what you were oing" :hil " 9 shall tell a lie" >aster" #ou must not tell lies" :hil " Chy must not 9 tell liesE >aster" Because it is wrong, etc" That is the ine!itable circle" Go beyon it, an the chil will not un erstan you" Chat sort of use is there in such teachingE 9 shoul greatly like to know what you woul substitute for this ialogue" 9t woul ha!e $uFFle %ocke himself" 9t is no $art of a chil @s business to know right an wrong, to $ercei!e the reason for a man@s uties" <ature woul ha!e them chil ren before they are men" 9f we try to in!ert this or er we shall $ro uce a force fruit immature an fla!ourless, fruit which will be rotten before it is ri$eA we shall ha!e young octors an ol chil ren" :hil hoo has its own ways of seeing, thinking, an feelingA nothing is more foolish than to try an substitute our waysA an 9 shoul no more e?$ect ju gment in a ten-year-ol chil than 9 shoul e?$ect him to be fi!e feet high" 9n ee , what use woul reason be to him at that ageE 9t is the curb of strength, an the chil oes not nee the curb" Chen you try to $ersua e your scholars of the uty of obe ience, you a to this so-calle $ersuasion com$ulsion an threats, or still worse, flattery an bribes" 'ttracte by selfishness or constraine by force, they $reten to be con!ince by reason" They see as soon as you o that obe ience is to their a !antage an isobe ience to their isa !antage" But as you only eman isagreeable things of them, an as it is always isagreeable to o another@s will, they hi e themsel!es so that they may o as they $lease, $ersua e that they are oing no wrong so long as they are not foun out, but rea y, if foun out, to own themsel!es in the wrong for fear of worse e!ils" The reason for uty is beyon their age, an there is not a man in the worl who coul make them really aware of itA but the fear of $unishment, the ho$e of forgi!eness, im$ortunity, the ifficulty of answering, wrings from them as many confessions as you wantA an you think you ha!e con!ince them when you ha!e only wearie or frightene them" Chat oes it all come toE 9n the first $lace, by im$osing on them a uty which they fail to recognise, you make them isincline to submit to your tyranny, an you turn away their lo!eA you teach them eceit, falsehoo , an lying as a way to gain rewar s or esca$e $unishmentA then by accustoming them to conceal a secret moti!e un er the cloak of an a$$arent one, you yourself $ut into their han s the means of ecei!ing you, of e$ri!ing you of a knowle ge of their real character, of answering you an others with em$ty wor s whene!er they ha!e the chance" %aws, you say, though bin ing on conscience, e?ercise the same constraint o!er grown-u$ men" That is so, but what are these men but chil ren s$oilt by e ucationE This is just what you shoul a!oi " ;se force with chil ren an reasoning with menA this is the natural or erA the wise man nee s no laws"

Treat your scholar accor ing to his age" Put him in his $lace from the first, an kee$ him in it, so that he no longer tries to lea!e it" Then before he knows what goo ness is, he will be $ractising its chief lesson" Gi!e him no or ers at all, absolutely none" (o not e!en let him think that you claim any authority o!er him" %et him only know that he is weak an you are strong, that his con ition an yours $uts him at your mercyA let this be $ercei!e , learne , an felt" %et him early fin u$on his $rou neck, the hea!y yoke which nature has im$ose u$on us, the hea!y yoke of necessity, un er which e!ery finite being must bow" %et him fin this necessity in things, not in the ca$rices .7ootnote& #ou may be sure the chil will regar as ca$rice any will which o$$oses his own or any will which he oes not un erstan " <ow the chil oes not un erstan anything which interferes with his own fancies"3 of manA let the curb be force, not authority" 9f there is something he shoul not o, o not forbi him, but $re!ent him without e?$lanation or reasoningA what you gi!e him, gi!e it at his first wor without $rayers or entreaties, abo!e all without con itions" Gi!e willingly, refuse unwillingly, but let your refusal be irre!ocableA let no entreaties mo!e youA let your D<o,D once uttere , be a wall of brass, against which the chil may e?haust his strength some fi!e or si? times, but in the en he will try no more to o!erthrow it" Thus you will make him $atient, equable, calm, an resigne , e!en when he oes not get all he wantsA for it is in man@s nature to bear $atiently with the nature of things, but not with the ill-will of another" ' chil ne!er rebels against, DThere is none left,D unless he thinks the re$ly is false" >oreo!er, there is no mi le courseA you must either make no eman s on him at all, or else you must fashion him to $erfect obe ience" The worst e ucation of all is to lea!e him hesitating between his own will an yours, constantly is$uting whether you or he is masterA 9 woul rather a hun re times that he were master" 9t is !ery strange that e!er since $eo$le began to think about e ucation they shoul ha!e hit u$on no other way of gui ing chil ren than emulation, jealousy, en!y, !anity, gree iness, base cowar ice, all the most angerous $assions, $assions e!er rea y to ferment, e!er $re$are to corru$t the soul e!en before the bo y is full-grown" Cith e!ery $iece of $recocious instruction which you try to force into their min s you $lant a !ice in the e$ths of their heartsA foolish teachers think they are oing won ers when they are making their scholars wicke in or er to teach them what goo ness is, an then they tell us seriously, D)uch is man"D #es, such is man, as you ha!e ma e him" E!ery means has been trie e?ce$t one, the !ery one which might succee Bwell-regulate liberty" (o not un ertake to bring u$ a chil if you cannot gui e him merely by the laws of what can or cannot be" The limits of the $ossible an the im$ossible are alike unknown to him, so they can be e?ten e or contracte aroun him at your will" Cithout a murmur he is restraine , urge on, hel back, by the han s of necessity aloneA he is ma e a a$table an teachable by the mere force of things, without any chance for !ice to s$ring u$ in himA for $assions o not arise so long as they ha!e accom$lishe nothing"

Gi!e your scholar no !erbal lessonsA he shoul be taught by e?$erience aloneA ne!er $unish him, for he oes not know what it is to o wrongA ne!er make him say, D7orgi!e me,D for he oes not know how to o you wrong" Cholly unmoral in his actions, he can o nothing morally wrong, an he eser!es neither $unishment nor re$roof" 'lrea y 9 see the frightene rea er com$aring this chil with those of our timeA he is mistaken" The $er$etual restraint im$ose u$on your scholars stimulates their acti!ityA the more sub ue they are in your $resence, the more boisterous they are as soon as they are out of your sight" They must make amen s to themsel!es in some way or other for the harsh constraint to which you subject them" Two schoolboys from the town will o more amage in the country than all the chil ren of the !illage" )hut u$ a young gentleman an a young $easant in a roomA the former will ha!e u$set an smashe e!erything before the latter has stirre from his $lace" Chy is that, unless that the one hastens to misuse a moment@s licence, while the other, always sure of free om, oes not use it rashly" 'n yet the !illage chil ren, often flattere or constraine , are still !ery far from the state in which 9 woul ha!e them ke$t" %et us lay it own as an incontro!ertible rule that the first im$ulses of nature are always rightA there is no original sin in the human heart, the how an why of the entrance of e!ery !ice can be trace " The only natural $assion is self-lo!e or selfishness taken in a wi er sense" This selfishness is goo in itself an in relation to oursel!esA an as the chil has no necessary relations to other $eo$le he is naturally in ifferent to themA his self-lo!e only becomes goo or ba by the use ma e of it an the relations establishe by its means" ;ntil the time is ri$e for the a$$earance of reason, that gui e of selfishness, the main thing is that the chil shall o nothing because you are watching him or listening to himA in a wor , nothing because of other $eo$le, but only what nature asks of himA then he will ne!er o wrong" 9 o not mean to say that he will ne!er o any mischief, ne!er hurt himself, ne!er break a costly ornament if you lea!e it within his reach" 8e might o much amage without oing wrong, since wrong- oing e$en s on the harmful intention which will ne!er be his" 9f once he meant to o harm, his whole e ucation woul be ruine A he woul be almost ho$elessly ba " Gree consi ers some things wrong which are not wrong in the eyes of reason" Chen you lea!e free sco$e to a chil @s hee lessness, you must $ut anything he coul s$oil out of his way, an lea!e nothing fragile or costly within his reach" %et the room be furnishe with $lain an soli furnitureA no mirrors, china, or useless ornaments" >y $u$il Emile, who is brought u$ in the country, shall ha!e a room just like a $easant@s" Chy take such $ains to a orn it when he will be so little in itE 9 am mistaken, howe!erA he will ornament it for himself, an we shall soon see how" But if, in s$ite of your $recautions, the chil contri!es to o some amage, if he breaks some useful article, o not $unish him for your carelessness, o not e!en scol himA let him hear no wor of re$ro!al, o not e!en let him see that he has !e?e youA beha!e just as if the thing

ha come to $ieces of itselfA you may consi er you ha!e one great things if you ha!e manage to hol your tongue" >ay 9 !enture at this $oint to state the greatest, the most im$ortant, the most useful rule of e ucationE 9t is& (o not sa!e time, but lose it" 9 ho$e that e!ery- ay rea ers will e?cuse my $ara o?esA you cannot a!oi $ara o? if you think for yourself, an whate!er you may say 9 woul rather fall into $ara o? than into $reju ice" The most angerous $erio in human life lies between birth an the age of twel!e" 9t is the time when errors an !ices s$ring u$, while as yet there is no means to estroy themA when the means of estruction are rea y, the roots ha!e gone too ee$ to be $ulle u$" 9f the infant s$rang at one boun from its mother@s breast to the age of reason, the $resent ty$e of e ucation woul be quite suitable, but its natural growth calls for quite a ifferent training" The min shoul be left un isturbe till its faculties ha!e e!elo$e A for while it is blin it cannot see the torch you offer it, nor can it follow through the !ast e?$anse of i eas a $ath so faintly trace by reason that the best eyes can scarcely follow it" Therefore the e ucation of the earliest years shoul be merely negati!e" 9t consists, not in teaching !irtue or truth, but in $reser!ing the heart from !ice an from the s$irit of error" 9f only you coul let well alone, an get others to follow your e?am$leA if you coul bring your scholar to the age of twel!e strong an healthy, but unable to tell his right han from his left, the eyes of his un erstan ing woul be o$en to reason as soon as you began to teach him" 7ree from $reju ices an free from habits, there woul be nothing in him to counteract the effects of your labours" 9n your han s he woul soon become the wisest of menA by oing nothing to begin with, you woul en with a $ro igy of e ucation" Re!erse the usual $ractice an you will almost always o right" 7athers an teachers who want to make the chil , not a chil but a man of learning, think it ne!er too soon to scol , correct, re$ro!e, threaten, bribe, teach, an reason" (o better than theyA be reasonable, an o not reason with your $u$il, more es$ecially o not try to make him a$$ro!e what he islikesA for if reason is always connecte with isagreeable matters, you make it istasteful to him, you iscre it it at an early age in a min not yet rea y to un erstan it" E?ercise his bo y, his limbs, his senses, his strength, but kee$ his min i le as long as you can" (istrust all o$inions which a$$ear before the ju gment to iscriminate between them" Restrain an war off strange im$ressionsA an to $re!ent the birth of e!il o not hasten to o well, for goo ness is only $ossible when enlightene by reason" Regar all elays as so much time gaine A you ha!e achie!e much, you a$$roach the boun ary without loss" %ea!e chil hoo to ri$en in your chil ren" 9n a wor , beware of gi!ing anything they nee to- ay if it can be eferre without anger to to-morrow" There is another $oint to be consi ere which confirms the suitability of this metho & it is the chil @s in i!i ual bent, which must be thoroughly known before we can choose the fittest moral training" E!ery min has its own form, in accor ance with which it must be controlle A an the success of the $ains taken e$en s largely on the fact that he is controlle in this way an no other" 6h, wise man, take time to obser!e

natureA watch your scholar well before you say a wor to himA first lea!e the germ of his character free to show itself, o not constrain him in anything, the better to see him as he really is" (o you think this time of liberty is waste E 6n the contrary, your scholar will be the better em$loye , for this is the way you yourself will learn not to lose a single moment when time is of more !alue" 9f, howe!er, you begin to act before you know what to o, you act at ran omA you may make mistakes, an must retrace your ste$sA your haste to reach your goal will only take you further from it" (o not imitate the miser who loses much lest he shoul lose a little" )acrifice a little time in early chil hoo , an it will be re$ai you with usury when your scholar is ol er" The wise $hysician oes not hastily gi!e $rescri$tions at first sight, but he stu ies the constitution of the sick man before he $rescribes anythingA the treatment is begun later, but the $atient is cure , while the hasty octor kills him" But where shall we fin a $lace for our chil so as to bring him u$ as a senseless being, an automatonE )hall we kee$ him in the moon, or on a esert islan E )hall we remo!e him from human societyE Cill he not always ha!e aroun him the sight an the $attern of the $assions of other $eo$leE Cill he ne!er see chil ren of his own ageE Cill he not see his $arents, his neighbours, his nurse, his go!erness, his man-ser!ant, his tutor himself, who after all will not be an angelE 8ere we ha!e a real an serious objection" But i 9 tell you that an e ucation accor ing to nature woul be an easy taskE 6h, menH is it my fault that you ha!e ma e all goo things ifficultE 9 a mit that 9 am aware of these ifficultiesA $erha$s they are insu$erableA but ne!ertheless it is certain that we o to some e?tent a!oi them by trying to o so" 9 am showing what we shoul try to attain, 9 o not say we can attain it, but 9 o say that whoe!er comes nearest to it is nearest to success" Remember you must be a man yourself before you try to train a manA you yourself must set the $attern he shall co$y" Chile the chil is still unconscious there is time to $re$are his surroun ings, so that nothing shall strike his eye but what is fit for his sight" Gain the res$ect of e!ery one, begin to win their hearts, so that they may try to $lease you" #ou will not be master of the chil if you cannot control e!ery one about himA an this authority will ne!er suffice unless it rests u$on res$ect for your goo ness" There is no question of squan ering one@s means an gi!ing money right an leftA 9 ne!er knew money win lo!e" #ou must neither be harsh nor niggar ly, nor must you merely $ity misery when you can relie!e itA but in !ain will you o$en your $urse if you o not o$en your heart along with it, the hearts of others will always be close to you" #ou must gi!e your own time, attention, affection, your !ery selfA for whate!er you o, $eo$le always $ercei!e that your money is not you" There are $roofs of kin ly interest which $ro uce more results an are really more useful than any giftA how many of the sick an wretche ha!e more nee of comfort than of charityA how many of the o$$resse nee $rotection rather than moneyE Reconcile those who are at strife, $re!ent lawsuitsA incline chil ren to uty, fathers to kin nessA $romote ha$$y marriagesA $re!ent annoyancesA freely use the cre it of your $u$il@s $arents on behalf of the weak who cannot obtain justice, the weak who are o$$resse by the strong" Be just, human, kin ly" (o not gi!e alms

alone, gi!e charityA works of mercy o more than money for the relief of sufferingA lo!e others an they will lo!e youA ser!e them an they will ser!e youA be their brother an they will be your chil ren" This is one reason why 9 want to bring u$ Emile in the country, far from those miserable lacqueys, the most egra e of men e?ce$t their mastersA far from the !ile morals of the town, whose gil e surface makes them se ucti!e an contagious to chil renA while the !ices of $easants, una orne an in their nake grossness, are more fitte to re$el than to se uce, when there is no moti!e for imitating them" 9n the !illage a tutor will ha!e much more control o!er the things he wishes to show the chil A his re$utation, his wor s, his e?am$le, will ha!e a weight they woul ne!er ha!e in the townA he is of use to e!ery one, so e!ery one is eager to oblige him, to win his esteem, to a$$eal before the isci$le what the master woul ha!e him beA if !ice is not correcte , $ublic scan al is at least a!oi e , which is all that our $resent $ur$ose requires" :ease to blame others for your own faultsA chil ren are corru$te less by what they see than by your own teaching" Cith your en less $reaching, moralising, an $e antry, for one i ea you gi!e your scholars, belie!ing it to be goo , you gi!e them twenty more which are goo for nothingA you are full of what is going on in your own min s, an you fail to see the effect you $ro uce on theirs" 9n the continual flow of wor s with which you o!erwhelm them, o you think there is none which they get hol of in a wrong senseE (o you su$$ose they o not make their own comments on your long-win e e?$lanations, that they o not fin material for the construction of a system they can un erstan Bone which they will use against you when they get the chanceE %isten to a little fellow who has just been un er instructionA let him chatter freely, ask questions, an talk at his ease, an you will be sur$rise to fin the strange forms your arguments ha!e assume in his min A he confuses e!erything, an turns e!erything to$sy-tur!yA you are !e?e an grie!e by his unforeseen objectionsA he re uces you to be silent yourself or to silence him& an what can he think of silence in one who is so fon of talkingE 9f e!er he gains this a !antage an is aware of it, farewell e ucationA from that moment all is lostA he is no longer trying to learn, he is trying to refute you" Nealous teachers, be sim$le, sensible, an reticentA be in no hurry to act unless to $re!ent the actions of others" 'gain an again 9 say, reject, if it may be, a goo lesson for fear of gi!ing a ba one" Beware of $laying the tem$ter in this worl , which nature inten e as an earthly $ara ise for men, an o not attem$t to gi!e the innocent chil the knowle ge of goo an e!ilA since you cannot $re!ent the chil learning by what he sees outsi e himself, restrict your own efforts to im$ressing those e?am$les on his min in the form best suite for him" The e?$losi!e $assions $ro uce a great effect u$on the chil when he sees themA their outwar e?$ression is !ery marke A he is struck by this an his attention is arreste " 'nger es$ecially is so noisy in its rage that

it is im$ossible not to $ercei!e it if you are within reach" #ou nee not ask yourself whether this is an o$$ortunity for a $e agogue to frame a fine isquisition" ChatH no fine isquisition, nothing, not a wor H %et the chil come to youA im$resse by what he has seen, he will not fail to ask you questions" The answer is easyA it is rawn from the !ery things which ha!e a$$eale to his senses" 8e sees a flushe face, flashing eyes, a threatening gesture, he hears criesA e!erything shows that the bo y is ill at ease" Tell him $lainly, without affectation or mystery, DThis $oor man is ill, he is in a fe!er"D #ou may take the o$$ortunity of gi!ing him in a few wor s some i ea of isease an its effectsA for that too belongs to nature, an is one of the bon s of necessity which he must recognise" By means of this i ea, which is not false in itself, may he not early acquire a certain a!ersion to gi!ing way to e?cessi!e $assions, which he regar s as iseasesA an o you not think that such a notion, gi!en at the right moment, will $ro uce a more wholesome effect than the most te ious sermonE But consi er the after effects of this i eaA you ha!e authority, if e!er you fin it necessary, to treat the rebellious chil as a sick chil A to kee$ him in his room, in be if nee be, to iet him, to make him afrai of his growing !ices, to make him hate an rea them without e!er regar ing as a $unishment the strict measures you will $erha$s ha!e to use for his reco!ery" 9f it ha$$ens that you yourself in a moment@s heat e$art from the calm an self-control which you shoul aim at, o not try to conceal your fault, but tell him frankly, with a gentle re$roach, D>y ear, you ha!e hurt me"D >oreo!er, it is a matter of great im$ortance that no notice shoul be taken in his $resence of the quaint sayings which result from the sim$licity of the i eas in which he is brought u$, nor shoul they be quote in a way he can un erstan " ' foolish laugh may estroy si? months@ work an o irre$arable amage for life" 9 cannot re$eat too often that to control the chil one must often control oneself" 9 $icture my little Emile at the height of a is$ute between two neighbours going u$ to the fiercest of them an saying in a tone of $ity, D#ou are ill, 9 am !ery sorry for you"D This s$eech will no oubt ha!e its effect on the s$ectators an $erha$s on the is$utants" Cithout laughter, scol ing, or $raise 9 shoul take him away, willing or no, before he coul see this result, or at least before he coul think about itA an 9 shoul make haste to turn his thoughts to other things, so that he woul soon forget all about it" 9 o not $ro$ose to enter into e!ery etail, but only to e?$lain general rules an to gi!e illustrations in cases of ifficulty" 9 think it is im$ossible to train a chil u$ to the age of twel!e in the mi st of society, without gi!ing him some i ea of the relations between one man an another, an of the morality of human actions" 9t is enough to elay the e!elo$ment of these i eas as long as $ossible, an when they can no longer be a!oi e to limit them to $resent nee s, so that he may neither think himself master of e!erything nor o harm to others without knowing or caring" There are calm an gentle characters which can be le a long way in their first innocence without any angerA but there are also stormy

is$ositions whose $assions e!elo$ earlyA you must hasten to make men of them lest you shoul ha!e to kee$ them in chains" 6ur first uties are to oursel!esA our first feelings are centre on selfA all our instincts are at first irecte to our own $reser!ation an our own welfare" Thus the first notion of justice s$rings not from what we owe to others, but from what is ue to us" 8ere is another error in $o$ular metho s of e ucation" 9f you talk to chil ren of their uties, an not of their rights, you are beginning at the wrong en , an telling them what they cannot un erstan , what cannot be of any interest to them" 9f 9 ha to train a chil such as 9 ha!e just escribe , 9 shoul say to myself, D' chil ne!er attacks $eo$le, .7ootnote& ' chil shoul ne!er be allowe to $lay with grown-u$ $eo$le as if they were his inferiors, nor e!en as if they were only his equals" 9f he !enture to strike any one in earnest, were it only the footman, were it the hangman himself, let the sufferer return his blows with interest, so that he will not want to o it again" 9 ha!e seen silly women inciting chil ren to rebellion, encouraging them to hit $eo$le, allowing themsel!es to be beaten, an laughing at the harmless blows, ne!er thinking that those blows were in intention the blows of a mur erer, an that the chil who esires to beat $eo$le now will esire to kill them when he is grown u$"3 only thingsA an he soon learns by e?$erience to res$ect those ol er an stronger than himself" Things, howe!er, o not efen themsel!es" Therefore the first i ea he nee s is not that of liberty but of $ro$erty, an that he may get this i ea he must ha!e something of his own"D 9t is useless to enumerate his clothes, furniture, an $laythingsA although he uses these he knows not how or why he has come by them" To tell him they were gi!en him is little better, for gi!ing im$lies ha!ingA so here is $ro$erty before his own, an it is the $rinci$le of $ro$erty that you want to teach himA moreo!er, gi!ing is a con!ention, an the chil as yet has no i ea of con!entions" 9 ho$e my rea er will note, in this an many other cases, how $eo$le think they ha!e taught chil ren thoroughly, when they ha!e only thrust on them wor s which ha!e no intelligible meaning to them" .7ootnote& This is why most chil ren want to take back what they ha!e gi!en, an cry if they cannot get it" They o not o this when once they know what a gift isA only they are more careful about gi!ing things away"3 Ce must therefore go back to the origin of $ro$erty, for that is where the first i ea of it must begin" The chil , li!ing in the country, will ha!e got some i ea of fiel workA eyes an leisure suffice for that, an he will ha!e both" 9n e!ery age, an es$ecially in chil hoo , we want to create, to co$y, to $ro uce, to gi!e all the signs of $ower an acti!ity" 8e will har ly ha!e seen the gar ener at work twice, sowing, $lanting, an growing !egetables, before he will want to gar en himself" 'ccor ing to the $rinci$les 9 ha!e alrea y lai own, 9 shall not thwart himA on the contrary, 9 shall a$$ro!e of his $lan, share his hobby, an work with him, not for his $leasure but my ownA at least, so he thinksA 9 shall be his un er-gar ener, an ig the groun for him till his arms are strong enough to o itA he will take $ossession of it by $lanting a bean, an this is surely a more sacre $ossession, an one more worthy of res$ect, than that of <unes Balboa, who took $ossession of )outh

'merica in the name of the =ing of )$ain, by $lanting his banner on the coast of the )outhern )ea" Ce water the beans e!ery ay, we watch them coming u$ with the greatest elight" (ay by ay 9 increase this elight by saying, DThose belong to you"D To e?$lain what that wor DbelongD means, 9 show him how he has gi!en his time, his labour, an his trouble, his !ery self to itA that in this groun there is a $art of himself which he can claim against all the worl , as he coul with raw his arm from the han of another man who wante to kee$ it against his will" 6ne fine ay he hurries u$ with his watering-can in his han " Chat a scene of woeH 'lasH all the beans are $ulle u$, the soil is ug o!er, you can scarcely fin the $lace" 6hH what has become of my labour, my work, the belo!e fruits of my care an effortE Cho has stolen my $ro$ertyH Cho has taken my beansE The young heart re!oltsA the first feeling of injustice brings its sorrow an bitternessA tears come in torrents, the unha$$y chil fills the air with cries an groans, 9 share his sorrow an angerA we look aroun us, we make inquiries" 't last we isco!er that the gar ener i it" Ce sen for him" But we are greatly mistaken" The gar ener, hearing our com$laint, begins to com$lain lou er than we& Chat, gentlemen, was it you who s$oilt my workH 9 ha sown some >altese melonsA the see was gi!en me as something quite out of the common, an 9 meant to gi!e you a treat when they were ri$eA but you ha!e $lante your miserable beans an estroye my melons, which were coming u$ so nicely, an 9 can ne!er get any more" #ou ha!e beha!e !ery ba ly to me an you ha!e e$ri!e yoursel!es of the $leasure of eating most elicious melons" JE'< J':K;E)" >y $oor Robert, you must forgi!e us" #ou ha gi!en your labour an your $ains to it" 9 see we were wrong to s$oil your work, but we will sen to >alta for some more see for you, an we will ne!er ig the groun again without fin ing out if some one else has been beforehan with us" R6BERT" Cell, gentlemen, you nee not trouble yoursel!es, for there is no more waste groun " 9 ig what my father tille A e!ery one oes the same, an all the lan you see has been occu$ie time out of min " E>9%E" >r" Robert, o $eo$le often lose the see of >altese melonsE R6BERT" <o in ee , sirA we o not often fin such silly little gentlemen as you" <o one me les with his neighbour@s gar enA e!ery one res$ects other $eo$le@s work so that his own may be safe" E>9%E" But 9 ha!e not got a gar en" R6BERT" 9 on@t careA if you s$oil mine 9 won@t let you walk in it, for you see 9 o not mean to lose my labour"

JE'< J':K;E)" :oul not we suggest an arrangement with this kin RobertE %et him gi!e my young frien an myself a corner of his gar en to culti!ate, on con ition that he has half the cro$" R6BERT" #ou may ha!e it free" But remember 9 shall ig u$ your beans if you touch my melons" 9n this attem$t to show how a chil may be taught certain $rimiti!e i eas we see how the notion of $ro$erty goes back naturally to the right of the first occu$ier to the results of his work" That is $lain an sim$le, an quite within the chil @s gras$" 7rom that to the rights of $ro$erty an e?change there is but a ste$, after which you must sto$ short" #ou also see that an e?$lanation which 9 can gi!e in writing in a cou$le of $ages may take a year in $ractice, for in the course of moral i eas we cannot a !ance too slowly, nor $lant each ste$ too firmly" #oung teacher, $ray consi er this e?am$le, an remember that your lessons shoul always be in ee s rather than wor s, for chil ren soon forget what they say or what is sai to them, but not what they ha!e one nor what has been one to them" )uch teaching shoul be gi!en, as 9 ha!e sai , sooner or later, as the scholar@s is$osition, gentle or turbulent, requires it" The way of using it is unmistakableA but to omit no matter of im$ortance in a ifficult business let us take another e?am$le" #our ill-tem$ere chil estroys e!erything he touches" (o not !e? yourselfA $ut anything he can s$oil out of his reach" 8e breaks the things he is usingA o not be in a hurry to gi!e him moreA let him feel the want of them" 8e breaks the win ows of his roomA let the win blow u$on him night an ay, an o not be afrai of his catching col A it is better to catch col than to be reckless" <e!er com$lain of the incon!enience he causes you, but let him feel it first" 't last you will ha!e the win ows men e without saying anything" 8e breaks them againA then change your $lanA tell him ryly an without anger, DThe win ows are mine, 9 took $ains to ha!e them $ut in, an 9 mean to kee$ them safe"D Then you will shut him u$ in a ark $lace without a win ow" 't this une?$ecte $rocee ing he cries an howlsA no one hee s" )oon he gets tire an changes his toneA he laments an sighsA a ser!ant a$$ears, the rebel begs to be let out" Cithout seeking any e?cuse for refusing, the ser!ant merely says, D9, too, ha!e win ows to kee$,D an goes away" 't last, when the chil has been there se!eral hours, long enough to get !ery tire of it, long enough to make an im$ression on his memory, some one suggests to him that he shoul offer to make terms with you, so that you may set him free an he will ne!er break win ows again" That is just what he wants" 8e will sen an ask you to come an see himA you will come, he will suggest his $lan, an you will agree to it at once, saying, DThat is a !ery goo i eaA it will suit us bothA why i n@t you think of it soonerED Then without asking for any affirmation or confirmation of his $romise, you will embrace him joyfully an take him back at once to his own room, consi ering this agreement as sacre as if he ha confirme it by a formal oath" Chat i ea o you think he will form from these $rocee ings, as to the fulfilment of a $romise an its usefulnessE 9f 9 am

not greatly mistaken, there is not a chil u$on earth, unless he is utterly s$oilt alrea y, who coul resist this treatment, or one who woul e!er ream of breaking win ows again on $ur$ose" 7ollow out the whole train of thought" The naughty little fellow har ly thought when he was making a hole for his beans that he was hewing out a cell in which his own knowle ge woul soon im$rison him" .7ootnote& >oreo!er if the uty of kee$ing his wor were not establishe in the chil @s min by its own utility, the chil @s growing consciousness woul soon im$ress it on him as a law of conscience, as an innate $rinci$le, only requiring suitable e?$eriences for its e!elo$ment" This first outline is not sketche by man, it is engra!e on the heart by the author of all justice" Take away the $rimiti!e law of contract an the obligation im$ose by contract an there is nothing left of human society but !anity an em$ty show" 8e who only kee$s his wor because it is to his own $rofit is har ly more $le ge than if he ha gi!en no $romise at all" This $rinci$le is of the utmost im$ortance, an eser!es to be thoroughly stu ie , for man is now beginning to be at war with himself"3 Ce are now in the worl of morals, the oor to !ice is o$en" (eceit an falsehoo are born along with con!entions an uties" 's soon as we can o what we ought not to o, we try to hi e what we ought not to ha!e one" 's soon as self-interest makes us gi!e a $romise, a greater interest may make us break itA it is merely a question of oing it with im$unityA we naturally take refuge in concealment an falsehoo " 's we ha!e not been able to $re!ent !ice, we must $unish it" The sorrows of life begin with its mistakes" 9 ha!e alrea y sai enough to show that chil ren shoul ne!er recei!e $unishment merely as suchA it shoul always come as the natural consequence of their fault" Thus you will not e?claim against their falsehoo , you will not e?actly $unish them for lying, but you will arrange that all the ill effects of lying, such as not being belie!e when we s$eak the truth, or being accuse of what we ha!e not one in s$ite of our $rotests, shall fall on their hea s when they ha!e tol a lie" But let us e?$lain what lying means to the chil " There are two kin s of liesA one concerns an accom$lishe fact, the other concerns a future uty" The first occurs when we falsely eny or assert that we i or i not o something, or, to $ut it in general terms, when we knowingly say what is contrary to facts" The other occurs when we $romise what we o not mean to $erform, or, in general terms, when we $rofess an intention which we o not really mean to carry out" These two kin s of lie are sometimes foun in combination, .7ootnote& Thus the guilty $erson, accuse of some e!il ee , efen s himself by asserting that he is a goo man" 8is statement is false in itself an false in its a$$lication to the matter in han "3 but their ifferences are my $resent business" 8e who feels the nee of hel$ from others, he who is constantly e?$eriencing their kin ness, has nothing to gain by ecei!ing themA it is $lainly to his a !antage that they shoul see things as they are, lest they shoul mistake his interests" 9t is therefore $lain that lying with regar to actual facts is not natural to chil ren, but lying is ma e necessary by the

law of obe ienceA since obe ience is isagreeable, chil ren isobey as far as they can in secret, an the $resent goo of a!oi ing $unishment or re$roof outweighs the remoter goo of s$eaking the truth" ;n er a free an natural e ucation why shoul your chil lieE Chat has he to conceal from youE #ou o not thwart him, you o not $unish him, you eman nothing from him" Chy shoul he not tell e!erything to you as sim$ly as to his little $laymateE 8e cannot see anything more risky in the one course than in the other" The lie concerning uty is e!en less natural, since $romises to o or refrain from oing are con!entional agreements which are outsi e the state of nature an etract from our liberty" >oreo!er, all $romises ma e by chil ren are in themsel!es !oi A when they $le ge themsel!es they o not know what they are oing, for their narrow !ision cannot look beyon the $resent" ' chil can har ly lie when he makes a $romiseA for he is only thinking how he can get out of the $resent ifficulty, any means which has not an imme iate result is the same to himA when he $romises for the future he $romises nothing, an his imagination is as yet inca$able of $rojecting him into the future while he li!es in the $resent" 9f he coul esca$e a whi$$ing or get a $acket of sweets by $romising to throw himself out of the win ow to-morrow, he woul $romise on the s$ot" This is why the law isregar s all $romises ma e by minors, an when fathers an teachers are stricter an eman that $romises shall be ke$t, it is only when the $romise refers to something the chil ought to o e!en if he ha ma e no $romise" The chil cannot lie when he makes a $romise, for he oes not know what he is oing when he makes his $romise" The case is ifferent when he breaks his $romise, which is a sort of retros$ecti!e falsehoo A for he clearly remembers making the $romise, but he fails to see the im$ortance of kee$ing it" ;nable to look into the future, he cannot foresee the results of things, an when he breaks his $romises he oes nothing contrary to his stage of reasoning" :hil ren@s lies are therefore entirely the work of their teachers, an to teach them to s$eak the truth is nothing less than to teach them the art of lying" 9n your Feal to rule, control, an teach them, you ne!er fin sufficient means at your is$osal" #ou wish to gain fresh influence o!er their min s by baseless ma?ims, by unreasonable $rece$tsA an you woul rather they knew their lessons an tol lies, than lea!e them ignorant an truthful" Ce, who only gi!e our scholars lessons in $ractice, who $refer to ha!e them goo rather than cle!er, ne!er eman the truth lest they shoul conceal it, an ne!er claim any $romise lest they shoul be tem$te to break it" 9f some mischief has been one in my absence an 9 o not know who i it, 9 shall take care not to accuse Emile, nor to say, D(i you o itED .7ootnote& <othing coul be more in iscreet than such a question, es$ecially if the chil is guilty" Then if he thinks you know what he has one, he will think you are setting a tra$ for him, an this i ea can only set him against you" 9f he thinks you o not know, he will say to himself, DChy shoul 9 make my fault knownED 'n here we ha!e the first tem$tation to falsehoo as the irect result of your foolish question"3 7or

in so oing what shoul 9 o but teach him to eny itE 9f his ifficult tem$erament com$els me to make some agreement with him, 9 will take goo care that the suggestion always comes from him, ne!er from meA that when he un ertakes anything he has always a $resent an effecti!e interest in fulfilling his $romise, an if he e!er fails this lie will bring own on him all the un$leasant consequences which he sees arising from the natural or er of things, an not from his tutor@s !engeance" But far from ha!ing recourse to such cruel measures, 9 feel almost certain that Emile will not know for many years what it is to lie, an that when he oes fin out, he will be astonishe an unable to un erstan what can be the use of it" 9t is quite clear that the less 9 make his welfare e$en ent on the will or the o$inions of others, the less is it to his interest to lie" Chen we are in no hurry to teach there is no hurry to eman , an we can take our time, so as to eman nothing e?ce$t un er fitting con itions" Then the chil is training himself, in so far as he is not being s$oilt" But when a fool of a tutor, who oes not know how to set about his business, is always making his $u$il $romise first this an then that, without iscrimination, choice, or $ro$ortion, the chil is $uFFle an o!erbur ene with all these $romises, an neglects, forgets or e!en scorns them, an consi ering them as so many em$ty $hrases he makes a game of making an breaking $romises" Coul you ha!e him kee$ his $romise faithfully, be mo erate in your claims u$on him" The etaile treatment 9 ha!e just gi!en to lying may be a$$lie in many res$ects to all the other uties im$ose u$on chil ren, whereby these uties are ma e not only hateful but im$racticable" 7or the sake of a show of $reaching !irtue you make them lo!e e!ery !iceA you instil these !ices by forbi ing them" Coul you ha!e them $ious, you take them to church till they are sick of itA you teach them to gabble $rayers until they long for the ha$$y time when they will not ha!e to $ray to Go " To teach them charity you make them gi!e alms as if you scorne to gi!e yourself" 9t is not the chil , but the master, who shoul gi!eA howe!er much he lo!es his $u$il he shoul !ie with him for this honourA he shoul make him think that he is too young to eser!e it" 'lms-gi!ing is the ee of a man who can measure the worth of his gift an the nee s of his fellowmen" The chil , who knows nothing of these, can ha!e no merit in gi!ingA he gi!es without charity, without kin nessA he is almost ashame to gi!e, for, to ju ge by your $ractice an his own, he thinks it is only chil ren who gi!e, an that there is no nee for charity when we are grown u$" 6bser!e that the only things chil ren are set to gi!e are things of which they o not know the !alue, bits of metal carrie in their $ockets for which they ha!e no further use" ' chil woul rather gi!e a hun re coins than one cake" But get this $ro igal gi!er to istribute what is ear to him, his toys, his sweets, his own lunch, an we shall soon see if you ha!e ma e him really generous" Peo$le try yet another wayA they soon restore what he ga!e to the chil , so that he gets use to gi!ing e!erything which he knows will come back to him" 9 ha!e scarcely seen generosity in chil ren e?ce$t of these two ty$es, gi!ing what is of no use to them, or what they e?$ect to get back again" D'rrange things,D says %ocke, Dso that e?$erience may con!ince

them that the most generous gi!er gets the biggest share"D That is to make the chil su$erficially generous but really gree y" 8e a s that Dchil ren will thus form the habit of liberality"D #es, a usurer@s liberality, which e?$ects cent" $er cent" But when it is a question of real gi!ing, goo -bye to the habitA when they o not get things back, they will not gi!e" 9t is the habit of the min , not of the han s, that nee s watching" 'll the other !irtues taught to chil ren are like this, an to $reach these baseless !irtues you waste their youth in sorrow" Chat a sensible sort of e ucationH Teachers, ha!e one with these shamsA be goo an kin A let your e?am$le sink into your scholars@ memories till they are ol enough to take it to heart" Rather than hasten to eman ee s of charity from my $u$il 9 $refer to $erform such ee s in his $resence, e!en e$ri!ing him of the means of imitating me, as an honour beyon his yearsA for it is of the utmost im$ortance that he shoul not regar a man@s uties as merely those of a chil " 9f when he sees me hel$ the $oor he asks me about it, an it is time to re$ly to his questions, .7ootnote& 9t must be un erstoo that 9 o not answer his questions when he wantsA that woul be to subject myself to his will an to $lace myself in the most angerous state of e$en ence that e!er a tutor was in"3 9 shall say, D>y ear boy, the rich only e?ist, through the goo -will of the $oor, so they ha!e $romise to fee those who ha!e not enough to li!e on, either in goo s or labour"D DThen you $romise to o thisED D:ertainlyA 9 am only master of the wealth that $asses through my han s on the con ition attache to its ownershi$"D 'fter this talk Lan we ha!e seen how a chil may be brought to un erstan itM another than Emile woul be tem$te to imitate me an beha!e like a rich manA in such a case 9 shoul at least take care that it was one without ostentationA 9 woul rather he robbe me of my $ri!ilege an hi himself to gi!e" 9t is a frau suitable to his age, an the only one 9 coul forgi!e in him" 9 know that all these imitati!e !irtues are only the !irtues of a monkey, an that a goo action is only morally goo when it is one as such an not because of others" But at an age when the heart oes not yet feel anything, you must make chil ren co$y the ee s you wish to grow into habits, until they can o them with un erstan ing an for the lo!e of what is goo " >an imitates, as o the beasts" The lo!e of imitating is well regulate by natureA in society it becomes a !ice" The monkey imitates man, whom he fears, an not the other beasts, which he scornsA he thinks what is one by his betters must be goo " 'mong oursel!es, our harlequins imitate all that is goo to egra e it an bring it into ri iculeA knowing their owners@ baseness they try to equal what is better than they are, or they stri!e to imitate what they a mire, an their ba taste a$$ears in their choice of mo els, they woul rather ecei!e others or win a$$lause for their own talents than become wiser or better" 9mitation has its roots in our esire to esca$e from oursel!es" 9f 9 succee in my un ertaking, Emile will certainly ha!e no such wish" )o we must is$ense with any seeming goo that might arise from it"

E?amine your rules of e ucationA you will fin them all to$sy-tur!y, es$ecially in all that concerns !irtue an morals" The only moral lesson which is suite for a chil Bthe most im$ortant lesson for e!ery time of lifeBis this& D<e!er hurt anybo y"D The !ery rule of well- oing, if not subor inate to this rule, is angerous, false, an contra ictory" Cho is there who oes no goo E E!ery one oes some goo , the wicke as well as the righteousA he makes one ha$$y at the cost of the misery of a hun re , an hence s$ring all our misfortunes" The noblest !irtues are negati!e, they are also the most ifficult, for they make little show, an o not e!en make room for that $leasure so ear to the heart of man, the thought that some one is $lease with us" 9f there be a man who oes no harm to his neighbours, what goo must he ha!e accom$lishe H Chat a bol heart, what a strong character it nee sH 9t is not in talking about this ma?im, but in trying to $ractise it, that we isco!er both its greatness an its ifficulty" .7ootnote& The $rece$t D<e!er hurt anybo y,D im$lies the greatest $ossible in e$en ence of human societyA for in the social state one man@s goo is another man@s e!il" This relation is $art of the nature of thingsA it is ine!itable" #ou may a$$ly this test to man in society an to the hermit to isco!er which is best" ' istinguishe author says, D<one but the wicke can li!e alone"D 9 say, D<one but the goo can li!e alone"D This $ro$osition, if less sententious, is truer an more logical than the other" 9f the wicke were alone, what e!il woul he oE 9t is among his fellows that he lays his snares for others" 9f they wish to a$$ly this argument to the man of $ro$erty, my answer is to be foun in the $assage to which this note is a$$en e "3 This will gi!e you some slight i ea of the $recautions 9 woul ha!e you take in gi!ing chil ren instruction which cannot always be refuse without risk to themsel!es or others, or the far greater risk of the formation of ba habits, which woul be ifficult to correct later onA but be sure this necessity will not often arise with chil ren who are $ro$erly brought u$, for they cannot $ossibly become rebellious, s$iteful, untruthful, or gree y, unless the see s of these !ices are sown in their hearts" Chat 9 ha!e just sai a$$lies therefore rather to the e?ce$tion than the rule" But the oftener chil ren ha!e the o$$ortunity of quitting their $ro$er con ition, an contracting the !ices of men, the oftener will these e?ce$tions arise" Those who are brought u$ in the worl must recei!e more $recocious instruction than those who are brought u$ in retirement" )o this solitary e ucation woul be $referable, e!en if it i nothing more than lea!e chil hoo time to ri$en" There is quite another class of e?ce$tions& those so gifte by nature that they rise abo!e the le!el of their age" 's there are men who ne!er get beyon infancy, so there are others who are ne!er, so to s$eak, chil ren, they are men almost from birth" The ifficulty is that these cases are !ery rare, !ery ifficult to istinguishA while e!ery mother, who knows that a chil may be a $ro igy, is con!ince that her chil is that one" They go furtherA they mistake the common signs of growth for marks of e?ce$tional talent" %i!eliness, shar$ sayings, rom$ing, amusing sim$licity, these are the characteristic marks of this age, an show that the chil is a chil in ee " 9s it strange that a chil who is encourage to chatter an allowe to say anything, who is restraine neither by

consi eration nor con!ention, shoul chance to say something cle!erE Cere he ne!er to hit the mark, his case woul be stranger than that of the astrologer who, among a thousan errors, occasionally $re icts the truth" DThey lie so often,D sai 8enry 9G", Dthat at last they say what is true"D 9f you want to say something cle!er, you ha!e only to talk long enough" >ay Pro!i ence watch o!er those fine folk who ha!e no other claim to social istinction" The finest thoughts may s$ring from a chil @s brain, or rather the best wor s may ro$ from his li$s, just as iamon s of great worth may fall into his han s, while neither the thoughts nor the iamon s are his ownA at that age neither can be really his" The chil @s sayings o not mean to him what they mean to us, the i eas he attaches to them are ifferent" 8is i eas, if in ee he has any i eas at all, ha!e neither or er nor connectionA there is nothing sure, nothing certain, in his thoughts" E?amine your so-calle $ro igy" <ow an again you will isco!er in him e?treme acti!ity of min an e?traor inary clearness of thought" >ore often this same min will seem slack an s$iritless, as if wra$$e in mist" )ometimes he goes before you, sometimes he will not stir" 6ne moment you woul call him a genius, another a fool" #ou woul be mistaken in bothA he is a chil , an eaglet who soars aloft for a moment, only to ro$ back into the nest" Treat him, therefore, accor ing to his age, in s$ite of a$$earances, an beware of e?hausting his strength by o!er-much e?ercise" 9f the young brain grows warm an begins to bubble, let it work freely, but o not heat it any further, lest it lose its goo ness, an when the first gases ha!e been gi!en off, collect an com$ress the rest so that in after years they may turn to life-gi!ing heat an real energy" 9f not, your time an your $ains will be waste , you will estroy your own work, an after foolishly into?icating yourself with these hea y fumes, you will ha!e nothing left but an insi$i an worthless wine" )illy chil ren grow into or inary men" 9 know no generalisation more certain than this" 9t is the most ifficult thing in the worl to istinguish between genuine stu$i ity, an that a$$arent an eceitful stu$i ity which is the sign of a strong character" 't first sight it seems strange that the two e?tremes shoul ha!e the same outwar signsA an yet it may well be so, for at an age when man has as yet no true i eas, the whole ifference between the genius an the rest consists in this& the latter only take in false i eas, while the former, fin ing nothing but false i eas, recei!es no i eas at all" 9n this he resembles the foolA the one is fit for nothing, the other fin s nothing fit for him" The only way of istinguishing between them e$en s u$on chance, which may offer the genius some i ea which he can un erstan , while the fool is always the same" 's a chil , the young :ato was taken for an i iot by his $arentsA he was obstinate an silent, an that was all they $ercei!e in himA it was only in )ulla@s ante-chamber that his uncle isco!ere what was in him" 8a he ne!er foun his way there, he might ha!e $asse for a fool till he reache the age of reason" 8a :aesar ne!er li!e , $erha$s this same :ato, who iscerne his fatal genius, an foretol his great schemes, woul ha!e $asse for a reamer all his ays" Those who ju ge chil ren

hastily are a$t to be mistakenA they are often more chil ish than the chil himself" 9 knew a mi le-age man, .7ootnote& The 'bbe e :on illac3 whose frien shi$ 9 esteeme an honour, who was reckone a fool by his family" 'll at once he ma e his name as a $hiloso$her, an 9 ha!e no oubt $osterity will gi!e him a high $lace among the greatest thinkers an the $rofoun est meta$hysicians of his ay" 8ol chil hoo in re!erence, an o not be in any hurry to ju ge it for goo or ill" %ea!e e?ce$tional cases to show themsel!es, let their qualities be teste an confirme , before s$ecial metho s are a o$te " Gi!e nature time to work before you take o!er her business, lest you interfere with her ealings" #ou assert that you know the !alue of time an are afrai to waste it" #ou fail to $ercei!e that it is a greater waste of time to use it ill than to o nothing, an that a chil ill taught is further from !irtue than a chil who has learnt nothing at all" #ou are afrai to see him s$en ing his early years oing nothing" ChatH is it nothing to be ha$$y, nothing to run an jum$ all ayE 8e will ne!er be so busy again all his life long" Plato, in his Re$ublic, which is consi ere so stern, teaches the chil ren only through festi!als, games, songs, an amusements" 9t seems as if he ha accom$lishe his $ur$ose when he ha taught them to be ha$$yA an )eneca, s$eaking of the Roman la s in ol en ays, says, DThey were always on their feet, they were ne!er taught anything which ke$t them sitting"D Cere they any the worse for it in manhoo E (o not be afrai , therefore, of this so-calle i leness" Chat woul you think of a man who refuse to slee$ lest he shoul waste $art of his lifeE #ou woul say, D8e is ma A he is not enjoying his life, he is robbing himself of $art of itA to a!oi slee$ he is hastening his eath"D Remember that these two cases are alike, an that chil hoo is the slee$ of reason" The a$$arent ease with which chil ren learn is their ruin" #ou fail to see that this !ery facility $ro!es that they are not learning" Their shining, $olishe brain reflects, as in a mirror, the things you show them, but nothing sinks in" The chil remembers the wor s an the i eas are reflecte backA his hearers un erstan them, but to him they are meaningless" 'lthough memory an reason are wholly ifferent faculties, the one oes not really e!elo$ a$art from the other" Before the age of reason the chil recei!es images, not i easA an there is this ifference between them& images are merely the $ictures of e?ternal objects, while i eas are notions about those objects etermine by their relations" 'n image when it is recalle may e?ist by itself in the min , but e!ery i ea im$lies other i eas" Chen we image we merely $ercei!e, when we reason we com$are" 6ur sensations are merely $assi!e, our notions or i eas s$ring from an acti!e $rinci$le which ju ges" The $roof of this will be gi!en later" 9 maintain, therefore, that as chil ren are inca$able of ju ging, they ha!e no true memory" They retain soun s, form, sensation, but rarely i eas, an still more rarely relations" #ou tell me they acquire some ru iments of geometry, an you think you $ro!e your caseA not so, it is mine you $ro!eA you show that far from being able to reason themsel!es, chil ren

are unable to retain the reasoning of othersA for if you follow the metho of these little geometricians you will see they only retain the e?act im$ression of the figure an the terms of the emonstration" They cannot meet the slightest new objectionA if the figure is re!erse they can o nothing" 'll their knowle ge is on the sensation-le!el, nothing has $enetrate to their un erstan ing" Their memory is little better than their other $owers, for they always ha!e to learn o!er again, when they are grown u$, what they learnt as chil ren" 9 am far from thinking, howe!er, that chil ren ha!e no sort of reason" .7ootnote& 9 ha!e notice again an again that it is im$ossible in writing a lengthy work to use the same wor s always in the same sense" There is no language rich enough to su$$ly terms an e?$ressions sufficient for the mo ifications of our i eas" The metho of efining e!ery term an constantly substituting the efinition for the term efine looks well, but it is im$racticable" 7or how can we esca$e from our !icious circleE (efinitions woul be all !ery well if we i not use wor s in the making of them" 9n s$ite of this 9 am con!ince that e!en in our $oor language we can make our meaning clear, not by always using wor s in the same sense, but by taking care hat e!ery time we use a wor the sense in which we use it is sufficiently in icate by the sense of the conte?t, so that each sentence in which the wor occurs acts as a sort of efinition" )ometimes 9 say chil ren are inca$able of reasoning" )ometimes 9 say they reason cle!erly" 9 must a mit that my wor s are often contra ictory, but 9 o not think there is any contra iction in my i eas"3 6n the contrary, 9 think they reason !ery well with regar to things that affect their actual an sensible well-being" But $eo$le are mistaken as to the e?tent of their information, an they attribute to them knowle ge they o not $ossess, an make them reason about things they cannot un erstan " 'nother mistake is to try to turn their attention to matters which o not concern them in the least, such as their future interest, their ha$$iness when they are grown u$, the o$inion $eo$le will ha!e of them when they are menB terms which are absolutely meaningless when a resse to creatures who are entirely without foresight" But all the force stu ies of these $oor little wretches are irecte towar s matters utterly remote from their min s" #ou may ju ge how much attention they can gi!e to them" The $e agogues, who make a great is$lay of the teaching they gi!e their $u$ils, are $ai to say just the o$$ositeA yet their actions show that they think just as 9 o" 7or what o they teachE Cor sH wor sH wor sH 'mong the !arious sciences they boast of teaching their scholars, they take goo care ne!er to choose those which might be really useful to them, for then they woul be com$elle to eal with things an woul fail utterlyA the sciences they choose are those we seem to know when we know their technical termsBheral ry, geogra$hy, chronology, languages, etc", stu ies so remote from man, an e!en more remote from the chil , that it is a won er if he can e!er make any use of any $art of them" #ou will be sur$rise to fin that 9 reckon the stu y of languages among the useless lumber of e ucationA but you must remember that 9 am s$eaking of the stu ies of the earliest years, an whate!er you may say,

9 o not belie!e any chil un er twel!e or fifteen e!er really acquire two languages" 9f the stu y of languages were merely the stu y of wor s, that is, of the symbols by which language e?$resses itself, then this might be a suitable stu y for chil renA but languages, as they change the symbols, also mo ify the i eas which the symbols e?$ress" >in s are forme by language, thoughts take their colour from its i eas" Reason alone is common to all" E!ery language has its own form, a ifference which may be $artly cause an $artly effect of ifferences in national characterA this conjecture a$$ears to be confirme by the fact that in e!ery nation un er the sun s$eech follows the changes of manners, an is $reser!e or altere along with them" By use the chil acquires one of these ifferent forms, an it is the only language he retains till the age of reason" To acquire two languages he must be able to com$are their i eas, an how can he com$are i eas he can barely un erstan E E!erything may ha!e a thousan meanings to him, but each i ea can only ha!e one form, so he can only learn one language" #ou assure me he learns se!eral languagesA 9 eny it" 9 ha!e seen those little $ro igies who are su$$ose to s$eak half a oFen languages" 9 ha!e hear them s$eak first in German, then in %atin, 7rench, or 9talianA true, they use half a oFen ifferent !ocabularies, but they always s$oke German" 9n a wor , you may gi!e chil ren as many synonyms as you likeA it is not their language but their wor s that you changeA they will ne!er ha!e but one language" To conceal their eficiencies teachers choose the ea languages, in which we ha!e no longer any ju ges whose authority is beyon is$ute" The familiar use of these tongues isa$$eare long ago, so they are content to imitate what they fin in books, an they call that talking" 9f the master@s Greek an %atin is such $oor stuff, what about the chil renE They ha!e scarcely learnt their $rimer by heart, without un erstan ing a wor of it, when they are set to translate a 7rench s$eech into %atin wor sA then when they are more a !ance they $iece together a few $hrases of :icero for $rose or a few lines of Gergil for !erse" Then they think they can s$eak %atin, an who will contra ict themE 9n any stu y whatsoe!er the symbols are of no !alue without the i ea of the things symbolise " #et the e ucation of the chil in confine to those symbols, while no one e!er succee s in making him un erstan the thing signifie " #ou think you are teaching him what the worl is likeA he is only learning the ma$A he is taught the names of towns, countries, ri!ers, which ha!e no e?istence for him e?ce$t on the $a$er before him" 9 remember seeing a geogra$hy somewhere which began with& DChat is the worl EDBD' s$here of car boar "D That is the chil @s geogra$hy" 9 maintain that after two years@ work with the globe an cosmogra$hy, there is not a single ten-year-ol chil who coul fin his way from Paris to )aint (enis by the hel$ of the rules he has learnt" 9 maintain that not one of these chil ren coul fin his way by the ma$ about the $aths on his father@s estate without getting lost" These are the young octors who can tell us the $osition of Pekin, 9s$ahan, >e?ico, an e!ery country in the worl "

#ou tell me the chil must be em$loye on stu ies which only nee eyes" That may beA but if there are any such stu ies, they are unknown to me" 9t is a still more ri iculous error to set them to stu y history, which is consi ere within their gras$ because it is merely a collection of facts" But what is meant by this wor DfactDE (o you think the relations which etermine the facts of history are so easy to gras$ that the corres$on ing i eas are easily e!elo$e in the chil @s min H (o you think that a real knowle ge of e!ents can e?ist a$art from the knowle ge of their causes an effects, an that history has so little relation to wor s that the one can be learnt without the otherE 9f you $ercei!e nothing in a man@s actions beyon merely $hysical an e?ternal mo!ements, what o you learn from historyE 'bsolutely nothingA while this stu y, robbe of all that makes it interesting, gi!es you neither $leasure nor information" 9f you want to ju ge actions by their moral bearings, try to make these moral bearings intelligible to your scholars" #ou will soon fin out if they are ol enough to learn history" Remember, rea er, that he who s$eaks to you is neither a scholar nor a $hiloso$her, but a $lain man an a lo!er of truthA a man who is $le ge to no one $arty or system, a hermit, who mi?es little with other men, an has less o$$ortunity of imbibing their $reju ices, an more time to reflect on the things that strike him in his intercourse with them" >y arguments are base less on theories than on facts, an 9 think 9 can fin no better way to bring the facts home to you than by quoting continually some e?am$le from the obser!ations which suggeste my arguments" 9 ha gone to s$en a few ays in the country with a worthy mother of a family who took great $ains with her chil ren an their e ucation" 6ne morning 9 was $resent while the el est boy ha his lessons" 8is tutor, who ha taken great $ains to teach him ancient history, began u$on the story of 'le?an er an lighte on the well-known anec ote of Phili$ the (octor" There is a $icture of it, an the story is well worth stu y" The tutor, worthy man, ma e se!eral reflections which 9 i not like with regar to 'le?an er@s courage, but 9 i not argue with him lest 9 shoul lower him in the eyes of his $u$il" 't inner they i not fail to get the little fellow talking, 7rench fashion" The eager s$irit of a chil of his age, an the confi ent e?$ectation of a$$lause, ma e him say a number of silly things, an among them from time to time there were things to the $oint, an these ma e $eo$le forget the rest" 't last came the story of Phili$ the (octor" 8e tol it !ery istinctly an $rettily" 'fter the usual mee of $raise, eman e by his mother an e?$ecte by the chil himself, they iscusse what he ha sai " >ost of them blame 'le?an er@s rashness, some of them, following the tutor@s e?am$le, $raise his resolution, which showe me that none of those $resent really saw the beauty of the story" D7or my own $art,D 9 sai , Dif there was any courage or any stea fastness at all in 'le?an er@s con uct 9 think it was only a $iece of bra!a o"D Then e!ery one agree that it was a $iece of bra!a o" 9 was getting angry, an woul ha!e re$lie , when a la y sitting besi e me, who ha not hitherto s$oken, bent towar s me an whis$ere in my ear" DJean Jacques,D sai she, Dsay no more, they will ne!er

un erstan you"D 9 looke at her, 9 recognise the wis om of her a !ice, an 9 hel my tongue"

)e!eral things ma e me sus$ect that our young $rofessor ha not in the least un erstoo the story he tol so $rettily" 'fter inner 9 took his han in mine an we went for a walk in the $ark" Chen 9 ha questione him quietly, 9 isco!ere that he a mire the !aunte courage of 'le?an er more than any one" But in what o you su$$ose he thought this courage consiste E >erely in swallowing a isagreeable rink at a single raught without hesitation an without any signs of islike" <ot a fortnight before the $oor chil ha been ma e to take some me icine which he coul har ly swallow, an the taste of it was still in his mouth" (eath, an eath by $oisoning, were for him only isagreeable sensations, an senna was his only i ea of $oison" 9 must a mit, howe!er, that 'le?an er@s resolution ha ma e a great im$ression on his young min , an he was etermine that ne?t time he ha to take me icine he woul be an 'le?an er" Cithout entering u$on e?$lanations which were clearly beyon his gras$, 9 confirme him in his $raiseworthy intention, an returne home smiling to myself o!er the great wis om of $arents an teachers who e?$ect to teach history to chil ren" )uch wor s as king, em$eror, war, conquest, law, an re!olution are easily $ut into their mouthsA but when it is a question of attaching clear i eas to these wor s the e?$lanations are !ery ifferent from our talk with Robert the gar ener" 9 feel sure some rea ers issatisfie with that D)ay no more, Jean Jacques,D will ask what 9 really saw to a mire in the con uct of 'le?an er" Poor thingsH if you nee telling, how can you com$rehen itE 'le?an er belie!e in !irtue, he stake his hea , he stake his own life on that faith, his great soul was fitte to hol such a faith" To swallow that raught was to make a noble $rofession of the faith that was in him" <e!er i mortal man recite a finer cree " 9f there is an 'le?an er in our own ays, show me such ee s" 9f chil ren ha!e no knowle ge of wor s, there is no stu y that is suitable for them" 9f they ha!e no real i eas they ha!e no real memory, for 9 o not call that a memory which only recalls sensations" Chat is the use of inscribing on their brains a list of symbols which mean nothing to themE They will learn the symbols when they learn the things signifie A why gi!e them the useless trouble of learning them twice o!erE 'n yet what angerous $reju ices are you im$lanting when you teach them to acce$t as knowle ge wor s which ha!e no meaning for them" The first meaningless $hrase, the first thing taken for grante on the wor of another $erson without seeing its use for himself, this is the beginning of the ruin of the chil @s ju gment" 8e may aFFle the eyes of fools long enough before he reco!ers from such a loss" .7ootnote& The learning of most $hiloso$hers is like the learning of chil ren" Gast eru ition results less in the multitu e of i eas than in a multitu e of images" (ates, names, $laces, all objects isolate or unconnecte with i eas are merely retaine in the memory for symbols, an we rarely recall any of these without seeing the right or left $age of the book in which we rea it, or the form in which we first saw it" >ost science was of this kin till recently" The science of our times is another matterA stu y an

obser!ation are things of the $astA we ream an the reams of a ba night are gi!en to us as $hiloso$hy" #ou will say 9 too am a reamerA 9 a mit it, but 9 o what the others fail to o, 9 gi!e my reams as reams, an lea!e the rea er to isco!er whether there is anything in them which may $ro!e useful to those who are awake"3 <o, if nature has gi!en the chil this $lasticity of brain which fits him to recei!e e!ery kin of im$ression, it was not that you shoul im$rint on it the names an ates of kings, the jargon of heral ry, the globe an geogra$hy, all those wor s without $resent meaning or future use for the chil , which floo of wor s o!erwhelms his sa an barren chil hoo " But by means of this $lasticity all the i eas he can un erstan an use, all that concern his ha$$iness an will some ay throw light u$on his uties, shoul be trace at an early age in in elible characters u$on his brain, to gui e him to li!e in such a way as befits his nature an his $owers" Cithout the stu y of books, such a memory as the chil may $ossess is not left i leA e!erything he sees an hears makes an im$ression on him, he kee$s a recor of men@s sayings an oings, an his whole en!ironment is the book from which he unconsciously enriches his memory, till his ju gment is able to $rofit by it" To select these objects, to take care to $resent him constantly with those he may know, to conceal from him those he ought not to know, this is the real way of training his early memoryA an in this way you must try to $ro!i e him with a storehouse of knowle ge which will ser!e for his e ucation in youth an his con uct throughout life" True, this metho oes not $ro uce infant $ro igies, nor will it reflect glory u$on their tutors an go!ernesses, but it $ro uces men, strong, right-thinking men, !igorous both in min an bo y, men who o not win a miration as chil ren, but honour as men" Emile will not learn anything by heart, not e!en fables, not e!en the fables of %a 7ontaine, sim$le an elightful as they are, for the wor s are no more the fable than the wor s of history are history" 8ow can $eo$le be so blin as to call fables the chil @s system of morals, without consi ering that the chil is not only amuse by the a$ologue but misle by itE 8e is attracte by what is false an he misses the truth, an the means a o$te to make the teaching $leasant $re!ent him $rofiting by it" >en may be taught by fablesA chil ren require the nake truth" 'll chil ren learn %a 7ontaine@s fables, but not one of them un erstan s them" 9t is just as well that they o not un erstan , for the morality of the fables is so mi?e an so unsuitable for their age that it woul be more likely to incline them to !ice than to !irtue" D>ore $ara o?esHD you e?claim" Para o?es they may beA but let us see if there is not some truth in them" 9 maintain that the chil oes not un erstan the fables he is taught, for howe!er you try to e?$lain them, the teaching you wish to e?tract from them eman s i eas which he cannot gras$, while the $oetical form which makes it easier to remember makes it har er to un erstan , so that clearness is sacrifice to facility" Cithout quoting the host of wholly

unintelligible an useless fables which are taught to chil ren because they ha$$en to be in the same book as the others, let us kee$ to those which the author seems to ha!e written s$ecially for chil ren" 9n the whole of %a 7ontaine@s works 9 only know fi!e or si? fables cons$icuous for chil -like sim$licityA 9 will take the first of these as an e?am$le, for it is one whose moral is most suitable for all ages, one which chil ren get hol of with the least ifficulty, which they ha!e most $leasure in learning, one which for this !ery reason the author has $lace at the beginning of his book" 9f his object were really to elight an instruct chil ren, this fable is his master$iece" %et us go through it an e?amine it briefly"
THE FOX AND THE CROW A FABLE

D>aitre corbeau, sur un arbre $ercheD L>r" :row $erche on a treeM" BD>r"HD what oes that wor really meanE Chat oes it mean before a $ro$er nounE Chat is its meaning hereE Chat is a crowE Chat is Dun arbre $ercheDE Ce o not say Don a tree $erche ,D but $erche on a tree" )o we must s$eak of $oetical in!ersions, we must istinguish between $rose an !erse" DTenait ans son bec un fromageD L8el a cheese in his beakMBChat sort of a cheeseE )wiss, Brie, or (utchE 9f the chil has ne!er seen crows, what is the goo of talking about themE 9f he has seen crows will he belie!e that they can hol a cheese in their beakE #our illustrations shoul always be taken from nature" D>aitre renar , $ar l@o eur allecheD L>r" 7o?, attracte by the smellM"B 'nother >asterH But the title suits the fo?,Bwho is master of all the tricks of his tra e" #ou must e?$lain what a fo? is, an istinguish between the real fo? an the con!entional fo? of the fables" D'lleche"D The wor is obsoleteA you will ha!e to e?$lain it" #ou will say it is only use in !erse" Perha$s the chil will ask why $eo$le talk ifferently in !erse" 8ow will you answer that questionE D'lleche, $ar l@o eur @un fromage"D The cheese was hel in his beak by a crow $erche on a treeA it must in ee ha!e smelt strong if the fo?, in his thicket or his earth, coul smell it" This is the way you train your $u$il in that s$irit of right ju gment, which rejects all but reasonable arguments, an is able to istinguish between truth an falsehoo in other tales" D%ui tient a $eu $res ce langageD L)$oke to him after this fashionM"BD:e langage"D )o fo?es talk, o theyH They talk like crowsH >in what you are about, oh, wise tutorA weigh your answer before you gi!e it, it is more im$ortant than you sus$ect" DEhH Bonjour, >onsieur le :orbeauHD LDGoo - ay, >r" :rowHDMB>r"H The chil sees this title laughe to scorn before he knows it is a title of honour" Those who say D>onsieur u :orbeauD will fin their work cut out for them to e?$lain that D u"D

DKue !ous etes joliH Kue !ous me sembleF beauHD LD8ow han some you are, how beautiful in my eyesHDMB>ere $a ing" The chil , fin ing the same thing re$eate twice o!er in ifferent wor s, is learning to s$eak carelessly" 9f you say this re un ance is a e!ice of the author, a $art of the fo?@s scheme to make his $raise seem all the greater by his flow of wor s, that is a !ali e?cuse for me, but not for my $u$il" D)ans mentir, si !otre ramageD LDCithout lying, if your songDM"BDCithout lying"D )o $eo$le o tell lies sometimes" Chat will the chil think of you if you tell him the fo? only says D)ans mentirD because he is lyingE D)e ra$$orte a !otre $lumageD LD'nswere to your fine feathersDM" BD'nswere HD Chat oes that meanE Try to make the chil com$are qualities so ifferent as those of song an $lumageA you will see how much he un erstan s" DGous serieF le $heni? es hotes e ces boisHD LD#ou woul be the $hoeni? of all the inhabitants of this woo HDMBThe $hoeni?H Chat is a $hoeni?E 'll of a su en we are floun ering in the lies of antiquityBwe are on the e ge of mythology" DThe inhabitants of this woo "D Chat figurati!e languageH The flatterer a o$ts the gran style to a ignity to his s$eech, to make it more attracti!e" Cill the chil un erstan this cunningE (oes he know, how coul he $ossibly know, what is meant by gran style an sim$le styleE D' ces mots le corbeau ne se sent $as e joieD L't these wor s, the crow is besi e himself with elightM"BTo realise the full force of this $ro!erbial e?$ression we must ha!e e?$erience !ery strong feeling" DEt, $our montrer sa belle !oi?D L'n , to show his fine !oiceM"B Remember that the chil , to un erstan this line an the whole fable, must know what is meant by the crow@s fine !oice" D9l ou!re un large bec, laisse tomber sa $roieD L8e o$ens his wi e beak an ro$s his $reyM"BThis is a s$len i lineA its !ery soun suggests a $icture" 9 see the great big ugly ga$ing beak, 9 hear the cheese crashing through the branchesA but this kin of beauty is thrown away u$on chil ren" D%e renar s@en saisit, et it, @>on bon monsieur@D LThe fo? catches it, an says, D>y ear sirDM"B)o kin ness is alrea y folly" #ou certainly waste no time in teaching your chil ren" D'$$reneF que tout flatteurD LD#ou must learn that e!ery flattererDM"B' general ma?im" The chil can make neither hea nor tail of it" DGit au e$ens e celui qui l@ecouteD LD%i!es at the e?$ense of the $erson who listens to his flatteryDM"B<o chil of ten e!er un erstoo that" D:e lecon !aut bien un fromage, sans outeD LD<o oubt this lesson is well worth a cheeseDM"BThis is intelligible an its meaning is !ery goo " #et there are few chil ren who coul com$are a cheese an a lesson, few who woul not $refer the cheese" #ou will therefore ha!e to make them un erstan that this is sai in mockery" Chat subtlety for a chil H

D%e corbeau, honteu? et confusD LThe crow, ashame an confuse M"B' nothing $leonasm, an there is no e?cuse for it this time" DJura, mais un $eu tar , qu@on ne l@y $ren rait $lusD L)wore, but rather too late, that he woul not be caught in that way againM"BD)wore"D Chat master will be such a fool as to try to e?$lain to a chil the meaning of an oathE Chat a host of etailsH but much more woul be nee e for the analysis of all the i eas in this fable an their re uction to the sim$le an elementary i eas of which each is com$ose " But who thinks this analysis necessary to make himself intelligible to chil renE Cho of us is $hiloso$her enough to be able to $ut himself in the chil @s $laceE %et us now $rocee to the moral" )houl we teach a si?-year-ol chil that there are $eo$le who flatter an lie for the sake of gainE 6ne might $erha$s teach them that there are $eo$le who make fools of little boys an laugh at their foolish !anity behin their backs" But the whole thing is s$oilt by the cheese" #ou are teaching them how to make another ro$ his cheese rather than how to kee$ their own" This is my secon $ara o?, an it is not less weighty than the former one" Catch chil ren learning their fables an you will see that when they ha!e a chance of a$$lying them they almost always use them e?actly contrary to the author@s meaningA instea of being on their guar against the fault which you woul $re!ent or cure, they are is$ose to like the !ice by which one takes a !antage of another@s efects" 9n the abo!e fable chil ren laugh at the crow, but they all lo!e the fo?" 9n the ne?t fable you e?$ect them to follow the e?am$le of the grassho$$er" <ot so, they will choose the ant" They o not care to abase themsel!es, they will always choose the $rinci$al $artBthis is the choice of self-lo!e, a !ery natural choice" But what a rea ful lesson for chil renH There coul be no monster more etestable than a harsh an a!aricious chil , who realise what he was aske to gi!e an what he refuse " The ant oes moreA she teaches him not merely to refuse but to re!ile" 9n all the fables where the lion $lays a $art, usually the chief $art, the chil $reten s to be the lion, an when he has to $resi e o!er some istribution of goo things, he takes care to kee$ e!erything for himselfA but when the lion is o!erthrown by the gnat, the chil is the gnat" 8e learns how to sting to eath those whom he are not attack o$enly" 7rom the fable of the sleek og an the star!ing wolf he learns a lesson of licence rather than the lesson of mo eration which you $rofess to teach him" 9 shall ne!er forget seeing a little girl wee$ing bitterly o!er this tale, which ha been tol her as a lesson in obe ience" The $oor chil hate to be chaine u$A she felt the chain chafing her neckA she was crying because she was not a wolf" )o from the first of these fables the chil learns the basest flatteryA from the secon , crueltyA from the thir , injusticeA from the fourth, satireA from the fifth, insubor ination" The last of these lessons is no more suitable for your $u$ils than for mine, though he has no use for it" Chat results o

you e?$ect to get from your teaching when it contra icts itselfH But $erha$s the same system of morals which furnishes me with objections against the fables su$$lies you with as many reasons for kee$ing to them" )ociety requires a rule of morality in our wor sA it also requires a rule of morality in our ee sA an these two rules are quite ifferent" The former is containe in the :atechism an it is left thereA the other is containe in %a 7ontaine@s fables for chil ren an his tales for mothers" The same author oes for both" %et us make a bargain, >" e la 7ontaine" 7or my own $art, 9 un ertake to make your books my fa!ourite stu yA 9 un ertake to lo!e you, an to learn from your fables, for 9 ho$e 9 shall not mistake their meaning" 's to my $u$il, $ermit me to $re!ent him stu ying any one of them till you ha!e con!ince me that it is goo for him to learn things three-fourths of which are unintelligible to him, an until you can con!ince me that in those fables he can un erstan he will ne!er re!erse the or er an imitate the !illain instea of taking warning from his u$e" Chen 9 thus get ri of chil ren@s lessons, 9 get ri of the chief cause of their sorrows, namely their books" Rea ing is the curse of chil hoo , yet it is almost the only occu$ation you can fin for chil ren" Emile, at twel!e years ol , will har ly know what a book is" DBut,D you say, Dhe must, at least, know how to rea "D Chen rea ing is of use to him, 9 a mit he must learn to rea , but till then he will only fin it a nuisance" 9f chil ren are not to be require to o anything as a matter of obe ience, it follows that they will only learn what they $ercei!e to be of real an $resent !alue, either for use or enjoymentA what other moti!e coul they ha!e for learningE The art of s$eaking to our absent frien s, of hearing their wor sA the art of letting them know at first han our feelings, our esires, an our longings, is an art whose usefulness can be ma e $lain at any age" 8ow is it that this art, so useful an $leasant in itself, has become a terror to chil renE Because the chil is com$elle to acquire it against his will, an to use it for $ur$oses beyon his com$rehension" ' chil has no great wish to $erfect himself in the use of an instrument of torture, but make it a means to his $leasure, an soon you will not be able to kee$ him from it" Peo$le make a great fuss about isco!ering the beat way to teach chil ren to rea " They in!ent Dbureau?D .7ootnote& Translator@s note"B The DbureauD was a sort of case containing letters to be $ut together to form wor s" 9t was a fa!ourite e!ice for the teaching of rea ing an ga!e its name to a s$ecial metho , calle the bureau-metho , of learning to rea "3 an car s, they turn the nursery into a $rinter@s sho$" %ocke woul ha!e them taught to rea by means of ice" Chat a fine i eaH 'n the $ity of itH There is a better way than any of those, an one which is generally o!erlooke Bit consists in the esire to learn" 'rouse this esire in your scholar an ha!e one with your Dbureau?D an your iceBany metho will ser!e"

Present interest, that is the moti!e $ower, the only moti!e $ower that takes us far an safely" )ometimes Emile recei!es notes of in!itation from his father or mother, his relations or frien sA he is in!ite to a inner, a walk, a boating e?$e ition, to see some $ublic entertainment" These notes are short, clear, $lain, an well written" )ome one must rea them to him, an he cannot always fin anybo y when wante A no more consi eration is shown to him than he himself showe to you yester ay" Time $asses, the chance is lost" The note is rea to him at last, but it is too late" 6hH if only he ha known how to rea H 8e recei!es other notes, so short, so interesting, he woul like to try to rea them" )ometimes he gets hel$, sometimes none" 8e oes his best, an at last he makes out half the noteA it is something about going to-morrow to rink creamB ChereE Cith whomE 8e cannot tellBhow har he tries to make out the restH 9 o not think Emile will nee a Dbureau"D )hall 9 $rocee to the teaching of writingE <o, 9 am ashame to toy with these trifles in a treatise on e ucation" 9 will just a a few wor s which contain a $rinci$le of great im$ortance" 9t is thisBChat we are in no hurry to get is usually obtaine with s$ee an certainty" 9 am $retty sure Emile will learn to rea an write before he is ten, just because 9 care !ery little whether he can o so before he is fifteenA but 9 woul rather he ne!er learnt to rea at all, than that this art shoul be acquire at the $rice of all that makes rea ing useful" Chat is the use of rea ing to him if he always hates itE D9 im$rimis ca!ere o$ortebit, ne stu ia, qui amare non um $otest, o erit, et amaritu inem semel $erce$tam etiam ultra ru es annos reformi et"DBKuintil" The more 9 urge my metho of letting well alone, the more objections 9 $ercei!e against it" 9f your $u$il learns nothing from you, he will learn from others" 9f you o not instil truth he will learn falsehoo sA the $reju ices you fear to teach him he will acquire from those about him, they will fin their way through e!ery one of his sensesA they will either corru$t his reason before it is fully e!elo$e or his min will become tor$i through inaction, an will become engrosse in material things" 9f we o not form the habit of thinking as chil ren, we shall lose the $ower of thinking for the rest of our life" 9 fancy 9 coul easily answer that objection, but why shoul 9 answer e!ery objectionE 9f my metho itself answers your objections, it is goo A if not, it is goo for nothing" 9 continue my e?$lanation" 9f, in accor ance with the $lan 9 ha!e sketche , you follow rules which are just the o$$osite of the establishe $ractice, if instea of taking your scholar far afiel , instea of wan ering with him in istant $laces, in faroff lan s, in remote centuries, in the en s of the earth, an in the !ery hea!ens themsel!es, you try to kee$ him to himself, to his own concerns, you will then fin him able to $ercei!e, to remember, an e!en to reasonA this is nature@s or er" 's the sentient being becomes acti!e his iscernment e!elo$s along with his strength" <ot till his strength is in e?cess of what is nee e for self-$reser!ation, is the s$eculati!e faculty e!elo$e , the faculty a a$te for using this su$erfluous strength for other $ur$oses" Coul you culti!ate your $u$il@s intelligence, culti!ate the strength it is meant to control" Gi!e his bo y constant e?ercise, make

it strong an healthy, in or er to make him goo an wiseA let him work, let him o things, let him run an shout, let him be always on the goA make a man of him in strength, an he will soon be a man in reason" 6f course by this metho you will make him stu$i if you are always gi!ing him irections, always saying come here, go there, sto$, o this, on@t o that" 9f your hea always gui es his han s, his own min will become useless" But remember the con itions we lai ownA if you are a mere $e ant it is not worth your while to rea my book" 9t is a lamentable mistake to imagine that bo ily acti!ity hin ers the working of the min , as if these two kin s of acti!ity ought not to a !ance han in han , an as if the one were not inten e to act as gui e to the other" There are two classes of men who are constantly engage in bo ily acti!ity, $easants an sa!ages, an certainly neither of these $ays the least attention to the culti!ation of the min " Peasants are rough, coarse, an clumsyA sa!ages are note , not only for their keen senses, but for great subtility of min " )$eaking generally, there is nothing uller than a $easant or shar$er than a sa!age" Chat is the cause of this ifferenceE The $easant has always one as he was tol , what his father i before him, what he himself has always oneA he is the creature of habit, he s$en s his life almost like an automaton on the same tasksA habit an obe ience ha!e taken the $lace of reason" The case of the sa!age is !ery ifferentA he is tie to no one $lace, he has no $rescribe task, no su$erior to obey, he knows no law but his own willA he is therefore force to reason at e!ery ste$ he takes" 8e can neither mo!e nor walk without consi ering the consequences" Thus the more his bo y is e?ercise , the more alert is his min A his strength an his reason increase together, an each hel$s to e!elo$ the other" 6h, learne tutor, let us see which of our two scholars is most like the sa!age an which is most like the $easant" #our scholar is subject to a $ower which is continually gi!ing him instructionA he acts only at the wor of comman A he are not eat when he is hungry, nor laugh when he is merry, nor wee$ when he is sa , nor offer one han rather than the other, nor stir a foot unless he is tol to o itA before long he will not !enture to breathe without or ers" Chat woul you ha!e him think about, when you o all the thinking for himE 8e rests securely on your foresight, why shoul he think for himselfE 8e knows you ha!e un ertaken to take care of him, to secure his welfare, an he feels himself free from this res$onsibility" 8is ju gment relies on yoursA what you ha!e not forbi en that he oes, knowing that he runs no risk" Chy shoul he learn the signs of rainE 8e knows you watch the clou s for him" Chy shoul he time his walkE 8e knows there is no fear of your letting him miss his inner hour" 8e eats till you tell him to sto$, he sto$s when you tell him to o soA he oes not atten to the teaching of his own stomach, but yours" 9n !ain o you make his bo y soft by inactionA his un erstan ing oes not become subtle" 7ar from it, you com$lete your task of iscre iting reason in his eyes, by making him use such reasoning $ower as he has on the things which seem of least im$ortance to him" 's he ne!er fin s his reason any

use to him, he eci es at last that it is useless" 9f he reasons ba ly he will be foun fault withA nothing worse will ha$$en to himA an he has been foun fault with so often that he $ays no attention to it, such a common anger no longer alarms him" #et you will fin he has a min " 8e is quick enough to chatter with the women in the way 9 s$oke of further backA but if he is in anger, if he must come to a ecision in ifficult circumstances, you will fin him a hun re fol more stu$i an silly than the son of the roughest labourer" 's for my $u$il, or rather <ature@s $u$il, he has been traine from the outset to be as self-reliant as $ossible, he has not forme the habit of constantly seeking hel$ from others, still less of is$laying his stores of learning" 6n the other han , he e?ercises iscrimination an forethought, he reasons about e!erything that concerns himself" 8e oes not chatter, he acts" <ot a wor oes he know of what is going on in the worl at large, but he knows !ery thoroughly what affects himself" 's he is always stirring he is com$elle to notice many things, to recognise many effectsA he soon acquires a goo eal of e?$erience" <ature, not man, is his schoolmaster, an he learns all the quicker because he is not aware that he has any lesson to learn" )o min an bo y work together" 8e is always carrying out his own i eas, not those of other $eo$le, an thus he unites thought an actionA as he grows in health an strength he grows in wis om an iscernment" This is the way to attain later on to what is generally consi ere incom$atible, though most great men ha!e achie!e it, strength of bo y an strength of min , the reason of the $hiloso$her an the !igour of the athlete" #oung teacher, 9 am setting before you a ifficult task, the art of controlling without $rece$ts, an oing e!erything without oing anything at all" This art is, 9 confess, beyon your years, it is not calculate to is$lay your talents nor to make your !alue known to your scholar@s $arentsA but it is the only roa to success" #ou will ne!er succee in making wise men if you o not first make little im$s of mischief" This was the e ucation of the )$artansA they were not taught to stick to their books, they were set to steal their inners" Cere they any the worse for it in after lifeE E!er rea y for !ictory, they crushe their foes in e!ery kin of warfare, an the $rating 'thenians were as much afrai of their wor s as of their blows" Chen e ucation is most carefully atten e to, the teacher issues his or ers an thinks himself master, but it is the chil who is really master" 8e uses the tasks you set him to obtain what he wants from you, an he can always make you $ay for an hour@s in ustry by a week@s com$laisance" #ou must always be making bargains with him" These bargains, suggeste in your fashion, but carrie out in his, always follow the irection of his own fancies, es$ecially when you are foolish enough to make the con ition some a !antage he is almost sure to obtain, whether he fulfils his $art of the bargain or not" The chil is usually much quicker to rea the master@s thoughts than the master to rea the chil @s feelings" 'n that is as it shoul be, for all the sagacity which the chil woul ha!e e!ote to self-$reser!ation, ha he been left to himself, is now e!ote to the rescue of his nati!e free om from the chains of his

tyrantA while the latter, who has no such $ressing nee to un erstan the chil , sometimes fin s that it $ays him better to lea!e him in i leness or !anity" Take the o$$osite course with your $u$ilA let him always think he is master while you are really master" There is no subjection so com$lete as that which $reser!es the forms of free omA it is thus that the will itself is taken ca$ti!e" 9s not this $oor chil , without knowle ge, strength, or wis om, entirely at your mercyE 're you not master of his whole en!ironment so far as it affects himE :annot you make of him what you $leaseE 8is work an $lay, his $leasure an $ain, are they not, unknown to him, un er your controlE <o oubt he ought only to o what he wants, but he ought to want to o nothing but what you want him to o" 8e shoul ne!er take a ste$ you ha!e not foreseen, nor utter a wor you coul not foretell" Then he can e!ote himself to the bo ily e?ercises a a$te to his age without brutalising his min A instea of e!elo$ing his cunning to e!a e an unwelcome control, you will then fin him entirely occu$ie in getting the best he can out of his en!ironment with a !iew to his $resent welfare, an you will be sur$rise by the subtlety of the means he e!ises to get for himself such things as he can obtain, an to really enjoy things without the ai of other $eo$le@s i eas" #ou lea!e him master of his own wishes, but you o not multi$ly his ca$rices" Chen he only oes what he wants, he will soon only o what he ought, an although his bo y is constantly in motion, so far as his sensible an $resent interests are concerne , you will fin him e!elo$ing all the reason of which he is ca$able, far better an in a manner much better fitte for him than in $urely theoretical stu ies" Thus when he oes not fin you continually thwarting him, when he no longer istrusts you, no longer has anything to conceal from you, he will neither tell you lies nor ecei!e youA he will show himself fearlessly as he really is, an you can stu y him at your ease, an surroun him with all the lessons you woul ha!e him learn, without awaking his sus$icions" <either will he kee$ a curious an jealous eye on your own con uct, nor take a secret elight in catching you at fault" 9t is a great thing to a!oi this" 6ne of the chil @s first objects is, as 9 ha!e sai , to fin the weak s$ots in its rulers" Though this lea s to s$itefulness, it oes not arise from it, but from the esire to e!a e a isagreeable control" 6!erbur ene by the yoke lai u$on him, he tries to shake it off, an the faults he fin s in his master gi!e him a goo o$$ortunity for this" )till the habit of s$ying out faults an elighting in them grows u$on $eo$le" :learly we ha!e sto$$e another of the s$rings of !ice in Emile@s heart" 8a!ing nothing to gain from my faults, he will not be on the watch for them, nor will he be tem$te to look out for the faults of others" 'll these metho s seem ifficult because they are new to us, but they ought not to be really ifficult" 9 ha!e a right to assume that you ha!e the knowle ge require for the business you ha!e chosenA that you know the usual course of e!elo$ment of the human thought, that you can stu y mankin an man, that you know beforehan the effect on your $u$il@s

will of the !arious objects suite to his age which you $ut before him" #ou ha!e the tools an the art to use themA are you not master of your tra eE #ou s$eak of chil ish ca$riceA you are mistaken" :hil ren@s ca$rices are ne!er the work of nature, but of ba isci$lineA they ha!e either obeye or gi!en or ers, an 9 ha!e sai again an again, they must o neither" #our $u$il will ha!e the ca$rices you ha!e taught himA it is fair you shoul bear the $unishment of your own faults" DBut how can 9 cure themED o you sayE That may still be one by better con uct on your own $art an great $atience" 9 once un ertook the charge of a chil for a few weeksA he was accustome not only to ha!e his own way, but to make e!ery one else o as he $lease A he was therefore ca$ricious" The !ery first ay he wante to get u$ at mi night, to try how far he coul go with me" Chen 9 was soun aslee$ he jum$e out of be , got his ressing-gown, an wake me u$" 9 got u$ an lighte the can le, which was all he wante " 'fter a quarter of an hour he became slee$y an went back to be quite satisfie with his e?$eriment" Two ays later he re$eate it, with the same success an with no sign of im$atience on my $art" Chen he kisse me as he lay own, 9 sai to him !ery quietly, D>y little ear, this is all !ery well, but o not try it again"D 8is curiosity was arouse by this, an the !ery ne?t ay he i not fail to get u$ at the same time an woke me to see whether 9 shoul are to isobey him" 9 aske what he wante , an he tol me he coul not slee$" D)o much the worse for you,D 9 re$lie , an 9 lay quiet" 8e seeme $er$le?e by this way of s$eaking" 8e felt his way to the flint an steel an trie to strike a light" 9 coul not hel$ laughing when 9 hear him strike his fingers" :on!ince at last that he coul not manage it, he brought the steel to my be A 9 tol him 9 i not want it, an 9 turne my back to him" Then he began to rush wil ly about the room, shouting, singing, making a great noise, knocking against chairs an tables, but taking, howe!er, goo care not to hurt himself seriously, but screaming lou ly in the ho$e of alarming me" 'll this ha no effect, but 9 $ercei!e that though he was $re$are for scol ing or anger, he was quite un$re$are for in ifference" 8owe!er, he was etermine to o!ercome my $atience with his own obstinacy, an he continue his racket so successfully that at last 9 lost my tem$er" 9 foresaw that 9 shoul s$oil the whole business by an unseemly outburst of $assion" 9 etermine on another course" 9 got u$ quietly, went to the tin er bo?, but coul not fin itA 9 aske him for it, an he ga!e it me, elighte to ha!e won the !ictory o!er me" 9 struck a light, lighte the can le, took my young gentleman by the han an le him quietly into an a joining ressing-room with the shutters firmly fastene , an nothing he coul break" 9 left him there without a lightA then locking him in 9 went back to my be without a wor " Chat a noise there wasH That was what 9 e?$ecte , an took no notice" 't last the noise cease A 9 listene , hear him settling own, an 9 was quite easy about him" <e?t morning 9 entere the room at aybreak, an my little rebel was lying on a sofa enjoying a soun an much nee e slee$ after his e?ertions" The matter i not en there" 8is mother hear that the chil ha s$ent a great $art of the night out of be " That s$oilt the whole thingA her chil

was as goo as ea " 7in ing a goo chance for re!enge, he $reten e to be ill, not seeing that he woul gain nothing by it" They sent for the octor" ;nluckily for the mother, the octor was a $ractical joker, an to amuse himself with her terrors he i his best to increase them" 8owe!er, he whis$ere to me, D%ea!e it to me, 9 $romise to cure the chil of wanting to be ill for some time to come"D 's a matter of fact he $rescribe be an ieting, an the chil was han e o!er to the a$othecary" 9 sighe to see the mother cheate on e!ery han e?ce$t by me, whom she hate because 9 i not ecei!e her" 'fter $retty se!ere re$roaches, she tol me her son was elicate, that he was the sole heir of the family, his life must be $reser!e at all costs, an she woul not ha!e him contra icte " 9n that 9 thoroughly agree with her, but what she meant by contra icting was not obeying him in e!erything" 9 saw 9 shoul ha!e to treat the mother as 9 ha treate the son" D>a am,D 9 sai col ly, D9 o not know how to e ucate the heir to a fortune, an what is more, 9 o not mean to stu y that art" #ou can take that as settle "D 9 was wante for some ays longer, an the father smoothe things o!er" The mother wrote to the tutor to hasten his return, an the chil , fin ing he got nothing by isturbing my rest, nor yet by being ill, eci e at last to get better an to go to slee$" #ou can form no i ea of the number of similar ca$rices to which the little tyrant ha subjecte his unlucky tutorA for his e ucation was carrie on un er his mother@s eye, an she woul not allow her son an heir to be isobeye in anything" Chene!er he wante to go out, you must be rea y to take him, or rather to follow him, an he always took goo care to choose the time when he knew his tutor was !ery busy" 8e wishe to e?ercise the same $ower o!er me an to a!enge himself by ay for ha!ing to lea!e me in $eace at night" 9 gla ly agree an began by showing $lainly how $lease 9 was to gi!e him $leasureA after that when it was a matter of curing him of his fancies 9 set about it ifferently" 9n the first $lace, he must be shown that he was in the wrong" This was not ifficultA knowing that chil ren think only of the $resent, 9 took the easy a !antage which foresight gi!esA 9 took care to $ro!i e him with some in oor amusement of which he was !ery fon " Just when he was most occu$ie with it, 9 went an suggeste a short walk, an he sent me away" 9 insiste , but he $ai no attention" 9 ha to gi!e in, an he took note of this sign of submission" The ne?t ay it was my turn" 's 9 e?$ecte , he got tire of his occu$ationA 9, howe!er, $reten e to be !ery busy" That was enough to eci e him" 8e came to rag me from my work, to take him at once for a walk" 9 refuse A he $ersiste " D<o,D 9 sai , Dwhen 9 i what you wante , you taught me how to get my own wayA 9 shall not go out"D DGery well,D he re$lie eagerly, D9 shall go out by myself"D D's you $lease,D an 9 returne to my work" 8e $ut on his things rather uneasily when he saw 9 i not follow his e?am$le" Chen he was rea y he came an ma e his bowA 9 bowe tooA he trie to frighten me with stories of the e?$e itions he was going to makeA to hear him talk you woul think he was going to the worl @s en "

Kuite unmo!e , 9 wishe him a $leasant journey" 8e became more an more $er$le?e " 8owe!er, he $ut a goo face on it, an when he was rea y to go out he tol his foot man to follow him" The footman, who ha his instructions, re$lie that he ha no time, an that he was busy carrying out my or ers, an he must obey me first" 7or the moment the chil was taken aback" 8ow coul he think they woul really let him go out alone, him, who, in his own eyes, was the most im$ortant $erson in the worl , who thought that e!erything in hea!en an earth was wra$$e u$ in his welfareE 8owe!er, he was beginning to feel his weakness, he $ercei!e that he shoul fin himself alone among $eo$le who knew nothing of him" 8e saw beforehan the risks he woul runA obstinacy alone sustaine himA !ery slowly an unwillingly he went ownstairs" 't last he went out into the street, consoling himself a little for the harm that might ha$$en to himself, in the ho$e that 9 shoul be hel res$onsible for it" This was just what 9 e?$ecte " 'll was arrange beforehan , an as it meant some sort of $ublic scene 9 ha got his father@s consent" 8e ha scarcely gone a few ste$s, when he hear , first on this si e then on that, all sorts of remarks about himself" DChat a $retty little gentleman, neighbourE Chere is he going all aloneE 8e will get lostH 9 will ask him into our house"D DTake care you on@t" (on@t you see he is a naughty little boy, who has been turne out of his own house because he is goo for nothingE #ou must not sto$ naughty boysA let him go where he likes"D DCell, wellA the goo Go take care of him" 9 shoul be sorry if anything ha$$ene to him"D ' little further on he met some young urchins of about his own age who tease him an ma e fun of him" The further he got the more ifficulties he foun " 'lone an un$rotecte he was at the mercy of e!erybo y, an he foun to his great sur$rise that his shoul er knot an his gol lace comman e no res$ect" 8owe!er, 9 ha got a frien of mine, who was a stranger to him, to kee$ an eye on him" ;nnotice by him, this frien followe him ste$ by ste$, an in ue time he s$oke to him" The role, like that of )brigani in Pourceaugnac, require an intelligent actor, an it was $laye to $erfection" Cithout making the chil fearful an timi by ins$iring e?cessi!e terror, he ma e him realise so thoroughly the folly of his e?$loit that in half an hour@s time he brought him home to me, ashame an humble, an afrai to look me in the face" To $ut the finishing touch to his iscomfiture, just as he was coming in his father came own on his way out an met him on the stairs" 8e ha to e?$lain where he ha been, an why 9 was not with him" .7ootnote& 9n a case like this there is no anger in asking a chil to tell the truth, for he knows !ery well that it cannot be hi , an that if he !enture to tell a lie he woul be foun out at once"3 The $oor chil woul gla ly ha!e sunk into the earth" 8is father i not take the trouble to scol him at length, but sai with more se!erity than 9 shoul ha!e e?$ecte , DChen you want to go out by yourself, you can o so, but 9 will not ha!e a rebel in my house, so when you go, take goo care that you ne!er come back"D 's for me, 9 recei!e him somewhat gra!ely, but without blame an without mockery, an for fear he shoul fin out we ha been $laying

with him, 9 ecline to take him out walking that ay" <e?t ay 9 was well $lease to fin that he $asse in trium$h with me through the !ery same $eo$le who ha mocke him the $re!ious ay, when they met him out by himself" #ou may be sure he ne!er threatene to go out without me again" By these means an other like them 9 succee e uring the short time 9 was with him in getting him to o e!erything 9 wante without bi ing him or forbi ing him to o anything, without $reaching or e?hortation, without wearying him with unnecessary lessons" )o he was $lease when 9 s$oke to him, but when 9 was silent he was frightene , for he knew there was something amiss, an he always got his lesson from the thing itself" But let us return to our subject" The bo y is strengthene by this constant e?ercise un er the gui ance of nature herself, an far from brutalising the min , this e?ercise e!elo$s in it the only kin of reason of which young chil ren are ca$able, the kin of reason most necessary at e!ery age" 9t teaches us how to use our strength, to $ercei!e the relations between our own an neighbouring bo ies, to use the natural tools, which are within our reach an a a$te to our senses" 9s there anything sillier than a chil brought u$ in oors un er his mother@s eye, who, in his ignorance of weight an resistance, tries to u$root a tall tree or $ick u$ a rock" The first time 9 foun myself outsi e Gene!a 9 trie to catch a gallo$ing horse, an 9 threw stones at >ont )ale!e, two leagues awayA 9 was the laughing stock of the whole !illage, an was su$$ose to be a regular i iot" 't eighteen we are taught in our natural $hiloso$hy the use of the le!erA e!ery !illage boy of twel!e knows how to use a le!er better than the cle!erest mechanician in the aca emy" The lessons the scholars learn from one another in the $laygroun are worth a hun re fol more than what they learn in the class-room" Catch a cat when she comes into a room for the first timeA she goes from $lace to $lace, she sniffs about an e?amines e!erything, she is ne!er still for a momentA she is sus$icious of e!erything till she has e?amine it an foun out what it is" 9t is the same with the chil when he begins to walk, an enters, so to s$eak, the room of the worl aroun him" The only ifference is that, while both use sight, the chil uses his han s an the cat that subtle sense of smell which nature has bestowe u$on it" 9t is this instinct, rightly or wrongly e ucate , which makes chil ren skilful or clumsy, quick or slow, wise or foolish" >an@s $rimary natural goals are, therefore, to measure himself against his en!ironment, to isco!er in e!ery object he sees those sensible qualities which may concern himself, so his first stu y is a kin of e?$erimental $hysics for his own $reser!ation" 8e is turne away from this an sent to s$eculati!e stu ies before he has foun his $ro$er $lace in the worl " Chile his elicate an fle?ible limbs can a just themsel!es to the bo ies u$on which they are inten e to act, while his senses are keen an as yet free from illusions, then is the time to e?ercise both limbs an senses in their $ro$er business" 9t is the time to learn to $ercei!e the $hysical relations between oursel!es an things" )ince e!erything that comes into the human min enters through the gates of

sense, man@s first reason is a reason of sense-e?$erience" 9t is this that ser!es as a foun ation for the reason of the intelligenceA our first teachers in natural $hiloso$hy are our feet, han s, an eyes" To substitute books for them oes not teach us to reason, it teaches us to use the reason of others rather than our ownA it teaches us to belie!e much an know little" Before you can $ractise an art you must first get your toolsA an if you are to make goo use of those tools, they must be fashione sufficiently strong to stan use" To learn to think we must therefore e?ercise our limbs, our senses, an our bo ily organs, which are the tools of the intellectA an to get the best use out of these tools, the bo y which su$$lies us with them must be strong an healthy" <ot only is it quite a mistake that true reason is e!elo$e a$art from the bo y, but it is a goo bo ily constitution which makes the workings of the min easy an correct" Chile 9 am showing how the chil @s long $erio of leisure shoul be s$ent, 9 am entering into etails which may seem absur " #ou will say, DThis is a strange sort of e ucation, an it is subject to your own criticism, for it only teaches what no one nee s to learn" Chy s$en your time in teaching what will come of itself without care or troubleE 9s there any chil of twel!e who is ignorant of all you wish to teach your $u$il, while he also knows what his master has taught him"D Gentlemen, you are mistaken" 9 am teaching my $u$il an art, the acquirement of which eman s much time an trouble, an art which your scholars certainly o not $ossessA it is the art of being ignorantA for the knowle ge of any one who only thinks he knows, what he really oes know is a !ery small matter" #ou teach scienceA well an goo A 9 am busy fashioning the necessary tools for its acquisition" 6nce u$on a time, they say the Genetians were is$laying the treasures of the :athe ral of )aint >ark to the )$anish ambassa orA the only comment he ma e was, DKui non c@e la ra ice"D Chen 9 see a tutor showing off his $u$il@s learning, 9 am always tem$te to say the same to him" E!ery one who has consi ere the manner of life among the ancients, attributes the strength of bo y an min by which they are istinguishe from the men of our own ay to their gymnastic e?ercises" The stress lai by >ontaigne u$on this o$inion, shows that it ha ma e a great im$ression on himA he returns to it again an again" )$eaking of a chil @s e ucation he says, DTo strengthen the min you must har en the musclesA by training the chil to labour you train him to sufferingA he must be broken in to the har shi$s of gymnastic e?ercises to $re$are him for the har shi$s of islocations, colics, an other bo ily ills"D The $hiloso$her %ocke, the worthy Rollin, the learne 7leury, the $e ant (e :rouFas, iffering as they o so wi ely from one another, are agree in this one matter of sufficient bo ily e?ercise for chil ren" This is the wisest of their $rece$ts, an the one which is certain to be neglecte " 9 ha!e alrea y welt sufficiently on its im$ortance, an as better reasons an more sensible rules cannot be foun than those in %ocke@s book, 9 will content myself with referring to it, after taking the liberty of a ing a few remarks of my own"

The limbs of a growing chil shoul be free to mo!e easily in his clothingA nothing shoul cram$ their growth or mo!ementA there shoul be nothing tight, nothing fitting closely to the bo y, no belts of any kin " The 7rench style of ress, uncomfortable an unhealthy for a man, is es$ecially ba for chil ren" The stagnant humours, whose circulation is interru$te , $utrify in a state of inaction, an this $rocess $rocee s more ra$i ly in an inacti!e an se entary lifeA they become corru$t an gi!e rise to scur!yA this isease, which is continually on the increase among us, was almost unknown to the ancients, whose way of ressing an li!ing $rotecte them from it" The hussar@s ress, far from correcting this fault, increases it, an com$resses the whole of the chil @s bo y, by way of is$ensing with a few ban s" The best $lan is to kee$ chil ren in frocks as long as $ossible an then to $ro!i e them with loose clothing, without trying to efine the sha$e which is only another way of eforming it" Their efects of bo y an min may all be trace to the same source, the esire to make men of them before their time" There are bright colours an ullA chil ren like the bright colours best, an they suit them better too" 9 see no reason why such natural suitability shoul not be taken into consi erationA but as soon as they $refer a material because it is rich, their hearts are alrea y gi!en o!er to lu?ury, to e!ery ca$rice of fashion, an this taste is certainly not their own" 9t is im$ossible to say how much e ucation is influence by this choice of clothes, an the moti!es for this choice" <ot only o shortsighte mothers offer ornaments as rewar s to their chil ren, but there are foolish tutors who threaten to make their $u$ils wear the $lainest an coarsest clothes as a $unishment" D9f you o not o your lessons better, if you o not take more care of your clothes, you shall be resse like that little $easant boy"D This is like saying to them, D;n erstan that clothes make the man"D 9s it to be won ere at that our young $eo$le $rofit by such wise teaching, that they care for nothing but ress, an that they only ju ge of merit by its outsi e" 9f 9 ha to bring such a s$oilt chil to his senses, 9 woul take care that his smartest clothes were the most uncomfortable, that he was always cram$e , constraine , an embarrasse in e!ery wayA free om an mirth shoul flee before his s$len our" 9f he wante to take $art in the games of chil ren more sim$ly resse , they shoul cease their $lay an run away" Before long 9 shoul make him so tire an sick of his magnificence, such a sla!e to his gol -lace coat, that it woul become the $lague of his life, an he woul be less afrai to behol the arkest ungeon than to see the $re$arations for his a ornment" Before the chil is ensla!e by our $reju ices his first wish is always to be free an comfortable" The $lainest an most comfortable clothes, those which lea!e him most liberty, are what he always likes best" There are habits of bo y suite for an acti!e life an others for a se entary life" The latter lea!es the humours an equable an uniform course, an the bo y shoul be $rotecte from changes in tem$eratureA the former is constantly $assing from action to rest, from heat to col , an the bo y shoul be inure to these changes" 8ence $eo$le, engage in se entary $ursuits in oors, shoul always be warmly resse , to kee$

their bo ies as nearly as $ossible at the same tem$erature at all times an seasons" Those, howe!er, who come an go in sun, win , an rain, who take much e?ercise, an s$en most of their time out of oors, shoul always be lightly cla , so as to get use to the changes in the air an to e!ery egree of tem$erature without suffering incon!enience" 9 woul a !ise both ne!er to change their clothes with the changing seasons, an that woul be the in!ariable habit of my $u$il Emile" By this 9 o not mean that he shoul wear his winter clothes in summer like many $eo$le of se entary habits, but that he shoul wear his summer clothes in winter like har -working folk" )ir 9saac <ewton always i this, an he li!e to be eighty" Emile shoul wear little or nothing on his hea all the year roun " The ancient Egy$tians always went barehea e A the Persians use to wear hea!y tiaras an still wear large turbans, which accor ing to :har in are require by their climate" 9 ha!e remarke elsewhere on the ifference obser!e by 8ero otus on a battle-fiel between the skulls of the Persians an those of the Egy$tians" )ince it is esirable that the bones of the skull shoul grow har er an more substantial, less fragile an $orous, not only to $rotect the brain against injuries but against col s, fe!er, an e!ery influence of the air, you shoul therefore accustom your chil ren to go bare-hea e winter an summer, ay an night" 9f you make them wear a night-ca$ to kee$ their hair clean an ti y, let it be thin an trans$arent like the nets with which the Basques co!er their hair" 9 am aware that most mothers will be more im$resse by :har in@s obser!ations than my arguments, an will think that all climates are the climate of Persia, but 9 i not choose a Euro$ean $u$il to turn him into an 'siatic" :hil ren are generally too much wra$$e u$, $articularly in infancy" They shoul be accustome to col rather than heatA great col ne!er oes them any harm, if they are e?$ose to it soon enoughA but their skin is still too soft an ten er an lea!es too free a course for $ers$iration, so that they are ine!itably e?hauste by e?cessi!e heat" 9t has been obser!e that infant mortality is greatest in 'ugust" >oreo!er, it seems certain from a com$arison of northern an southern races that we become stronger by bearing e?treme col rather than e?cessi!e heat" But as the chil @s bo y grows bigger an his muscles get stronger, train him gra ually to bear the rays of the sun" %ittle by little you will har en him till he can face the burning heat of the tro$ics without anger" %ocke, in the mi st of the manly an sensible a !ice he gi!es us, falls into inconsistencies one woul har ly e?$ect in such a careful thinker" The same man who woul ha!e chil ren take an ice-col bath summer an winter, will not let them rink col water when they are hot, or lie on am$ grass" But he woul ne!er ha!e their shoes water-tightA an why shoul they let in more water when the chil is hot than when he is col , an may we not raw the same inference with regar to the feet an bo y that he raws with regar to the han s an feet an the bo y an faceE 9f he woul ha!e a man all face, why blame me if 9 woul ha!e him all feetE

To $re!ent chil ren rinking when they are hot, he says they shoul be traine to eat a $iece of brea first" 9t is a strange thing to make a chil eat because he is thirstyA 9 woul as soon gi!e him a rink when he is hungry" #ou will ne!er con!ince me that our first instincts are so illregulate that we cannot satisfy them without en angering our li!es" Cere that so, the man woul ha!e $erishe o!er an o!er again before he ha learne how to kee$ himself ali!e" Chene!er Emile is thirsty let him ha!e a rink, an let him rink fresh water just as it is, not e!en taking the chill off it in the e$ths of winter an when he is bathe in $ers$iration" The only $recaution 9 a !ise is to take care what sort of water you gi!e him" 9f the water comes from a ri!er, gi!e it him just as it isA if it is s$ring-water let it stan a little e?$ose to the air before he rinks it" 9n warm weather ri!ers are warmA it is not so with s$rings, whose water has not been in contact with the air" #ou must wait till the tem$erature of the water is the same as that of the air" 9n winter, on the other han , s$ring water is safer than ri!er water" 9t is, howe!er, unusual an unnatural to $ers$ire greatly in winter, es$ecially in the o$en air, for the col air constantly strikes the skin an ri!es the $ers$iration inwar s, an $re!ents the $ores o$ening enough to gi!e it $assage" <ow 9 o not inten Emile to take his e?ercise by the firesi e in winter, but in the o$en air an among the ice" 9f he only gets warm with making an throwing snowballs, let him rink when he is thirsty, an go on with his game after rinking, an you nee not be afrai of any ill effects" 'n if any other e?ercise makes him $ers$ire let him rink col water e!en in winter $ro!i e he is thirsty" 6nly take care to take him to get the water some little istance away" 9n such col as 9 am su$$osing, he woul ha!e coole own sufficiently when he got there to be able to rink without anger" 'bo!e all, take care to conceal these $recautions from him" 9 woul rather he were ill now an then, than always thinking about his health" )ince chil ren take such !iolent e?ercise they nee a great eal of slee$" The one makes u$ for the other, an this shows that both are necessary" <ight is the time set a$art by nature for rest" 9t is an establishe fact that slee$ is quieter an calmer when the sun is below the horiFon, an that our senses are less calm when the air is warme by the rays of the sun" )o it is certainly the healthiest $lan to rise with the sun an go to be with the sun" 8ence in our country man an all the other animals with him want more slee$ in winter than in summer" But town life is so com$le?, so unnatural, so subject to chances an changes, that it is not wise to accustom a man to such uniformity that he cannot o without it" <o oubt he must submit to rulesA but the chief rule is thisBbe able to break the rule if necessary" )o o not be so foolish as to soften your $u$il by letting him always slee$ his slee$ out" %ea!e him at first to the law of nature without any hin rance, but ne!er forget that un er our con itions he must rise abo!e this lawA he must be able to go to be late an rise early, be awakene su enly, or sit u$ all night without ill effects" Begin early an $rocee gently, a ste$ at a time, an the constitution a a$ts itself to the !ery con itions which woul estroy it if they were im$ose for the first time on the grown man"

9n the ne?t $lace he must be accustome to slee$ in an uncomfortable be , which is the best way to fin no be uncomfortable" )$eaking generally, a har life, when once we ha!e become use to it, increases our $leasant e?$eriencesA an easy life $re$ares the way for innumerable un$leasant e?$eriences" Those who are too ten erly nurture can only slee$ on ownA those who are use to slee$ on bare boar s can fin them anywhere" There is no such thing as a har be for the man who falls aslee$ at once" The bo y is, so to s$eak, melte an issol!e in a soft be where one sinks into feathers an ei er- own" The reins when too warmly co!ere become inflame " )tone an other iseases are often ue to this, an it in!ariably $ro uces a elicate constitution, which is the see -groun of e!ery ailment" The best be is that in which we get the best slee$" Emile an 9 will $re$are such a be for oursel!es uring the aytime" Ce o not nee Persian sla!es to make our be sA when we are igging the soil we are turning our mattresses" 9 know that a healthy chil may be ma e to slee$ or wake almost at will" Chen the chil is $ut to be an his nurse grows weary of his chatter, she says to him, DGo to slee$"D That is much like saying, DGet well,D when he is ill" The right way is to let him get tire of himself" Talk so much that he is com$elle to hol his tongue, an he will soon be aslee$" 8ere is at least one use for sermons, an you may as well $reach to him as rock his cra leA but if you use this narcotic at night, o not use it by ay" 9 shall sometimes rouse Emile, not so much to $re!ent his slee$ing too much, as to accustom him to anythingBe!en to waking with a start" >oreo!er, 9 shoul be unfit for my business if 9 coul not make him wake himself, an get u$, so to s$eak, at my will, without being calle " 9f he wakes too soon, 9 shall let him look forwar to a te ious morning, so that he will count as gain any time he can gi!e to slee$" 9f he slee$s too late 9 shall show him some fa!ourite toy when he wakes" 9f 9 want him to wake at a gi!en hour 9 shall say, DTo-morrow at si? 9 am going fishing,D or D9 shall take a walk to such an such a $lace" Coul you like to come tooED 8e assents, an begs me to wake him" 9 $romise, or o not $romise, as the case requires" 9f he wakes too late, he fin s me gone" There is something amiss if he oes not soon learn to wake himself" >oreo!er, shoul it ha$$en, though it rarely oes, that a sluggish chil esires to stagnate in i leness, you must not gi!e way to this ten ency, which might stu$efy him entirely, but you must a$$ly some stimulus to wake him" #ou must un erstan that is no question of a$$lying force, but of arousing some a$$etite which lea s to action, an such an a$$etite, carefully selecte on the lines lai own by nature, kills two bir s with one stone" 9f one has any sort of skill, 9 can think of nothing for which a taste, a !ery $assion, cannot be arouse in chil ren, an that without !anity, emulation, or jealousy" Their keenness, their s$irit of imitation, is enough of itselfA abo!e all, there is their natural li!eliness, of which no teacher so

far has contri!e to take a !antage" 9n e!ery game, when they are quite sure it is only $lay, they en ure without com$laint, or e!en with laughter, har shi$s which they woul not submit to otherwise without floo s of tears" The s$orts of the young sa!age in!ol!e long fasting, blows, burns, an fatigue of e!ery kin , a $roof that e!en $ain has a charm of its own, which may remo!e its bitterness" 9t is not e!ery master, howe!er, who knows how to season this ish, nor can e!ery scholar eat it without making faces" 8owe!er, 9 must take care or 9 shall be wan ering off again after e?ce$tions" 9t is not to be en ure that man shoul become the sla!e of $ain, isease, acci ent, the $erils of life, or e!en eath itselfA the more familiar he becomes with these i eas the sooner he will be cure of that o!ersensiti!eness which a s to the $ain by im$atience in bearing itA the sooner he becomes use to the sufferings which may o!ertake him, the sooner he shall, as >ontaigne has $ut it, rob those $ains of the sting of unfamiliarity, an so make his soul strong an in!ulnerableA his bo y will be the coat of mail which sto$s all the arts which might otherwise fin a !ital $art" E!en the a$$roach of eath, which is not eath itself, will scarcely be felt as suchA he will not ie, he will be, so to s$eak, ali!e or ea an nothing more" >ontaigne might say of him as he i of a certain king of >orocco, D<o man e!er $rolonge his life so far into eath"D ' chil ser!es his a$$renticeshi$ in courage an en urance as well as in other !irtuesA but you cannot teach chil ren these !irtues by name aloneA they must learn them unconsciously through e?$erience" But s$eaking of eath, what ste$s shall 9 take with regar to my $u$il an the small$o?E )hall he be inoculate in infancy, or shall 9 wait till he takes it in the natural course of thingsE The former $lan is more in accor ance with our $ractice, for it $reser!es his life at a time when it is of greater !alue, at the cost of some anger when his life is of less worthA if in ee we can use the wor anger with regar to inoculation when $ro$erly $erforme " But the other $lan is more in accor ance with our general $rinci$lesBto lea!e nature to take the $recautions she elights in, $recautions she aban ons whene!er man interferes" The natural man is always rea yA let nature inoculate him herself, she will choose the fitting occasion better than we" (o not think 9 am fin ing fault with inoculation, for my reasons for e?em$ting my $u$il from it o not in the least a$$ly to yours" #our training oes not $re$are them to esca$e catching small$o? as soon as they are e?$ose to infection" 9f you let them take it anyhow, they will $robably ie" 9 $ercei!e that in ifferent lan s the resistance to inoculation is in $ro$ortion to the nee for itA an the reason is $lain" )o 9 scarcely con escen to iscuss this question with regar to Emile" 8e will be inoculate or not accor ing to time, $lace, an circumstancesA it is almost a matter of in ifference, as far as he is concerne " 9f it gi!es him small$o?, there will be the a !antage of knowing what to e?$ect, knowing what the isease isA that is a goo thing, but if he catches it naturally it will ha!e ke$t him out of the octor@s han s, which is better"

'n e?clusi!e e ucation, which merely ten s to kee$ those who ha!e recei!e it a$art from the mass of mankin , always selects such teaching as is costly rather than chea$, e!en when the latter is of more use" Thus all carefully e ucate young men learn to ri e, because it is costly, but scarcely any of them learn to swim, as it costs nothing, an an artisan can swim as well as any one" #et without $assing through the ri ing school, the tra!eller learns to mount his horse, to stick on it, an to ri e well enough for $ractical $ur$osesA but in the water if you cannot swim you will rown, an we cannot swim unless we are taught" 'gain, you are not force to ri e on $ain of eath, while no one is sure of esca$ing such a common anger as rowning" Emile shall be as much at home in the water as on lan " Chy shoul he not be able to li!e in e!ery elementE 9f he coul learn to fly, he shoul be an eagleA 9 woul make him a salaman er, if he coul bear the heat" Peo$le are afrai lest the chil shoul be rowne while he is learning to swimA if he ies while he is learning, or if he ies because he has not learnt, it will be your own fault" 7oolhar iness is the result of !anityA we are not rash when no one is looking" Emile will not be foolhar y, though all the worl were watching him" 's the e?ercise oes not e$en on its anger, he will learn to swim the 8elles$ont by swimming, without any anger, a stream in his father@s $arkA but he must get use to anger too, so as not to be flustere by it" This is an essential $art of the a$$renticeshi$ 9 s$oke of just now" >oreo!er, 9 shall take care to $ro$ortion the anger to his strength, an 9 shall always share it myself, so that 9 nee scarcely fear any im$ru ence if 9 take as much care for his life as for my own" ' chil is smaller than a manA he has not the man@s strength or reason, but he sees an hears as well or nearly as wellA his sense of taste is !ery goo , though he is less fasti ious, an he istinguishes scents as clearly though less sensuously" The senses are the first of our faculties to matureA they are those most frequently o!erlooke or neglecte " To train the senses it is not enough merely to use themA we must learn to ju ge by their means, to learn to feel, so to s$eakA for we cannot touch, see, or hear, e?ce$t as we ha!e been taught" There is a mere natural an mechanical use of the senses which strengthens the bo y without im$ro!ing the ju gment" 9t is all !ery well to swim, run, jum$, whi$ a to$, throw stonesA but ha!e we nothing but arms an legsE 8a!e we not eyes an ears as wellA an are not these organs necessary for the use of the restE (o not merely e?ercise the strength, e?ercise all the senses by which it is gui e A make the best use of e!ery one of them, an check the results of one by the other" >easure, count, weigh, com$are" (o not use force till you ha!e estimate the resistanceA let the estimation of the effect always $rece e the a$$lication of the means" Get the chil intereste in a!oi ing insufficient or su$erfluous efforts" 9f in this way you train him to calculate the effects of all his mo!ements, an to correct his mistakes by e?$erience, is it not clear that the more he oes the wiser he will becomeE

Take the case of mo!ing a hea!y massA if he takes too long a le!er, he will waste his strengthA if it is too short, he will not ha!e strength enoughA e?$erience will teach him to use the !ery stick he nee s" This knowle ge is not beyon his years" Take, for e?am$le, a loa to be carrie A if he wants to carry as much as he can, an not to take u$ more than he can carry, must he not calculate the weight by the a$$earanceE (oes he know how to com$are masses of like substance an ifferent siFe, or to choose between masses of the same siFe an ifferent substancesE 8e must set to work to com$are their s$ecific weights" 9 ha!e seen a young man, !ery highly e ucate , who coul not be con!ince , till he ha trie it, that a bucket full of blocks of oak weighe less than the same bucket full of water" 'll our senses are not equally un er our control" 6ne of them, touch, is always busy uring our waking hoursA it is s$rea o!er the whole surface of the bo y, like a sentinel e!er on the watch to warn us of anything which may o us harm" Chether we will or not, we learn to use it first of all by e?$erience, by constant $ractice, an therefore we ha!e less nee for s$ecial training for it" #et we know that the blin ha!e a surer an more elicate sense of touch than we, for not being gui e by the one sense, they are force to get from the touch what we get from sight" Chy, then, are not we traine to walk as they o in the ark, to recognise what we touch, to istinguish things about usA in a wor , to o at night an in the ark what they o in the aytime without sightE Ce are better off than they while the sun shinesA in the ark it is their turn to be our gui e" Ce are blin half our time, with this ifference& the really blin always know what to o, while we are afrai to stir in the ark" Ce ha!e lights, you say" Chat always artificial ai s" Cho can insure that they will always be at han when require " 9 ha rather Emil@s eyes were in his finger ti$s, than in the chan ler@s sho$" 9f you are shut u$ in a buil ing at night, cla$ your han s, you will know from the soun whether the s$ace is large or small, if you are in the mi le or in one corner" 8alf a foot from a wall the air, which is refracte an oes not circulate freely, $ro uces a ifferent effect on your face" )tan still in one $lace an turn this way an thatA a slight raught will tell you if there is a oor o$en" 9f you are on a boat you will $ercei!e from the way the air strikes your face not merely the irection in which you are going, but whether the current is bearing you slow or fast" These obser!ations an many others like them can only be $ro$erly ma e at nightA howe!er much attention we gi!e to them by aylight, we are always hel$e or hin ere by sight, so that the results esca$e us" #et here we use neither han nor stick" 8ow much may be learnt by touch, without e!er touching anythingH 9 woul ha!e $lenty of games in the arkH This suggestion is more !aluable than it seems at first sight" >en are naturally afrai of the arkA so are some animals" .7ootnote& This terror is !ery noticeable uring great ecli$ses of the sun"3 6nly a few men are free from this bur en by knowle ge, etermination, an courage" 9 ha!e seen thinkers, unbelie!ers, $hiloso$hers, e?cee ingly bra!e by aylight, tremble like women at the rustling of a leaf in the ark" This terror is $ut own to

nurses@ talesA this is a mistakeA it has a natural cause" Chat is this causeE Chat makes the eaf sus$icious an the lower classes su$erstitiousE 9gnorance of the things about us, an of what is taking $lace aroun us" .7ootnote& 'nother cause has been well e?$laine by a $hiloso$her, often quote in this work, a $hiloso$her to whose wi e !iews 9 am !ery greatly in ebte "3 Chen un er s$ecial con itions we cannot form a fair i ea of istance, when we can only ju ge things by the siFe of the angle or rather of the image forme in our eyes, we cannot a!oi being ecei!e as to the siFe of these objects" E!ery one knows by e?$erience how when we are tra!elling at night we take a bush near at han for a great tree at a istance, an !ice !ersa" 9n the same way, if the objects were of a sha$e unknown to us, so that we coul not tell their siFe in that way, we shoul be equally mistaken with regar to it" 9f a fly flew quickly $ast a few inches from our eyes, we shoul think it was a istant bir A a horse stan ing still at a istance from us in the mi st of o$en country, in a $osition somewhat like that of a shee$, woul be taken for a large shee$, so long as we i not $ercei!e that it was a horseA but as soon as we recognise what it is, it seems as large as a horse, an we at once correct our former ju gment" Chene!er one fin s oneself in unknown $laces at night where we cannot ju ge of istance, an where we cannot recognise objects by their sha$e on account of the arkness, we are in constant anger of forming mistaken ju gments as to the objects which $resent themsel!es to our notice" 8ence that terror, that kin of inwar fear e?$erience by most $eo$le on ark nights" This is foun ation for the su$$ose a$$earances of s$ectres, or gigantic an terrible forms which so many $eo$le $rofess to ha!e seen" They are generally tol that they imagine these things, yet they may really ha!e seen them, an it is quite $ossible they really saw what they say they i seeA for it will always be the case that when we can only estimate the siFe of an object by the angle it forms in the eye, that object will swell an grow as we a$$roach itA an if the s$ectator thought it se!eral feet high when it was thirty or forty feet away, it will seem !ery large in ee when it is a few feet offA this must in ee astonish an alarm the s$ectator until he touches it an $ercei!es what it is, for as soon as he $ercei!es what it is, the object which seeme so gigantic will su enly shrink an assume its real siFe, but if we run away or are afrai to a$$roach, we shall certainly form no other i ea of the thing than the image forme in the eye, an we shall ha!e really seen a gigantic figure of alarming siFe an sha$e" There is, therefore, a natural groun for the ten ency to see ghosts, an these a$$earances are not merely the creation of the imagination, as the men of science woul ha!e us think"BBuffon, <at" 8ist"

9n the te?t 9 ha!e trie to show that they are always $artly the creation of the imagination, an with regar to the cause e?$laine in this quotation, it is clear that the habit of walking by night shoul teach us to istinguish those a$$earances which similarity of form an i!ersity of istance len to the objects seen in the ark" 7or if the air is light enough for us to see the outlines there must be more air between us an them when they are further off, so that we ought to see them less istinctly when further off, which shoul be enough, when we are use to it, to $re!ent the error escribe by >" Buffon" .Chiche!er e?$lanation you $refer, my mo e of $roce ure is still efficacious, an e?$erience entirely confirms it"3 'ccustome to $ercei!e things from a istance an to calculate their effects, how can 9 hel$ su$$osing, when 9 cannot see, that there are hosts of creatures an all sorts of mo!ements all about me which may o me harm, an against which 9 cannot $rotect myselfE 9n !ain o 9 know 9 am safe where 9 amA 9 am ne!er so sure of it as when 9 can actually see it, so that 9 ha!e always a cause for fear which i not e?ist in broa aylight" 9 know, in ee , that a foreign bo y can scarcely act u$on me without some slight soun , an how intently 9 listenH 't the least soun which 9 cannot e?$lain, the esire of self-$reser!ation makes me $icture e!erything that woul $ut me on my guar , an therefore e!erything most calculate to alarm me" 9 am just as uneasy if 9 hear no soun , for 9 might be taken unawares without a soun " 9 must $icture things as they were before, as they ought to beA 9 must see what 9 o not see" Thus ri!en to e?ercise my imagination, it soon becomes my master, an what 9 i to reassure myself only alarms me more" 9 hear a noise, it is a robberA 9 hear nothing, it is a ghost" The watchfulness ins$ire by the instinct of self-$reser!ation only makes me more afrai " E!erything that ought to reassure me e?ists only for my reason, an the !oice of instinct is lou er than that of reason" Chat is the goo of thinking there is nothing to be afrai of, since in that case there is nothing we can oE The cause in icates the cure" 9n e!erything habit o!er$owers imaginationA it is only arouse by what is new" 9t is no longer imagination, but memory which is concerne with what we see e!ery ay, an that is the reason of the ma?im, D'b assuetis non fit $assio,D for it is only at the flame of imagination that the $assions are kin le " Therefore o not argue with any one whom you want to cure of the fear of arknessA take him often into ark $laces an be assure this $ractice will be of more a!ail than all the arguments of $hiloso$hy" The tiler on the roof oes not know what it is to be iFFy, an those who are use to the ark will not be afrai " There is another a !antage to be gaine from our games in the ark" But if these games are to be a success 9 cannot s$eak too strongly of the nee for gaiety" <othing is so gloomy as the ark& o not shut your chil u$ in a ungeon, let him laugh when he goes, into a ark $lace, let him laugh when he comes out, so that the thought of the game he is lea!ing an the games he will $lay ne?t may $rotect him from the fantastic imagination which might lay hol on him"

There comes a stage in life beyon which we $rogress backwar s" 9 feel 9 ha!e reache this stage" 9 am, so to s$eak, returning to a $ast career" The a$$roach of age makes us recall the ha$$y ays of our chil hoo " 's 9 grow ol 9 become a chil again, an 9 recall more rea ily what 9 i at ten than at thirty" Rea er, forgi!e me if 9 sometimes raw my e?am$les from my own e?$erience" 9f this book is to be well written, 9 must enjoy writing it" 9 was li!ing in the country with a $astor calle >" %ambercier" >y com$anion was a cousin richer than myself, who was regar e as the heir to some $ro$erty, while 9, far from my father, was but a $oor or$han" >y big cousin Bernar was unusually timi , es$ecially at night" 9 laughe at his fears, till >" %ambercier was tire of my boasting, an etermine to $ut my courage to the $roof" 6ne autumn e!ening, when it was !ery ark, he ga!e me the church key, an tol me to go an fetch a Bible he ha left in the $ul$it" To $ut me on my mettle he sai something which ma e it im$ossible for me to refuse" 9 set out without a lightA if 9 ha ha one, it woul $erha$s ha!e been e!en worse" 9 ha to $ass through the gra!eyar A 9 crosse it bra!ely, for as long as 9 was in the o$en air 9 was ne!er afrai of the ark" 's 9 o$ene the oor 9 hear a sort of echo in the roofA it soun e like !oices an it began to shake my Roman courage" 8a!ing o$ene the oor 9 trie to enter, but when 9 ha gone a few ste$s 9 sto$$e " 't the sight of the $rofoun arkness in which the !ast buil ing lay 9 was seiFe with terror an my hair stoo on en " 9 turne , 9 went out through the oor, an took to my heels" 9n the yar 9 foun a little og, calle )ultan, whose caresses reassure me" 'shame of my fears, 9 retrace my ste$s, trying to take )ultan with me, but he refuse to follow" 8urrie ly 9 o$ene the oor an entere the church" 9 was har ly insi e when terror again got hol of me an so firmly that 9 lost my hea , an though the $ul$it was on the right, as 9 !ery well knew, 9 sought it on the left, an entangling myself among the benches 9 was com$letely lost" ;nable to fin either $ul$it or oor, 9 fell into an in escribable state of min " 't last 9 foun the oor an manage to get out of the church an run away as 9 ha one before, quite etermine ne!er to enter the church again e?ce$t in broa aylight" 9 returne to the houseA on the oorste$ 9 hear >" %ambercier laughing, laughing, as 9 su$$ose , at me" 'shame to face his laughter, 9 was hesitating to o$en the oor, when 9 hear >iss %ambercier, who was an?ious about me, tell the mai to get the lantern, an >" %ambercier got rea y to come an look for me, escorte by my gallant cousin, who woul ha!e got all the cre it for the e?$e ition" 'll at once my fears e$arte , an left me merely sur$rise at my terror" 9 ran, 9 fairly flew, to the churchA without losing my way, without gro$ing about, 9 reache the $ul$it, took the Bible, an ran own the ste$s" 9n three stri es 9 was out of the church, lea!ing the oor o$en" Breathless, 9 entere the room an threw the Bible on the table, frightene in ee , but throbbing with $ri e that 9 ha one it without the $ro$ose assistance"

#ou will ask if 9 am gi!ing this anec ote as an e?am$le, an as an illustration, of the mirth which 9 say shoul accom$any these games" <ot so, but 9 gi!e it as a $roof that there is nothing so well calculate to reassure any one who is afrai in the ark as to hear soun s of laughter an talking in an a joining room" 9nstea of $laying alone with your $u$il in the e!ening, 9 woul ha!e you get together a number of merry chil renA o not sen them alone to begin with, but se!eral together, an o not !enture to sen any one quite alone, until you are quite certain beforehan that he will not be too frightene " 9 can $icture nothing more amusing an more $rofitable than such games, consi ering how little skill is require to organise them" 9n a large room 9 shoul arrange a sort of labyrinth of tables, armchairs, chairs, an screens" 9n the ine?tricable win ings of this labyrinth 9 shoul $lace some eight or ten sham bo?es, an one real bo? almost e?actly like them, but well fille with sweets" 9 shoul escribe clearly an briefly the $lace where the right bo? woul be foun " 9 shoul gi!e instructions sufficient to enable $eo$le more attenti!e an less e?citable than chil ren to fin it" .7ootnote& To $ractise them in attention, only tell them things which it is clearly to their $resent interest that they shoul un erstan thoroughlyA abo!e all be brief, ne!er say a wor more than necessary" But neither let your s$eech be obscure nor of oubtful meaning"3 Then ha!ing ma e the little com$etitors raw lots, 9 shoul sen first one an then another till the right bo? was foun " 9 shoul increase the ifficulty of the task in $ro$ortion to their skill" Picture to yourself a youthful 8ercules returning, bo? in han , quite $rou of his e?$e ition" The bo? is $lace on the table an o$ene with great ceremony" 9 can hear the bursts of laughter an the shouts of the merry $arty when, instea of the looke -for sweets, he fin s, neatly arrange on moss or cotton-wool, a beetle, a snail, a bit of coal, a few acorns, a turni$, or some such thing" 'nother time in a newly whitewashe room, a toy or some small article of furniture woul be hung on the wall an the chil ren woul ha!e to fetch it without touching the wall" Chen the chil who fetches it comes back, if he has faile e!er so little to fulfil the con itions, a ab of white on the brim of his ca$, the ti$ of his shoe, the fla$ of his coat or his slee!e, will betray his lack of skill" This is enough, or more than enough, to show the s$irit of these games" (o not rea my book if you e?$ect me to tell you e!erything" Chat great a !antages woul be $ossesse by a man so e ucate , when com$are with others" 8is feet are accustome to trea firmly in the ark, an his han s to touch lightlyA they will gui e him safely in the thickest arkness" 8is imagination is busy with the e!ening games of his chil hoo , an will fin it ifficult to turn towar s objects of alarm" 9f he thinks he hears laughter, it will be the laughter of his former $layfellows, not of frenFie s$iritsA if he thinks there is a host of $eo$le, it will not be the witches@ sabbath, but the $arty in his tutor@s stu y" <ight only recalls these cheerful memories, an it will ne!er alarm himA it will ins$ire elight rather than fear" 8e will be rea y for a military e?$e ition at any hour, with or without his troo$" 8e will enter the cam$ of )aul, he will fin his way, he will reach the king@s tent without waking any one, an he will

return unobser!e " 're the stee s of Rhesus to be stolen, you may trust him" #ou will scarcely fin a ;lysses among men e ucate in any other fashion" 9 ha!e known $eo$le who trie to train the chil ren not to fear the ark by startling them" This is a !ery ba $lanA its effects are just the o$$osite of those esire , an it only makes chil ren more timi " <either reason nor habit can secure us from the fear of a $resent anger whose egree an kin are unknown, nor from the fear of sur$rises which we ha!e often e?$erience " #et how will you make sure that you can $reser!e your $u$il from such acci entsE 9 consi er this the best a !ice to gi!e him beforehan " 9 shoul say to Emile, DThis is a matter of self- efence, for the aggressor oes not let you know whether he means to hurt or frighten you, an as the a !antage is on his si e you cannot e!en take refuge in flight" Therefore seiFe bol ly anything, whether man or beast, which takes you unawares in the ark" Gras$ it, squeeFe it with all your mightA if it struggles, strike, an o not s$are your blowsA an whate!er he may say or o, o not let him go till you know just who he is" The e!ent will $robably $ro!e that you ha little to be afrai of, but this way of treating $ractical jokers woul naturally $re!ent their trying it again"D 'lthough touch is the sense oftenest use , its iscrimination remains, as 9 ha!e alrea y $ointe out, coarser an more im$erfect than that of any other sense, because we always use sight along with itA the eye $ercei!es the thing first, an the min almost always ju ges without the han " 6n the other han , iscrimination by touch is the surest just because of its limitationsA for e?ten ing only as far as our han s can reach, it corrects the hasty ju gments of the other senses, which $ounce u$on objects scarcely $ercei!e , while what we learn by touch is learnt thoroughly" >oreo!er, touch, when require , unites the force of our muscles to the action of the ner!esA we associate by simultaneous sensations our i eas of tem$erature, siFe, an sha$e, to those of weight an ensity" Thus touch is the sense which best teaches us the action of foreign bo ies u$on oursel!es, the sense which most irectly su$$lies us with the knowle ge require for self-$reser!ation" 's the traine touch takes the $lace of sight, why shoul it not, to some e?tent, take the $lace of hearing, since soun s set u$, in sonorous bo ies, !ibrations $erce$tible by touchE By $lacing the han on the bo y of a @cello one can istinguish without the use of eye or ear, merely by the way in which the woo !ibrates an trembles, whether the soun gi!en out is shar$ or flat, whether it is rawn from the treble string or the bass" 9f our touch were traine to note these ifferences, no oubt we might in time become so sensiti!e as to hear a whole tune by means of our fingers" But if we a mit this, it is clear that one coul easily s$eak to the eaf by means of musicA for tone an measure are no less ca$able of regular combination than !oice an articulation, so that they might be use as the elements of s$eech" There are e?ercises by which the sense of touch is blunte an ea ene , an others which shar$en it an make it elicate an iscriminating" The former, which em$loy much mo!ement an force for the continue im$ression of har bo ies, make the skin har an thick,

an e$ri!e it of its natural sensiti!eness" The latter are those which gi!e !ariety to this feeling, by slight an re$eate contact, so that the min is attenti!e to constantly recurring im$ressions, an rea ily learns to iscern their !ariations" This ifference is clear in the use of musical instruments" The harsh an $ainful touch of the @cello, bass-!iol, an e!en of the !iolin, har ens the finger-ti$s, although it gi!es fle?ibility to the fingers" The soft an smooth touch of the har$sichor makes the fingers both fle?ible an sensiti!e" 9n this res$ect the har$sichor is to be $referre " The skin $rotects the rest of the bo y, so it is !ery im$ortant to har en it to the effects of the air that it may be able to bear its changes" Cith regar to this 9 may say 9 woul not ha!e the han roughene by too ser!ile a$$lication to the same kin of work, nor shoul the skin of the han become har ene so as to lose its elicate sense of touch which kee$s the bo y informe of what is going on, an by the kin of contact sometimes makes us shu er in ifferent ways e!en in the ark" Chy shoul my $u$il be always com$elle to wear the skin of an o? un er his footE Chat harm woul come of it if his own skin coul ser!e him at nee as a sole" 9t is clear that a elicate skin coul ne!er be of any use in this way, an may often o harm" The Gene!ese, arouse at mi night by their enemies in the e$th of winter, seiFe their guns rather than their shoes" Cho can tell whether the town woul ha!e esca$e ca$ture if its citiFens ha not been able to go barefootE %et a man be always fore-arme against the unforeseen" %et Emile run about barefoot all the year roun , u$stairs, ownstairs, an in the gar en" 7ar from scol ing him, 9 shall follow his e?am$leA only 9 shall be careful to remo!e any broken glass" 9 shall soon $rocee to s$eak of work an manual occu$ations" >eanwhile, let him learn to $erform e!ery e?ercise which encourages agility of bo yA let him learn to hol himself easily an stea ily in any $osition, let him $ractise jum$ing an lea$ing, climbing trees an walls" %et him always fin his balance, an let his e!ery mo!ement an gesture be regulate by the laws of weight, long before he learns to e?$lain them by the science of statics" By the way his foot is $lante on the groun , an his bo y su$$orte on his leg, he ought to know if he is hol ing himself well or ill" 'n easy carriage is always graceful, an the stea iest $ositions are the most elegant" 9f 9 were a ancing master 9 woul refuse to $lay the monkey tricks of >arcel, which are only fit for the stage where they are $erforme A but instea of kee$ing my $u$il busy with fancy ste$s, 9 woul take him to the foot of a cliff" There 9 woul show him how to hol himself, how to carry his bo y an hea , how to $lace first a foot then a han , to follow lightly the stee$, toilsome, an rugge $aths, to lea$ from $oint to $oint, either u$ or own" 8e shoul emulate the mountain-goat, not the ballet ancer" 's touch confines its o$erations to the man@s imme iate surroun ings, so sight e?ten s its range beyon themA it is this which makes it mislea ingA man sees half his horiFon at a glance" 9n the mi st of this host of simultaneous im$ressions an the thoughts e?cite by them, how can he fail now an then to make mistakesE Thus sight is the least reliable of our

senses, just because it has the wi est rangeA it functions long before our other senses, an its work is too hasty an on too large a scale to be correcte by the rest" >oreo!er, the !ery illusions of $ers$ecti!e are necessary if we are to arri!e at a knowle ge of s$ace an com$are one $art of s$ace with another" Cithout false a$$earances we shoul ne!er see anything at a istanceA without the gra ations of siFe an tone we coul not ju ge of istance, or rather istance woul ha!e no e?istence for us" 9f two trees, one of which was a hun re $aces from us an the other ten, looke equally large an istinct, we shoul think they were si e by si e" 9f we $ercei!e the real imensions of things, we shoul know nothing of s$aceA e!erything woul seem close to our eyes" The angle forme between any objects an our eye is the only means by which our sight estimates their siFe an istance, an as this angle is the sim$le effect of com$le? causes, the ju gment we form oes not istinguish between the se!eral causesA we are com$elle to be inaccurate" 7or how can 9 tell, by sight alone, whether the angle at which an object a$$ears to me smaller than another, in icates that it is really smaller or that it is further off" 8ere we must just re!erse our former $lan" 9nstea of sim$lifying the sensation, always reinforce it an !erify it by means of another sense" )ubject the eye to the han , an , so to s$eak, restrain the $reci$itation of the former sense by the slower an more reasone $ace of the latter" 7or want of this sort of $ractice our sight measurements are !ery im$erfect" Ce cannot correctly, an at a glance, estimate height, length, brea th, an istanceA an the fact that engineers, sur!eyors, architects, masons, an $ainters are generally quicker to see an better able to estimate istances correctly, $ro!es that the fault is not in our eyes, but in our use of them" Their occu$ations gi!e them the training we lack, an they check the equi!ocal results of the angle of !ision by its accom$anying e?$eriences, which etermine the relations of the two causes of this angle for their eyes" :hil ren will always o anything that kee$s them mo!ing freely" There are countless ways of rousing their interest in measuring, $ercei!ing, an estimating istance" There is a !ery tall cherry treeA how shall we gather the cherriesE Cill the la er in the barn be big enoughE There is a wi e streamA how shall we get to the other si eE Coul one of the woo en $lanks in the yar reach from bank to bankE 7rom our win ows we want to fish in the moatA how many yar s of line are require E 9 want to make a swing between two treesA will two fathoms of cor be enoughE They tell me our room in the new house will be twenty-fi!e feet squareA o you think it will be big enough for usE Cill it be larger than thisE Ce are !ery hungryA here are two !illages, which can we get to first for our innerE 'n i le, laFy chil was to be taught to run" 8e ha no liking for this or any other e?ercise, though he was inten e for the army" )omehow or other he ha got it into his hea that a man of his rank nee know nothing an o nothingBthat his birth woul ser!e as a substitute for arms an legs, as well as for e!ery kin of !irtue" The skill of :hiron himself woul ha!e faile to make a fleet-foote 'chilles of this young gentleman" The ifficulty was increase by my etermination to gi!e him no kin of

or ers" 9 ha renounce all right to irect him by $reaching, $romises, threats, emulation, or the esire to show off" 8ow shoul 9 make him want to run without saying anythingE 9 might run myself, but he might not follow my e?am$le, an this $lan ha other rawbacks" >oreo!er, 9 must fin some means of teaching him through this e?ercise, so as to train min an bo y to work together" This is how 9, or rather how the teacher who su$$lie me with this illustration, set about it" Chen 9 took him a walk of an afternoon 9 sometimes $ut in my $ocket a cou$le of cakes, of a kin he was !ery fon ofA we each ate one while we were out, an we came back well $lease with our outing" 6ne ay he notice 9 ha three cakesA he coul ha!e easily eaten si?, so he ate his cake quickly an aske for the other" D<o,D sai 9, D9 coul eat it myself, or we might i!i e it, but 9 woul rather see those two little boys run a race for it"D 9 calle them to us, showe them the cake, an suggeste that they shoul race for it" They were elighte " The cake was $lace on a large stone which was to be the goalA the course was marke out, we sat own, an at a gi!en signal off flew the chil renH The !ictor seiFe the cake an ate it without $ity in the sight of the s$ectators an of his efeate ri!al" The s$ort was better than the cakeA but the lesson i not take effect all at once, an $ro uce no result" 9 was not iscourage , nor i 9 hurryA teaching is a tra e at which one must be able to lose time an sa!e it" 6ur walks were continue , sometimes we took three cakes, sometimes four, an from time to time there were one or two cakes for the racers" 9f the $riFe was not great, neither was the ambition of the com$etitors" The winner was $raise an $ette , an e!erything was one with much ceremony" To gi!e room to run an to a interest to the race 9 marke out a longer course an a mitte se!eral fresh com$etitors" )carcely ha they entere the lists than all the $assers-by sto$$e to watch" They were encourage by shouting, cheering, an cla$$ing" 9 sometimes saw my little man trembling with e?citement, jum$ing u$ an shouting when one was about to reach or o!ertake anotherBto him these were the 6lym$ian games" 8owe!er, the com$etitors i not always $lay fair, they got in each other@s way, or knocke one another own, or $ut stones on the track" That le us to se$arate them an make them start from ifferent $laces at equal istances from the goal" #ou will soon see the reason for this, for 9 must escribe this im$ortant affair at length" Tire of seeing his fa!ourite cakes e!oure before his eyes, the young lor began to sus$ect that there was some use in being a quick runner, an seeing that he ha two legs of his own, he began to $ractise running on the quiet" 9 took care to see nothing, but 9 knew my stratagem ha taken effect" Chen he thought he was goo enough Lan 9 thought so tooM, he $reten e to tease me to gi!e him the other cake" 9 refuse A he $ersiste , an at last he sai angrily, DCell, $ut it on the stone an mark out the course, an we shall see"D DGery goo ,D sai 9, laughing, D#ou will get a goo a$$etite, but you will not get the cake"D )tung by my mockery, he took heart, won the $riFe, all the more easily because 9 ha marke out a !ery short course an taken care that the best runner was

out of the way" 9t will be e!i ent that, after the first ste$, 9 ha no ifficulty in kee$ing him in training" )oon he took such a fancy for this form of e?ercise that without any fa!our he was almost certain to beat the little $easant boys at running, howe!er long the course" The a !antage thus obtaine le une?$ecte ly to another" )o long as he sel om won the $riFe, he ate it himself like his ri!als, but as he got use to !ictory he grew generous, an often share it with the efeate " That taught me a lesson in morals an 9 saw what was the real root of generosity" Chile 9 continue to mark out a ifferent starting $lace for each com$etitor, he i not notice that 9 ha ma e the istances unequal, so that one of them, ha!ing farther to run to reach the goal, was clearly at a isa !antage" But though 9 left the choice to my $u$il he i not know how to take a !antage of it" Cithout thinking of the istance, he always chose the smoothest $ath, so that 9 coul easily $re ict his choice, an coul almost make him win or lose the cake at my $leasure" 9 ha more than one en in !iew in this stratagemA but as my $lan was to get him to notice the ifference himself, 9 trie to make him aware of it" Though he was generally laFy an easy going, he was so eager in his s$orts an truste me so com$letely that 9 ha great ifficulty in making him see that 9 was cheating him" Chen at last 9 manage to make him see it in s$ite of his e?citement, he was angry with me" DChat ha!e you to com$lain ofED sai 9" D9n a gift which 9 $ro$ose to gi!e of my own free will am not 9 master of the con itionsE Cho makes you runE (i 9 $romise to make the courses equalE 9s not the choice yoursE (o not you see that 9 am fa!ouring you, an that the inequality you com$lain of is all to your a !antage, if you knew how to use itED That was $lain to himA an to choose he must obser!e more carefully" 't first he wante to count the $aces, but a chil measures $aces slowly an inaccuratelyA moreo!er, 9 eci e to ha!e se!eral races on one ayA an the game ha!ing become a sort of $assion with the chil , he was sorry to waste in measuring the $ortion of time inten e for running" )uch elays are not in accor ance with a chil @s im$atienceA he trie therefore to see better an to reckon the istance more accurately at sight" 9t was now quite easy to e?ten an e!elo$ this $ower" 't length, after some months@ $ractice, an the correction of his errors, 9 so traine his $ower of ju ging at sight that 9 ha only to $lace an imaginary cake on any istant object an his glance was nearly as accurate as the sur!eyor@s chain" 6f all the senses, sight is that which we can least istinguish from the ju gments of the min A as it takes a long time to learn to see" 9t takes a long time to com$are sight an touch, an to train the former sense to gi!e a true re$ort of sha$e an istance" Cithout touch, without $rogressi!e motion, the shar$est eyes in the worl coul gi!e us no i ea of s$ace" To the oyster the whole worl must seem a $oint, an it woul seem nothing more to it e!en if it ha a human min " 9t is only by walking, feeling, counting, measuring the imensions of things, that we learn to ju ge them rightlyA but, on the other han , if we were always measuring, our senses woul trust to the instrument an woul ne!er gain confi ence" <or must the chil $ass abru$tly from measurement to

ju gmentA he must continue to com$are the $arts when he coul not com$are the wholeA he must substitute his estimate aliquot $arts for e?act aliquot $arts, an instea of always a$$lying the measure by han he must get use to a$$lying it by eye alone" 9 woul , howe!er, ha!e his first estimates teste by measurement, so that he may correct his errors, an if there is a false im$ression left u$on the senses he may correct it by a better ju gment" The same natural stan ar s of measurement are in use almost e!erywhere, the man@s foot, the e?tent of his outstretche arms, his height" Chen the chil wants to measure the height of a room, his tutor may ser!e as a measuring ro A if he is estimating the height of a stee$le let him measure it by the houseA if he wants to know how many leagues of roa there are, let him count the hours s$ent in walking along it" 'bo!e all, o not o this for himA let him o it himself" 6ne cannot learn to estimate the e?tent an siFe of bo ies without at the same time learning to know an e!en to co$y their sha$eA for at bottom this co$ying e$en s entirely on the laws of $ers$ecti!e, an one cannot estimate istance without some feeling for these laws" 'll chil ren in the course of their en less imitation try to rawA an 9 woul ha!e Emile culti!ate this artA not so much for art@s sake, as to gi!e him e?actness of eye an fle?ibility of han " Generally s$eaking, it matters little whether he is acquainte with this or that occu$ation, $ro!i e he gains clearness of senseB$erce$tion an the goo bo ily habits which belong to the e?ercise in question" )o 9 shall take goo care not to $ro!i e him with a rawing master, who woul only set him to co$y co$ies an raw from rawings" <ature shoul be his only teacher, an things his only mo els" 8e shoul ha!e the real thing before his eyes, not its co$y on $a$er" %et him raw a house from a house, a tree from a tree, a man from a manA so that he may train himself to obser!e objects an their a$$earance accurately an not to take false an con!entional co$ies for truth" 9 woul e!en train him to raw only from objects actually before him an not from memory, so that, by re$eate obser!ation, their e?act form may be im$resse on his imagination, for fear lest he shoul substitute absur an fantastic forms for the real truth of things, an lose his sense of $ro$ortion an his taste for the beauties of nature" 6f course 9 know that in this way he will make any number of aubs before he $ro uces anything recognisable, that it will be long before he attains to the graceful outline an light touch of the raughtsmanA $erha$s he will ne!er ha!e an eye for $icturesque effect or a goo taste in rawing" 6n the other han , he will certainly get a truer eye, a surer han , a knowle ge of the real relations of form an siFe between animals, $lants, an natural objects, together with a quicker sense of the effects of $ers$ecti!e" That is just what 9 wante , an my $ur$ose is rather that he shoul know things than co$y them" 9 woul rather he showe me a $lant of acanthus e!en if he rew a ca$ital with less accuracy" >oreo!er, in this occu$ation as in others, 9 o not inten my $u$il to $lay by himselfA 9 mean to make it $leasanter for him by always sharing it with him" 8e shall ha!e no other ri!alA but mine will be a continual ri!alry, an there will be no risk attaching to itA it will gi!e interest to his $ursuits

without awaking jealousy between us" 9 shall follow his e?am$le an take u$ a $encilA at first 9 shall use it as unskilfully as he" 9 shoul be an '$elles if 9 i not set myself aubing" To begin with, 9 shall raw a man such as la s raw on walls, a line for each arm, another for each leg, with the fingers longer than the arm" %ong after, one or other of us will notice this lack of $ro$ortionA we shall obser!e that the leg is thick, that this thickness !aries, that the length of the arm is $ro$ortionate to the bo y" 9n this im$ro!ement 9 shall either go si e by si e with my $u$il, or so little in a !ance that he will always o!ertake me easily an sometimes get ahea of me" Ce shall get brushes an $aints, we shall try to co$y the colours of things an their whole a$$earance, not merely their sha$e" Ce shall colour $rints, we shall $aint, we shall aubA but in all our aubing we shall be searching out the secrets of nature, an whate!er we o shall be one un er the eye of that master" Ce ba ly nee e ornaments for our room, an now we ha!e them rea y to our han " 9 will ha!e our rawings frame an co!ere with goo glass, so that no one will touch them, an thus seeing them where we $ut them, each of us has a moti!e for taking care of his own" 9 arrange them in or er roun the room, each rawing re$eate some twenty or thirty times, thus showing the author@s $rogress in each s$ecimen, from the time when the house is merely a ru e square, till its front !iew, its si e !iew, its $ro$ortions, its light an sha e are all e?actly $ortraye " These gra uations will certainly furnish us with $ictures, a source of interest to oursel!es an of curiosity to others, which will s$ur us on to further emulation" The first an roughest rawings 9 $ut in !ery smart gilt frames to show them offA but as the co$y becomes more accurate an the rawing really goo , 9 only gi!e it a !ery $lain ark frameA it nee s no other ornament than itself, an it woul be a $ity if the frame istracte the attention which the $icture itself eser!es" Thus we each as$ire to a $lain frame, an when we esire to $our scorn on each other@s rawings, we con emn them to a gil e frame" )ome ay $erha$s Dthe gilt frameD will become a $ro!erb among us, an we shall be sur$rise to fin how many $eo$le show what they are really ma e of by eman ing a gilt frame" 9 ha!e sai alrea y that geometry is beyon the chil @s reachA but that is our own fault" Ce fail to $ercei!e that their metho is not ours, that what is for us the art of reasoning, shoul be for them the art of seeing" 9nstea of teaching them our way, we shoul o better to a o$t theirs, for our way of learning geometry is quite as much a matter of imagination as of reasoning" Chen a $ro$osition is enunciate you must imagine the $roofA that is, you must isco!er on what $ro$osition alrea y learnt it e$en s, an of all the $ossible e uctions from that $ro$osition you must choose just the one require " 9n this way the closest reasoner, if he is not in!enti!e, may fin himself at a loss" Chat is the resultE 9nstea of making us isco!er $roofs, they are ictate to usA instea of teaching us to reason, our memory only is em$loye " (raw accurate figures, combine them together, $ut them one u$on another, e?amine their relations, an you will isco!er the whole of

elementary geometry in $assing from one obser!ation to another, without a wor of efinitions, $roblems, or any other form of emonstration but su$er-$osition" 9 o not $rofess to teach Emile geometryA he will teach meA 9 shall seek for relations, he will fin them, for 9 shall seek in such a fashion as to make him fin " 7or instance, instea of using a $air of com$asses to raw a circle, 9 shall raw it with a $encil at the en of bit of string attache to a $i!ot" 'fter that, when 9 want to com$are the ra ii one with another, Emile will laugh at me an show me that the same threa at full stretch cannot ha!e gi!en istances of unequal length" 9f 9 wish to measure an angle of +, egrees 9 escribe from the a$e? of the angle, not an arc, but a com$lete circle, for with chil ren nothing must be taken for grante " 9 fin that the $art of the circle containe between the two lines of the angle is the si?th $art of a circle" Then 9 escribe another an larger circle from the same centre, an 9 fin the secon arc is again the si?th $art of its circle" 9 escribe a thir concentric circle with a similar result, an 9 continue with more an more circles till Emile, shocke at my stu$i ity, shows me that e!ery arc, large or small, containe by the same angle will always be the si?th $art of its circle" <ow we are rea y to use the $rotractor" To $ro!e that two a jacent angles are equal to two right angles $eo$le escribe a circle" 6n the contrary 9 woul ha!e Emile obser!e the fact in a circle, an then 9 shoul say, D9f we took away the circle an left the straight lines, woul the angles ha!e change their siFe, etc"ED E?actness in the construction of figures is neglecte A it is taken for grante an stress is lai on the $roof" Cith us, on the other han , there will be no question of $roof" 6ur chief business will be to raw !ery straight, accurate, an e!en lines, a $erfect square, a really roun circle" To !erify the e?actness of a figure we will test it by each of its sensible $ro$erties, an that will gi!e us a chance to isco!er fresh $ro$erties ay by ay" Ce will fol the two semi-circles along the iameter, the two hal!es of the square by the iagonalA he will com$are our two figures to see who has got the e ges to fit moat e?actly, i"e", who has one it bestA we shoul argue whether this equal i!ision woul always be $ossible in $arallelograms, tra$eFes, etc" Ce shall sometimes try to forecast the result of an e?$eriment, to fin reasons, etc" Geometry means to my scholar the successful use of the rule an com$assA he must not confuse it with rawing, in which these instruments are not use " The rule an com$ass will be locke u$, so that he will not get into the way of messing about with them, but we may sometimes take our figures with us when we go for a walk, an talk o!er what we ha!e one, or what we mean to o" 9 shall ne!er forget seeing a young man at Turin, who ha learnt as a chil the relations of contours an surfaces by ha!ing to choose e!ery ay iso$erimetric cakes among cakes of e!ery geometrical figure" The gree y little fellow ha e?hauste the art of 'rchime es to fin which were the biggest" Chen the chil flies a kite he is training eye an han to accuracyA when he whi$s a to$, he is increasing his strength by using it, but without

learning anything" 9 ha!e sometimes aske why chil ren are not gi!en the same games of skill as menA tennis, mall, billiar s, archery, football, an musical instruments" 9 was tol that some of these are beyon their strength, that the chil @s senses are not sufficiently e!elo$e for others" These o not strike me as !ali reasonsA a chil is not as tall as a man, but he wears the same sort of coatA 9 o not want him to $lay with our cues at a billiar -table three feet highA 9 o not want him knocking about among our games, nor carrying one of our racquets in his little han A but let him $lay in a room whose win ows ha!e been $rotecte A at first let him only use soft balls, let his first racquets be of woo , then of $archment, an lastly of gut, accor ing to his $rogress" #ou $refer the kite because it is less tiring an there is no anger" #ou are oubly wrong" =ite-flying is a s$ort for women, but e!ery woman will run away from a swift ball" Their white skins were not meant to be har ene by blows an their faces were not ma e for bruises" But we men are ma e for strengthA o you think we can attain it without har shi$, an what efence shall we be able to make if we are attacke E Peo$le always $lay carelessly in games where there is no anger" ' falling kite hurts nobo y, but nothing makes the arm so su$$le as $rotecting the hea , nothing makes the sight so accurate as ha!ing to guar the eye" To ash from one en of the room to another, to ju ge the reboun of a ball before it touches the groun , to return it with strength an accuracy, such games are not so much s$orts fit for a man, as s$orts fit to make a man of him" The chil @s limbs, you say, are too ten er" They are not so strong as those of a man, but they are more su$$le" 8is arm is weak, still it is an arm, an it shoul be use with ue consi eration as we use other tools" :hil ren ha!e no skill in the use of their han s" That is just why 9 want them to acquire skillA a man with as little $ractice woul be just as clumsy" Ce can only learn the use of our limbs by using them" 9t is only by long e?$erience that we learn to make the best of oursel!es, an this e?$erience is the real object of stu y to which we cannot a$$ly oursel!es too early" Chat is one can be one" <ow there is nothing commoner than to fin nimble an skilful chil ren whose limbs are as acti!e as those of a man" They may be seen at any fair, swinging, walking on their han s, jum$ing, ancing on the tight ro$e" 7or many years $ast, troo$s of chil ren ha!e attracte s$ectators to the ballets at the 9talian :ome y 8ouse" Cho is there in Germany an 9taly who has not hear of the famous $antomime com$any of <icoliniE 8as it e!er occurre to any one that the mo!ements of these chil ren were less finishe , their $ostures less graceful, their ears less true, their ancing more clumsy than those of grown-u$ ancersE 9f at first the fingers are thick, short, an awkwar , the im$le han s unable to gras$ anything, oes this $re!ent many chil ren from learning to rea an write at an age when others cannot e!en hol a $en or $encilE 'll Paris still recalls the little English girl of ten who i won ers on the har$sichor " 9 once saw a little fellow of eight, the son of a magistrate, who was set like a statuette on the table among the ishes, to $lay on a fi le almost as big as himself, an e!en artists were sur$rise at his e?ecution"

To my min , these an many more e?am$les $ro!e that the su$$ose inca$acity of chil ren for our games is imaginary, an that if they are unsuccessful in some of them, it is for want of $ractice" #ou will tell me that with regar to the bo y 9 am falling into the same mistake of $recocious e!elo$ment which 9 foun fault with for the min " The cases are !ery ifferent& in the one, $rogress is a$$arent onlyA in the other it is real" 9 ha!e shown that chil ren ha!e not the mental e!elo$ment they a$$ear to ha!e, while they really o what they seem to o" Besi es, we must ne!er forget that all this shoul be $lay, the easy an !oluntary control of the mo!ements which nature eman s of them, the art of !arying their games to make them $leasanter, without the least bit of constraint to transform them into workA for what games o they $lay in which 9 cannot fin material for instruction for themE 'n e!en if 9 coul not o so, so long as they are amusing themsel!es harmlessly an $assing the time $leasantly, their $rogress in learning is not yet of such great im$ortance" But if one must be teaching them this or that at e!ery o$$ortunity, it cannot be one without constraint, !e?ation, or te ium" Chat 9 ha!e sai about the use of the two senses whose use is most constant an most im$ortant, may ser!e as an e?am$le of how to train the rest" )ight an touch are a$$lie to bo ies at rest an bo ies in motion, but as hearing is only affecte by !ibrations of the air, only a bo y in motion can make a noise or soun A if e!erything were at rest we shoul ne!er hear" 't night, when we oursel!es only mo!e as we choose, we ha!e nothing to fear but mo!ing bo iesA hence we nee a quick ear, an $ower to ju ge from the sensations e?$erience whether the bo y which causes them is large or small, far off or near, whether its mo!ements are gentle or !iolent" Chen once the air is set in motion, it is subject to re$ercussions which $ro uce echoes, these renew the sensations an make us hear a lou or $enetrating soun in another quarter" 9f you $ut your ear to the groun you may hear the soun of men@s !oices or horses@ feet in a $lain or !alley much further off than when you stan u$right" 's we ha!e ma e a com$arison between sight an touch, it will be as well to o the same for hearing, an to fin out which of the two im$ressions starting simultaneously from a gi!en bo y first reaches the sense-organ" Chen you see the flash of a cannon, you ha!e still time to take co!erA but when you hear the soun it is too late, the ball is close to you" 6ne can reckon the istance of a thun erstorm by the inter!al between the lightning an the thun er" %et the chil learn all these facts, let him learn those that are within his reach by e?$eriment, an isco!er the rest by in uctionA but 9 woul far rather he knew nothing at all about them, than that you shoul tell him" 9n the !oice we ha!e an organ answering to hearingA we ha!e no such organ answering to sight, an we o not re$eat colours as we re$eat soun s" This su$$lies an a itional means of culti!ating the ear by $ractising the acti!e an $assi!e organs one with the other" >an has three kin s of !oice, the s$eaking or articulate !oice, the singing or melo ious !oice, an the $athetic or e?$ressi!e !oice, which ser!es as

the language of the $assions, an gi!es life to song an s$eech" The chil has these three !oices, just as the man has them, but he oes not know how to use them in combination" %ike us, he laughs, cries, laments, shrieks, an groans, but he oes not know how to combine these infle?ions with s$eech or song" These three !oices fin their best e?$ression in $erfect music" :hil ren are inca$able of such music, an their singing lacks feeling" 9n the same way their s$oken language lacks e?$ressionA they shout, but they o not s$eak with em$hasis, an there is as little $ower in their !oice as there is em$hasis in their s$eech" 6ur $u$il@s s$eech will be $lainer an sim$ler still, for his $assions are still aslee$, an will not blen their tones with his" (o not, therefore, set him to recite trage y or come y, nor try to teach eclamation so-calle " 8e will ha!e too much sense to gi!e !oice to things he cannot un erstan , or e?$ression to feelings he has ne!er known" Teach him to s$eak $lainly an istinctly, to articulate clearly, to $ronounce correctly an without affectation, to $ercei!e an imitate the right accent in $rose an !erse, an always to s$eak lou enough to be hear , but without s$eaking too lou Ba common fault with schoolchil ren" %et there be no waste in anything" The same metho a$$lies to singingA make his !oice smooth an true, fle?ible an full, his ear ali!e to time an tune, but nothing more" (escri$ti!e an theatrical music is not suitable at his ageBB9 woul rather he sang no wor sA if he must ha!e wor s, 9 woul try to com$ose songs on $ur$ose for him, songs interesting to a chil , an as sim$le as his own thoughts" #ou may $erha$s su$$ose that as 9 am in no hurry to teach Emile to rea an write, 9 shall not want to teach him to rea music" %et us s$are his brain the strain of e?cessi!e attention, an let us be in no hurry to turn his min towar s con!entional signs" 9 grant you there seems to be a ifficulty here, for if at first sight the knowle ge of notes seems no more necessary for singing than the knowle ge of letters for s$eaking, there is really this ifference between them& Chen we s$eak, we are e?$ressing our own thoughtsA when we sing we are e?$ressing the thoughts of others" <ow in or er to e?$ress them we must rea them" But at first we can listen to them instea of rea ing them, an a song is better learnt by ear than by eye" >oreo!er, to learn music thoroughly we must make songs as well as sing them, an the two $rocesses must be stu ie together, or we shall ne!er ha!e any real knowle ge of music" 7irst gi!e your young musician $ractice in !ery regular, well-ca ence $hrasesA then let him connect these $hrases with the !ery sim$lest mo ulationsA then show him their relation one to another by correct accent, which can be one by a fit choice of ca ences an rests" 6n no account gi!e him anything unusual, or anything that requires $athos or e?$ression" ' sim$le, tuneful air, always base on the common chor s of the key, with its bass so clearly in icate that it is easily felt an accom$anie , for to train his !oice an ear he shoul always sing with the har$sichor "

Ce articulate the notes we sing the better to istinguish themA hence the custom of sol-faing with certain syllables" To tell the keys one from another they must ha!e names an fi?e inter!alsA hence the names of the inter!als, an also the letters of the al$habet attache to the keys of the cla!ier an the notes of the scale" : an ' in icate fi?e soun s, in!ariable an always ren ere by the same keysA ;t an %a are ifferent" ;t is always the ominant of a major scale, or the lea ing-note of a minor scale" %a is always the ominant of a minor scale or the si?th of a major scale" Thus the letters in icate fi?e terms in our system of music, an the syllables in icate terms homologous to the similar relations in ifferent keys" The letters show the keys on the $iano, an the syllables the egrees in the scale" 7rench musicians ha!e ma e a strange mu le of this" They ha!e confuse the meaning of the syllables with that of the letters, an while they ha!e unnecessarily gi!en us two sets of symbols for the keys of the $iano, they ha!e left none for the chor s of the scalesA so that ;t an : are always the same for themA this is not an ought not to beA if so, what is the use of :E Their metho of sol-faing is, therefore, e?tremely an nee lessly ifficult, neither oes it gi!e any clear i ea to the min A since, by this metho , ;t an >e, for e?am$le, may mean either a major thir , a minor thir , an augmente thir , or a iminishe thir " Chat a strange thing that the country which $ro uces the finest books about music shoul be the !ery country where it is har est to learn musicH %et us a o$t a sim$ler an clearer $lan with our $u$ilA let him ha!e only two scales whose relations remain unchange , an in icate by the same symbols" Chether he sings or $lays, let him learn to fi? his scale on one of the twel!e tones which may ser!e as a base, an whether he mo ulates in (, :, or G, let the close be always ;t or %a, accor ing to the scale" 9n this way he will un erstan what you mean, an the essential relations for correct singing an $laying will always be $resent in his min A his e?ecution will be better an his $rogress quicker" There is nothing funnier than what the 7rench call Dnatural sol-faingAD it consists in remo!ing the real meaning of things an $utting in their $lace other meanings which only istract us" There is nothing more natural than solfaing by trans$osition, when the scale is trans$ose " But 9 ha!e sai enough, an more than enough, about musicA teach it as you $lease, so long as it is nothing but $lay" Ce are now thoroughly acquainte with the con ition of foreign bo ies in relation to our own, their weight, form, colour, ensity, siFe, istance, tem$erature, stability, or motion" Ce ha!e learnt which of them to a$$roach or a!oi , how to set about o!ercoming their resistance or to resist them so as to $re!ent oursel!es from injuryA but this is not enough" 6ur own bo y is constantly wasting an as constantly requires to be renewe " 'lthough we ha!e the $ower of changing other substances into our own, our choice is not a matter of in ifference" E!erything is not foo for man, an what may be foo for him is not all equally suitableA it e$en s on his racial constitution, the country he li!es in, his in i!i ual tem$erament, an the way of li!ing which his con ition eman s"

9f we ha to wait till e?$erience taught us to know an choose fit foo for oursel!es, we shoul ie of hunger or $oisonA but a kin ly $ro!i ence which has ma e $leasure the means of self-$reser!ation to sentient beings teaches us through our $alate what is suitable for our stomach" 9n a state of nature there is no better octor than a man@s own a$$etite, an no oubt in a state of nature man coul fin the most $alateable foo the most wholesome" <or is this all" 6ur >aker $ro!i es, not only for those nee s he has create , but for those we create for oursel!esA an it is to kee$ the balance between our wants an our nee s that he has cause our tastes to change an !ary with our way of li!ing" The further we are from a state of nature, the more we lose our natural tastesA or rather, habit becomes a secon nature, an so com$letely re$laces our real nature, that we ha!e lost all knowle ge of it" 7rom this it follows that the most natural tastes shoul be the sim$lest, for those are more easily change A but when they are shar$ene an stimulate by our fancies they assume a form which is inca$able of mo ification" The man who so far has not a a$te himself to one country can learn the ways of any country whatsoe!erA but the man who has a o$te the habits of one $articular country can ne!er shake them off" This seems to be true of all our senses, es$ecially of taste" 6ur first foo is milkA we only become accustome by egrees to strong fla!oursA at first we islike them" 7ruit, !egetables, herbs, an then frie meat without salt or seasoning, forme the feasts of $rimiti!e man" Chen the sa!age tastes wine for the first time, he makes a grimace an s$its it outA an e!en among oursel!es a man who has not taste fermente liquors before twenty cannot get use to themA we shoul all be sober if we i not ha!e wine when we were chil ren" 9n ee , the sim$ler our tastes are, the more general they areA ma e ishes are those most frequently islike " (i you e!er meet with any one who islike brea or waterE 8ere is the finger of nature, this then is our rule" Preser!e the chil @s $rimiti!e tastes as long as $ossibleA let his foo be $lain an sim$le, let strong fla!ours be unknown to his $alate, an o not let his iet be too uniform" 9 am not asking, for the $resent, whether this way of li!ing is healthier or noA that is not what 9 ha!e in !iew" 9t is enough for me to know that my choice is more in accor ance with nature, an that it can be more rea ily a a$te to other con itions" 9n my o$inion, those who say chil ren shoul be accustome to the foo they will ha!e when they are grown u$ are mistaken" Chy shoul their foo be the same when their way of li!ing is so ifferentE ' man worn out by labour, an?iety, an $ain nee s tasty foo s to gi!e fresh !igour to his brainA a chil fresh from his games, a chil whose bo y is growing, nee s $lentiful foo which will su$$ly more chyle" >oreo!er the grown man has alrea y a settle $rofession, occu$ation, an home, but who can tell what 7ate hol s in store for the chil E %et us not gi!e him so fi?e a bent in any irection that he cannot change it if require without har shi$" (o not bring him u$ so that he woul ie of hunger in a foreign lan if he oes not take a 7rench cook about with himA o not let him say at some future time that 7rance is the

only country where the foo is fit to eat" By the way, that is a strange way of $raising one@s country" 6n the other han , 9 myself shoul say that the 7rench are the only $eo$le who o not know what goo foo is, since they require such a s$ecial art to make their ishes eatable" 6f all our ifferent senses, we are usually most affecte by taste" Thus it concerns us more nearly to ju ge aright of what will actually become $art of oursel!es, than of that which will merely form $art of our en!ironment" >any things are matters of in ifference to touch, hearing, an sightA but taste is affecte by almost e!erything" >oreo!er the acti!ity of this sense is wholly $hysical an materialA of all the senses, it alone makes no a$$eal to the imagination, or at least, imagination $lays a smaller $art in its sensationsA while imitation an imagination often bring morality into the im$ressions of the other senses" Thus, s$eaking generally, soft an $leasure-lo!ing min s, $assionate an truly sensiti!e is$ositions, which are easily stirre by the other senses, are usually in ifferent to this" 7rom this !ery fact, which a$$arently $laces taste below our other senses an makes our inclination towar s it the more es$icable, 9 raw just the o$$osite conclusionBthat the best way to lea chil ren is by the mouth" Gree iness is a better moti!e than !anityA for the former is a natural a$$etite irectly e$en ent on the senses, while the latter is the outcome of con!ention, it is the sla!e of human ca$rice an liable to e!ery kin of abuse" Belie!e me the chil will cease to care about his foo only too soon, an when his heart is too busy, his $alate will be i le" Chen he is grown u$ gree iness will be e?$elle by a host of stronger $assions, while !anity will only be stimulate by themA for this latter $assion fee s u$on the rest till at length they are all swallowe u$ in it" 9 ha!e sometimes stu ie those men who $ay great attention to goo eating, men whose first waking thought isBChat shall we ha!e to eat toayE men who escribe their inner with as much etail as Polybius escribes a combat" 9 ha!e foun these so-calle men were only chil ren of forty, without strength or !igourBfruges consumere nati" Gluttony is the !ice of feeble min s" The gourman has his brains in his $alate, he can o nothing but eatA he is so stu$i an inca$able that the table is the only $lace for him, an ishes are the only things he knows anything about" %et us lea!e him to this business without regretA it is better for him an for us" 9t is a small min that fears lest gree iness shoul take root in the chil who is fit for something better" The chil thinks of nothing but his foo , the youth $ays no hee to it at allA e!ery kin of foo is goo , an we ha!e other things to atten to" #et 9 woul not ha!e you use the low moti!e unwisely" 9 woul not ha!e you trust to ainties rather than to the honour which is the rewar of a goo ee " But chil hoo is, or ought to be, a time of $lay an merry s$orts, an 9 o not see why the rewar s of $urely bo ily e?ercises shoul not be material an sensible rewar s" 9f a little la in >ajorca sees a basket on the tree-to$ an brings it own with his sling, is it not fair that he shoul get something by this, an a goo breakfast shoul re$air the strength s$ent in getting it" 9f a young )$artan, facing the risk of a hun re stri$es, sli$s skilfully into the kitchen, an steals a li!e fo? cub, carries it off in his garment, an is scratche , bitten till the bloo comes, an for shame lest he shoul be

caught the chil allows his bowels to be torn out without a mo!ement or a cry, is it not fair that he shoul kee$ his s$oils, that he shoul eat his $rey after it has eaten himE ' goo meal shoul ne!er be a rewar A but why shoul it not be sometimes the result of efforts ma e to get it" Emile oes not consi er the cake 9 $ut on the stone as a rewar for goo runningA he knows that the only way to get the cake is to get there first" This oes not contra ict my $re!ious rules about sim$le foo A for to tem$t a chil @s a$$etite you nee not stimulate it, you nee only satisfy itA an the commonest things will o this if you o not attem$t to refine chil ren@s taste" Their $er$etual hunger, the result of their nee for growth, will be the best sauce" 7ruit, milk, a $iece of cake just a little better than or inary brea , an abo!e all the art of is$ensing these things $ru ently, by these means you may lea a host of chil ren to the worl @s en , without on the one han gi!ing them a taste for strong fla!ours, nor on the other han letting them get tire of their foo " The in ifference of chil ren towar s meat is one $roof that the taste for meat is unnaturalA their $reference is for !egetable foo s, such as milk, $astry, fruit, etc" Beware of changing this natural taste an making chil ren flesh-eaters, if not for their health@s sake, for the sake of their characterA for how can one e?$lain away the fact that great meat-eaters are usually fiercer an more cruel than other menA this has been recognise at all times an in all $laces" The English are note for their cruelty .7ootnote& 9 am aware that the English make a boast of their humanity an of the kin ly is$osition of their race, which they call Dgoo -nature $eo$leAD but in !ain o they $roclaim this factA no one else says it of them"3 while the Gaures are the gentlest of men" .7ootnote& The Banians, who abstain from flesh e!en more com$letely than the Gaures, are almost as gentle as the Gaures themsel!es, but as their morality is less $ure an their form of worshi$ less reasonable they are not such goo men"3 'll sa!ages are cruel, an it is not their customs that ten in this irectionA their cruelty is the result of their foo " They go to war as to the chase, an treat men as they woul treat bears" 9n ee in Englan butchers are not allowe to gi!e e!i ence in a court of law, no more can surgeons" .7ootnote& 6ne of the English translators of my book has $ointe out my mistake, an both of them ha!e correcte it" Butchers an surgeons are allowe to gi!e e!i ence in the law courts, but butchers may not ser!e on juries in criminal cases, though surgeons are allowe to o so"3 Great criminals $re$are themsel!es for mur er by rinking bloo " 8omer makes his flesh-eating :yclo$s a terrible man, while his %otus-eaters are so elightful that those who went to tra e with them forgot e!en their own country to well among them" D#ou ask me,D sai Plutarch, Dwhy Pythagoras abstaine from eating the flesh of beasts, but 9 ask you, what courage must ha!e been nee e by the first man who raise to his li$s the flesh of the slain, who broke with his teeth the bones of a ying beast, who ha ea bo ies, cor$ses, $lace before him an swallowe own limbs which a few moments ago were bleating, bellowing, walking, an seeingE 8ow coul his han $lunge the knife into the heart of a sentient creature, how coul his eyes look on mur er, how coul he behol a $oor hel$less animal ble to

eath, scorche , an ismembere E how can he bear the sight of this qui!ering fleshE oes not the !ery smell of it turn his stomachE is he not re$elle , isguste , horror-struck, when he has to han le the bloo from these woun s, an to cleanse his fingers from the ark an !iscous bloo stainsE DThe scorche skins wriggle u$on the groun , The shrinking flesh bellowe u$on the s$it" >an cannot eat them without a shu erA 8e seems to hear their cries within his breast" DThus must he ha!e felt the first time he i es$ite to nature an ma e this horrible mealA the first time he hungere for the li!ing creature, an esire to fee u$on the beast which was still graFingA when he ba e them slay, ismember, an cut u$ the shee$ which licke his han s" 9t is those who began these cruel feasts, not those who aban on them, who shoul cause sur$rise, an there were e?cuses for those $rimiti!e men, e?cuses which we ha!e not, an the absence of such e?cuses multi$lies our barbarity a hun re fol " D@>ortals, belo!e of the go s,@ says this $rimiti!e man, @com$are our times with yoursA see how ha$$y you are, an how wretche were we" The earth, newly forme , the air hea!y with moisture, were not yet subjecte to the rule of the seasons" Three-fourths of the surface of the globe was floo e by the e!er-shifting channels of ri!ers uncertain of their course, an co!ere with $ools, lakes, an bottomless morasses" The remaining quarter was co!ere with woo s an barren forests" The earth yiel e no goo fruit, we ha no instruments of tillage, we i not e!en know the use of them, an the time of har!est ne!er came for those who ha sown nothing" Thus hunger was always in our mi st" 9n winter, mosses an the bark of trees were our common foo " ' few green roots of ogs-bit or heather were a feast, an when men foun beech-mast, nuts, or acorns, they ance for joy roun the beech or oak, to the soun of some ru e song, while they calle the earth their mother an their nurse" This was their only festi!al, their only s$ortA all the rest of man@s life was s$ent in sorrow, $ain, an hunger" D@'t length, when the bare an nake earth no longer offere us any foo , we were com$elle in self- efence to outrage nature, an to fee u$on our com$anions in istress, rather than $erish with them" But you, oh, cruel menH who forces you to she bloo E Behol the wealth of goo things about you, the fruits yiel e by the earth, the wealth of fiel an !ineyar A the animals gi!e their milk for your rink an their fleece for your clothing" Chat more o you askE Chat ma ness com$els you to commit such mur ers, when you ha!e alrea y more than you can eat or rinkE Chy o you slan er our mother earth, an accuse her of enying you foo E Chy o you sin against :eres, the in!entor of the sacre laws, an against the gracious Bacchus, the comforter of man, as if their la!ish gifts were not enough to $reser!e mankin E 8a!e you the heart to mingle their sweet fruits with the bones u$on your table, to eat with the milk the bloo of the beasts which ga!e itE The lions an $anthers, wil beasts as you call them, are ri!en to follow their natural instinct, an

they kill other beasts that they may li!e" But, a hun re fol fiercer than they, you fight against your instincts without cause, an aban on yoursel!es to the most cruel $leasures" The animals you eat are not those who e!our othersA you o not eat the carni!orous beasts, you take them as your $attern" #ou only hunger for the sweet an gentle creatures which harm no one, which follow you, ser!e you, an are e!oure by you as the rewar of their ser!ice" D@6 unnatural mur ererH if you $ersist in the assertion that nature has ma e you to e!our your fellow-creatures, beings of flesh an bloo , li!ing an feeling like yourself, stifle if you can that horror with which nature makes you regar these horrible feastsA slay the animals yourself, slay them, 9 say, with your own han s, without knife or malletA tear them with your nails like the lion an the bear, take this o? an ren him in $ieces, $lunge your claws into his hi eA eat this lamb while it is yet ali!e, e!our its warm flesh, rink its soul with its bloo " #ou shu erH you are not feel the li!ing throbbing flesh between your teethE Ruthless manA you begin by slaying the animal an then you e!our it, as if to slay it twice" 9t is not enough" #ou turn against the ea flesh, it re!olts you, it must be transforme by fire, boile an roaste , seasone an isguise with rugsA you must ha!e butchers, cooks, turns$its, men who will ri the mur er of its horrors, who will ress the ea bo ies so that the taste ecei!e by these isguises will not reject what is strange to it, an will feast on cor$ses, the !ery sight of which woul sicken you"@D 'lthough this quotation is irrele!ant, 9 cannot resist the tem$tation to transcribe it, an 9 think few of my rea ers will resent it" 9n conclusion, whate!er foo you gi!e your chil ren, $ro!i e you accustom them to nothing but $lain an sim$le ishes, let them eat an run an $lay as much as they wantA you may be sure they will ne!er eat too much an will ne!er ha!e in igestionA but if you kee$ them hungry half their time, when they o contri!e to e!a e your !igilance, they will take a !antage of it as far as they canA they will eat till they are sick, they will gorge themsel!es till they can eat no more" 6ur a$$etite is only e?cessi!e because we try to im$ose on it rules other than those of nature, o$$osing, controlling, $rescribing, a ing, or substractingA the scales are always in our han s, but the scales are the measure of our ca$rices not of our stomachs" 9 return to my usual illustrationA among $easants the cu$boar an the a$$le-loft are always left o$en, an in igestion is unknown alike to chil ren an grown-u$ $eo$le" 9f, howe!er, it ha$$ene that a chil were too great an eater, though, un er my system, 9 think it is im$ossible, he is so easily istracte by his fa!ourite games that one might easily star!e him without his knowing it" 8ow is it that teachers ha!e faile to use such a safe an easy wea$on" 8ero otus recor s that the %y ians, .7ootnote& The ancient historians are full of o$inions which may be useful, e!en if the facts which they $resent are false" But we o not know how to make any real use of history" :riticism an eru ition are our only careA as if it mattere more that a statement were true or false than that we shoul be able to get a useful lesson from it" ' wise man shoul consi er history a tissue of fables whose morals are well a a$te to the human heart"3 un er the $ressure

of great scarcity, eci e to in!ent s$orts an other amusements with which to cheat their hunger, an they $asse whole ays without thought of foo " #our learne teachers may ha!e rea this $assage time after time without seeing how it might be a$$lie to chil ren" 6ne of these teachers will $robably tell me that a chil oes not like to lea!e his inner for his lessons" #ou are right, sirB9 was not thinking of that sort of s$ort" The sense of smell is to taste what sight is to touchA it goes before it an gi!es it warning that it will be affecte by this or that substanceA an it inclines it to seek or shun this e?$erience accor ing to the im$ressions recei!e beforehan " 9 ha!e been tol that sa!ages recei!e im$ressions quite ifferent from ours, an that they ha!e quite ifferent i eas with regar to $leasant or un$leasant o ours" 9 can well belie!e it" 6 ours alone are slight sensationsA they affect the imagination rather than the senses, an they work mainly through the antici$ations they arouse" This being so, an the tastes of sa!ages being so unlike the taste of ci!ilise men, they shoul lea them to form !ery ifferent i eas with regar to fla!ours an therefore with regar to the o ours which announce them" ' Tartar must enjoy the smell of a haunch of $utri horseflesh, much as a s$ortsman enjoys a !ery high $artri ge" 6ur i le sensations, such as the scents wafte from the flower be s, must $ass unnotice among men who walk too much to care for strolling in a gar en, an o not work enough to fin $leasure in re$ose" 8ungry men woul fin little $leasure in scents which i not $roclaim the a$$roach of foo " )mell is the sense of the imaginationA as it gi!es tone to the ner!es it must ha!e a great effect on the brainA that is why it re!i!es us for the time, but e!entually causes e?haustion" 9ts effects on lo!e are $retty generally recognise " The sweet $erfumes of a ressing-room are not so slight a snare as you may fancy them, an 9 har ly know whether to congratulate or con ole with that wise an somewhat insensible $erson whose senses are ne!er stirre by the scent of the flowers his mistress wears in her bosom" 8ence the sense of smell shoul not be o!er-acti!e in early chil hoo A the imagination, as yet unstirre by changing $assions, is scarcely susce$tible of emotion, an we ha!e not enough e?$erience to iscern beforehan from one sense the $romise of another" This !iew is confirme by obser!ation, an it is certain that the sense of smell is ull an almost blunte in most chil ren" <ot that their sensations are less acute than those of grown-u$ $eo$le, but that there is no i ea associate with themA they o not easily e?$erience $leasure or $ain, an are not flattere or hurt as we are" Cithout going beyon my system, an without recourse to com$arati!e anatomy, 9 think we can easily see why women are generally fon er of $erfumes than men" 9t is sai that from early chil hoo the Re skins of :ana a, train their sense of smell to such a egree of subtlety that, although they ha!e ogs, they o not con escen to use them in huntingBthey are their own ogs" 9n ee 9 belie!e that if chil ren were traine to scent their inner as a og scents game, their sense of smell might be nearly as $erfectA but 9 see no !ery real a !antage to be eri!e from this sense, e?ce$t by

teaching the chil to obser!e the relation between smell an taste" <ature has taken care to com$el us to learn these relations" )he has ma e the e?ercise of the latter sense $ractically inse$arable from that of the former, by $lacing their organs close together, an by $ro!i ing, in the mouth, a irect $athway between them, so that we taste nothing without smelling it too" 6nly 9 woul not ha!e these natural relations isturbe in or er to ecei!e the chil , e"g"A to conceal the taste of me icine with an aromatic o our, for the iscor between the senses is too great for ece$tion, the more acti!e sense o!er$owers the other, the me icine is just as istasteful, an this isagreeable association e?ten s to e!ery sensation e?$erience at the timeA so the slightest of these sensations recalls the rest to his imagination an a !ery $leasant $erfume is for him only a nasty smellA thus our foolish $recautions increase the sum total of his un$leasant sensations at the cost of his $leasant sensations" 9n the following books 9 ha!e still to s$eak of the training of a sort of si?th sense, calle common-sense, not so much because it is common to all men, but because it results from the well-regulate use of the other fi!e, an teaches the nature of things by the sum-total of their e?ternal as$ects" )o this si?th sense has no s$ecial organ, it has its seat in the brain, an its sensations which are $urely internal are calle $erce$ts or i eas" The number of these i eas is the measure of our knowle geA e?actness of thought e$en s on their clearness an $recisionA the art of com$aring them one with another is calle human reason" Thus what 9 call the reasoning of the senses, or the reasoning of the chil , consists in the formation of sim$le i eas through the associate e?$erience of se!eral sensationsA what 9 call the reasoning of the intellect, consists in the formation, of com$le? i eas through the association of se!eral sim$le i eas" 9f my metho is in ee that of nature, an if 9 am not mistaken in the a$$lication of that metho , we ha!e le our $u$il through the region of sensation to the boun s of the chil @s reasoningA the first ste$ we take beyon these boun s must be the ste$ of a man" But before we make this fresh a !ance, let us glance back for a moment at the $ath we ha!e hitherto followe " E!ery age, e!ery station in life, has a $erfection, a ri$eness, of its own" Ce ha!e often hear the $hrase Da grown manAD but we will consi er Da grown chil "D This will be a new e?$erience an none the less $leasing" The life of finite creatures is so $oor an narrow that the mere sight of what is arouses no emotion" 9t is fancy which ecks reality, an if imagination oes not len its charm to that which touches our senses, our barren $leasure is confine to the senses alone, while the heart remains col " The earth a orne with the treasures of autumn is$lays a wealth of colour which the eye a miresA but this a miration fails to mo!e us, it s$rings rather from thought than from feeling" 9n s$ring the country is almost bare an leafless, the trees gi!e no sha e, the grass has har ly begun to grow, yet the heart is touche by the sight" 9n this new birth of nature, we feel the re!i!al of our own lifeA the memories of $ast $leasures surroun usA tears of elight, those com$anions of $leasure

e!er rea y to accom$any a $leasing sentiment, tremble on our eyeli s" 'nimate , li!ely, an elightful though the !intage may be, we behol it without a tear" 'n why is thisE Because imagination a s to the sight of s$ring the image of the seasons which are yet to comeA the eye sees the ten er shoot, the min @s eye behol s its flowers, fruit, an foliage, an e!en the mysteries they may conceal" 9t blen s successi!e stages into one moment@s e?$erienceA we see things, not so much as they will be, but as we woul ha!e them be, for imagination has only to take her choice" 9n autumn, on the other han , we only behol the $resentA if we wish to look forwar to s$ring, winter bars the way, an our shi!ering imagination ies away among its frost an snow" This is the source of the charm we fin in behol ing the beauties of chil hoo , rather than the $erfection of manhoo " Chen o we really elight in behol ing a manE Chen the memory of his ee s lea s us to look back o!er his life an his youth is renewe in our eyes" 9f we are re uce to !iewing him as he is, or to $icturing him as he will be in ol age, the thought of eclining years estroys all our $leasure" There is no $leasure in seeing a man hastening to his gra!eA the image of eath makes all hi eous" But when 9 think of a chil of ten or twel!e, strong, healthy, well-grown for his age, only $leasant thoughts are calle u$, whether of the $resent or the future" 9 see him keen, eager, an full of life, free from gnawing cares an $ainful forebo ings, absorbe in this $resent state, an elighting in a fullness of life which seems to e?ten beyon himself" 9 look forwar to a time when he will use his aily increasing sense, intelligence an !igour, those growing $owers of which he continually gi!es fresh $roof" 9 watch the chil with elight, 9 $icture to myself the man with e!en greater $leasure" 8is eager life seems to stir my own $ulses, 9 seem to li!e his life an in his !igour 9 renew my own" The hour strikes, the scene is change " 'll of a su en his eye grows im, his mirth has fle " 7arewell mirth, farewell untrammelle s$orts in which he elighte " ' stern, angry man takes him by the han , saying gra!ely, D:ome with me, sir,D an he is le away" 's they are entering the room, 9 catch a glim$se of books" Books, what ull foo for a chil of his ageH The $oor chil allows himself to be ragge awayA he casts a sorrowful look on all about him, an e$arts in silence, his eyes swollen with the tears he are not she , an his heart bursting with the sighs he are not utter"

#ou who ha!e no such cause for fear, you for whom no $erio of life is a time of weariness an te ium, you who welcome ays without care an nights without im$atience, you who only reckon time by your $leasures, come, my ha$$y kin ly $u$il, an console us for the e$arture of that miserable creature" :omeH 8ere he is an at his a$$roach 9 feel a thrill of elight which 9 see he shares" 9t is his frien , his comra e, who meets himA when he sees me he knows !ery well that he will not be long without amusementA we are ne!er e$en ent on each other, but we are always on goo terms, an we are ne!er so ha$$y as when together" 8is face, his bearing, his e?$ression, s$eak of confi ence an contentmentA health shines in his countenance, his firm ste$ s$eaks of strengthA his colour, elicate but not sickly, has nothing of softness or effeminacy" )un an win ha!e alrea y set the honourable stam$ of manhoo on his countenanceA his roun e muscles alrea y begin to show some signs of growing in i!i ualityA his eyes, as yet unlighte by the flame of feeling, ha!e at least all their nati!e calmA They ha!e not been arkene by $rolonge sorrow, nor are his cheeks furrowe by ceaseless tears" Behol in his quick an certain mo!ements the natural !igour of his age an the confi ence of in e$en ence" 8is manner is free an o$en, but without a trace of insolence or !anityA his hea which has not been bent o!er books oes not fall u$on his breastA there is no nee to say, D8ol your hea u$,D he will neither hang his hea for shame or fear" >ake room for him, gentlemen, in your mi stA question him bol lyA ha!e no fear of im$ortunity, chatter, or im$ertinent questions" #ou nee not be afrai that he will take $ossession of you an e?$ect you to e!ote yourself entirely to him, so that you cannot get ri of him" <either nee you look for com$liments from himA nor will he tell you what 9 ha!e taught him to sayA e?$ect nothing from him but the $lain, sim$le truth, without a ition or ornament an without !anity" 8e will tell you the wrong things he has one an thought as rea ily as the right, without troubling himself in the least as to the effect of his wor s u$on youA he will use s$eech with all the sim$licity of its first beginnings" Ce lo!e to augur well of our chil ren, an we are continually regretting the floo of folly which o!erwhelms the ho$es we woul fain ha!e reste on some chance $hrase" 9f my scholar rarely gi!es me cause for such $ro$hecies, neither will he gi!e me cause for such regrets, for he ne!er says a useless wor , an oes not e?haust himself by chattering when he knows there is no one to listen to him" 8is i eas are few but $recise, he knows nothing by rote but much by e?$erience" 9f he rea s our books worse than other chil ren, he rea s far better in the book of natureA his thoughts are not in his tongue but in his brainA he has less memory an more ju gmentA he can only s$eak one language, but he un erstan s what he is saying, an if his s$eech is not so goo as that of other chil ren his ee s are better"

8e oes not know the meaning of habit, routine, an customA what he i yester ay has no control o!er what he is oing to- ayA he follows no rule, submits to no authority, co$ies no $attern, an only acts or s$eaks as he $leases" )o o not e?$ect set s$eeches or stu ie manners from him, but just the faithful e?$ression of his thoughts an the con uct that s$rings from his inclinations" .7ootnote& 8abit owes its charm to man@s natural i leness, an this i leness grows u$on us if in ulge A it is easier to o what we ha!e alrea y one, there is a beaten $ath which is easily followe " Thus we may obser!e that habit is !ery strong in the age an in the in olent, an !ery weak in the young an acti!e" The rule of habit is only goo for feeble hearts, an it makes them more an more feeble ay by ay" The only useful habit for chil ren is to be accustome to submit without ifficulty to necessity, an the only useful habit for man is to submit without ifficulty to the rule of reason" E!ery other habit is a !ice"3 #ou will fin he has a few moral i eas concerning his $resent state an none concerning manhoo A what use coul he make of them, for the chil is not, as yet, an acti!e member of society" )$eak to him of free om, of $ro$erty, or e!en of what is usually oneA he may un erstan you so farA he knows why his things are his own, an why other things are not his, an nothing more" )$eak to him of uty or obe ienceA he will not know what you are talking aboutA bi him o something an he will $ay no attentionA but say to him, D9f you will gi!e me this $leasure, 9 will re$ay it when require ,D an he will hasten to gi!e you satisfaction, for he asks nothing better than to e?ten his omain, to acquire rights o!er you, which will, he knows, be res$ecte " >aybe he is not sorry to ha!e a $lace of his own, to be reckone of some accountA but if he has forme this latter i ea, he has alrea y left the realms of nature, an you ha!e faile to bar the gates of !anity" 7or his own $art, shoul he nee hel$, he will ask it rea ily of the first $erson he meets" 8e will ask it of a king as rea ily as of his ser!antA all men are equals in his eyes" 7rom his way of asking you will see he knows you owe him nothing, that he is asking a fa!our" 8e knows too that humanity mo!es you to grant this fa!ourA his wor s are few an sim$le" 8is !oice, his look, his gesture are those of a being equally familiar with com$liance an refusal" 9t is neither the crawling, ser!ile submission of the sla!e, nor the im$erious tone of the master, it is a mo est confi ence in mankin A it is the noble an touching gentleness of a creature, free, yet sensiti!e an feeble, who asks ai of a being, free, but strong an kin ly" 9f you grant his request he will not thank you, but he will feel he has incurre a ebt" 9f you refuse he will neither com$lain nor insistA he knows it is uselessA he will not say, DThey refuse to hel$ me,D but D9t was im$ossible,D an as 9 ha!e alrea y sai , we o not rebel against necessity when once we ha!e $ercei!e it" %ea!e him to himself an watch his actions without s$eaking, consi er what he is oing an how he sets about it" 8e oes not require to con!ince himself that he is free, so he ne!er acts thoughtlessly an merely to show that he can o what he likesA oes he not know that he is always his own masterE 8e is quick, alert, an rea yA his mo!ements are

eager as befits his age, but you will not fin one which has no en in !iew" Chate!er he wants, he will ne!er attem$t what is beyon his $owers, for he has learnt by e?$erience what those $owers areA his means will always be a a$te to the en in !iew, an he will rarely attem$t anything without the certainty of successA his eye is keen an trueA he will not be so stu$i as to go an ask other $eo$le about what he seesA he will e?amine it on his own account, an before he asks he will try e!ery means at his is$osal to isco!er what he wants to know for himself" 9f he lights u$on some une?$ecte ifficulty, he will be less u$set than othersA if there is anger he will be less afrai " 8is imagination is still aslee$ an nothing has been one to arouse itA he only sees what is really there, an rates the anger at its true worthA so he ne!er loses his hea " 8e oes not rebel against necessity, her han is too hea!y u$on himA he has borne her yoke all his life long, he is well use to itA he is always rea y for anything" Cork or $lay are all one to him, his games are his workA he knows no ifference" 8e brings to e!erything the cheerfulness of interest, the charm of free om, an he snows the bent of his own min an the e?tent of his knowle ge" 9s there anything better worth seeing, anything more touching or more elightful, than a $retty chil , with merry, cheerful glance, easy contente manner, o$en smiling countenance, $laying at the most im$ortant things, or working at the lightest amusementsE Coul you now ju ge him by com$arisonE )et him among other chil ren an lea!e him to himself" #ou will soon see which has ma e most $rogress, which comes nearer to the $erfection of chil hoo " 'mong all the chil ren in the town there is none more skilful an none so strong" 'mong young $easants he is their equal in strength an their su$erior in skill" 9n e!erything within a chil @s gras$ he ju ges, reasons, an shows a forethought beyon the rest" 9s it a matter of action, running, jum$ing, or shifting things, raising weights or estimating istance, in!enting games, carrying off $riFesA you might say, D<ature obeys his wor ,D so easily oes he ben all things to his will" 8e is ma e to lea , to rule his fellowsA talent an e?$erience take the $lace of right an authority" 9n any garb, un er any name, he will still be firstA e!erywhere he will rule the rest, they will always feel his su$eriority, he will be master without knowing it, an they will ser!e him unawares" 8e has reache the $erfection of chil hoo A he has li!e the life of a chil A his $rogress has not been bought at the $rice of his ha$$iness, he has gaine both" Chile he has acquire all the wis om of a chil , he has been as free an ha$$y as his health $ermits" 9f the Rea$er (eath shoul cut him off an rob us of our ho$es, we nee not bewail alike his life an eath, we shall not ha!e the a e grief of knowing that we cause him $ainA we will say, D8is chil hoo , at least, was ha$$yA we ha!e robbe him of nothing that nature ga!e him"D The chief rawback to this early e ucation is that it is only a$$reciate by the wiseA to !ulgar eyes the chil so carefully e ucate is nothing but a rough little boy" ' tutor thinks rather of the a !antage to himself than to his $u$ilA he makes a $oint of showing that there has been no time waste A he $ro!i es his $u$il with goo s which can be rea ily is$laye

in the sho$ win ow, accom$lishments which can be shown off at willA no matter whether they are useful, $ro!i e they are easily seen" Cithout choice or iscrimination he loa s his memory with a $ack of rubbish" 9f the chil is to be e?amine he is set to is$lay his waresA he s$rea s them out, satisfies those who behol them, $acks u$ his bun le an goes his way" >y $u$il is $oorer, he has no bun le to is$lay, he has only himself to show" <ow neither chil nor man can be rea at a glance" Chere are the obser!ers who can at once iscern the characteristics of this chil E There are such $eo$le, but they are few an far betweenA among a thousan fathers you will scarcely fin one" Too many questions are te ious an re!olting to most of us an es$ecially to chil ren" 'fter a few minutes their attention flags, they cease to listen to your e!erlasting questions an re$ly at ran om" This way of testing them is $e antic an uselessA a chance wor will often show their sense an intelligence better than much talking, but take care that the answer is neither a matter of chance nor yet learnt by heart" ' man must nee s ha!e a goo ju gment if he is to estimate the ju gment of a chil " 9 hear the late %or 8y e tell the following story about one of his frien s" 8e ha returne from 9taly after a three years@ absence, an was an?ious to test the $rogress of his son, a chil of nine or ten" 6ne e!ening he took a walk with the chil an his tutor across a le!el s$ace where the schoolboys were flying their kites" 's they went, the father sai to his son, DChere is the kite that casts this sha owED Cithout hesitating an without glancing u$war s the chil re$lie , D6!er the high roa "D D'n in ee ,D sai %or 8y e, Dthe high roa was between us an the sun"D 't these wor s, the father kisse his chil , an ha!ing finishe his e?amination he e$arte " The ne?t ay he sent the tutor the $a$ers settling an annuity on him in a ition to his salary" Chat a fatherH an what a $romising chil H The question is e?actly a a$te to the chil @s age, the answer is $erfectly sim$leA but see what $recision it im$lies in the chil @s ju gment" Thus i the $u$il of 'ristotle master the famous stee which no squire ha e!er been able to tame"

BOOK III
The whole course of man@s life u$ to a olescence is a $erio of weaknessA yet there comes a time uring these early years when the chil @s strength o!ertakes the eman s u$on it, when the growing creature, though absolutely weak, is relati!ely strong" 8is nee s are not fully e!elo$e an his $resent strength is more than enough for them" 8e woul be a !ery feeble man, but he is a strong chil " Chat is the cause of man@s weaknessE 9t is to be foun in the is$ro$ortion between his strength an his esires" 9t is our $assions that make us weak, for our natural strength is not enough for their satisfaction" To limit our esires comes to the same thing, therefore, as to increase our strength" Chen we can o more than we want, we ha!e strength enough an to s$are, we are really strong" This is the thir stage of chil hoo , the stage with which 9 am about to eal" 9 still s$eak of

chil hoo for want of a better wor A for our scholar is a$$roaching a olescence, though he has not yet reache the age of $uberty" 'bout twel!e or thirteen the chil @s strength increases far more ra$i ly than his nee s" The strongest an fiercest of the $assions is still unknown, his $hysical e!elo$ment is still im$erfect an seems to await the call of the will" 8e is scarcely aware of e?tremes of heat an col an bra!es them with im$unity" 8e nee s no coat, his bloo is warmA no s$ices, hunger is his sauce, no foo comes amiss at this ageA if he is slee$y he stretches himself on the groun an goes to slee$A he fin s all he nee s within his reachA he is not tormente by any imaginary wantsA he cares nothing what others thinkA his esires are not beyon his gras$A not only is he self-sufficing, but for the first an last time in his life he has more strength than he nee s" 9 know beforehan what you will say" #ou will not assert that the chil has more nee s than 9 attribute to him, but you will eny his strength" #ou forget that 9 am s$eaking of my own $u$il, not of those $u$$ets who walk with ifficulty from one room to another, who toil in oors an carry bun les of $a$er" >anly strength, you say, a$$ears only with manhoo A the !ital s$irits, istille in their $ro$er !essels an s$rea ing through the whole bo y, can alone make the muscles firm, sensiti!e, tense, an s$ringy, can alone cause real strength" This is the $hiloso$hy of the stu yA 9 a$$eal to that of e?$erience" 9n the country istricts, 9 see big la s hoeing, igging, gui ing the $lough, filling the wine-cask, ri!ing the cart, like their fathersA you woul take them for grown men if their !oices i not betray them" E!en in our towns, iron-workers@, tool makers@, an blacksmiths@ la s are almost as strong as their masters an woul be scarcely less skilful ha their training begun earlier" 9f there is a ifference, an 9 o not eny that there is, it is, 9 re$eat, much less than the ifference between the stormy $assions of the man an the few wants of the chil " >oreo!er, it is not merely a question of bo ily strength, but more es$ecially of strength of min , which reinforces an irects the bo ily strength" This inter!al in which the strength of the in i!i ual is in e?cess of his wants is, as 9 ha!e sai , relati!ely though not absolutely the time of greatest strength" 9t is the most $recious time in his lifeA it comes but onceA it is !ery short, all too short, as you will see when you consi er the im$ortance of using it aright" 8e has, therefore, a sur$lus of strength an ca$acity which he will ne!er ha!e again" Chat use shall he make of itE 8e will stri!e to use it in tasks which will hel$ at nee " 8e will, so to s$eak, cast his $resent sur$lus into the storehouse of the futureA the !igorous chil will make $ro!ision for the feeble manA but he will not store his goo s where thie!es may break in, nor in barns which are not his own" To store them aright, they must be in the han s an the hea , they must be store within himself" This is the time for work, instruction, an inquiry" 'n note that this is no arbitrary choice of mine, it is the way of nature herself" 8uman intelligence is finite, an not only can no man know e!erything, he cannot e!en acquire all the scanty knowle ge of others" )ince the

contrary of e!ery false $ro$osition is a truth, there are as many truths as falsehoo s" Ce must, therefore, choose what to teach as well as when to teach it" )ome of the information within our reach is false, some is useless, some merely ser!es to $uff u$ its $ossessor" The small store which really contributes to our welfare alone eser!es the stu y of a wise man, an therefore of a chil whom one woul ha!e wise" 8e must know not merely what is, but what is useful" 7rom this small stock we must also e uct those truths which require a full grown min for their un erstan ing, those which su$$ose a knowle ge of man@s relations to his fellow-menBa knowle ge which no chil can acquireA these things, although in themsel!es true, lea an ine?$erience min into mistakes with regar to other matters" Ce are now confine to a circle, small in ee com$are with the whole of human thought, but this circle is still a !ast s$here when measure by the chil @s min " (ark $laces of the human un erstan ing, what rash han shall are to raise your !eilE Chat $itfalls oes our so-calle science $re$are for the miserable chil " Coul you gui e him along this angerous $ath an raw the !eil from the face of natureE )tay your han " 7irst make sure that neither he nor you will become iFFy" Beware of the s$ecious charms of error an the into?icating fumes of $ri e" =ee$ this truth e!er before youB9gnorance ne!er i any one any harm, error alone is fatal, an we o not lose our way through ignorance but through self-confi ence" 8is $rogress in geometry may ser!e as a test an a true measure of the growth of his intelligence, but as soon as he can istinguish between what is useful an what is useless, much skill an iscretion are require to lea him towar s theoretical stu ies" 7or e?am$le, woul you ha!e him fin a mean $ro$ortional between two lines, contri!e that he shoul require to fin a square equal to a gi!en rectangleA if two mean $ro$ortionals are require , you must first contri!e to interest him in the oubling of the cube" )ee how we are gra ually a$$roaching the moral i eas which istinguish between goo an e!il" 8itherto we ha!e known no law but necessity, now we are consi ering what is usefulA we shall soon come to what is fitting an right" >an@s i!erse $owers are stirre by the same instinct" The bo ily acti!ity, which seeks an outlet for its energies, is succee e by the mental acti!ity which seeks for knowle ge" :hil ren are first restless, then curiousA an this curiosity, rightly irecte , is the means of e!elo$ment for the age with which we are ealing" 'lways istinguish between natural an acquire ten encies" There is a Feal for learning which has no other foun ation than a wish to a$$ear learne , an there is another which s$rings from man@s natural curiosity about all things far or near which may affect himself" The innate esire for comfort an the im$ossibility of its com$lete satisfaction im$el him to the en less search for fresh means of contributing to its satisfaction" This is the first $rinci$le of curiosityA a $rinci$le natural to the human heart, though its growth is $ro$ortional to the e!elo$ment of our feeling an knowle ge" 9f a man of science were left on a esert islan with his books an instruments an knowing that he must s$en the rest of his life there, he woul

scarcely trouble himself about the solar system, the laws of attraction, or the ifferential calculus" 8e might ne!er e!en o$en a book againA but he woul ne!er rest till he ha e?$lore the furthest corner of his islan , howe!er large it might be" %et us therefore omit from our early stu ies such knowle ge as has no natural attraction for us, an confine oursel!es to such things as instinct im$els us to stu y" 6ur islan is this earthA an the most striking object we behol is the sun" 's soon as we $ass beyon our imme iate surroun ings, one or both of these must meet our eye" Thus the $hiloso$hy of most sa!age races is mainly irecte to imaginary i!isions of the earth or to the i!inity of the sun" Chat a su en change you will say" Just now we were concerne with what touches oursel!es, with our imme iate en!ironment, an all at once we are e?$loring the roun worl an lea$ing to the boun s of the uni!erse" This change is the result of our growing strength an of the natural bent of the min " Chile we were weak an feeble, self$reser!ation concentrate our attention on oursel!esA now that we are strong an $owerful, the esire for a wi er s$here carries us beyon oursel!es as far as our eyes can reach" But as the intellectual worl is still unknown to us, our thoughts are boun e by the !isible horiFon, an our un erstan ing only e!elo$s within the limits of our !ision" %et us transform our sensations into i eas, but o not let us jum$ all at once from the objects of sense to objects of thought" The latter are attaine by means of the former" %et the senses be the only gui e for the first workings of reason" <o book but the worl , no teaching but that of fact" The chil who rea s ceases to think, he only rea s" 8e is acquiring wor s not knowle ge" Teach your scholar to obser!e the $henomena of natureA you will soon rouse his curiosity, but if you woul ha!e it grow, o not be in too great a hurry to satisfy this curiosity" Put the $roblems before him an let him sol!e them himself" %et him know nothing because you ha!e tol him, but because he has learnt it for himself" %et him not be taught science, let him isco!er it" 9f e!er you substitute authority for reason he will cease to reasonA he will be a mere $laything of other $eo$le@s thoughts" #ou wish to teach this chil geogra$hy an you $ro!i e him with globes, s$heres, an ma$s" Chat elaborate $re$arationsH Chat is the use of all these symbolsA why not begin by showing him the real thing so that he may at least know what you are talking aboutE 6ne fine e!ening we are walking in a suitable $lace where the wi e horiFon gi!es us a full !iew of the setting sun, an we note the objects which mark the $lace where it sets" <e?t morning we return to the same $lace for a breath of fresh air before sun-rise" Ce see the rays of light which announce the sun@s a$$roachA the glow increases, the east seems afire, an long before the sun a$$ears the light lea s us to e?$ect its return" E!ery moment you e?$ect to see it" There it is at lastH ' shining $oint a$$ears like a flash of lightning an soon fills the whole s$aceA the !eil of arkness rolls away, man $ercei!es his welling $lace in fresh

beauty" (uring the night the grass has assume a fresher greenA in the light of early awn, an gil e by the first rays of the sun, it seems co!ere with a shining network of ew reflecting the light an colour" The bir s raise their chorus of $raise to greet the 7ather of life, not one of them is muteA their gentle warbling is softer than by ay, it e?$resses the langour of a $eaceful waking" 'll these $ro uce an im$ression of freshness which seems to reach the !ery soul" 9t is a brief hour of enchantment which no man can resistA a sight so gran , so fair, so elicious, that none can behol it unmo!e " 7ire with this enthusiasm, the master wishes to im$art it to the chil " 8e e?$ects to rouse his emotion by rawing attention to his own" >ere follyH The s$len our of nature li!es in man@s heartA to be seen, it must be felt" The chil sees the objects themsel!es, but oes not $ercei!e their relations, an cannot hear their harmony" 9t nee s knowle ge he has not yet acquire , feelings he has not yet e?$erience , to recei!e the com$le? im$ression which results from all these se$arate sensations" 9f he has not wan ere o!er ari $lains, if his feet ha!e not been scorche by the burning san s of the esert, if he has not breathe the hot an o$$ressi!e air reflecte from the glowing rocks, how shall he elight in the fresh air of a fine morning" The scent of flowers, the beauty of foliage, the moistness of the ew, the soft turf beneath his feet, how shall all these elight his senses" 8ow shall the song of the bir s arouse !olu$tuous emotion if lo!e an $leasure are still unknown to himE 8ow shall he behol with ra$ture the birth of this fair ay, if his imagination cannot $aint the joys it may bring in its trackE 8ow can he feel the beauty of nature, while the han that forme it is unknownE <e!er tell the chil what he cannot un erstan & no escri$tions, no eloquence, no figures of s$eech, no $oetry" The time has not come for feeling or taste" :ontinue to be clear an col A the time will come only too soon when you must a o$t another tone" Brought u$ in the s$irit of our ma?ims, accustome to make his own tools an not to a$$eal to others until he has trie an faile , he will e?amine e!erything he sees carefully an in silence" 8e thinks rather than questions" Be content, therefore, to show him things at a fit seasonA then, when you see that his curiosity is thoroughly arouse , $ut some brief question which will set him trying to isco!er the answer" 6n the $resent occasion when you an he ha!e carefully obser!e the rising sun, when you ha!e calle his attention to the mountains an other objects !isible from the same s$ot, after he has chattere freely about them, kee$ quiet for a few minutes as if lost in thought an then say, D9 think the sun set o!er there last nightA it rose here this morning" 8ow can that beED )ay no moreA if he asks questions, o not answer themA talk of something else" %et him alone, an be sure he will think about it" To train a chil to be really attenti!e so that he may be really im$resse by any truth of e?$erience, he must s$en an?ious ays before he isco!ers that truth" 9f he oes not learn enough in this way, there is another way of rawing his attention to the matter" Turn the question about" 9f he oes not know how the sun gets from the $lace where it sets

to where it rises, he knows at least how it tra!els from sunrise to sunset, his eyes teach him that" ;se the secon question to throw light on the firstA either your $u$il is a regular unce or the analogy is too clear to be misse " This is his first lesson in cosmogra$hy" 's we always a !ance slowly from one sensible i ea to another, an as we gi!e time enough to each for him to become really familiar with it before we go on to another, an lastly as we ne!er force our scholar@s attention, we are still a long way from a knowle ge of the course of the sun or the sha$e of the earthA but as all the a$$arent mo!ements of the celestial bo ies e$en on the same $rinci$le, an the first obser!ation lea s on to all the rest, less effort is nee e , though more time, to $rocee from the iurnal re!olution to the calculation of ecli$ses, than to get a thorough un erstan ing of ay an night" )ince the sun re!ol!es roun the earth it escribes a circle, an e!ery circle must ha!e a centreA that we know alrea y" This centre is in!isible, it is in the mi le of the earth, but we can mark out two o$$osite $oints on the earth@s surface which corres$on to it" ' skewer $asse through the three $oints an $rolonge to the sky at either en woul re$resent the earth@s a?is an the sun@s aily course" ' roun teetotum re!ol!ing on its $oint re$resents the sky turning on its a?is, the two $oints of the teetotum are the two $olesA the chil will be elighte to fin one of them, an 9 show him the tail of the %ittle bear" 8ere is a another game for the ark" %ittle by little we get to know the stars, an from this comes a wish to know the $lanets an obser!e the constellations" Ce saw the sun rise at mi summer, we shall see it rise at :hristmas or some other fine winter@s ayA for you know we are no lie-a-be s an we enjoy the col " 9 take care to make this secon obser!ation in the same $lace as the first, an if skilfully lea u$ to, one or other will certainly e?claim, DChat a funny thingH The sun is not rising in the same $laceA here are our lan marks, but it is rising o!er there" )o there is the summer east an the winter east, etc"D #oung teacher, you are on the right track" These e?am$les shoul show you how to teach the s$here without any ifficulty, taking the earth for the earth an the sun for the sun" 's a general ruleBne!er substitute the symbol for the thing signifie , unless it is im$ossible to show the thing itselfA for the chil @s attention is so taken u$ with the symbol that he will forget what it signifies" 9 consi er the armillary s$here a clumsy is$ro$ortione bit of a$$aratus" The confuse circles an the strange figures escribe on it suggest witchcraft an frighten the chil " The earth is too small, the circles too large an too numerous, some of them, the colures, for instance, are quite useless, an the thickness of the $asteboar gi!es them an a$$earance of soli ity so that they are taken for circular masses ha!ing a real e?istence, an when you tell the chil that these are imaginary circles, he oes not know what he is looking at an is none the wiser" Ce are unable to $ut oursel!es in the chil @s $lace, we fail to enter into his thoughts, we in!est him with our own i eas, an while we are

following our own chain of reasoning, we merely fill his hea with errors an absur ities" )houl the metho of stu ying science be analytic or syntheticE Peo$le is$ute o!er this question, but it is not always necessary to choose between them" )ometimes the same e?$eriments allow one to use both analysis an synthesis, an thus to gui e the chil by the metho of instruction when he fancies he is only analysing" Then, by using both at once, each metho confirms the results of the other" )tarting from o$$osite en s, without thinking of following the same roa , he will une?$ecte ly reach their meeting $lace an this will be a elightful sur$rise" 7or e?am$le, 9 woul begin geogra$hy at both en s an a to the stu y of the earth@s re!olution the measurement of its i!isions, beginning at home" Chile the chil is stu ying the s$here an is thus trans$orte to the hea!ens, bring him back to the i!isions of the globe an show him his own home" 8is geogra$hy will begin with the town he li!es in an his father@s country house, then the $laces between them, the ri!ers near them, an then the sun@s as$ect an how to fin one@s way by its ai " This is the meeting $lace" %et him make his own ma$, a !ery sim$le ma$, at first containing only two $lacesA others may be a e from time to time, as he is able to estimate their istance an $osition" #ou see at once what a goo start we ha!e gi!en him by making his eye his com$ass" <o oubt he will require some gui ance in s$ite of this, but !ery little, an that little without his knowing it" 9f he goes wrong let him alone, o not correct his mistakesA hol your tongue till he fin s them out for himself an corrects them, or at most arrange something, as o$$ortunity offers, which may show him his mistakes" 9f he ne!er makes mistakes he will ne!er learn anything thoroughly" >oreo!er, what he nee s is not an e?act knowle ge of local to$ogra$hy, but how to fin out for himself" <o matter whether he carries ma$s in his hea $ro!i e he un erstan s what they mean, an has a clear i ea of the art of making them" )ee what a ifference there is alrea y between the knowle ge of your scholars an the ignorance of mine" They learn ma$s, he makes them" 8ere are fresh ornaments for his room" Remember that this is the essential $oint in my metho B(o not teach the chil many things, but ne!er to let him form inaccurate or confuse i eas" 9 care not if he knows nothing $ro!i e he is not mistaken, an 9 only acquaint him with truths to guar him against the errors he might $ut in their $lace" Reason an ju gment come slowly, $reju ices flock to us in crow s, an from these he must be $rotecte " But if you make science itself your object, you embark on an unfathomable an shoreless ocean, an ocean strewn with reefs from which you will ne!er return" Chen 9 see a man in lo!e with knowle ge, yiel ing to its charms an flitting from one branch to another unable to stay his ste$s, he seems to me like a chil gathering shells on the sea-shore, now $icking them u$, then throwing them asi e for others which he sees beyon them, then taking them again, till o!erwhelme by their number an unable to choose between them, he flings them all away an returns em$ty han e "

Time was long uring early chil hoo A we only trie to $ass our time for fear of using it illA now it is the other wayA we ha!e not time enough for all that woul be of use" The $assions, remember, are rawing near, an when they knock at the oor your scholar will ha!e no ear for anything else" The $eaceful age of intelligence is so short, it flies so swiftly, there is so much to be one, that it is ma ness to try to make your chil learne " 9t is not your business to teach him the !arious sciences, but to gi!e him a taste for them an metho s of learning them when this taste is more mature" That is assure ly a fun amental $rinci$le of all goo e ucation" This is also the time to train him gra ually to $rolonge attention to a gi!en objectA but this attention shoul ne!er be the result of constraint, but of interest or esireA you must be !ery careful that it is not too much for his strength, an that it is not carrie to the $oint of te ium" Catch him, therefore, an whate!er ha$$ens, sto$ before he is tire , for it matters little what he learnsA it oes matter that he shoul o nothing against his will" 9f he asks questions let your answers be enough to whet his curiosity but not enough to satisfy itA abo!e all, when you fin him talking at ran om an o!erwhelming you with silly questions instea of asking for information, at once refuse to answerA for it is clear that he no longer cares about the matter in han , but wants to make you a sla!e to his questions" :onsi er his moti!es rather than his wor s" This warning, which was scarcely nee e before, becomes of su$reme im$ortance when the chil begins to reason" There is a series of abstract truths by means of which all the sciences are relate to common $rinci$les an are e!elo$e each in its turn" This relationshi$ is the metho of the $hiloso$hers" Ce are not concerne with it at $resent" There is quite another metho by which e!ery concrete e?am$le suggests another an always $oints to the ne?t in the series" This succession, which stimulates the curiosity an so arouses the attention require by e!ery object in turn, is the or er followe by most men, an it is the right or er for all chil ren" To take our bearings so as to make our ma$s we must fin meri ians" Two $oints of intersection between the equal sha ows morning an e!ening su$$ly an e?cellent meri ian for a thirteen-year-ol astronomer" But these meri ians isa$$ear, it takes time to trace them, an you are oblige to work in one $lace" )o much trouble an attention will at last become irksome" Ce foresaw this an are rea y for it" 'gain 9 must enter into minute an etaile e?$lanations" 9 hear my rea ers murmur, but 9 am $re$are to meet their isa$$ro!alA 9 will not sacrifice the most im$ortant $art of this book to your im$atience" #ou may think me as long-win e as you $leaseA 9 ha!e my own o$inion as to your com$laints" %ong ago my $u$il an 9 remarke that some substances such as amber, glass, an wa?, when well rubbe , attracte straws, while others i not" Ce acci entally isco!er a substance which has a more unusual $ro$erty, that of attracting filings or other small $articles of iron from a

istance an without rubbing" 8ow much time o we e!ote to this game to the e?clusion of e!erything elseH 't last we isco!er that this $ro$erty is communicate to the iron itself, which is, so to s$eak, en owe with life" Ce go to the fair one ay .7ootnote& 9 coul not hel$ laughing when 9 rea an elaborate criticism of this little tale by >" e 7ormy" DThis conjuror,D says he, Dwho is afrai of a chil @s com$etition an $reaches to his tutor is the sort of $erson we meet with in the worl in which Emile an such as he are li!ing"D This witty >" e 7ormy coul not guess that this little scene was arrange beforehan , an that the juggler was taught his $art in itA in ee 9 i not state this fact" But 9 ha!e sai again an again that 9 was not writing for $eo$le who e?$ecte to be tol e!erything"3 an a conjuror has a wa? uck floating in a basin of water, an he makes it follow a bit of brea " Ce are greatly sur$rise , but we o not call him a wiFar , ne!er ha!ing hear of such $ersons" 's we are continually obser!ing effects whose causes are unknown to us, we are in no hurry to make u$ our min s, an we remain in ignorance till we fin an o$$ortunity of learning" Chen we get home we iscuss the uck till we try to imitate it" Ce take a nee le thoroughly magnetise , we imbe it in white wa?, sha$e as far as $ossible like a uck, with the nee le running through the bo y, so that its eye forms the beak" Ce $ut the uck in water an $ut the en of a key near its beak, an you will rea ily un erstan our elight when we fin that our uck follows the key just as the uck at the fair followe the bit of brea " 'nother time we may note the irection assume by the uck when left in the basinA for the $resent we are wholly occu$ie with our work an we want nothing more" The same e!ening we return to the fair with some brea s$ecially $re$are in our $ockets, an as soon as the conjuror has $erforme his trick, my little octor, who can scarcely sit still, e?claims, DThe trick is quite easyA 9 can o it myself"D D(o it then"D 8e at once takes the brea with a bit of iron hi en in it from his $ocketA his heart throbs as he a$$roaches the table an hol s out the brea , his han trembles with e?citement" The uck a$$roaches an follows his han " The chil cries out an jum$s for joy" The a$$lause, the shouts of the crow , are too much for him, he is besi e himself" The conjuror, though isa$$ointe , embraces him, congratulates him, begs the honour of his com$any on the following ay, an $romises to collect a still greater crow to a$$lau his skill" >y young scientist is !ery $rou of himself an is beginning to chatter, but 9 check him at once an take him home o!erwhelme with $raise" The chil counts the minutes till to-morrow with absur an?iety" 8e in!ites e!ery one he meets, he wants all mankin to behol his gloryA he can scarcely wait till the a$$ointe hour" 8e hurries to the $laceA the hall is full alrea yA as he enters his young heart swells with $ri e" 6ther tricks are to come first" The conjuror sur$asses himself an oes the most sur$rising things" The chil sees none of theseA he wriggles, $ers$ires, an har ly breathesA the time is s$ent in fingering with a trembling han the bit of brea in his $ocket" 8is turn comes at lastA the master announces it to the au ience with all ceremonyA he goes u$ looking

somewhat shameface an takes out his bit of brea " 6h fleeting joys of human lifeH the uck, so tame yester ay, is quite wil to- ayA instea of offering its beak it turns tail an swims awayA it a!oi s the brea an the han that hol s it as carefully as it followe them yester ay" 'fter many !ain attem$ts accom$anie by erisi!e shouts from the au ience the chil com$lains that he is being cheate , that is not the same uck, an he efies the conjuror to attract it" The conjuror, without further wor s, takes a bit of brea an offers it to the uck, which at once follows it an comes to the han which hol s it" The chil takes the same bit of brea with no better successA the uck mocks his efforts an swims roun the basin" 6!erwhelme with confusion he aban ons the attem$t, ashame to face the crow any longer" Then the conjuror takes the bit of brea the chil brought with him an uses it as successfully as his own" 8e takes out the bit of iron before the au ienceBanother laugh at our e?$enseBthen with this same brea he attracts the uck as before" 8e re$eats the e?$eriment with a $iece of brea cut by a thir $erson in full !iew of the au ience" 8e oes it with his glo!e, with his finger-ti$" 7inally he goes into the mi le of the room an in the em$hatic tones use by such $ersons he eclares that his uck will obey his !oice as rea ily as his han A he s$eaks an the uck obeysA he bi s him go to the right an he goes, to come back again an he comes" The mo!ement is as rea y as the comman " The growing a$$lause com$letes our iscomfiture" Ce sli$ away unnotice an shut oursel!es u$ in our room, without relating our successes to e!erybo y as we ha e?$ecte " <e?t ay there is a knock at the oor" Chen 9 o$en it there is the conjuror, who makes a mo est com$laint with regar to our con uct" Chat ha he one that we shoul try to iscre it his tricks an e$ri!e him of his li!elihoo E Chat is there so won erful in attracting a uck that we shoul $urchase this honour at the $rice of an honest man@s li!ingE D>y wor , gentlemenH ha 9 any other tra e by which 9 coul earn a li!ing 9 woul not $ri e myself on this" #ou may well belie!e that a man who has s$ent his life at this miserable tra e knows more about it than you who only gi!e your s$are time to it" 9f 9 i not show you my best tricks at first, it was because one must not be so foolish as to is$lay all one knows at once" 9 always take care to kee$ my best tricks for emergenciesA an 9 ha!e $lenty more to $re!ent young folks from me ling" 8owe!er, 9 ha!e come, gentlemen, in all kin ness, to show you the trick that ga!e you so much troubleA 9 only beg you not to use it to my hurt, an to be more iscreet in future"D 8e then shows us his a$$aratus, an to our great sur$rise we fin it is merely a strong magnet in the han of a boy conceale un er the table" The man $uts u$ his things, an after we ha!e offere our thanks an a$ologies, we try to gi!e him something" 8e refuses it" D<o, gentlemen,D says he, D9 owe you no gratitu e an 9 will not acce$t your gift" 9 lea!e you in my ebt in s$ite of all, an that is my only re!enge" Generosity may be foun among all sorts of $eo$le, an 9 earn my $ay by oing my tricks not by teaching them"D

's he is going he blames me out-right" D9 can make e?cuses for the chil ,D he says, Dhe sinne in ignorance" But you, sir, shoul know better" Chy i you let him o itE 's you are li!ing together an you are ol er than he, you shoul look after him an gi!e him goo a !ice" #our e?$erience shoul be his gui e" Chen he is grown u$ he will re$roach, not only himself, but you, for the faults of his youth"D Chen he is gone we are greatly owncast" 9 blame myself for my easygoing ways" 9 $romise the chil that another time 9 will $ut his interests first an warn him against faults before he falls into them, for the time is coming when our relations will be change , when the se!erity of the master must gi!e way to the frien liness of the comra eA this change must come gra ually, you must look ahea , an !ery far ahea " Ce go to the fair again the ne?t ay to see the trick whose secret we know" Ce a$$roach our )ocrates, the conjuror, with $rofoun res$ect, we scarcely are to look him in the face" 8e o!erwhelms us with $oliteness, gi!es us the best $laces, an hea$s coals of fire on our hea s" 8e goes through his $erformance as usual, but he lingers affectionately o!er the uck, an often glances $rou ly in our irection" Ce are in the secret, but we o not tell" 9f my $u$il i but o$en his mouth he woul be worthy of eath" There is more meaning than you sus$ect in this etaile illustration" 8ow many lessons in oneH 8ow mortifying are the results of a first im$ulse towar s !anityH #oung tutor, watch this first im$ulse carefully" 9f you can use it to bring about shame an isgrace, you may be sure it will not recur for many a ay" Chat a fuss you will say" Just soA an all to $ro!i e a com$ass which will enable us to is$ense with a meri ianH 8a!ing learnt that a magnet acts through other bo ies, our ne?t business is to construct a bit of a$$aratus similar to that shown us" ' bare table, a shallow bowl $lace on it an fille with water, a uck rather better finishe than the first, an so on" Ce often watch the thing an at last we notice that the uck, when at rest, always turns the same way" Ce follow u$ this obser!ationA we e?amine the irection, we fin that it is from south to north" EnoughH we ha!e foun our com$ass or its equi!alentA the stu y of $hysics is begun" There are !arious regions of the earth, an these regions iffer in tem$erature" The !ariation is more e!i ent as we a$$roach the $olesA all bo ies e?$an with heat an contract with col A this is best measure in liqui s an best of all in s$iritsA hence the thermometer" The win strikes the face, then the air is a bo y, a flui A we feel it though we cannot see it" 9 in!ert a glass in waterA the water will not fill it unless you lea!e a $assage for the esca$e of the airA so air is ca$able of resistance" Plunge the glass further in the waterA the water will encroach on the air-s$ace without filling it entirelyA so air yiel s somewhat to $ressure" ' ball fille with com$resse air bounces better than one fille with anything elseA so air is elastic" Raise your arm horiFontally from the water when you are lying in your bathA you will feel a terrible weight on itA so air is a hea!y bo y" By establishing an equilibrium between air an other flui s its weight can be measure , hence the barometer, the si$hon, the air-gun,

an the air-$um$" 'll the laws of statics an hy rostatics are isco!ere by such rough e?$eriments" 7or none of these woul 9 take the chil into a $hysical cabinetA 9 islike that array of instruments an a$$aratus" The scientific atmos$here estroys science" Either the chil is frightene by these instruments or his attention, which shoul be fi?e on their effects, is istracte by their a$$earance" Ce shall make all our a$$aratus oursel!es, an 9 woul not make it beforehan , but ha!ing caught a glim$se of the e?$eriment by chance we mean to in!ent ste$ by ste$ an instrument for its !erification" 9 woul rather our a$$aratus was somewhat clumsy an im$erfect, but our i eas clear as to what the a$$aratus ought to be, an the results to be obtaine by means of it" 7or my first lesson in statics, instea of fetching a balance, 9 lay a stick across the back of a chair, 9 measure the two $arts when it is balance A a equal or unequal weights to either en A by $ulling or $ushing it as require , 9 fin at last that equilibrium is the result of a reci$rocal $ro$ortion between the amount of the weights an the length of the le!ers" Thus my little $hysicist is rea y to rectify a balance before e!er he sees one" ;n oubte ly the notions of things thus acquire for oneself are clearer an much more con!incing than those acquire from the teaching of othersA an not only is our reason not accustome to a sla!ish submission to authority, but we e!elo$ greater ingenuity in isco!ering relations, connecting i eas an in!enting a$$aratus, than when we merely acce$t what is gi!en us an allow our min s to be enfeeble by in ifference, like the bo y of a man whose ser!ants always wait on him, ress him an $ut on his shoes, whose horse carries him, till he loses the use of his limbs" Boileau use to boast that he ha taught Racine the art of rhyming with ifficulty" 'mong the many short cuts to science, we ba ly nee some one to teach us the art of learning with ifficulty" The most ob!ious a !antage of these slow an laborious inquiries is this& the scholar, while engage in s$eculati!e stu ies, is acti!ely using his bo y, gaining su$$leness of limb, an training his han s to labour so that he will be able to make them useful when he is a man" Too much a$$aratus, esigne to gui e us in our e?$eriments an to su$$lement the e?actness of our senses, makes us neglect to use those senses" The theo olite makes it unnecessary to estimate the siFe of anglesA the eye which use to ju ge istances with much $recision, trusts to the chain for its measurementsA the steel yar is$enses with the nee of ju ging weight by the han as 9 use to o" The more ingenious our a$$aratus, the coarser an more unskilful are our senses" Ce surroun oursel!es with tools an fail to use those with which nature has $ro!i e e!ery one of us" But when we e!ote to the making of these instruments the skill which i instea of them, when for their construction we use the intelligence which enable us to is$ense with them, this is gain not loss, we a art to nature, we gain ingenuity without loss of skill" 9f instea of making a chil stick to his books 9 em$loy him in a worksho$, his han s work for the e!elo$ment of his min " Chile he fancies himself a workman he is becoming a $hiloso$her" >oreo!er, this e?ercise has other a !antages of

which 9 shall s$eak laterA an you will see how, through $hiloso$hy in s$ort, one may rise to the real uties of man" 9 ha!e sai alrea y that $urely theoretical science is har ly suitable for chil ren, e!en for chil ren a$$roaching a olescenceA but without going far into theoretical $hysics, take care that all their e?$eriments are connecte together by some chain of reasoning, so that they may follow an or erly sequence in the min , an may be recalle at nee A for it is !ery ifficult to remember isolate facts or arguments, when there is no cue for their recall" 9n your inquiry into the laws of nature always begin with the commonest an most cons$icuous $henomena, an train your scholar not to acce$t these $henomena as causes but as facts" 9 take a stone an $reten to $lace it in the airA 9 o$en my han , the stone falls" 9 see Emile watching my action an 9 say, DChy oes this stone fallED Chat chil will hesitate o!er this questionE <one, not e!en Emile, unless 9 ha!e taken great $ains to teach him not to answer" E!ery one will say, DThe stone falls because it is hea!y"D D'n what o you mean by hea!yED DThat which falls"D D)o the stone falls because it fallsED 8ere is a $oser for my little $hiloso$her" This is his first lesson in systematic $hysics, an whether he learns $hysics or no it is a goo lesson in common-sense" 's the chil e!elo$s in intelligence other im$ortant consi erations require us to be still more careful in our choice of his occu$ations" 's soon as he has sufficient self-knowle ge to un erstan what constitutes his well-being, as soon as he can gras$ such far-reaching relations as to ju ge what is goo for him an what is not, then he is able to iscern the ifference between work an $lay, an to consi er the latter merely as rela?ation" The objects of real utility may be intro uce into his stu ies an may lea him to more $rolonge attention than he ga!e to his games" The e!er-recurring law of necessity soon teaches a man to o what he oes not like, so as to a!ert e!ils which he woul islike still more" )uch is the use of foresight, an this foresight, well or ill use , is the source of all the wis om or the wretche ness of mankin " E!ery one esires ha$$iness, but to secure it he must know what ha$$iness is" 7or the natural man ha$$iness is as sim$le as his lifeA it consists in the absence of $ainA health, free om, the necessaries of life are its elements" The ha$$iness of the moral man is another matter, but it oes not concern us at $resent" 9 cannot re$eat too often that it is only objects which can be $ercei!e by the senses which can ha!e any interest for chil ren, es$ecially chil ren whose !anity has not been stimulate nor their min s corru$te by social con!entions" 's soon as they foresee their nee s before they feel them, their intelligence has ma e a great ste$ forwar , they are beginning to know the !alue of time" They must then be traine to e!ote this time to useful $ur$oses, but this usefulness shoul be such as they can rea ily $ercei!e an shoul be within the reach of their age an e?$erience" Chat concerns the moral or er an the customs of society shoul not yet be gi!en them, for they are not in a con ition to un erstan it" 9t is folly to

e?$ect them to atten to things !aguely escribe as goo for them, when they o not know what this goo is, things which they are assure will be to their a !antage when they are grown u$, though for the $resent they take no interest in this so-calle a !antage, which they are unable to un erstan " %et the chil o nothing because he is tol A nothing is goo for him but what he recognises as goo " Chen you are always urging him beyon his $resent un erstan ing, you think you are e?ercising a foresight which you really lack" To $ro!i e him with useless tools which he may ne!er require, you e$ri!e him of man@s most useful toolBcommon-sense" #ou woul ha!e him ocile as a chil A he will be a cre ulous u$e when he grows u$" #ou are always saying, DChat 9 ask is for your goo , though you cannot un erstan it" Chat oes it matter to me whether you o it or notA my efforts are entirely on your account"D 'll these fine s$eeches with which you ho$e to make him goo , are $re$aring the way, so that the !isionary, the tem$ter, the charlatan, the rascal, an e!ery kin of fool may catch him in his snare or raw him into his folly" ' man must know many things which seem useless to a chil , but nee the chil learn, or can he in ee learn, all that the man must knowE Try to teach the chil what is of use to a chil an you will fin that it takes all his time" Chy urge him to the stu ies of an age he may ne!er reach, to the neglect of those stu ies which meet his $resent nee sE DBut,D you ask, Dwill it not be too late to learn what he ought to know when the time comes to use itED 9 cannot tellA but this 9 o know, it is im$ossible to teach it sooner, for our real teachers are e?$erience an emotion, an man will ne!er learn what befits a man e?ce$t un er its own con itions" ' chil knows he must become a manA all the i eas he may ha!e as to man@s estate are so many o$$ortunities for his instruction, but he shoul remain in com$lete ignorance of those i eas which are beyon his gras$" >y whole book is one continue argument in su$$ort of this fun amental $rinci$le of e ucation" 's soon as we ha!e contri!e to gi!e our $u$il an i ea of the wor D;seful,D we ha!e got an a itional means of controlling him, for this wor makes a great im$ression on him, $ro!i e that its meaning for him is a meaning relati!e to his own age, an $ro!i e he clearly sees its relation to his own well-being" This wor makes no im$ression on your scholars because you ha!e taken no $ains to gi!e it a meaning they can un erstan , an because other $eo$le always un ertake to su$$ly their nee s so that they ne!er require to think for themsel!es, an o not know what utility is" DChat is the use of thatED 9n future this is the sacre formula, the formula by which he an 9 test e!ery action of our li!es" This is the question with which 9 in!ariably answer all his questionsA it ser!es to check the stream of foolish an tiresome questions with which chil ren weary those about them" These incessant questions $ro uce no result, an their object is rather to get a hol o!er you than to gain any real a !antage" ' $u$il, who has been really taught only to want to know what is useful, questions like )ocratesA he ne!er asks a question without a reason for it,

for he knows he will be require to gi!e his reason before he gets an answer" )ee what a $owerful instrument 9 ha!e $ut into your han s for use with your $u$il" 's he oes not know the reason for anything you can re uce him to silence almost at willA an what a !antages o your knowle ge an e?$erience gi!e you to show him the usefulness of what you suggest" 7or, make no mistake about it, when you $ut this question to him, you are teaching him to $ut it to you, an you must e?$ect that whate!er you suggest to him in the future he will follow your own e?am$le an ask, DChat is the use of thisED Perha$s this is the greatest of the tutor@s ifficulties" 9f you merely try to $ut the chil off when he asks a question, an if you gi!e him a single reason he is not able to un erstan , if he fin s that you reason accor ing to your own i eas, not his, he will think what you tell him is goo for you but not for himA you will lose his confi ence an all your labour is thrown away" But what master will sto$ short an confess his faults to his $u$ilE Ce all make it a rule ne!er to own to the faults we really ha!e" <ow 9 woul make it a rule to a mit e!en the faults 9 ha!e not, if 9 coul not make my reasons clear to himA as my con uct will always be intelligible to him, he will ne!er oubt me an 9 shall gain more cre it by confessing my imaginary faults than those who conceal their real efects" 9n the first $lace o not forget that it is rarely your business to suggest what he ought to learnA it is for him to want to learn, to seek an to fin it" #ou shoul $ut it within his reach, you shoul skilfully awaken the esire an su$$ly him with means for its satisfaction" )o your questions shoul be few an well-chosen, an as he will always ha!e more questions to $ut to you than you to him, you will always ha!e the a !antage an will be able to ask all the oftener, DChat is the use of that questionED >oreo!er, as it matters little what he learns $ro!i e he un erstan s it an knows how to use it, as soon as you cannot gi!e him a suitable e?$lanation gi!e him none at all" (o not hesitate to say, D9 ha!e no goo answer to gi!e youA 9 was wrong, let us ro$ the subject"D 9f your teaching was really ill-chosen there is no harm in ro$$ing it altogetherA if it was not, with a little care you will soon fin an o$$ortunity of making its use a$$arent to him" 9 o not like !erbal e?$lanations" #oung $eo$le $ay little hee to them, nor o they remember them" ThingsH ThingsH 9 cannot re$eat it too often" Ce lay too much stress u$on wor sA we teachers babble, an our scholars follow our e?am$le" )u$$ose we are stu ying the course of the sun an the way to fin our bearings, when all at once Emile interru$ts me with the question, DChat is the use of thatED what a fine lecture 9 might gi!e, how many things 9 might take occasion to teach him in re$ly to his question, es$ecially if there is any one there" 9 might s$eak of the a !antages of tra!el, the !alue of commerce, the s$ecial $ro ucts of ifferent lan s an the $eculiar customs of ifferent nations, the use of the calen ar, the way to reckon the seasons for agriculture, the art of na!igation, how to steer our course at sea, how to fin our way without knowing e?actly where we

are" Politics, natural history, astronomy, e!en morals an international law are in!ol!e in my e?$lanation, so as to gi!e my $u$il some i ea of all these sciences an a great wish to learn them" Chen 9 ha!e finishe 9 shall ha!e shown myself a regular $e ant, 9 shall ha!e ma e a great is$lay of learning, an not one single i ea has he un erstoo " 8e is longing to ask me again, DChat is the use of taking one@s bearingsED but he are not for fear of !e?ing me" 8e fin s it $ays best to $reten to listen to what he is force to hear" This is the $ractical result of our fine systems of e ucation" But Emile is e ucate in a sim$ler fashion" Ce take so much $ains to teach him a ifficult i ea that he will ha!e hear nothing of all this" 't the first wor he oes not un erstan , he will run away, he will $rance about the room, an lea!e me to s$eechify by myself" %et us seek a more common$lace e?$lanationA my scientific learning is of no use to him" Ce were obser!ing the $osition of the forest to the north of >ontmorency when he interru$te me with the usual question, DChat is the use of thatED D#ou are right,D 9 sai " D%et us take time to think it o!er, an if we fin it is no use we will ro$ it, for we only want useful games"D Ce fin something else to o an geogra$hy is $ut asi e for the ay" <e?t morning 9 suggest a walk before breakfastA there is nothing he woul like betterA chil ren are always rea y to run about, an he is a goo walker" Ce climb u$ to the forest, we wan er through its clearings an lose oursel!esA we ha!e no i ea where we are, an when we want to retrace our ste$s we cannot fin the way" Time $asses, we are hot an hungryA hurrying !ainly this way an that we fin nothing but woo s, quarries, $lains, not a lan mark to gui e us" Gery hot, !ery tire , !ery hungry, we only get further astray" 't last we sit own to rest an to consi er our $osition" 9 assume that Emile has been e ucate like an or inary chil " 8e oes not think, he begins to cryA he has no i ea we are close to >ontmorency, which is hi en from our !iew by a mere thicketA but this thicket is a forest to him, a man of his siFe is burie among bushes" 'fter a few minutes@ silence 9 begin an?iouslyBB JE'< J':K;E)" >y ear Emile, what shall we o get outE E>9%E" 9 am sure 9 o not know" 9 am tire , 9 am hungry, 9 am thirsty" 9 cannot go any further" JE'< J':K;E)" (o you su$$ose 9 am any better offE 9 woul cry too if 9 coul make my breakfast off tears" :rying is no use, we must look about us" %et us see your watchA what time is itE E>9%E" 9t is noon an 9 am so hungryH JE'< J':K;E)" Just soA it is noon an 9 am so hungry too" E>9%E" #ou must be !ery hungry in ee " JE'< J':K;E)" ;nluckily my inner won@t come to fin me" 9t is twel!e o@clock" This time yester ay we were obser!ing the $osition of the forest

from >ontmorency" 9f only we coul see the $osition of >ontmorency from the forest" E>9%E" But yester ay we coul see the forest, an here we cannot see the town" JE'< J':K;E)" That is just it" 9f we coul only fin it without seeing it" E>9%E" 6hH my ear frien H JE'< J':K;E)" (i not we say the forest wasO E>9%E" <orth of >ontmorency" JE'< J':K;E)" Then >ontmorency must lieO E>9%E" )outh of the forest" JE'< J':K;E)" Ce know how to fin the north at mi E>9%E" #es, by the irection of the sha ows" JE'< J':K;E)" But the southE E>9%E" Chat shall we oE JE'< J':K;E)" The south is o$$osite the north" E>9%E" That is trueA we nee only fin the o$$osite of the sha ows" That is the southH That is the southH >ontmorency must be o!er thereH %et us look for it thereH JE'< J':K;E)" Perha$s you are rightA let us follow this $ath through the woo " E>9%E" L:la$$ing his han s"M 6h, 9 can see >ontmorencyH there it is, quite $lain, just in front of usH :ome to luncheon, come to inner, make hasteH 'stronomy is some use after all" Be sure that he thinks this if he oes not say itA no matter which, $ro!i e 9 o not say it myself" 8e will certainly ne!er forget this ay@s lesson as long as he li!es, while if 9 ha only le him to think of all this at home, my lecture woul ha!e been forgotten the ne?t ay" Teach by oing whene!er you can, an only fall back u$on wor s when oing is out of the question" The rea er will not e?$ect me to ha!e such a $oor o$inion of him as to su$$ly him with an e?am$le of e!ery kin of stu yA but, whate!er is taught, 9 cannot too strongly urge the tutor to a a$t his instances to the ca$acity of his scholarA for once more 9 re$eat the risk is not in what he oes not know, but in what he thinks he knows" 9 remember how 9 once trie to gi!e a chil a taste for chemistry" 'fter showing him se!eral metallic $reci$itates, 9 e?$laine how ink was ma e" 9 tol him how its blackness was merely the result of fine $articles of iron se$arate from the !itriol an $reci$itate by an alkaline solution" 9n the mi st of my learne e?$lanation the little rascal $ulle me u$ short with ay"

the question 9 myself ha taught him" 9 was greatly $uFFle " 'fter a few moments@ thought 9 eci e what to o" 9 sent for some wine from the cellar of our lan lor , an some !ery chea$ wine from a wine-merchant" 9 took a small .7ootnote& Before gi!ing any e?$lanation to a chil a little bit of a$$aratus ser!es to fi? his attention"3 flask of an alkaline solution, an $lacing two glasses before me fille with the two sorts of wine, 9 sai " 7oo an rink are a ulterate to make them seem better than they really are" These a ulterations ecei!e both the eye an the $alate, but they are unwholesome an make the a ulterate article e!en worse than before in s$ite of its fine a$$earance" 'll sorts of rinks are a ulterate , an wine more than othersA for the frau is more ifficult to etect, an more $rofitable to the frau ulent $erson" )our wine is a ulterate with lithargeA litharge is a $re$aration of lea " %ea in combination with aci s forms a sweet salt which corrects the harsh taste of the sour wine, but it is $oisonous" )o before we rink wine of oubtful quality we shoul be able to tell if there is lea in it" This is how 9 shoul o it" Cine contains not merely an inflammable s$irit as you ha!e seen from the bran y ma e from itA it also contains an aci as you know from the !inegar ma e from it" This aci has an affinity for metals, it combines with them an forms salts, such as iron-rust, which is only iron issol!e by the aci in air or water, or such as !er egris, which is only co$$er issol!e in !inegar" But this aci has a still greater affinity for alkalis than for metals, so that when we a alkalis to the abo!e-mentione salts, the aci sets free the metal with which it ha combine , an combines with the alkali" Then the metal, set free by the aci which hel it in solution, is $reci$itate an the liqui becomes o$aque" 9f then there is litharge in either of these glasses of wine, the aci hol s the litharge in solution" Chen 9 $our into it an alkaline solution, the aci will be force to set the lea free in or er to combine with the alkali" The lea , no longer hel in solution, will rea$$ear, the liquor will become thick, an after a time the lea will be e$osite at the bottom of the glass" 9f there is no lea .7ootnote& The wine sol by retail ealers in Paris is rarely free from lea , though some of it oes not contain litharge, for the counters are co!ere with lea an when the wine is $oure into the measures an some of it s$ilt u$on the counter an the measures left stan ing on the counter, some of the lea is always issol!e " 9t is strange that so ob!ious an angerous an abuse shoul be tolerate by the $olice" But in ee well-to- o $eo$le, who rarely rink these wines, are not likely to be $oisone by them"3 nor other metal in the wine the alkali will slowly .7ootnote& The !egetable aci is !ery gentle in its action" 9f it were a mineral aci an less ilute , the combination woul not take

$lace without effer!escence"3 combine with the aci , all will remain clear an there will be no $reci$itate" Then 9 $oure my alkaline solution first into one glass an then into the other" The wine from our own house remaine clear an unclou e , the other at once became turbi , an an hour later the lea might be $lainly seen, $reci$itate at the bottom of the glass" DThis,D sai 9, Dis a $ure natural wine an fit to rinkA the other is a ulterate an $oisonous" #ou wante to know the use of knowing how to make ink" 9f you can make ink you can fin out what wines are a ulterate "D 9 was !ery well $lease with my illustration, but 9 foun it ma e little im$ression on my $u$il" Chen 9 ha time to think about it 9 saw 9 ha been a fool, for not only was it im$ossible for a chil of twel!e to follow my e?$lanations, but the usefulness of the e?$eriment i not a$$eal to himA he ha taste both glasses of wine an foun them both goo , so he attache no meaning to the wor Da ulterate D which 9 thought 9 ha e?$laine so nicely" 9n ee , the other wor s, DunwholesomeD an D$oison,D ha no meaning whate!er for himA he was in the same con ition as the boy who tol the story of Phili$ an his octor" 9t is the con ition of all chil ren" The relation of causes an effects whose connection is unknown to us, goo an ill of which we ha!e no i ea, the nee s we ha!e ne!er felt, ha!e no e?istence for us" 9t is im$ossible to interest oursel!es in them sufficiently to make us o anything connecte with them" 't fifteen we become aware of the ha$$iness of a goo man, as at thirty we become aware of the glory of Para ise" 9f we ha no clear i ea of either we shoul make no effort for their attainmentA an e!en if we ha a clear i ea of them, we shoul make little or no effort unless we esire them an unless we felt we were ma e for them" 9t is easy to con!ince a chil that what you wish to teach him is useful, but it is useless to con!ince if you cannot also $ersua e" Pure reason may lea us to a$$ro!e or censure, but it is feeling which lea s to action, an how shall we care about that which oes not concern usE <e!er show a chil what he cannot see" )ince mankin is almost unknown to him, an since you cannot make a man of him, bring the man own to the le!el of the chil " Chile you are thinking what will be useful to him when he is ol er, talk to him of what he knows he can use now" >oreo!er, as soon as he begins to reason let there be no com$arison with other chil ren, no ri!alry, no com$etition, not e!en in running races" 9 woul far rather he i not learn anything than ha!e him learn it through jealousy or self-conceit" #ear by year 9 shall just note the $rogress he ha ma e, 9 shall com$are the results with those of the following year, 9 shall say, D#ou ha!e grown so muchA that is the itch you jum$e , the weight you carrie , the istance you flung a $ebble, the race you ran without sto$$ing to take breath, etc"A let us see what you can o now"D

9n this way he is stimulate to further effort without jealousy" 8e wants to e?cel himself as he ought to oA 9 see no reason why he shoul not emulate his own $erformances" 9 hate booksA they only teach us to talk about things we know nothing about" 8ermes, they say, engra!e the elements of science on $illars lest a eluge shoul estroy them" 8a he im$rinte them on men@s hearts they woul ha!e been $reser!e by tra ition" Cell-traine min s are the $illars on which human knowle ge is most ee$ly engra!e " 9s there no way of correlating so many lessons scattere through so many books, no way of focussing them on some common object, easy to see, interesting to follow, an stimulating e!en to a chil E :oul we but isco!er a state in which all man@s nee s a$$ear in such a way as to a$$eal to the chil @s min , a state in which the ways of $ro!i ing for these nee s are as easily e!elo$e , the sim$le an stirring $ortrayal of this state shoul form the earliest training of the chil @s imagination" Eager $hiloso$her, 9 see your own imagination at work" )$are yourself the troubleA this state is alrea y known, it is escribe , with ue res$ect to you, far better than you coul escribe it, at least with greater truth an sim$licity" )ince we must ha!e books, there is one book which, to my thinking, su$$lies the best treatise on an e ucation accor ing to nature" This is the first book Emile will rea A for a long time it will form his whole library, an it will always retain an honoure $lace" 9t will be the te?t to which all our talks about natural science are but the commentary" 9t will ser!e to test our $rogress towar s a right ju gment, an it will always be rea with elight, so long as our taste is uns$oilt" Chat is this won erful bookE 9s it 'ristotleE PlinyE BuffonE <oA it is Robinson :rusoe" Robinson :rusoe on his islan , e$ri!e of the hel$ of his fellow-men, without the means of carrying on the !arious arts, yet fin ing foo , $reser!ing his life, an $rocuring a certain amount of comfortA this is the thing to interest $eo$le of all ages, an it can be ma e attracti!e to chil ren in all sorts of ways" Ce shall thus make a reality of that esert islan which formerly ser!e as an illustration" The con ition, 9 confess, is not that of a social being, nor is it in all $robability Emile@s own con ition, but he shoul use it as a stan ar of com$arison for all other con itions" The surest way to raise him abo!e $reju ice an to base his ju gments on the true relations of things, is to $ut him in the $lace of a solitary man, an to ju ge all things as they woul be ju ge by such a man in relation to their own utility" This no!el, stri$$e of irrele!ant matter, begins with Robinson@s shi$wreck on his islan , an en s with the coming of the shi$ which bears him from it, an it will furnish Emile with material, both for work an $lay, uring the whole $erio we are consi ering" 8is hea shoul be full of it, he shoul always be busy with his castle, his goats, his $lantations" %et him learn in etail, not from books but from things, all that is necessary in such a case" %et him think he is Robinson himselfA let him see himself cla in skins, wearing a tall ca$, a great cutlass, all the grotesque get-u$ of Robinson :rusoe, e!en to the umbrella which he will scarcely nee " 8e shoul an?iously consi er what ste$s to takeA will this

or that be wanting" 8e shoul e?amine his hero@s con uctA has he omitte nothingA is there nothing he coul ha!e one betterE 8e shoul carefully note his mistakes, so as not to fall into them himself in similar circumstances, for you may be sure he will $lan out just such a settlement for himself" This is the genuine castle in the air of this ha$$y age, when the chil knows no other ha$$iness but foo an free om"

Chat a moti!e will this infatuation su$$ly in the han s of a skilful teacher who has arouse it for the $ur$ose of using it" The chil who wants to buil a storehouse on his esert islan will be more eager to learn than the master to teach" 8e will want to know all sorts of useful things an nothing elseA you will nee the curb as well as the s$ur" >ake haste, therefore, to establish him on his islan while this is all he nee s to make him ha$$yA for the ay is at han , when, if he must still li!e on his islan , he will not be content to li!e alone, when e!en the com$anionshi$ of >an 7ri ay, who is almost isregar e now, will not long suffice" The e?ercise of the natural arts, which may be carrie on by one man alone, lea s on to the in ustrial arts which call for the coo$eration of many han s" The former may be carrie on by hermits, by sa!ages, but the others can only arise in a society, an they make society necessary" )o long as only bo ily nee s are recognise man is self-sufficingA with su$erfluity comes the nee for i!ision an istribution of labour, for though one man working alone can earn a man@s li!ing, one hun re men working together can earn the li!ing of two hun re " 's soon as some men are i le, others must work to make u$ for their i leness" #our main object shoul be to kee$ out of your scholar@s way all i ea of such social relations as he cannot un erstan , but when the e!elo$ment of knowle ge com$els you to show him the mutual e$en ence of mankin , instea of showing him its moral si e, turn all his attention at first towar s in ustry an the mechanical arts which make men useful to one another" Chile you take him from one worksho$ to another, let him try his han at e!ery tra e you show him, an o not let him lea!e it till he has thoroughly learnt why e!erything is one, or at least e!erything that has attracte his attention" Cith this aim you shoul take a share in his work an set him an e?am$le" Be yourself the a$$rentice that he may become a masterA you may e?$ect him to learn more in one hour@s work than he woul retain after a whole ay@s e?$lanation" The !alue set by the general $ublic on the !arious arts is in in!erse ratio to their real utility" They are e!en !alue irectly accor ing to their uselessness" This might be e?$ecte " The most useful arts are the worst $ai , for the number of workmen is regulate by the eman , an the work which e!erybo y requires must necessarily be $ai at a rate which $uts it within the reach of the $oor" 6n the other han , those great $eo$le who are calle artists, not artisans, who labour only for the rich an i le, $ut a fancy $rice on their triflesA an as the real !alue of this !ain labour is $urely imaginary, the $rice itself a s to their market !alue, an they are !alue accor ing to their costliness" The rich think so much of these things, not because they are useful, but because they are beyon the reach of the $oor" <olo habere bona, nisi quibus $o$ulus in!i erit" Chat will become of your $u$ils if you let them acquire this foolish $reju ice, if you share it yourselfE 9f, for instance, they see you show more $oliteness in a jeweller@s sho$ than in a locksmith@s" Chat i ea will

they form of the true worth of the arts an the real !alue of things when they see, on the one han , a fancy $rice an , on the other, the $rice of real utility, an that the more a thing costs the less it is worthE 's soon as you let them get hol of these i eas, you may gi!e u$ all attem$t at further e ucationA in s$ite of you they will be like all the other scholarsB you ha!e waste fourteen years" Emile, bent on furnishing his islan , will look at things from another $oint of !iew" Robinson woul ha!e thought more of a toolmaker@s sho$ than all )ai e@s trifles $ut together" 8e woul ha!e reckone the toolmaker a !ery worthy man, an )ai e little more than a charlatan" D>y son will ha!e to take the worl as he fin s it, he will not li!e among the wise but among foolsA he must therefore be acquainte with their follies, since they must be le by this means" ' real knowle ge of things may be a goo thing in itself, but the knowle ge of men an their o$inions is better, for in human society man is the chief tool of man, an the wisest man is he who best knows the use of this tool" Chat is the goo of teaching chil ren an imaginary system, just the o$$osite of the establishe or er of things, among which they will ha!e to li!eE 7irst teach them wis om, then show them the follies of mankin "D These are the s$ecious ma?ims by which fathers, who mistake them for $ru ence, stri!e to make their chil ren the sla!es of the $reju ices in which they are e ucate , an the $u$$ets of the senseless crow , which they ho$e to make subser!ient to their $assions" 8ow much must be known before we attain to a knowle ge of man" This is the final stu y of the $hiloso$her, an you e?$ect to make it the first lesson of the chil H Before teaching him our sentiments, first teach him to ju ge of their worth" (o you $ercei!e folly when you mistake it for wis omE To be wise we must iscern between goo an e!il" 8ow can your chil know men, when he can neither ju ge of their ju gments nor unra!el their mistakesE 9t is a misfortune to know what they think, without knowing whether their thoughts are true or false" 7irst teach him things as they really are, afterwar s you will teach him how they a$$ear to us" 8e will then be able to make a com$arison between $o$ular i eas an truth, an be able to rise abo!e the !ulgar crow A for you are unaware of the $reju ices you a o$t, an you o not lea a nation when you are like it" But if you begin to teach the o$inions of other $eo$le before you teach how to ju ge of their worth, of one thing you may be sure, your $u$il will a o$t those o$inions whate!er you may o, an you will not succee in u$rooting them" 9 am therefore con!ince that to make a young man ju ge rightly, you must form his ju gment rather than teach him your own" )o far you see 9 ha!e not s$oken to my $u$il about menA he woul ha!e too much sense to listen to me" 8is relations to other $eo$le are as yet not sufficiently a$$arent to him to enable him to ju ge others by himself" The only $erson he knows is himself, an his knowle ge of himself is !ery im$erfect" But if he forms few o$inions about others, those o$inions are correct" 8e knows nothing of another@s $lace, but he knows his own an kee$s to it" 9 ha!e boun him with the strong cor of necessity, instea of social laws, which are beyon his knowle ge" 8e is still little more than a bo yA let us treat him as such"

E!ery substance in nature an e!ery work of man must be ju ge in relation to his own use, his own safety, his own $reser!ation, his own comfort" Thus he shoul !alue iron far more than gol , an glass than iamon sA in the same way he has far more res$ect for a shoemaker or a mason than for a %em$ereur, a %e Blanc, or all the jewellers in Euro$e" 9n his eyes a confectioner is a really great man, an he woul gi!e the whole aca emy of sciences for the smallest $astrycook in %ombar )treet" Gol smiths, engra!ers, gil ers, an embroi erers, he consi ers laFy $eo$le, who $lay at quite useless games" 8e oes not e!en think much of a clockmaker" The ha$$y chil enjoys Time without being a sla!e to itA he uses it, but he oes not know its !alue" The free om from $assion which makes e!ery ay alike to him, makes any means of measuring time unnecessary" Chen 9 assume that Emile ha a watch, .7ootnote& Chen our hearts are aban one to the sway of $assion, then it is that we nee a measure of time" The wise man@s watch is his equable tem$er an his $eaceful heart" 8e is always $unctual, an he always knows the time"3 just as 9 assume that he crie , it was a common$lace Emile that 9 chose to ser!e my $ur$ose an make myself un erstoo " The real Emile, a chil so ifferent from the rest, woul not ser!e as an illustration for anything" There is an or er no less natural an e!en more accurate, by which the arts are !alue accor ing to bon s of necessity which connect themA the highest class consists of the most in e$en ent, the lowest of those most e$en ent on others" This classification, which suggests im$ortant consi erations on the or er of society in general, is like the $rece ing one in that it is subject to the same in!ersion in $o$ular estimation, so that the use of raw material is the work of the lowest an worst $ai tra es, while the oftener the material changes han s, the more the work rises in $rice an in honour" 9 o not ask whether in ustry is really greater an more eser!ing of rewar when engage in the elicate arts which gi!e the final sha$e to these materials, than in the labour which first ga!e them to man@s useA but this 9 say, that in e!erything the art which is most generally useful an necessary, is un oubte ly that which most eser!es esteem, an that art which requires the least hel$ from others, is more worthy of honour than those which are e$en ent on other arts, since it is freer an more nearly in e$en ent" These are the true laws of !alue in the artsA all others are arbitrary an e$en ent on $o$ular $reju ice" 'griculture is the earliest an most honourable of artsA metal work 9 $ut ne?t, then car$entry, an so on" This is the or er in which the chil will $ut them, if he has not been s$oilt by !ulgar $reju ices" Chat !aluable consi erations Emile will eri!e from his Robinson in such matters" Chat will he think when he sees the arts only brought to $erfection by subi!ision, by the infinite multi$lication of tools" 8e will say, D'll those $eo$le are as silly as they are ingeniousA one woul think they were afrai to use their eyes an their han s, they in!ent so many tools instea " To carry on one tra e they become the sla!es of many othersA e!ery single workman nee s a whole town" >y frien an 9 try to gain skillA we only make tools we can take about with usA these $eo$le, who

are so $rou of their talents in Paris, woul be no use at all on our islan A they woul ha!e to become a$$rentices"D Rea er, o not stay to watch the bo ily e?ercises an manual skill of our $u$il, but consi er the bent we are gi!ing to his chil ish curiosityA consi er his common-sense, his in!enti!e s$irit, his foresightA consi er what a hea he will ha!e on his shoul ers" 8e will want to know all about e!erything he sees or oes, to learn the why an the wherefore of itA from tool to tool he will go back to the first beginning, taking nothing for grante A he will ecline to learn anything that requires $re!ious knowle ge which he has not acquire " 9f he sees a s$ring ma e he will want to know how they got the steel from the mineA if he sees the $ieces of a chest $ut together, he will want to know how the tree was out ownA when at work he will say of each tool, D9f 9 ha not got this, how coul 9 make one like it, or how coul 9 get along without itED 9t is, howe!er, ifficult to a!oi another error" Chen the master is !ery fon of certain occu$ations, he is a$t to assume that the chil shares his tastesA beware lest you are carrie away by the interest of your work, while the chil is bore by it, but is afrai to show it" The chil must come first, an you must e!ote yourself entirely to him" Catch him, stu y him constantly, without his knowing itA consi er his feelings beforehan , an $ro!i e against those which are un esirable, kee$ him occu$ie in such a way that he not only feels the usefulness of the thing, but takes a $leasure in un erstan ing the $ur$ose which his work will ser!e" The soli arity of the arts consists in the e?change of in ustry, that of commerce in the e?change of commo ities, that of banks in the e?change of money or securities" 'll these i eas hang together, an their foun ation has alrea y been lai in early chil hoo with the hel$ of Robert the gar ener" 'll we ha!e now to o is to substitute general i eas for $articular, an to enlarge these i eas by means of numerous e?am$les, so as to make the chil un erstan the game of business itself, brought home to him by means of $articular instances of natural history with regar to the s$ecial $ro ucts of each country, by $articular instances of the arts an sciences which concern na!igation an the ifficulties of trans$ort, greater or less in $ro$ortion to the istance between $laces, the $osition of lan , seas, ri!ers, etc" There can be no society without e?change, no e?change without a common stan ar of measurement, no common stan ar of measurement without equality" 8ence the first law of e!ery society is some con!entional equality either in men or things" :on!entional equality between men, a !ery ifferent thing from natural equality, lea s to the necessity for $ositi!e law, i"e", go!ernment an kings" ' chil @s $olitical knowle ge shoul be clear an restricte A he shoul know nothing of go!ernment in general, beyon what concerns the rights of $ro$erty, of which he has alrea y some i ea" :on!entional equality between things has le to the in!ention of money, for money is only one term in a com$arison between the !alues of ifferent sorts of thingsA an in this sense money is the real bon of

societyA but anything may be moneyA in former ays it was cattleA shells are use among many tribes at the $resent ayA )$arta use ironA )we en, leatherA while we use gol an sil!er" >etals, being easier to carry, ha!e generally been chosen as the mi le term of e!ery e?change, an these metals ha!e been ma e into coin to sa!e the trouble of continual weighing an measuring, for the stam$ on the coin is merely e!i ence that the coin is of gi!en weightA an the sole right of coining money is !este in the ruler because he alone has the right to eman the recognition of his authority by the whole nation" The stu$i est $erson can $ercei!e the use of money when it is e?$laine in this way" 9t is ifficult to make a irect com$arison between !arious things, for instance, between cloth an cornA but when we fin a common measure, in money, it is easy for the manufacturer an the farmer to estimate the !alue of the goo s they wish to e?change in terms of this common measure" 9f a gi!en quantity of cloth is worth a gi!en some of money, an a gi!en quantity of corn is worth the same sum of money, then the seller, recei!ing the corn in e?change for his cloth, makes a fair bargain" Thus by means of money it becomes $ossible to com$are the !alues of goo s of !arious kin s" Be content with this, an o not touch u$on the moral effects of this institution" 9n e!erything you must show clearly the use before the abuse" 9f you attem$t to teach chil ren how the sign has le to the neglect of the thing signifie , how money is the source of all the false i eas of society, how countries rich in sil!er must be $oor in e!erything else, you will be treating these chil ren as $hiloso$hers, an not only as $hiloso$hers but as wise men, for you are $rofessing to teach them what !ery few $hiloso$hers ha!e gras$e " Chat a wealth of interesting objects, towar s which the curiosity of our $u$il may be irecte without e!er quitting the real an material relations he can un erstan , an without $ermitting the formation of a single i ea beyon his gras$H The teacher@s art consists in this& To turn the chil @s attention from tri!ial etails an to gui e his thoughts continually towar s relations of im$ortance which he will one ay nee to know, that he may ju ge rightly of goo an e!il in human society" The teacher must be able to a a$t the con!ersation with which he amuses his $u$il to the turn alrea y gi!en to his min " ' $roblem which another chil woul ne!er hee will torment Emile half a year" Ce are going to ine with wealthy $eo$leA when we get there e!erything is rea y for a feast, many guests, many ser!ants, many ishes, ainty an elegant china" There is something into?icating in all these $re$arations for $leasure an festi!ity when you are not use to them" 9 see how they will affect my young $u$il" Chile inner is going on, while course follows course, an con!ersation is lou aroun us, 9 whis$er in his ear, D8ow many han s o you su$$ose the things on this table $asse through before they got hereED Chat a crow of i eas is calle u$ by these few wor s" 9n a moment the mists of e?citement ha!e rolle away" 8e is thinking, consi ering, calculating, an an?ious" The chil is $hiloso$hising, while $hiloso$hers, e?cite by wine or $erha$s by female

society, are babbling like chil ren" 9f he asks questions 9 ecline to answer an $ut him off to another ay" 8e becomes im$atient, he forgets to eat an rink, he longs to get away from table an talk as he $leases" Chat an object of curiosity, what a te?t for instruction" <othing has so far succee e in corru$ting his healthy reasonA what will he think of lu?ury when he fin s that e!ery quarter of the globe has been ransacke , that some *,,,,,,,, men ha!e laboure for years, that many li!es ha!e $erha$s been sacrifice , an all to furnish him with fine clothes to be worn at mi ay an lai by in the war robe at night" Be sure you obser!e what $ri!ate conclusions he raws from all his obser!ations" 9f you ha!e watche him less carefully than 9 su$$ose, his thoughts may be tem$te in another irectionA he may consi er himself a $erson of great im$ortance in the worl , when he sees so much labour concentrate on the $re$aration of his inner" 9f you sus$ect his thoughts will take this irection you can easily $re!ent it, or at any rate $rom$tly efface the false im$ression" 's yet he can only a$$ro$riate things by $ersonal enjoyment, he can only ju ge of their fitness or unfitness by their outwar effects" :om$are a $lain rustic meal, $rece e by e?ercise, seasone by hunger, free om, an elight, with this magnificent but te ious re$ast" This will suffice to make him realise that he has got no real a !antage from the s$len our of the feast, that his stomach was as well satisfie when he left the table of the $easant, as when he left the table of the bankerA from neither ha he gaine anything he coul really call his own" Just fancy what a tutor might say to him on such an occasion" :onsi er the two inners an eci e for yourself which ga!e you most $leasure, which seeme the merriest, at which i you eat an rink most heartily, which was the least te ious an require least change of coursesE #et note the ifferenceBthis black brea you so enjoy is ma e from the $easant@s own har!estA his wine is ark in colour an of a common kin , but wholesome an refreshingA it was ma e in his own !ineyar A the cloth is ma e of his own hem$, s$un an wo!en in the winter by his wife an aughters an the mai A no han s but theirs ha!e touche the foo " 8is worl is boun e by the nearest mill an the ne?t market" 8ow far i you enjoy all that the $ro uce of istant lan s an the ser!ice of many $eo$le ha $re$are for you at the other innerE 9f you i not get a better meal, what goo i this wealth o youE how much of it was ma e for youE 8a you been the master of the house, the tutor might say, it woul ha!e been of still less use to youA for the an?iety of is$laying your enjoyment before the eyes of others woul ha!e robbe you of itA the $ains woul be yours, the $leasure theirs" This may be a !ery fine s$eech, but it woul be thrown away u$on Emile, as he cannot un erstan it, an he oes not acce$t secon -han o$inions" )$eak more sim$ly to him" 'fter these two e?$eriences, say to him some ay, DChere shall we ha!e our inner to- ayE Chere that mountain of sil!er co!ere three quarters of the table an those be s of artificial flowers on looking glass were ser!e with the essert, where those smart la ies treate you as a toy an $reten e you sai what you i not meanA or in that !illage two leagues away, with those goo

$eo$le who were so $lease to see us an ga!e us such elicious creamED Emile will not hesitateA he is not !ain an he is no chatterbo?A he cannot en ure constraint, an he oes not care for fine ishesA but he is always rea y for a run in the country an is !ery fon of goo fruit an !egetables, sweet cream an kin ly $eo$le" .7ootnote& This taste, which 9 assume my $u$il to ha!e acquire , is a natural result of his e ucation" >oreo!er, he has nothing fo$$ish or affecte about him, so that the la ies take little notice of him an he is less $ette than other chil renA therefore he oes not care for them, an is less s$oilt by their com$anyA he is not yet of an age to feel its charm" 9 ha!e taken care not to teach him to kiss their han s, to $ay them com$liments, or e!en to be more $olite to them than to men" 9t is my constant rule to ask nothing from him but what he can un erstan , an there is no goo reason why a chil shoul treat one se? ifferently from the other"3 6n our way, the thought will occur to him, D'll those $eo$le who laboure to $re$are that gran feast were either wasting their time or they ha!e no i ea how to enjoy themsel!es"D >y e?am$le may be right for one chil an wrong for the rest" 9f you enter into their way of looking at things you will know how to !ary your instances as require A the choice e$en s on the stu y of the in i!i ual tem$erament, an this stu y in turn e$en s on the o$$ortunities which occur to show this tem$erament" #ou will not su$$ose that, in the three or four years at our is$osal, e!en the most gifte chil can get an i ea of all the arts an sciences, sufficient to enable him to stu y them for himself when he is ol erA but by bringing before him what he nee s to know, we enable him to e!elo$ his own tastes, his own talents, to take the first ste$ towar s the object which a$$eals to his in i!i uality an to show us the roa we must o$en u$ to ai the work of nature" There is another a !antage of these trains of limite but e?act bits of knowle geA he learns by their connection an inter e$en ence how to rank them in his own estimation an to be on his guar against those $reju ices, common to most men, which raw them towar s the gifts they themsel!es culti!ate an away from those they ha!e neglecte " The man who clearly sees the whole, sees where each $art shoul beA the man who sees one $art clearly an knows it thoroughly may be a learne man, but the former is a wise man, an you remember it is wis om rather than knowle ge that we ho$e to acquire" 8owe!er that may be, my metho oes not e$en on my e?am$lesA it e$en s on the amount of a man@s $owers at ifferent ages, an the choice of occu$ations a a$te to those $owers" 9 think it woul be easy to fin a metho which a$$eare to gi!e better results, but if it were less suite to the ty$e, se?, an age of the scholar, 9 oubt whether the results woul really be as goo " 't the beginning of this secon $erio we took a !antage of the fact that our strength was more than enough for our nee s, to enable us to get outsi e oursel!es" Ce ha!e range the hea!ens an measure the earthA we ha!e sought out the laws of natureA we ha!e e?$lore the whole of our islan " <ow let us return to oursel!es, let us unconsciously a$$roach

our own welling" Ce are ha$$y in ee if we o not fin it alrea y occu$ie by the rea e foe, who is $re$aring to seiFe it" Chat remains to be one when we ha!e obser!e all that lies aroun usE Ce must turn to our own use all that we can get, we must increase our comfort by means of our curiosity" 8itherto we ha!e $ro!i e oursel!es with tools of all kin s, not knowing which we require" Perha$s those we o not want will be useful to others, an $erha$s we may nee theirs" Thus we isco!er the use of e?changeA but for this we must know each other@s nee s, what tools other $eo$le use, what they can offer in e?change" Gi!en ten men, each of them has ten ifferent requirements" To get what he nee s for himself each must work at ten ifferent tra esA but consi ering our ifferent talents, one will o better at this tra e, another at that" Each of them, fitte for one thing, will work at all, an will be ba ly ser!e " %et us form these ten men into a society, an let each e!ote himself to the tra e for which he is best a a$te , an let him work at it for himself an for the rest" Each will rea$ the a !antage of the others@ talents, just as if they were his ownA by $ractice each will $erfect his own talent, an thus all the ten, well $ro!i e for, will still ha!e something to s$are for others" This is the $lain foun ation of all our institutions" 9t is not my aim to e?amine its results hereA 9 ha!e one so in another book L(iscours sur l@inegaliteM" 'ccor ing to this $rinci$le, any one who wante to consi er himself as an isolate in i!i ual, self-sufficing an in e$en ent of others, coul only be utterly wretche " 8e coul not e!en continue to e?ist, for fin ing the whole earth a$$ro$riate by others while he ha only himself, how coul he get the means of subsistenceE Chen we lea!e the state of nature we com$el others to o the sameA no one can remain in a state of nature in s$ite of his fellow-creatures, an to try to remain in it when it is no longer $racticable, woul really be to lea!e it, for self-$reser!ation is nature@s first law" Thus the i ea of social relations is gra ually e!elo$e in the chil @s min , before he can really be an acti!e member of human society" Emile sees that to get tools for his own use, other $eo$le must ha!e theirs, an that he can get in e?change what he nee s an they $ossess" 9 easily bring him to feel the nee of such e?change an to take a !antage of it" D)ir, 9 must li!e,D sai a miserable writer of lam$oons to the minister who re$ro!e him for his infamous tra e" D9 o not see the necessity,D re$lie the great man col ly" This answer, e?cellent from the minister, woul ha!e been barbarous an untrue in any other mouth" E!ery man must li!eA this argument, which a$$eals to e!ery one with more or less force in $ro$ortion to his humanity, strikes me as unanswerable when a$$lie to oneself" )ince our islike of eath is the strongest of those a!ersions nature has im$lante in us, it follows that e!erything is $ermissible to the man who has no other means of li!ing" The $rinci$les, which teach the goo man to count his life a little thing an to sacrifice it at uty@s call, are far remo!e from this $rimiti!e sim$licity" 8a$$y are those nations where one can be goo without effort, an just without conscious !irtue" 9f in this worl there is any con ition so miserable that one cannot li!e

without wrong- oing, where the citiFen is ri!en into e!il, you shoul hang, not the criminal, but those who ro!e him into crime" 's soon as Emile knows what life is, my first care will be to teach him to $reser!e his life" 8itherto 9 ha!e ma e no istinction of con ition, rank, station, or fortuneA nor shall 9 istinguish between them in the future, since man is the same in e!ery stationA the rich man@s stomach is no bigger than the $oor man@s, nor is his igestion any betterA the master@s arm is neither longer nor stronger than the sla!e@sA a great man is no taller than one of the $eo$le, an in ee the natural nee s are the same to all, an the means of satisfying them shoul be equally within the reach of all" 7it a man@s e ucation to his real self, not to what is no $art of him" (o you not see that in stri!ing to fit him merely for one station, you are unfitting him for anything else, so that some ca$rice of 7ortune may make your work really harmful to himE Chat coul be more absur than a nobleman in rags, who carries with him into his $o!erty the $reju ices of his birthE Chat is more es$icable than a rich man fallen into $o!erty, who recalls the scorn with which he himself regar e the $oor, an feels that he has sunk to the lowest e$th of egra ationE The one may become a $rofessional thief, the other a cringing ser!ant, with this fine saying, D9 must li!e"D #ou reckon on the $resent or er of society, without consi ering that this or er is itself subject to inscrutable changes, an that you can neither foresee nor $ro!i e against the re!olution which may affect your chil ren" The great become small, the rich $oor, the king a commoner" (oes fate strike so sel om that you can count on immunity from her blowsE The crisis is a$$roaching, an we are on the e ge of a re!olution" .7ootnote& 9n my o$inion it is im$ossible that the great king oms of Euro$e shoul last much longer" Each of them has ha its $erio of s$len our, after which it must ine!itably ecline" 9 ha!e my own o$inions as to the s$ecial a$$lications of this general statement, but this is not the $lace to enter into etails, an they are only too e!i ent to e!erybo y"3 Cho can answer for your fateE Chat man has ma e, man may estroy" <ature@s characters alone are ineffaceable, an nature makes neither the $rince, the rich man, nor the nobleman" This satra$ whom you ha!e e ucate for greatness, what will become of him in his egra ationE This farmer of the ta?es who can only li!e on gol , what will he o in $o!ertyE This haughty fool who cannot use his own han s, who $ri es himself on what is not really his, what will he o when he is stri$$e of allE 9n that ay, ha$$y will he be who can gi!e u$ the rank which is no longer his, an be still a man in 7ate@s es$ite" %et men $raise as they will that conquere monarch who like a ma man woul be burie beneath the fragments of his throneA 9 behol him with scornA to me he is merely a crown, an when that is gone he is nothing" But he who loses his crown an li!es without it, is more than a kingA from the rank of a king, which may be hel by a cowar , a !illain, or ma man, he rises to the rank of a man, a $osition few can fill" Thus he trium$hs o!er 7ortune, he ares to look her in the faceA he e$en s on himself alone, an when he has nothing left to show but himself he is not a nonentity, he is somebo y" Better a thousan fol the king of :orinth a schoolmaster at )yracuse, than a wretche Tarquin, unable to be anything but a king, or the heir of

the ruler of three king oms, the s$ort of all who woul scorn his $o!erty, wan ering from court to court in search of hel$, an fin ing nothing but insults, for want of knowing any tra e but one which he can no longer $ractise" The man an the citiFen, whoe!er he may be, has no $ro$erty to in!est in society but himself, all his other goo s belong to society in s$ite of himself, an when a man is rich, either he oes not enjoy his wealth, or the $ublic enjoys it tooA in the first case he robs others as well as himselfA in the secon he gi!es them nothing" Thus his ebt to society is still un$ai , while he only $ays with his $ro$erty" DBut my father was ser!ing society while he was acquiring his wealth"D Just soA he $ai his own ebt, not yours" #ou owe more to others than if you ha been born with nothing, since you were born un er fa!ourable con itions" 9t is not fair that what one man has one for society shoul $ay another@s ebt, for since e!ery man owes all that he is, he can only $ay his own ebt, an no father can transmit to his son any right to be of no use to mankin " DBut,D you say, Dthis is just what he oes when he lea!es me his wealth, the rewar of his labour"D The man who eats in i leness what he has not himself earne , is a thief, an in my eyes, the man who li!es on an income $ai him by the state for oing nothing, iffers little from a highwayman who li!es on those who tra!el his way" 6utsi e the $ale of society, the solitary, owing nothing to any man, may li!e as he $leases, but in society either he li!es at the cost of others, or he owes them in labour the cost of his kee$A there is no e?ce$tion to this rule" >an in society is boun to workA rich or $oor, weak or strong, e!ery i ler is a thief" <ow of all the $ursuits by which a man may earn his li!ing, the nearest to a state of nature is manual labourA of all stations that of the artisan is least e$en ent on 7ortune" The artisan e$en s on his labour alone, he is a free man while the $loughman is a sla!eA for the latter e$en s on his fiel where the cro$s may be estroye by others" 'n enemy, a $rince, a $owerful neighbour, or a law-suit may e$ri!e him of his fiel A through this fiel he may be harasse in all sorts of ways" But if the artisan is ill-treate his goo s are soon $acke an he takes himself off" #et agriculture is the earliest, the most honest of tra es, an more useful than all the rest, an therefore more honourable for those who $ractise it" 9 o not say to Emile, D)tu y agriculture,D he is alrea y familiar with it" 8e is acquainte with e!ery kin of rural labour, it was his first occu$ation, an he returns to it continually" )o 9 say to him, D:ulti!ate your father@s lan s, but if you lose this inheritance, or if you ha!e none to lose, what will you oE %earn a tra e"D D' tra e for my sonH >y son a working manH Chat are you thinking of, sirED >a am, my thoughts are wiser than yoursA you want to make him fit for nothing but a lor , a marquis, or a $rinceA an some ay he may be less than nothing" 9 want to gi!e him a rank which he cannot lose, a rank which will always o him honourA 9 want to raise him to the status of a man, an , whate!er you may say, he will ha!e fewer equals in that rank than in your own"

The letter killeth, the s$irit gi!eth life" %earning a tra e matters less than o!ercoming the $reju ices he es$ises" #ou will ne!er be re uce to earning your li!elihoo A so much the worse for you" <o matterA work for honour, not for nee & stoo$ to the $osition of a working man, to rise abo!e your own" To conquer 7ortune an e!erything else, begin by in e$en ence" To rule through $ublic o$inion, begin by ruling o!er it" Remember 9 eman no talent, only a tra e, a genuine tra e, a mere mechanical art, in which the han s work har er than the hea , a tra e which oes not lea to fortune but makes you in e$en ent of her" 9n househol s far remo!e from all anger of want 9 ha!e known fathers carry $ru ence to such a $oint as to $ro!i e their chil ren not only with or inary teaching but with knowle ge by means of which they coul get a li!ing if anything ha$$ene " These far-sighte $arents thought they were oing a great thing" 9t is nothing, for the resources they fancy they ha!e secure e$en on that !ery fortune of which they woul make their chil ren in e$en entA so that unless they foun themsel!es in circumstances fitte for the is$lay of their talents, they woul ie of hunger as if they ha none" 's soon as it is a question of influence an intrigue you may as well use these means to kee$ yourself in $lenty, as to acquire, in the e$ths of $o!erty, the means of returning to your former $osition" 9f you culti!ate the arts which e$en on the artist@s re$utation, if you fit yourself for $osts which are only obtaine by fa!our, how will that hel$ you when, rightly isguste with the worl , you scorn the ste$s by which you must climb" #ou ha!e stu ie $olitics an state-craft, so far so goo A but how will you use this knowle ge, if you cannot gain the ear of the ministers, the fa!ourites, or the officialsE if you ha!e not the secret of winning their fa!our, if they fail to fin you a rogue to their tasteE #ou are an architect or a $ainterA well an goo A but your talents must be is$laye " (o you su$$ose you can e?hibit in the salon without further a oE That is not the way to set about it" %ay asi e the rule an the $encil, take a cab an ri!e from oor to oorA there is the roa to fame" <ow you must know that the oors of the great are guar e by $orters an flunkeys, who only un erstan one language, an their ears are in their $alms" 9f you wish to teach what you ha!e learne , geogra$hy, mathematics, languages, music, rawing, e!en to fin $u$ils, you must ha!e frien s who will sing your $raises" %earning, remember, gains more cre it than skill, an with no tra e but your own none will belie!e in your skill" )ee how little you can e$en on these fine DResources,D an how many other resources are require before you can use what you ha!e got" 'n what will become of you in your egra ationE >isfortune will make you worse rather than better" >ore than e!er the s$ort of $ublic o$inion, how will you rise abo!e the $reju ices on which your fate e$en sE 8ow will you es$ise the !ices an the baseness from which you get your li!ingE #ou were e$en ent on wealth, now you are e$en ent on the wealthyA you are still a sla!e an a $oor man into the bargain" Po!erty without free om, can a man sink lower than thisH But if instea of this recon ite learning a a$te to fee the min , not the bo y, you ha!e recourse, at nee , to your han s an your han iwork,

there is no call for eceit, your tra e is rea y when require " 8onour an honesty will not stan in the way of your li!ing" #ou nee no longer cringe an lie to the great, nor cree$ an crawl before rogues, a es$icable flatterer of both, a borrower or a thief, for there is little to choose between them when you are $enniless" 6ther $eo$le@s o$inions are no concern of yours, you nee not $ay court to any one, there is no fool to flatter, no flunkey to bribe, no woman to win o!er" %et rogues con uct the affairs of stateA in your lowly rank you can still be an honest man an yet get a li!ing" #ou walk into the first worksho$ of your tra e" D>aster, 9 want work"D D:omra e, take your $lace an work"D Before inner-time you ha!e earne your inner" 9f you are sober an in ustrious, before the week is out you will ha!e earne your kee$ for another weekA you will ha!e li!e in free om, health, truth, in ustry, an righteousness" Time is not waste when it brings these returns" Emile shall learn a tra e" D'n honest tra e, at least,D you say" Chat o you mean by honestE 9s not e!ery useful tra e honestE 9 woul not make an embroi erer, a gil er, a $olisher of him, like %ocke@s young gentleman" <either woul 9 make him a musician, an actor, or an author".7ootnote& #ou are an author yourself, you will re$ly" #es, for my sinsA an my ill ee s, which 9 think 9 ha!e fully e?$iate , are no reason why others shoul be like me" 9 o not write to e?cuse my faults, but to $re!ent my rea ers from co$ying them"3 Cith the e?ce$tion of these an others like them, let him choose his own tra e, 9 o not mean to interfere with his choice" 9 woul rather ha!e him a shoemaker than a $oet, 9 woul rather he $a!e streets than $ainte flowers on china" DBut,D you will say, D$olicemen, s$ies, an hangmen are useful $eo$le"D There woul be no use for them if it were not for the go!ernment" But let that $ass" 9 was wrong" 9t is not enough to choose an honest tra e, it must be a tra e which oes not e!elo$ etestable qualities in the min , qualities incom$atible with humanity" To return to our original e?$ression, D%et us choose an honest tra e,D but let us remember there can be no honesty without usefulness" ' famous writer of this century, whose books are full of great schemes an narrow !iews, was un er a !ow, like the other $riests of his communion, not to take a wife" 7in ing himself more scru$ulous than others with regar to his neighbour@s wife, he eci e , so they say, to em$loy $retty ser!ants, an so i his best to re$air the wrong one to the race by his rash $romise" 8e thought it the uty of a citiFen to bree chil ren for the state, an he ma e his chil ren artisans" 's soon as they were ol enough they were taught whate!er tra e they choseA only i le or useless tra es were e?clu e , such as that of the wigmaker who is ne!er necessary, an may any ay cease to be require , so long as nature oes not get tire of $ro!i ing us with hair" This s$irit shall gui e our choice of tra e for Emile, or rather, not our choice but hisA for the ma?ims he has imbibe make him es$ise useless things, an he will ne!er be content to waste his time on !ain laboursA his tra e must be of use to Robinson on his islan " Chen we re!iew with the chil the $ro uctions of art an nature, when we stimulate his curiosity an follow its lea , we ha!e great o$$ortunities

of stu ying his tastes an inclinations, an $ercei!ing the first s$ark of genius, if he has any eci e talent in any irection" #ou must, howe!er, be on your guar against the common error which mistakes the effects of en!ironment for the ar our of genius, or imagines there is a eci e bent towar s any one of the arts, when there is nothing more than that s$irit of emulation, common to men an monkeys, which im$els them instincti!ely to o what they see others oing, without knowing why" The worl is full of artisans, an still fuller of artists, who ha!e no nati!e gift for their calling, into which they were ri!en in early chil hoo , either through the con!entional i eas of other $eo$le, or because those about them were ecei!e by an a$$earance of Feal, which woul ha!e le them to take to any other art they saw $ractise " 6ne hears a rum an fancies he is a generalA another sees a buil ing an wants to be an architect" E!ery one is rawn towar s the tra e he sees before him if he thinks it is hel in honour" 9 once knew a footman who watche his master rawing an $ainting an took it into his hea to become a esigner an artist" 8e seiFe a $encil which he only aban one for a $aint-brush, to which he stuck for the rest of his ays" Cithout teaching or rules of art he began to raw e!erything he saw" Three whole years were e!ote to these aubs, from which nothing but his uties coul stir him, nor was he iscourage by the small $rogress resulting from his !ery me iocre talents" 9 ha!e seen him s$en the whole of a broiling summer in a little ante-room towar s the south, a room where one was suffocate merely $assing through itA there he was, seate or rather naile all ay to his chair, before a globe, rawing it again an again an yet again, with in!incible obstinacy till he ha re$ro uce the roun e surface to his own satisfaction" 't last with his master@s hel$ an un er the gui ance of an artist he got so far as to aban on his li!ery an li!e by his brush" Perse!erance oes instea of talent u$ to a certain $ointA he got so far, but no further" This honest la @s $erse!erance an ambition are $raiseworthyA he will always be res$ecte for his in ustry an stea fastness of $ur$ose, but his $aintings will always be thir -rate" Cho woul not ha!e been ecei!e by his Feal an taken it for real talentH There is all the ifference in the worl between a liking an an a$titu e" To make sure of real genius or real taste in a chil calls for more accurate obser!ations than is generally sus$ecte , for the chil is$lays his wishes not his ca$acity, an we ju ge by the former instea of consi ering the latter" 9 wish some trustworthy $erson woul gi!e us a treatise on the art of chil -stu y" This art is well worth stu ying, but neither $arents nor teachers ha!e mastere its elements" Perha$s we are laying too much stress on the choice of a tra eA as it is a manual occu$ation, Emile@s choice is no great matter, an his a$$renticeshi$ is more than half accom$lishe alrea y, through the e?ercises which ha!e hitherto occu$ie him" Chat woul you ha!e him oE 8e is rea y for anything" 8e can han le the s$a e an hoe, he can use the lathe, hammer, $lane, or fileA he is alrea y familiar with these tools which are common to many tra es" 8e only nee s to acquire sufficient skill in the use of any one of them to ri!al the s$ee , the familiarity, an the iligence of goo workmen, an he will ha!e a great a !antage o!er them in su$$leness of bo y an limb, so that he can

easily take any $osition an can continue any kin of mo!ements without effort" >oreo!er his senses are acute an well-$ractise , he knows the $rinci$les of the !arious tra esA to work like a master of his craft he only nee s e?$erience, an e?$erience comes with $ractice" To which of these tra es which are o$en to us will he gi!e sufficient time to make himself master of itE That is the whole question" Gi!e a man a tra e befitting his se?, to a young man a tra e befitting his age" )e entary in oor em$loyments, which make the bo y ten er an effeminate, are neither $leasing nor suitable" <o la e!er wante to be a tailor" 9t takes some art to attract a man to this woman@s work".7ootnote& There were no tailors among the ancientsA men@s clothes were ma e at home by the women"3 The same han cannot hol the nee le an the swor " 9f 9 were king 9 woul only allow nee lework an ressmaking to be one by women an cri$$les who are oblige to work at such tra es" 9f eunuchs were require 9 think the Easterns were !ery foolish to make them on $ur$ose" Chy not take those $ro!i e by nature, that crow of base $ersons without natural feelingE There woul be enough an to s$are" The weak, feeble, timi man is con emne by nature to a se entary life, he is fit to li!e among women or in their fashion" %et him a o$t one of their tra es if he likesA an if there must be eunuchs let them take those men who ishonour their se? by a o$ting tra es unworthy of it" Their choice $roclaims a blun er on the $art of natureA correct it one way or other, you will o no harm" 'n unhealthy tra e 9 forbi to my $u$il, but not a ifficult or angerous one" 8e will e?ercise himself in strength an courageA such tra es are for men not women, who claim no share in them" 're not men ashame to $oach u$on the women@s tra esE D%uctantur $aucae, come unt coli$hia $aucae" Gos lanam trahitis, calathisque $eracta refertis Gellera"DBJu!en" )at" 99" G" 00" Comen are not seen in sho$s in 9taly, an to $ersons accustome to the streets of Englan an 7rance nothing coul look gloomier" Chen 9 saw ra$ers selling la ies ribbons, $om$ons, net, an chenille, 9 thought these elicate ornaments !ery absur in the coarse han s fit to blow the bellows an strike the an!il" 9 sai to myself, D9n this country women shoul set u$ as steel-$olishers an armourers"D %et each make an sell the wea$ons of his or her own se?A knowle ge is acquire through use" 9 know 9 ha!e sai too much for my agreeable contem$oraries, but 9 sometimes let myself be carrie away by my argument" 9f any one is ashame to be seen wearing a leathern a$ron or han ling a $lane, 9 think him a mere sla!e of $ublic o$inion, rea y to blush for what is right when $eo$le $oke fun at it" But let us yiel to $arents@ $reju ices so long as they o not hurt the chil ren" To honour tra es we are not oblige to $ractise e!ery one of them, so long as we o not think them beneath us" Chen the choice is ours an we are un er no com$ulsion, why not choose the $leasanter, more attracti!e an more suitable tra e" >etal work is useful, more useful, $erha$s, than the rest, but unless for some

s$ecial reason Emile shall not be a blacksmith, a locksmith nor an ironworker" 9 o not want to see him a :yclo$s at the forge" <either woul 9 ha!e him a mason, still less a shoemaker" 'll tra es must be carrie on, but when the choice is ours, cleanliness shoul be taken into accountA this is not a matter of class $reju ice, our senses are our gui es" 9n conclusion, 9 o not like those stu$i tra es in which the workmen mechanically $erform the same action without $ause an almost without mental effort" Cea!ing, stocking-knitting, stone-cuttingA why em$loy intelligent men on such workE it is merely one machine em$loye on another" 'll things consi ere , the tra e 9 shoul choose for my $u$il, among the tra es he likes, is that of a car$enter" 9t is clean an usefulA it may be carrie on at homeA it gi!es enough e?erciseA it calls for skill an in ustry, an while fashioning articles for e!ery ay use, there is sco$e for elegance an taste" 9f your $u$il@s talents ha$$ene to take a scientific turn, 9 shoul not blame you if you ga!e him a tra e in accor ance with his tastes, for instance, he might learn to make mathematical instruments, glasses, telesco$es, etc" Chen Emile learns his tra e 9 shall learn it too" 9 am con!ince he will ne!er learn anything thoroughly unless we learn it together" )o we shall both ser!e our a$$renticeshi$, an we o not mean to be treate as gentlemen, but as real a$$rentices who are not there for funA why shoul not we actually be a$$rentice E Peter the Great was a shi$@s car$enter an rummer to his own troo$sA was not that $rince at least your equal in birth an meritE #ou un erstan this is a resse not to Emile but to you Bto you, whoe!er you may be" ;nluckily we cannot s$en the whole of our time at the worksho$" Ce are not only @$rentice-car$enters but @$rentice-menBa tra e whose a$$renticeshi$ is longer an more e?acting than the rest" Chat shall we oE )hall we take a master to teach us the use of the $lane an engage him by the hour like the ancing-masterE 9n that case we shoul be not a$$rentices but stu ents, an our ambition is not merely to learn car$entry but to be car$enters" 6nce or twice a week 9 think we shoul s$en the whole ay at our master@sA we shoul get u$ when he oes, we shoul be at our work before him, we shoul take our meals with him, work un er his or ers, an after ha!ing ha the honour of su$$ing at his table we may if we $lease return to slee$ u$on our own har be s" This is the way to learn se!eral tra es at once, to learn to o manual work without neglecting our a$$renticeshi$ to life" %et us o what is right without ostentationA let us not fall into !anity through our efforts to resist it" To $ri e oursel!es on our !ictory o!er $reju ice is to succumb to $reju ice" 9t is sai that in accor ance with an ol custom of the 6ttomans, the sultan is oblige to work with his han s, an , as e!ery one knows, the han iwork of a king is a master$iece" )o he royally istributes his master$ieces among the great lor s of the Porte an the $rice $ai is in accor ance with the rank of the workman" 9t is not this so-calle abuse to which 9 objectA on the contrary, it is an a !antage, an by com$elling the lor s to share with him the s$oils of the $eo$le it is so much the less necessary for the $rince to $lun er the $eo$le

himself" (es$otism nee s some such rela?ation, an without it that hateful rule coul not last" The real e!il in such a custom is the i ea it gi!es that $oor man of his own worth" %ike =ing >i as he sees all things turn to gol at his touch, but he oes not see the ass@ ears growing" %et us kee$ Emile@s han s from money lest he shoul become an ass, let him take the work but not the wages" <e!er let his work be ju ge by any stan ar but that of the work of a master" %et it be ju ge as work, not because it is his" 9f anything is well one, 9 say, DThat is a goo $iece of work,D but o not ask who i it" 9f he is $lease an $rou an says, D9 i it,D answer in ifferently, D<o matter who i it, it is well one"D Goo mother, be on your guar against the ece$tions $re$are for you" 9f your son knows many things, istrust his knowle geA if he is unlucky enough to be rich an e ucate in Paris he is ruine " 's long as there are cle!er artists he will ha!e e!ery talent, but a$art from his masters he will ha!e none" 9n Paris a rich man knows e!erything, it is the $oor who are ignorant" 6ur ca$ital is full of amateurs, es$ecially women, who o their work as >" Gillaume in!ents his colours" 'mong the men 9 know three striking e?ce$tions, among the women 9 know no e?ce$tions, an 9 oubt if there are any" 9n a general way a man becomes an artist an a ju ge of art as he becomes a (octor of %aws an a magistrate" 9f then it is once a mitte that it is a fine thing to ha!e a tra e, your chil ren woul soon ha!e one without learning it" They woul become $ostmasters like the councillors of Nurich" %et us ha!e no such ceremonies for EmileA let it be the real thing not the sham" (o not say what he knows, let him learn in silence" %et him make his master$iece, but not be haile as masterA let him be a workman not in name but in ee " 9f 9 ha!e ma e my meaning clear you ought to realise how bo ily e?ercise an manual work unconsciously arouse thought an refle?ion in my $u$il, an counteract the i leness which might result from his in ifference to men@s ju gments, an his free om from $assion" 8e must work like a $easant an think like a $hiloso$her, if he is not to be as i le as a sa!age" The great secret of e ucation is to use e?ercise of min an bo y as rela?ation one to the other" But beware of antici$ating teaching which eman s more maturity of min " Emile will not long be a workman before he isco!ers those social inequalities he ha not $re!iously obser!e " 8e will want to question me in turn on the ma?ims 9 ha!e gi!en him, ma?ims he is able to un erstan " Chen he eri!es e!erything from me, when he is so nearly in the $osition of the $oor, he will want to know why 9 am so far remo!e from it" 'll of a su en he may $ut scathing questions to me" D#ou are rich, you tell me, an 9 see you are" ' rich man owes his work to the community like the rest because he is a man" Chat are you oing for the communityED Chat woul a fine tutor say to thatE 9 o not know" 8e woul $erha$s be foolish enough to talk to the chil of the care he bestows u$on him" The worksho$ will get me out of the ifficulty" D>y ear Emile that is a !ery goo questionA 9 will un ertake to answer for

myself, when you can answer for yourself to your own satisfaction" >eanwhile 9 will take care to gi!e what 9 can s$are to you an to the $oor, an to make a table or a bench e!ery week, so as not to be quite useless"D Ce ha!e come back to oursel!es" 8a!ing entere into $ossession of himself, our chil is now rea y to cease to be a chil " 8e is more than e!er conscious of the necessity which makes him e$en ent on things" 'fter e?ercising his bo y an his senses you ha!e e?ercise his min an his ju gment" 7inally we ha!e joine together the use of his limbs an his faculties" Ce ha!e ma e him a worker an a thinkerA we ha!e now to make him lo!ing an ten er-hearte , to $erfect reason through feeling" But before we enter on this new or er of things, let us cast an eye o!er the stage we are lea!ing behin us, an $ercei!e as clearly as we can how far we ha!e got" 't first our $u$il ha merely sensations, now he has i easA he coul only feel, now he reasons" 7or from the com$arison of many successi!e or simultaneous sensations an the ju gment arri!e at with regar to them, there s$rings a sort of mi?e or com$le? sensation which 9 call an i ea" The way in which i eas are forme gi!es a character to the human min " The min which eri!es its i eas from real relations is thoroughA the min which relies on a$$arent relations is su$erficial" 8e who sees relations as they are has an e?act min A he who fails to estimate them aright has an inaccurate min A he who concocts imaginary relations, which ha!e no real e?istence, is a ma manA he who oes not $ercei!e any relation at all is an imbecile" :le!er men are istinguishe from others by their greater or less a$titu e for the com$arison of i eas an the isco!ery of relations between them" )im$le i eas consist merely of sensations com$are one with another" )im$le sensations in!ol!e ju gments, as o the com$le? sensations which 9 call sim$le i eas" 9n the sensation the ju gment is $urely $assi!eA it affirms that 9 feel what 9 feel" 9n the $erce$t or i ea the ju gment is acti!eA it connects, com$ares, it iscriminates between relations not $ercei!e by the senses" That is the whole ifferenceA but it is a great ifference" <ature ne!er ecei!es usA we ecei!e oursel!es" 9 see some one gi!ing an ice-cream to an eight-year-ol chil A he oes not know what it is an $uts the s$oon in his mouth" )truck by the col he cries out, D6h, it burnsHD 8e feels a !ery keen sensation, an the heat of the fire is the keenest sensation he knows, so he thinks that is what he feels" #et he is mistakenA col hurts, but it oes not burnA an these two sensations are ifferent, for $ersons with more e?$erience o not confuse them" )o it is not the sensation that is wrong, but the ju gment forme with regar to it" 9t is just the same with those who see a mirror or some o$tical instrument for the first time, or enter a ee$ cellar in the e$ths of winter or at mi summer, or i$ a !ery hot or col han into te$i water, or roll a little ball between two crosse fingers" 9f they are content to say what they

really feel, their ju gment, being $urely $assi!e, cannot go wrongA but when they ju ge accor ing to a$$earances, their ju gment is acti!eA it com$ares an establishes by in uction relations which are not really $ercei!e " Then these in uctions may or may not be mistaken" E?$erience is require to correct or $re!ent error" )how your $u$il the clou s at night $assing between himself an the moonA he will think the moon is mo!ing in the o$$osite irection an that the clou s are stationary" 8e will think this through a hasty in uction, because he generally sees small objects mo!ing an larger ones at rest, an the clou s seems larger than the moon, whose istance is beyon his reckoning" Chen he watches the shore from a mo!ing boat he falls into the o$$osite mistake an thinks the earth is mo!ing because he oes not feel the motion of the boat an consi ers it along with the sea or ri!er as one motionless whole, of which the shore, which a$$ears to mo!e, forms no $art" The first time a chil sees a stick half immerse in water he thinks he sees a broken stickA the sensation is true an woul not cease to be true e!en if he knew the reason of this a$$earance" )o if you ask him what he sees, he re$lies, D' broken stick,D for he is quite sure he is e?$eriencing this sensation" But when ecei!e by his ju gment he goes further an , after saying he sees a broken stick, he affirms that it really is broken he says what is not true" ChyE Because he becomes acti!e an ju ges no longer by obser!ation but by in uction, he affirms what he oes not $ercei!e, i"e", that the ju gment he recei!es through one of his senses woul be confirme by another" )ince all our errors arise in our ju gment, it is clear, that ha we no nee for ju gment, we shoul not nee to learnA we shoul ne!er be liable to mistakes, we shoul be ha$$ier in our ignorance than we can be in our knowle ge" Cho can eny that a !ast number of things are known to the learne , which the unlearne will ne!er knowE 're the learne any nearer truthE <ot so, the further they go the further they get from truth, for their $ri e in their ju gment increases faster than their $rogress in knowle ge, so that for e!ery truth they acquire they raw a hun re mistaken conclusions" E!ery one knows that the learne societies of Euro$e are mere schools of falsehoo , an there are assure ly more mistaken notions in the 'ca emy of )ciences than in a whole tribe of 'merican 9n ians" The more we know, the more mistakes we makeA therefore ignorance is the only way to esca$e error" 7orm no ju gments an you will ne!er be mistaken" This is the teaching both of nature an reason" Ce come into irect contact with !ery few things, an these are !ery rea ily $ercei!e A the rest we regar with $rofoun in ifference" ' sa!age will not turn his hea to watch the working of the finest machinery or all the won ers of electricity" DChat oes that matter to meED is the common saying of the ignorantA it is the fittest $hrase for the wise" ;nluckily this $hrase will no longer ser!e our turn" E!erything matters to us, as we are e$en ent on e!erything, an our curiosity naturally increases with our nee s" This is why 9 attribute much curiosity to the

man of science an none to the sa!age" The latter nee s no hel$ from anybo yA the former requires e!ery one, an a mirers most of all" #ou will tell me 9 am going beyon nature" 9 think not" )he chooses her instruments an or ers them, not accor ing to fancy, but necessity" <ow a man@s nee s !ary with his circumstances" There is all the ifference in the worl between a natural man li!ing in a state of nature, an a natural man li!ing in society" Emile is no sa!age to be banishe to the esert, he is a sa!age who has to li!e in the town" 8e must know how to get his li!ing in a town, how to use its inhabitants, an how to li!e among them, if not of them" 9n the mi st of so many new relations an e$en ent on them, he must reason whether he wants to or no" %et us therefore teach him to reason correctly" The best way of learning to reason aright is that which ten s to sim$lify our e?$eriences, or to enable us to is$ense with them altogether without falling into error" 8ence it follows that we must learn to confirm the e?$eriences of each sense by itself, without recourse to any other, though we ha!e been in the habit of !erifying the e?$erience of one sense by that of another" Then each of our sensations will become an i ea, an this i ea will always corres$on to the truth" This is the sort of knowle ge 9 ha!e trie to accumulate uring this thir $hase of man@s life" This metho of $roce ure eman s a $atience an circums$ection which few teachers $ossessA without them the scholar will ne!er learn to reason" 7or e?am$le, if you hasten to take the stick out of the water when the chil is ecei!e by its a$$earance, you may $erha$s un ecei!e him, but what ha!e you taught himE <othing more than he woul soon ha!e learnt for himself" That is not the right thing to o" #ou ha!e not got to teach him truths so much as to show him how to set about isco!ering them for himself" To teach him better you must not be in such a hurry to correct his mistakes" %et us take Emile an myself as an illustration" To begin with, any chil e ucate in the usual way coul not fail to answer the secon of my imaginary questions in the affirmati!e" 8e will say, DThat is certainly a broken stick"D 9 !ery much oubt whether Emile will gi!e the same re$ly" 8e sees no reason for knowing e!erything or $reten ing to know itA he is ne!er in a hurry to raw conclusions" 8e only reasons from e!i ence an on this occasion he has not got the e!i ence" 8e knows how a$$earances ecei!e us, if only through $ers$ecti!e" >oreo!er, he knows by e?$erience that there is always a reason for my slightest questions, though he may not see it at onceA so he has not got into the habit of gi!ing silly answersA on the contrary, he is on his guar , he consi ers things carefully an attenti!ely before answering" 8e ne!er gi!es me an answer unless he is satisfie with it himself, an he is har to $lease" %astly we neither of us take any $ri e in merely knowing a thing, but only in a!oi ing mistakes" Ce shoul be more ashame to ecei!e oursel!es with ba reasoning, than to fin no e?$lanation at all"

There is no $hrase so a$$ro$riate to us, or so often on our li$s, as, D9 o not knowAD neither of us are ashame to use it" But whether he gi!es the silly answer or whether he a!oi s it by our con!enient $hrase D9 o not know,D my answer is the same" D%et us e?amine it"D This stick immerse half way in the water is fi?e in an u$right $osition" To know if it is broken, how many things must be one before we take it out of the water or e!en touch it" -" 7irst we walk roun it, an we see that the broken $art follows us" )o it is only our eye that changes itA looks o not make things mo!e" *" Ce look straight own on that en of the stick which is abo!e the water, the stick is no longer bent, .7ootnote& 9 ha!e since foun by more e?act e?$eriment that this is not the case" Refraction acts in a circle, an the stick a$$ears larger at the en which is in the water, but this makes no ifference to the strength of the argument, an the conclusion is correct"3 the en near our eye e?actly hi es the other en " 8as our eye set the stick straightE J" Ce stir the surface of the waterA we see the stick break into se!eral $ieces, it mo!es in FigFags an follows the ri$$les of the water" :an the motion we ga!e the water suffice to break, soften, or melt the stick like thisE 1" Ce raw the water off, an little by little we see the stick straightening itself as the water sinks" 9s not this more than enough to clear u$ the business an to isco!er refractionE )o it is not true that our eyes ecei!e us, for nothing more has been require to correct the mistakes attribute to it" )u$$ose the chil were stu$i enough not to $ercei!e the result of these e?$eriments, then you must call touch to the hel$ of sight" 9nstea of taking the stick out of the water, lea!e it where it is an let the chil $ass his han along it from en to en A he will feel no angle, therefore the stick is not broken" #ou will tell me this is not mere ju gment but formal reasoning" Just soA but o not you see that as soon as the min has got any i eas at all, e!ery ju gment is a $rocess of reasoningE )o that as soon as we com$are one sensation with another, we are beginning to reason" The art of ju ging an the art of reasoning are one an the same" Emile will ne!er learn io$trics unless he learns with this stick" 8e will not ha!e issecte insects nor counte the s$ots on the sunA he will not know what you mean by a microsco$e or a telesco$e" #our learne $u$ils will laugh at his ignorance an rightly, 9 inten him to in!ent these instruments before he uses them, an you will e?$ect that to take some time" This is the s$irit of my whole metho at this stage" 9f the chil rolls a little ball between two crosse fingers an thinks he feels two balls, 9 shall not let him look until he is con!ince there is only one"

This e?$lanation will suffice, 9 ho$e, to show $lainly the $rogress ma e by my $u$il hitherto an the route followe by him" But $erha$s the number of things 9 ha!e brought to his notice alarms you" 9 shall crush his min beneath this weight of knowle ge" <ot so, 9 am rather teaching him to be ignorant of things than to know them" 9 am showing him the $ath of science, easy in ee , but long, far-reaching an slow to follow" 9 am taking him a few ste$s along this $ath, but 9 o not allow him to go far" :om$elle to learn for himself, he uses his own reason not that of others, for there must be no submission to authority if you woul ha!e no submission to con!ention" >ost of our errors are ue to others more than oursel!es" This continual e?ercise shoul e!elo$ a !igour of min like that acquire by the bo y through labour an weariness" 'nother a !antage is that his $rogress is in $ro$ortion to his strength, neither min nor bo y carries more than it can bear" Chen the un erstan ing lays hol of things before they are store in the memory, what is rawn from that store is his ownA while we are in anger of ne!er fin ing anything of our own in a memory o!er-bur ene with un igeste knowle ge" Emile knows little, but what he knows is really his ownA he has no halfknowle ge" 'mong the few things he knows an knows thoroughly this is the most !aluable, that there are many things he oes not know now but may know some ay, many more that other men know but he will ne!er know, an an infinite number which nobo y will e!er know" 8e is largemin e , not through knowle ge, but through the $ower of acquiring itA he is o$en-min e , intelligent, rea y for anything, an , as >ontaigne says, ca$able of learning if not learne " 9 am content if he knows the DChereforeD of his actions an the DChyD of his beliefs" 7or once more my object is not to su$$ly him with e?act knowle ge, but the means of getting it when require , to teach him to !alue it at its true worth, an to lo!e truth abo!e all things" By this metho $rogress is slow but sure, an we ne!er nee to retrace our ste$s" Emile@s knowle ge is confine to nature an things" The !ery name of history is unknown to him, along with meta$hysics an morals" 8e knows the essential relations between men an things, but nothing of the moral relations between man an man" 8e has little $ower of generalisation, he has no skill in abstraction" 8e $ercei!es that certain qualities are common to certain things, without reasoning about these qualities themsel!es" 8e is acquainte with the abstract i ea of s$ace by the hel$ of his geometrical figuresA he is acquainte with the abstract i ea of quantity by the hel$ of his algebraical symbols" These figures an signs are the su$$orts on which these i eas may be sai to rest, the su$$orts on which his senses re$ose" 8e oes not attem$t to know the nature of things, but only to know things in so far as they affect himself" 8e only ju ges what is outsi e himself in relation to himself, an his ju gment is e?act an certain" :a$rice an $reju ice ha!e no $art in it" 8e !alues most the things which are of use to himself, an as he ne!er e$arts from this stan ar of !alues, he owes nothing to $reju ice" Emile is in ustrious, tem$erate, $atient, ste fast, an full of courage" 8is imagination is still aslee$, so he has no e?aggerate i eas of angerA the

few ills he feels he knows how to en ure in $atience, because he has not learnt to rebel against fate" 's to eath, he knows not what it meansA but accustome as he is to submit without resistance to the law of necessity, he will ie, if ie he must, without a groan an without a struggleA that is as much as we can eman of nature, in that hour which we all abhor" To li!e in free om, an to be in e$en ent of human affairs, is the best way to learn how to ie" 9n a wor Emile is $ossesse of all that $ortion of !irtue which concerns himself" To acquire the social !irtues he only nee s a knowle ge of the relations which make those !irtues necessaryA he only lacks knowle ge which he is quite rea y to recei!e" 8e thinks not of others but of himself, an $refers that others shoul o the same" 8e makes no claim u$on them, an acknowle ges no ebt to them" 8e is alone in the mi st of human society, he e$en s on himself alone, for he is all that a boy can be at his age" 8e has no errors, or at least only such as are ine!itableA he has no !ices, or only those from which no man can esca$e" 8is bo y is healthy, his limbs are su$$le, his min is accurate an un$reju ice , his heart is free an untrouble by $assion" Pri e, the earliest an the most natural of $assions, has scarcely shown itself" Cithout isturbing the $eace of others, he has $asse his life contente , ha$$y, an free, so far as nature allows" (o you think that the earlier years of a chil , who has reache his fifteenth year in this con ition, ha!e been waste E

BOOK IV
8ow swiftly life $asses here belowH The first quarter of it is gone before we know how to use itA the last quarter fin s us inca$able of enjoying life" 't first we o not know how to li!eA an when we know how to li!e it is too late" 9n the inter!al between these two useless e?tremes we waste three-fourths of our time slee$ing, working, sorrowing, en uring restraint an e!ery kin of suffering" %ife is short, not so much because of the short time it lasts, but because we are allowe scarcely any time to enjoy it" 9n !ain is there a long inter!al between the hour of eath an that of birthA life is still too short, if this inter!al is not well s$ent" Ce are born, so to s$eak, twice o!erA born into e?istence, an born into lifeA born a human being, an born a man" Those who regar woman as an im$erfect man are no oubt mistaken, but they ha!e e?ternal resemblance on their si e" ;$ to the age of $uberty chil ren of both se?es ha!e little to istinguish them to the eye, the same face an form, the same com$le?ion an !oice, e!erything is the sameA girls are chil ren an boys are chil renA one name is enough for creatures so closely resembling one another" >ales whose e!elo$ment is arreste $reser!e this resemblance all their li!esA they are always big chil renA an women who ne!er lose this resemblance seem in many res$ects ne!er to be more than chil ren" But, s$eaking generally, man is not meant to remain a chil " 8e lea!es chil hoo behin him at the time or aine by natureA an this critical moment, short enough in itself, has far-reaching consequences" 's the roaring of the wa!es $rece es the tem$est, so the murmur of rising $assions announces this tumultuous changeA a su$$resse e?citement warns us of the a$$roaching anger" ' change of tem$er, frequent outbreaks of anger, a $er$etual stirring of the min , make the chil almost ungo!ernable" 8e becomes eaf to the !oice he use to obeyA he is a lion in a fe!erA he istrusts his kee$er an refuses to be controlle " Cith the moral sym$toms of a changing tem$er there are $erce$tible changes in a$$earance" 8is countenance e!elo$s an takes the stam$ of his characterA the soft an s$arse own u$on his cheeks becomes arker an stiffer" 8is !oice grows hoarse or rather he loses it altogether" 8e is neither a chil nor a man an cannot s$eak like either of them" 8is eyes, those organs of the soul which till now were umb, fin s$eech an meaningA a kin ling fire illumines them, there is still a sacre innocence in their e!er brightening glance, but they ha!e lost their first meaningless e?$ressionA he is alrea y aware that they can say too muchA he is beginning to learn to lower his eyes an blush, he is becoming sensiti!e, though he oes not know what it is that he feelsA he is uneasy without knowing why" 'll this may ha$$en gra ually an gi!e you time enoughA but if his keenness becomes im$atience, his eagerness ma ness, if he is angry an sorry all in a moment, if he wee$s without cause, if in the $resence of objects which are beginning to be a source of anger his $ulse quickens an his eyes s$arkle, if he trembles when a woman@s

han touches his, if he is trouble or timi in her $resence, 6 ;lysses, wise ;lyssesH ha!e a careH The $assages you close with so much $ains are o$enA the win s are unloose A kee$ your han u$on the helm or all is lost" This is the secon birth 9 s$oke ofA then it is that man really enters u$on lifeA henceforth no human $assion is a stranger to him" 6ur efforts so far ha!e been chil @s $lay, now they are of the greatest im$ortance" This $erio when e ucation is usually finishe is just the time to beginA but to e?$lain this new $lan $ro$erly, let us take u$ our story where we left it" 6ur $assions are the chief means of self-$reser!ationA to try to estroy them is therefore as absur as it is uselessA this woul be to o!ercome nature, to resha$e Go @s han iwork" 9f Go ba e man annihilate the $assions he has gi!en him, Go woul bi him be an not beA 8e woul contra ict himself" 8e has ne!er gi!en such a foolish comman ment, there is nothing like it written on the heart of man, an what Go will ha!e a man o, 8e oes not lea!e to the wor s of another man" 8e s$eaks 8imselfA 8is wor s are written in the secret heart" <ow 9 consi er those who woul $re!ent the birth of the $assions almost as foolish as those who woul estroy them, an those who think this has been my object hitherto are greatly mistaken" But shoul we reason rightly, if from the fact that $assions are natural to man, we inferre that all the $assions we feel in oursel!es an behol in others are naturalE Their source, in ee , is naturalA but they ha!e been swollen by a thousan other streamsA they are a great ri!er which is constantly growing, one in which we can scarcely fin a single ro$ of the original stream" 6ur natural $assions are few in numberA they are the means to free om, they ten to self-$reser!ation" 'll those which ensla!e an estroy us ha!e another sourceA nature oes not bestow them on usA we seiFe on them in her es$ite" The origin of our $assions, the root an s$ring of all the rest, the only one which is born with man, which ne!er lea!es him as long as he li!es, is self-lo!eA this $assion is $rimiti!e, instincti!e, it $rece es all the rest, which are in a sense only mo ifications of it" 9n this sense, if you like, they are all natural" But most of these mo ifications are the result of e?ternal influences, without which they woul ne!er occur, an such mo ifications, far from being a !antageous to us, are harmful" They change the original $ur$ose an work against its en A then it is that man fin s himself outsi e nature an at strife with himself" )elf-lo!e is always goo , always in accor ance with the or er of nature" The $reser!ation of our own life is s$ecially entruste to each one of us, an our first care is, an must be, to watch o!er our own lifeA an how can we continually watch o!er it, if we o not take the greatest interest in itE )elf-$reser!ation requires, therefore, that we shall lo!e oursel!esA we must lo!e oursel!es abo!e e!erything, an it follows irectly from this that we lo!e what contributes to our $reser!ation" E!ery chil becomes fon of its nurseA Romulus must ha!e lo!e the she-wolf who suckle

him" 't first this attachment is quite unconsciousA the in i!i ual is attracte to that which contributes to his welfare an re$elle by that which is harmfulA this is merely blin instinct" Chat transforms this instinct into feeling, the liking into lo!e, the a!ersion into hatre , is the e!i ent intention of hel$ing or hurting us" Ce o not become $assionately attache to objects without feeling, which only follow the irection gi!en themA but those from which we e?$ect benefit or injury from their internal is$osition, from their will, those we see acting freely for or against us, ins$ire us with like feelings to those they e?hibit towar s us" )omething oes us goo , we seek after itA but we lo!e the $erson who oes us goo A something harms us an we shrink from it, but we hate the $erson who tries to hurt us" The chil @s first sentiment is self-lo!e, his secon , which is eri!e from it, is lo!e of those about himA for in his $resent state of weakness he is only aware of $eo$le through the hel$ an attention recei!e from them" 't first his affection for his nurse an his go!erness is mere habit" 8e seeks them because he nee s them an because he is ha$$y when they are thereA it is rather $erce$tion than kin ly feeling" 9t takes a long time to isco!er not merely that they are useful to him, but that they esire to be useful to him, an then it is that he begins to lo!e them" )o a chil is naturally is$ose to kin ly feeling because he sees that e!ery one about him is incline to hel$ him, an from this e?$erience he gets the habit of a kin ly feeling towar s his s$eciesA but with the e?$ansion of his relations, his nee s, his e$en ence, acti!e or $assi!e, the consciousness of his relations to others is awakene , an lea s to the sense of uties an $references" Then the chil becomes masterful, jealous, eceitful, an !in icti!e" 9f he is not com$elle to obe ience, when he oes not see the usefulness of what he is tol to o, he attributes it to ca$rice, to an intention of tormenting him, an he rebels" 9f $eo$le gi!e in to him, as soon as anything o$$oses him he regar s it as rebellion, as a etermination to resist himA he beats the chair or table for isobeying him" )elf-lo!e, which concerns itself only with oursel!es, is content to satisfy our own nee sA but selfishness, which is always com$aring self with others, is ne!er satisfie an ne!er can beA for this feeling, which $refers oursel!es to others, requires that they shoul $refer us to themsel!es, which is im$ossible" Thus the ten er an gentle $assions s$ring from self-lo!e, while the hateful an angry $assions s$ring from selfishness" )o it is the fewness of his nee s, the narrow limits within which he can com$are himself with others, that makes a man really goo A what makes him really ba is a multi$licity of nee s an e$en ence on the o$inions of others" 9t is easy to see how we can a$$ly this $rinci$le an gui e e!ery $assion of chil ren an men towar s goo or e!il" True, man cannot always li!e alone, an it will be har therefore to remain goo A an this ifficulty will increase of necessity as his relations with others are e?ten e " 7or this reason, abo!e all, the angers of social life eman that the necessary skill an care shall be e!ote to guar ing the human heart against the e$ra!ity which s$rings from fresh nee s"

>an@s $ro$er stu y is that of his relation to his en!ironment" )o long as he only knows that en!ironment through his $hysical nature, he shoul stu y himself in relation to thingsA this is the business of his chil hoo A when he begins to be aware of his moral nature, he shoul stu y himself in relation to his fellow-menA this is the business of his whole life, an we ha!e now reache the time when that stu y shoul be begun" 's soon as a man nee s a com$anion he is no longer an isolate creature, his heart is no longer alone" 'll his relations with his s$ecies, all the affections of his heart, come into being along with this" 8is first $assion soon arouses the rest" The irection of the instinct is uncertain" 6ne se? is attracte by the otherA that is the im$ulse of nature" :hoice, $references, in i!i ual likings, are the work of reason, $reju ice, an habitA time an knowle ge are require to make us ca$able of lo!eA we o not lo!e without reasoning or $refer without com$arison" These ju gments are none the less real, although they are forme unconsciously" True lo!e, whate!er you may say, will always be hel in honour by mankin A for although its im$ulses lea us astray, although it oes not bar the oor of the heart to certain etestable qualities, although it e!en gi!es rise to these, yet it always $resu$$oses certain worthy characteristics, without which we shoul be inca$able of lo!e" This choice, which is su$$ose to be contrary to reason, really s$rings from reason" Ce say %o!e is blin because his eyes are better than ours, an he $ercei!es relations which we cannot iscern" 'll women woul be alike to a man who ha no i ea of !irtue or beauty, an the first comer woul always be the most charming" %o!e oes not s$ring from nature, far from itA it is the curb an law of her esiresA it is lo!e that makes one se? in ifferent to the other, the lo!e one alone e?ce$te " Ce wish to ins$ire the $reference we feelA lo!e must be mutual" To be lo!e we must be worthy of lo!eA to be $referre we must be more worthy than the rest, at least in the eyes of our belo!e " 8ence we begin to look aroun among our fellowsA we begin to com$are oursel!es with them, there is emulation, ri!alry, an jealousy" ' heart full to o!erflowing lo!es to make itself knownA from the nee of a mistress there soon s$rings the nee of a frien 8e who feels how sweet it is to be lo!e , esires to be lo!e by e!erybo yA an there coul be no $references if there were not many that fail to fin satisfaction" Cith lo!e an frien shi$ there begin issensions, enmity, an hatre " 9 behol eference to other $eo$le@s o$inions enthrone among all these i!ers $assions, an foolish mortals, ensla!e by her $ower, base their !ery e?istence merely on what other $eo$le think" E?$an these i eas an you will see where we get that form of selfishness which we call natural selfishness, an how selfishness ceases to be a sim$le feeling an becomes $ri e in great min s, !anity in little ones, an in both fee s continually at our neighbour@s cost" Passions of this kin , not ha!ing any germ in the chil @s heart, cannot s$ring u$ in it of themsel!esA it is we who sow the see s, an they ne!er take root unless by our fault" <ot so with the young manA they will fin an entrance in s$ite of us" 9t is therefore time to change our metho s"

%et us begin with some consi erations of im$ortance with regar to the critical stage un er iscussion" The change from chil hoo to $uberty is not so clearly etermine by nature but that it !aries accor ing to in i!i ual tem$erament an racial con itions" E!erybo y knows the ifferences which ha!e been obser!e with regar to this between hot an col countries, an e!ery one sees that ar ent tem$eraments mature earlier than othersA but we may be mistaken as to the causes, an we may often attribute to $hysical causes what is really ue to moral& this is one of the commonest errors in the $hiloso$hy of our times" The teaching of nature comes slowlyA man@s lessons are mostly $remature" 9n the former case, the senses kin le the imagination, in the latter the imagination kin les the sensesA it gi!es them a $recocious acti!ity which cannot fail to ener!ate the in i!i ual an , in the long run, the race" 9t is a more general an more trustworthy fact than that of climatic influences, that $uberty an se?ual $ower is always more $recocious among e ucate an ci!ilise races, than among the ignorant an barbarous" .7ootnote& D9n towns,D says >" Buffon, Dan among the well-to- o classes, chil ren accustome to $lentiful an nourishing foo sooner reach this stateA in the country an among the $oor, chil ren are more backwar , because of their $oor an scanty foo "D 9 a mit the fact but not the e?$lanation, for in the istricts where the foo of the !illagers is $lentiful an goo , as in the Galais an e!en in some of the mountain istricts of 9taly, such as 7riuli, the age of $uberty for both se?es is quite as much later than in the heart of the towns, where, in or er to gratify their !anity, $eo$le are often e?tremely $arsimonious in the matter of foo , an where most $eo$le, in the wor s of the $ro!erb, ha!e a !el!et coat an an em$ty belly" 9t is astonishing to fin in these mountainous regions big la s as strong as a man with shrill !oices an smooth chins, an tall girls, well e!elo$e in other res$ects, without any trace of the $erio ic functions of their se?" This ifference is, in my o$inion, solely ue to the fact that in the sim$licity of their manners the imagination remains calm an $eaceful, an oes not stir the bloo till much later, an thus their tem$erament is much less $recocious"3 :hil ren are $reternaturally quick to iscern immoral habits un er the cloak of ecency with which they are conceale " The $rim s$eech im$ose u$on them, the lessons in goo beha!iour, the !eil of mystery you $rofess to hang before their eyes, ser!e but to stimulate their curiosity" 9t is $lain, from the way you set about it, that they are meant to learn what you $rofess to concealA an of all you teach them this is most quickly assimilate " :onsult e?$erience an you will fin how far this foolish metho hastens the work of nature an ruins the character" This is one of the chief causes of $hysical egeneration in our towns" The young $eo$le, $rematurely e?hauste , remain small, $uny, an missha$en, they grow ol instea of growing u$, like a !ine force to bear fruit in s$ring, which fa es an ies before autumn" To know how far a ha$$y ignorance may $rolong the innocence of chil ren, you must li!e among ru e an sim$le $eo$le" 9t is a sight both touching an amusing to see both se?es, left to the $rotection of their own hearts, continuing the s$orts of chil hoo in the flower of youth an

beauty, showing by their !ery familiarity the $urity of their $leasures" Chen at length those elightful young $eo$le marry, they bestow on each other the first fruits of their $erson, an are all the earer therefore" )warms of strong an healthy chil ren are the $le ges of a union which nothing can change, an the fruit of the !irtue of their early years" 9f the age at which a man becomes conscious of his se? is eferre as much by the effects of e ucation as by the action of nature, it follows that this age may be hastene or retar e accor ing to the way in which the chil is brought u$A an if the bo y gains or loses strength in $ro$ortion as its e!elo$ment is accelerate or retar e , it also follows that the more we try to retar it the stronger an more !igorous will the young man be" 9 am still s$eaking of $urely $hysical consequencesA you will soon see that this is not all" 7rom these consi erations 9 arri!e at the solution of the question so often iscusse B)houl we enlighten chil ren at an early $erio as to the objects of their curiosity, or is it better to $ut them off with ecent shamsE 9 think we nee o neither" 9n the first $lace, this curiosity will not arise unless we gi!e it a chance" Ce must therefore take care not to gi!e it an o$$ortunity" 9n the ne?t $lace, questions one is not oblige to answer o not com$el us to ecei!e those who ask themA it is better to bi the chil hol his tongue than to tell him a lie" 8e will not be greatly sur$rise at this treatment if you ha!e alrea y accustome him to it in matters of no im$ortance" %astly, if you eci e to answer his questions, let it be with the greatest $lainness, without mystery or confusion, without a smile" 9t is much less angerous to satisfy a chil @s curiosity than to stimulate it" %et your answers be always gra!e, brief, eci e , an without trace of hesitation" 9 nee not a that they shoul be true" Ce cannot teach chil ren the anger of telling lies to men without realising, on the man@s $art, the anger of telling lies to chil ren" ' single untruth on the $art of the master will estroy the results of his e ucation" :om$lete ignorance with regar to certain matters is $erha$s the best thing for chil renA but let them learn !ery early what it is im$ossible to conceal from them $ermanently" Either their curiosity must ne!er be arouse , or it must be satisfie before the age when it becomes a source of anger" #our con uct towar s your $u$il in this res$ect e$en s greatly on his in i!i ual circumstances, the society in which he mo!es, the $osition in which he may fin himself, etc" <othing must be left to chanceA an if you are not sure of kee$ing him in ignorance of the ifference between the se?es till he is si?teen, take care you teach him before he is ten" 9 o not like $eo$le to be too fasti ious in s$eaking with chil ren, nor shoul they go out of their way to a!oi calling a s$a e a s$a eA they are always foun out if they o" Goo manners in this res$ect are always $erfectly sim$leA but an imagination soile by !ice makes the ear o!ersensiti!e an com$els us to be constantly refining our e?$ressions" Plain wor s o not matterA it is lasci!ious i eas which must be a!oi e "

'lthough mo esty is natural to man, it is not natural to chil ren" >o esty only begins with the knowle ge of e!ilA an how shoul chil ren without this knowle ge of e!il ha!e the feeling which results from itE To gi!e them lessons in mo esty an goo con uct is to teach them that there are things shameful an wicke , an to gi!e them a secret wish to know what these things are" )ooner or later they will fin out, an the first s$ark which touches the imagination will certainly hasten the awakening of the senses" Blushes are the sign of guiltA true innocence is ashame of nothing" :hil ren ha!e not the same esires as menA but they are subject like them to the same isagreeable nee s which offen the senses, an by this means they may recei!e the same lessons in $ro$riety" 7ollow the min of nature which has locate in the same $lace the organs of secret $leasures an those of isgusting nee sA she teaches us the same $recautions at ifferent ages, sometimes by means of one i ea an sometimes by anotherA to the man through mo esty, to the chil through cleanliness" 9 can only fin one satisfactory way of $reser!ing the chil @s innocence, to surroun him by those who res$ect an lo!e him" Cithout this all our efforts to kee$ him in ignorance fail sooner or laterA a smile, a wink, a careless gesture tells him all we sought to hi eA it is enough to teach him to $ercei!e that there is something we want to hi e from him" The elicate $hrases an e?$ressions em$loye by $ersons of $oliteness assume a knowle ge which chil ren ought not to $ossess, an they are quite out of $lace with them, but when we truly res$ect the chil @s innocence we easily fin in talking to him the sim$le $hrases which befit him" There is a certain irectness of s$eech which is suitable an $leasing to innocenceA this is the right tone to a o$t in or er to turn the chil from angerous curiosity" By s$eaking sim$ly to him about e!erything you o not let him sus$ect there is anything left unsai " By connecting coarse wor s with the un$leasant i eas which belong to them, you quench the first s$ark of imaginationA you o not forbi the chil to say these wor s or to form these i easA but without his knowing it you make him unwilling to recall them" 'n how much confusion is s$are to those who s$eaking from the heart always say the right thing, an say it as they themsel!es ha!e felt itH DChere o little chil ren come fromED This is an embarrassing question, which occurs !ery naturally to chil ren, one which foolishly or wisely answere may eci e their health an their morals for life" The quickest way for a mother to esca$e from it without ecei!ing her son is to tell him to hol his tongue" That will ser!e its turn if he has always been accustome to it in matters of no im$ortance, an if he oes not sus$ect some mystery from this new way of s$eaking" But the mother rarely sto$s there" D9t is the marrie $eo$le@s secret,D she will say, Dlittle boys shoul not be so curious"D That is all !ery well so far as the mother is concerne , but she may be sure that the little boy, $ique by her scornful manner, will not rest till he has foun out the marrie $eo$le@s secret, which will !ery soon be the case"

%et me tell you a !ery ifferent answer which 9 hear gi!en to the same question, one which ma e all the more im$ression on me, coming, as it i , from a woman, mo est in s$eech an beha!iour, but one who was able on occasion, for the welfare of her chil an for the cause of !irtue, to cast asi e the false fear of blame an the silly jests of the foolish" <ot long before the chil ha $asse a small stone which ha torn the $assage, but the trouble was o!er an forgotten" D>amma,D sai the eager chil , Dwhere o little chil ren come fromED D>y chil ,D re$lie his mother without hesitation, Dwomen $ass them with $ains that sometimes cost their life"D %et fools laugh an silly $eo$le be shocke A but let the wise inquire if it is $ossible to fin a wiser answer an one which woul better ser!e its $ur$ose" 9n the first $lace the thought of a nee of nature with which the chil is well acquainte turns his thoughts from the i ea of a mysterious $rocess" The accom$anying i eas of $ain an eath co!er it with a !eil of sa ness which ea ens the imagination an su$$resses curiosityA e!erything lea s the min to the results, not the causes, of chil -birth" This is the information to which this answer lea s" 9f the re$ugnance ins$ire by this answer shoul $ermit the chil to inquire further, his thoughts are turne to the infirmities of human nature, isgusting things, images of $ain" Chat chance is there for any stimulation of esire in such a con!ersationE 'n yet you see there is no e$arture from truth, no nee to ecei!e the scholar in or er to teach him" #our chil ren rea A in the course of their rea ing they meet with things they woul ne!er ha!e known without rea ing" 're they stu ents, their imagination is stimulate an quickene in the silence of the stu y" (o they mo!e in the worl of society, they hear a strange jargon, they see con uct which makes a great im$ression on themA they ha!e been tol so continually that they are men that in e!erything men o in their $resence they at once try to fin how that will suit themsel!esA the con uct of others must in ee ser!e as their $attern when the o$inions of others are their law" )er!ants, e$en ent on them, an therefore an?ious to $lease them, flatter them at the e?$ense of their moralsA giggling go!ernesses say things to the four-year-ol chil which the most shameless woman woul not are to say to them at fifteen" They soon forget what they sai , but the chil has not forgotten what he hear " %oose con!ersation $re$ares the way for licentious con uctA the chil is ebauche by the cunning lacquey, an the secret of the one guarantees the secret of the other" The chil brought u$ in accor ance with his age is alone" 8e knows no attachment but that of habit, he lo!es his sister like his watch, an his frien like his og" 8e is unconscious of his se? an his s$eciesA men an women are alike unknownA he oes not connect their sayings an oings with himself, he neither sees nor hears, or he $ays no hee to themA he is no more concerne with their talk than their actionsA he has nothing to o with it" This is no artificial error in uce by our metho , it is the ignorance of nature" The time is at han when that same nature will take care to enlighten her $u$il, an then only oes she make him ca$able of $rofiting by the lessons without anger" This is our $rinci$leA the etails

of its rules are outsi e my subjectA an the means 9 suggest with regar to other matters will still ser!e to illustrate this" (o you wish to establish law an or er among the rising $assions, $rolong the $erio of their e!elo$ment, so that they may ha!e time to fin their $ro$er $lace as they arise" Then they are controlle by nature herself, not by manA your task is merely to lea!e it in her han s" 9f your $u$il were alone, you woul ha!e nothing to oA but e!erything about him enflames his imagination" 8e is swe$t along on the torrent of con!entional i easA to rescue him you must urge him in the o$$osite irection" 9magination must be curbe by feeling an reason must silence the !oice of con!entionality" )ensibility is the source of all the $assions, imagination etermines their course" E!ery creature who is aware of his relations must be isturbe by changes in these relations an when he imagines or fancies he imagines others better a a$te to his nature" 9t is the errors of the imagination which transmute into !ices the $assions of finite beings, of angels e!en, if in ee they ha!e $assionsA for they must nee s know the nature of e!ery creature to realise what relations are best a a$te to themsel!es" This is the sum of human wis om with regar to the use of the $assions" 7irst, to be conscious of the true relations of man both in the s$ecies an the in i!i ualA secon , to control all the affections in accor ance with these relations" But is man in a $osition to control his affections accor ing to such an such relationsE <o oubt he is, if he is able to fi? his imagination on this or that object, or to form this or that habit" >oreo!er, we are not so much concerne with what a man can o for himself, as with what we can o for our $u$il through our choice of the circumstances in which he shall be $lace " To show the means by which he may be ke$t in the $ath of nature is to show $lainly enough how he might stray from that $ath" )o long as his consciousness is confine to himself there is no morality in his actionsA it is only when it begins to e?ten beyon himself that he forms first the sentiments an then the i eas of goo an ill, which make him in ee a man, an an integral $art of his s$ecies" To begin with we must therefore confine our obser!ations to this $oint" These obser!ations are ifficult to make, for we must reject the e?am$les before our eyes, an seek out those in which the successi!e e!elo$ments follow the or er of nature" ' chil so$histicate , $olishe , an ci!ilise , who is only awaiting the $ower to $ut into $ractice the $recocious instruction he has recei!e , is ne!er mistaken with regar to the time when this $ower is acquire " 7ar from awaiting it, he accelerates itA he stirs his bloo to a $remature fermentA he knows what shoul be the object of his esires long before those esires are e?$erience " 9t is not nature which stimulates himA it is he who forces the han of natureA she has nothing to teach him when he becomes a manA he was a man in thought long before he was a man in reality"

The true course of nature is slower an more gra ual" %ittle by little the bloo grows warmer, the faculties e?$an , the character is forme " The wise workman who irects the $rocess is careful to $erfect e!ery tool before he $uts it to useA the first esires are $rece e by a long $erio of unrest, they are ecei!e by a $rolonge ignorance, they know not what they want" The bloo ferments an bubblesA o!erflowing !itality seeks to e?ten its s$here" The eye grows brighter an sur!eys others, we begin to be intereste in those about us, we begin to feel that we are not meant to li!e aloneA thus the heart is thrown o$en to human affection, an becomes ca$able of attachment" The first sentiment of which the well-traine youth is ca$able is not lo!e but frien shi$" The first work of his rising imagination is to make known to him his fellowsA the s$ecies affects him before the se?" 8ere is another a !antage to be gaine from $rolonge innocenceA you may take a !antage of his awning sensibility to sow the first see s of humanity in the heart of the young a olescent" This a !antage is all the greater because this is the only time in his life when such efforts may be really successful" 9 ha!e always obser!e that young men, corru$te in early youth an a icte to women an ebauchery, are inhuman an cruelA their $assionate tem$erament makes them im$atient, !in icti!e, an angryA their imagination fi?e on one object only, refuses all othersA mercy an $ity are alike unknown to themA they woul ha!e sacrifice father, mother, the whole worl , to the least of their $leasures" ' young man, on the other han , brought u$ in ha$$y innocence, is rawn by the first stirrings of nature to the ten er an affectionate $assionsA his warm heart is touche by the sufferings of his fellow-creaturesA he trembles with elight when he meets his comra e, his arms can embrace ten erly, his eyes can she tears of $ityA he learns to be sorry for offen ing others through his shame at causing annoyance" 9f the eager warmth of his bloo makes him quick, hasty, an $assionate, a moment later you see all his natural kin ness of heart in the eagerness of his re$entanceA he wee$s, he groans o!er the woun he has gi!enA he woul atone for the bloo he has she with his ownA his anger ies away, his $ri e abases itself before the consciousness of his wrong- oing" 9s he the injure $arty, in the height of his fury an e?cuse, a wor , isarms himA he forgi!es the wrongs of others as whole-hearte ly as he re$airs his own" ' olescence is not the age of hatre or !engeanceA it is the age of $ity, mercy, an generosity" #es, 9 maintain, an 9 am not afrai of the testimony of e?$erience, a youth of goo birth, one who has $reser!e his innocence u$ to the age of twenty, is at that age the best, the most generous, the most lo!ing, an the most lo!able of men" #ou ne!er hear such a thingA 9 can well belie!e that $hiloso$hers such as you, brought u$ among the corru$tion of the $ublic schools, are unaware of it" >an@s weakness makes him sociable" 6ur common sufferings raw our hearts to our fellow-creaturesA we shoul ha!e no uties to mankin if we were not men" E!ery affection is a sign of insufficiencyA if each of us ha no nee of others, we shoul har ly think of associating with them" )o our frail ha$$iness has its roots in our weakness" ' really ha$$y man is a

hermitA Go only enjoys absolute ha$$inessA but which of us has any i ea what that meansE 9f any im$erfect creature were self-sufficing, what woul he ha!e to enjoyE To our thinking he woul be wretche an alone" 9 o not un erstan how one who has nee of nothing coul lo!e anything, nor o 9 un erstan how he who lo!es nothing can be ha$$y" 8ence it follows that we are rawn towar s our fellow-creatures less by our feeling for their joys than for their sorrowsA for in them we iscern more $lainly a nature like our own, an a $le ge of their affection for us" 9f our common nee s create a bon of interest our common sufferings create a bon of affection" The sight of a ha$$y man arouses in others en!y rather than lo!e, we are rea y to accuse him of usur$ing a right which is not his, of seeking ha$$iness for himself alone, an our selfishness suffers an a itional $ang in the thought that this man has no nee of us" But who oes not $ity the wretch when he behol s his sufferingsE who woul not eli!er him from his woes if a wish coul o itE 9magination $uts us more rea ily in the $lace of the miserable man than of the ha$$y manA we feel that the one con ition touches us more nearly than the other" Pity is sweet, because, when we $ut oursel!es in the $lace of one who suffers, we are aware, ne!ertheless, of the $leasure of not suffering like him" En!y is bitter, because the sight of a ha$$y man, far from $utting the en!ious in his $lace, ins$ires him with regret that he is not there" The one seems to e?em$t us from the $ains he suffers, the other seems to e$ri!e us of the goo things he enjoys" (o you esire to stimulate an nourish the first stirrings of awakening sensibility in the heart of a young man, o you esire to incline his is$osition towar s kin ly ee an thought, o not cause the see s of $ri e, !anity, an en!y to s$ring u$ in him through the mislea ing $icture of the ha$$iness of mankin A o not show him to begin with the $om$ of courts, the $ri e of $alaces, the elights of $ageantsA o not take him into society an into brilliant assembliesA o not show him the outsi e of society till you ha!e ma e him ca$able of estimating it at its true worth" To show him the worl before he is acquainte with men, is not to train him, but to corru$t himA not to teach, but to mislea " By nature men are neither kings, nobles, courtiers, nor millionaires" 'll men are born $oor an nake , all are liable to the sorrows of life, its isa$$ointments, its ills, its nee s, its suffering of e!ery kin A an all are con emne at length to ie" This is what it really means to be a man, this is what no mortal can esca$e" Begin then with the stu y of the essentials of humanity, that which really constitutes mankin " 't si?teen the a olescent knows what it is to suffer, for he himself has suffere A but he scarcely realises that others suffer tooA to see without feeling is not knowle ge, an as 9 ha!e sai again an again the chil who oes not $icture the feelings of others knows no ills but his ownA but when his imagination is kin le by the first beginnings of growing sensibility, he begins to $ercei!e himself in his fellow-creatures, to be touche by their cries, to suffer in their sufferings" 9t is at this time that the sorrowful $icture of suffering humanity shoul stir his heart with the first touch of $ity he has e!er known"

9f it is not easy to isco!er this o$$ortunity in your scholars, whose fault is itE #ou taught them so soon to $lay at feeling, you taught them so early its language, that s$eaking continually in the same strain they turn your lessons against yourself, an gi!e you no chance of isco!ering when they cease to lie, an begin to feel what they say" But look at EmileA 9 ha!e le him u$ to this age, an he has neither felt nor $reten e to feel" 8e has ne!er sai , D9 lo!e you early,D till he knew what it was to lo!eA he has ne!er been taught what e?$ression to assume when he enters the room of his father, his mother, or his sick tutorA he has not learnt the art of affecting a sorrow he oes not feel" 8e has ne!er $reten e to wee$ for the eath of any one, for he oes not know what it is to ie" There is the same insensibility in his heart as in his manners" 9n ifferent, like e!ery chil , to e!ery one but himself, he takes no interest in any oneA his only $eculiarity is that he will not $reten to take such an interestA he is less eceitful than others" Emile ha!ing thought little about creatures of feeling will be a long time before he knows what is meant by $ain an eath" Groans an cries will begin to stir his com$assion, he will turn away his eyes at the sight of bloo A the con!ulsions of a ying animal will cause him 9 know not what anguish before he knows the source of these im$ulses" 9f he were still stu$i an barbarous he woul not feel themA if he were more learne he woul recognise their sourceA he has com$are i eas too frequently alrea y to be insensible, but not enough to know what he feels" )o $ity is born, the first relati!e sentiment which touches the human heart accor ing to the or er of nature" To become sensiti!e an $itiful the chil must know that he has fellow-creatures who suffer as he has suffere , who feel the $ains he has felt, an others which he can form some i ea of, being ca$able of feeling them himself" 9n ee , how can we let oursel!es be stirre by $ity unless we go beyon oursel!es, an i entify oursel!es with the suffering animal, by lea!ing, so to s$eak, our own nature an taking his" Ce only suffer so far as we su$$ose he suffersA the suffering is not ours but his" )o no one becomes sensiti!e till his imagination is arouse an begins to carry him outsi e himself" Chat shoul we o to stimulate an nourish this growing sensibility, to irect it, an to follow its natural bentE )houl we not $resent to the young man objects on which the e?$ansi!e force of his heart may take effect, objects which ilate it, which e?ten it to other creatures, which take him outsi e himselfE shoul we not carefully remo!e e!erything that narrows, concentrates, an strengthens the $ower of the human selfE that is to say, in other wor s, we shoul arouse in him kin ness, goo ness, $ity, an beneficence, all the gentle an attracti!e $assions which are naturally $leasing to manA those $assions $re!ent the growth of en!y, co!etousness, hatre , all the re$ulsi!e an cruel $assions which make our sensibility not merely a ci$her but a minus quantity, $assions which are the curse of those who feel them" 9 think 9 can sum u$ the whole of the $rece ing reflections in two or three ma?ims, efinite, straightforwar , an easy to un erstan "

79R)T >'I9>"B9t is not in human nature to $ut oursel!es in the $lace of those who are ha$$ier than oursel!es, but only in the $lace of those who can claim our $ity" 9f you fin e?ce$tions to this rule, they are more a$$arent than real" Thus we o not $ut oursel!es in the $lace of the rich or great when we become fon of themA e!en when our affection is real, we only a$$ro$riate to oursel!es a $art of their welfare" )ometimes we lo!e the rich man in the mi st of misfortunesA but so long as he $ros$ers he has no real frien , e?ce$t the man who is not ecei!e by a$$earances, who $ities rather than en!ies him in s$ite of his $ros$erity" The ha$$iness belonging to certain states of life a$$eals to usA take, for instance, the life of a she$her in the country" The charm of seeing these goo $eo$le so ha$$y is not $oisone by en!yA we are genuinely intereste in them" Chy is thisE Because we feel we can escen into this state of $eace an innocence an enjoy the same ha$$inessA it is an alternati!e which only calls u$ $leasant thoughts, so long as the wish is as goo as the ee " 9t is always $leasant to e?amine our stores, to contem$late our own wealth, e!en when we o not mean to s$en it" 7rom this we see that to incline a young man to humanity you must not make him a mire the brilliant lot of othersA you must show him life in its sorrowful as$ects an arouse his fears" Thus it becomes clear that he must force his own way to ha$$iness, without interfering with the ha$$iness of others" )E:6<( >'I9>"BCe ne!er $ity another@s woes unless we know we may suffer in like manner oursel!es" D<on ignara mali, miseris succurrere isco"DBGirgil" 9 know nothing go fine, so full of meaning, so touching, so true as these wor s" Chy ha!e kings no $ity on their $eo$leE Because they ne!er e?$ect to be or inary men" Chy are the rich so har on the $oorE Because they ha!e no fear of becoming $oor" Chy o the nobles look own u$on the $eo$leE Because a nobleman will ne!er be one of the lower classes" Chy are the Turks generally kin er an more hos$itable than oursel!esE Because, un er their wholly arbitrary system of go!ernment, the rank an wealth of in i!i uals are always uncertain an $recarious, so that they o not regar $o!erty an egra ation as con itions with which they ha!e no concernA to-morrow, any one may himself be in the same $osition as those on whom he bestows alms to- ay" This thought, which occurs again an again in eastern romances, len s them a certain ten erness which is not to be foun in our $retentious an harsh morality" )o o not train your $u$il to look own from the height of his glory u$on the sufferings of the unfortunate, the labours of the wretche , an o not ho$e to teach him to $ity them while he consi ers them as far remo!e from himself" >ake him thoroughly aware of the fact that the fate of these unha$$y $ersons may one ay be his own, that his feet are stan ing on the e ge of the abyss, into which he may be $lunge at any

moment by a thousan une?$ecte irresistible misfortunes" Teach him to $ut no trust in birth, health, or richesA show him all the changes of fortuneA fin him e?am$lesBthere are only too many of themBin which men of higher rank than himself ha!e sunk below the con ition of these wretche ones" Chether by their own fault or another@s is for the $resent no concern of oursA oes he in ee know the meaning of the wor faultE <e!er interfere with the or er in which he acquires knowle ge, an teach him only through the means within his reachA it nee s no great learning to $ercei!e that all the $ru ence of mankin cannot make certain whether he will be ali!e or ea in an hour@s time, whether before nightfall he will not be grin ing his teeth in the $angs of ne$hritis, whether a month hence he will be rich or $oor, whether in a year@s time he may not be rowing an 'lgerian galley un er the lash of the sla!eri!er" 'bo!e all o not teach him this, like his catechism, in col bloo A let him see an feel the calamities which o!ertake menA sur$rise an startle his imagination with the $erils which lurk continually about a man@s $athA let him see the $itfalls all about him, an when he hears you s$eak of them, let him cling more closely to you for fear lest he shoul fall" D#ou will make him timi an cowar ly,D o you sayE Ce shall seeA let us make him kin ly to begin with, that is what matters most" T89R( >'I9>"BThe $ity we feel for others is $ro$ortionate, not to the amount of the e!il, but to the feelings we attribute to the sufferers" Ce only $ity the wretche so far as we think they feel the nee of $ity" The bo ily effect of our sufferings is less than one woul su$$oseA it is memory that $rolongs the $ain, imagination which $rojects it into the future, an makes us really to be $itie " This is, 9 think, one of the reasons why we are more callous to the sufferings of animals than of men, although a fellow-feeling ought to make us i entify oursel!es equally with either" Ce scarcely $ity the cart-horse in his she , for we o not su$$ose that while he is eating his hay he is thinking of the blows he has recei!e an the labours in store for him" <either o we $ity the shee$ graFing in the fiel , though we know it is about to be slaughtere , for we belie!e it knows nothing of the fate in store for it" 9n this way we also become callous to the fate of our fellow-men, an the rich console themsel!es for the harm one by them to the $oor, by the assum$tion that the $oor are too stu$i to feel" 9 usually ju ge of the !alue any one $uts on the welfare of his fellow-creatures by what he seems to think of them" Ce naturally think lightly of the ha$$iness of those we es$ise" 9t nee not sur$rise you that $oliticians s$eak so scornfully of the $eo$le, an $hiloso$hers $rofess to think mankin so wicke " The $eo$le are mankin A those who o not belong to the $eo$le are so few in number that they are not worth counting" >an is the same in e!ery station of lifeA if that be so, those ranks to which most men belong eser!e most honour" 'll istinctions of rank fa e away before the eyes of a thoughtful $ersonA he sees the same $assions, the same feelings in the noble an the guttersni$eA there is merely a slight ifference in s$eech, an more or less artificiality of toneA an if there is in ee any essential ifference between them, the isa !antage is all on the si e of those who are more so$histicate " The $eo$le show themsel!es as they

are, an they are not attracti!eA but the fashionable worl is com$elle to a o$t a isguiseA we shoul be horrifie if we saw it as it really is" There is, so our wiseacres tell us, the same amount of ha$$iness an sorrow in e!ery station" This saying is as ea ly in its effects as it is inca$able of $roofA if all are equally ha$$y why shoul 9 trouble myself about any oneE %et e!ery one stay where he isA lea!e the sla!e to be illtreate , the sick man to suffer, an the wretche to $erishA they ha!e nothing to gain by any change in their con ition" #ou enumerate the sorrows of the rich, an show the !anity of his em$ty $leasuresA what bareface so$histryH The rich man@s sufferings o not come from his $osition, but from himself alone when he abuses it" 8e is not to be $itie were he in ee more miserable than the $oor, for his ills are of his own making, an he coul be ha$$y if he chose" But the sufferings of the $oor man come from e?ternal things, from the har shi$s fate has im$ose u$on him" <o amount of habit can accustom him to the bo ily ills of fatigue, e?haustion, an hunger" <either hea nor heart can ser!e to free him from the sufferings of his con ition" 8ow is E$ictetus the better for knowing beforehan that his master will break his leg for himA oes he o it any the lessE 8e has to en ure not only the $ain itself but the $ains of antici$ation" 9f the $eo$le were as wise as we assume them to be stu$i , how coul they be other than they areE 6bser!e $ersons of this classA you will see that, with a ifferent way of s$eaking, they ha!e as much intelligence an more common-sense than yourself" 8a!e res$ect then for your s$eciesA remember that it consists essentially of the $eo$le, that if all the kings an all the $hiloso$hers were remo!e they woul scarcely be misse , an things woul go on none the worse" 9n a wor , teach your $u$il to lo!e all men, e!en those who fail to a$$reciate himA act in such way that he is not a member of any class, but takes his $lace in all alike& s$eak in his hearing of the human race with ten erness, an e!en with $ity, but ne!er with scorn" #ou are a manA o not ishonour mankin " 9t is by these ways an others like themBhow ifferent from the beaten $athsBthat we must reach the heart of the young a olescent, an stimulate in him the first im$ulses of natureA we must e!elo$ that heart an o$en its oors to his fellow-creatures, an there must be as little selfinterest as $ossible mi?e u$ with these im$ulsesA abo!e all, no !anity, no emulation, no boasting, none of those sentiments which force us to com$are oursel!es with othersA for such com$arisons are ne!er ma e without arousing some measure of hatre against those who is$ute our claim to the first $lace, were it only in our own estimation" Then we must be either blin or angry, a ba man or a foolA let us try to a!oi this ilemma" )ooner or later these angerous $assions will a$$ear, so you tell me, in s$ite of us" 9 o not eny it" There is a time an $lace for e!erythingA 9 am only saying that we shoul not hel$ to arouse these $assions" This is the s$irit of the metho to be lai own" 9n this case e?am$les an illustrations are useless, for here we fin the beginning of the countless ifferences of character, an e!ery e?am$le 9 ga!e woul $ossibly a$$ly to only one case in a hun re thousan " 9t is at this age that the cle!er

teacher begins his real business, as a stu ent an a $hiloso$her who knows how to $robe the heart an stri!es to gui e it aright" Chile the young man has not learnt to $reten , while he oes not e!en know the meaning of $retence, you see by his look, his manner, his gestures, the im$ression he has recei!e from any object $resente to himA you rea in his countenance e!ery im$ulse of his heartA by watching his e?$ression you learn to $rotect his im$ulses an actually to control them" 9t has been commonly obser!e that bloo , woun s, cries an groans, the $re$arations for $ainful o$erations, an e!erything which irects the senses towar s things connecte with suffering, are usually the first to make an im$ression on all men" The i ea of estruction, a more com$le? matter, oes not ha!e so great an effectA the thought of eath affects us later an less forcibly, for no one knows from his own e?$erience what it is to ieA you must ha!e seen cor$ses to feel the agonies of the ying" But when once this i ea is establishe in the min , there is no s$ectacle more rea ful in our eyes, whether because of the i ea of com$lete estruction which it arouses through our senses, or because we know that this moment must come for each one of us an we feel oursel!es all the more keenly affecte by a situation from which we know there is no esca$e" These !arious im$ressions iffer in manner an in egree, accor ing to the in i!i ual character of each one of us an his former habits, but they are uni!ersal an no one is altogether free from them" There are other im$ressions less uni!ersal an of a later growth, im$ressions most suite to sensiti!e souls, such im$ressions as we recei!e from moral suffering, inwar grief, the sufferings of the min , e$ression, an sa ness" There are men who can be touche by nothing but groans an tearsA the su$$resse sobs of a heart labouring un er sorrow woul ne!er win a sighA the sight of a owncast !isage, a $ale an gloomy countenance, eyes which can wee$ no longer, woul ne!er raw a tear from them" The sufferings of the min are as nothing to themA they weigh them, their own min feels nothingA e?$ect nothing from such $ersons but infle?ible se!erity, harshness, cruelty" They may be just an u$right, but not merciful, generous, or $itiful" They may, 9 say, be just, if a man can in ee be just without being merciful" But o not be in a hurry to ju ge young $eo$le by this stan ar , more es$ecially those who ha!e been e ucate rightly, who ha!e no i ea of the moral sufferings they ha!e ne!er ha to en ureA for once again they can only $ity the ills they know, an this a$$arent insensibility is soon transforme into $ity when they begin to feel that there are in human life a thousan ills of which they know nothing" 's for Emile, if in chil hoo he was istinguishe by sim$licity an goo sense, in his youth he will show a warm an ten er heartA for the reality of the feelings e$en s to a great e?tent on the accuracy of the i eas" But why call him hitherE >ore than one rea er will re$roach me no oubt for e$arting from my first intention an forgetting the lasting ha$$iness 9 $romise my $u$il" The sorrowful, the ying, such sights of $ain an woe, what ha$$iness, what elight is this for a young heart on the threshol of lifeE 8is gloomy tutor, who $ro$ose to gi!e him such a

$leasant e ucation, only intro uces him to life that he may suffer" This is what they will say, but what care 9E 9 $romise to make him ha$$y, not to make him seem ha$$y" 'm 9 to blame if, ecei!e as usual by the outwar a$$earances, you take them for the realityE %et us take two young men at the close of their early e ucation, an let them enter the worl by o$$osite oors" The one mounts at once to 6lym$us, an mo!es in the smartest societyA he is taken to court, he is $resente in the houses of the great, of the rich, of the $retty women" 9 assume that he is e!erywhere ma e much of, an 9 o not regar too closely the effect of this rece$tion on his reasonA 9 assume it can stan it" Pleasures fly before him, e!ery ay $ro!i es him with fresh amusementsA he flings himself into e!erything with an eagerness which carries you away" #ou fin him busy, eager, an curiousA his first won er makes a great im$ression on youA you think him ha$$yA but behol the state of his heartA you think he is rejoicing, 9 think he suffers" Chat oes he see when first he o$ens his eyesE all sorts of so-calle $leasures, hitherto unknown" >ost of these $leasures are only for a moment within his reach, an seem to show themsel!es only to ins$ire regret for their loss" (oes he wan er through a $alaceA you see by his uneasy curiosity that he is asking why his father@s house is not like it" E!ery question shows you that he is com$aring himself all the time with the owner of this gran $lace" 'n all the mortification arising from this com$arison at once re!olts an stimulates his !anity" 9f he meets a young man better resse than himself, 9 fin him secretly com$laining of his $arents@ meanness" 9f he is better resse than another, he suffers because the latter is his su$erior in birth or in intellect, an all his gol lace is $ut to shame by a $lain cloth coat" (oes he shine unri!alle in some assembly, oes he stan on ti$toe that they may see him better, who is there who oes not secretly esire to humble the $ri e an !anity of the young fo$E E!erybo y is in league against himA the isquieting glances of a solemn man, the biting $hrases of some satirical $erson, o not fail to reach him, an if it were only one man who es$ise him, the scorn of that one woul $oison in a moment the a$$lause of the rest" %et us grant him e!erything, let us not gru ge him charm an worthA let him be well-ma e, witty, an attracti!eA the women will run after himA but by $ursuing him before he is in lo!e with them, they will ins$ire rage rather than lo!eA he will ha!e successes, but neither ra$ture nor $assion to enjoy them" 's his esires are always antici$ate A they ne!er ha!e time to s$ring u$ among his $leasures, so he only feels the te ium of restraint" E!en before he knows it he is isguste an satiate with the se? forme to be the elight of his ownA if he continues its $ursuit it is only through !anity, an e!en shoul he really be e!ote to women, he will not be the only brilliant, the only attracti!e young man, nor will he always fin his mistresses $ro igies of fi elity" 9 say nothing of the !e?ation, the eceit, the crimes, an the remorse of all kin s, inse$arable from such a life" Ce know that e?$erience of the worl isgusts us with itA 9 am s$eaking only of the rawbacks belonging to youthful illusions"

8itherto the young man has li!e in the bosom of his family an his frien s, an has been the sole object of their careA what a change to enter all at once into a region where he counts for so littleA to fin himself $lunge into another s$here, he who has been so long the centre of his own" Chat insults, what humiliation, must he en ure, before he loses among strangers the i eas of his own im$ortance which ha!e been forme an nourishe among his own $eo$leH 's a chil e!erything ga!e way to him, e!erybo y flocke to himA as a young man he must gi!e $lace to e!ery one, or if he $reser!es e!er so little of his former airs, what harsh lessons will bring him to himselfH 'ccustome to get e!erything he wants without any ifficulty, his wants are many, an he feels continual $ri!ations" 8e is tem$te by e!erything that flatters himA what others ha!e, he must ha!e tooA he co!ets e!erything, he en!ies e!ery one, he woul always be master" 8e is e!oure by !anity, his young heart is enflame by unbri le $assions, jealousy an hatre among the restA all these !iolent $assions burst out at onceA their sting rankles in him in the busy worl , they return with him at night, he comes back issatisfie with himself, with othersA he falls aslee$ among a thousan foolish schemes isturbe by a thousan fancies, an his $ri e shows him e!en in his reams those fancie $leasuresA he is tormente by a esire which will ne!er be satisfie " )o much for your $u$ilA let us turn to mine" 9f the first thing to make an im$ression on him is something sorrowful his first return to himself is a feeling of $leasure" Chen he sees how many ills he has esca$e he thinks he is ha$$ier than he fancie " 8e shares the suffering of his fellow-creatures, but he shares it of his own free will an fin s $leasure in it" 8e enjoys at once the $ity he feels for their woes an the joy of being e?em$t from themA he feels in himself that state of !igour which $rojects us beyon oursel!es, an bi s us carry elsewhere the su$erfluous acti!ity of our well-being" To $ity another@s woes we must in ee know them, but we nee not feel them" Chen we ha!e suffere , when we are in fear of suffering, we $ity those who sufferA but when we suffer oursel!es, we $ity none but oursel!es" But if all of us, being subject oursel!es to the ills of life, only bestow u$on others the sensibility we o not actually require for oursel!es, it follows that $ity must be a !ery $leasant feeling, since it s$eaks on our behalfA an , on the other han , a har -hearte man is always unha$$y, since the state of his heart lea!es him no su$erfluous sensibility to bestow on the sufferings of others" Ce are too a$t to ju ge of ha$$iness by a$$earancesA we su$$ose it is to be foun in the most unlikely $laces, we seek for it where it cannot $ossibly beA mirth is a !ery oubtful in ication of its $resence" ' merry man is often a wretch who is trying to ecei!e others an istract himself" The men who are jo!ial, frien ly, an contente at their club are almost always gloomy grumblers at home, an their ser!ants ha!e to $ay for the amusement they gi!e among their frien s" True contentment is neither merry nor noisyA we are jealous of so sweet a sentiment, when we enjoy it we think about it, we elight in it for fear it shoul esca$e us" ' really ha$$y man says little an laughs littleA he hugs his ha$$iness, so to s$eak, to his heart" <oisy games, !iolent elight, conceal the isa$$ointment of satiety" But melancholy is the frien of $leasureA tears

an $ity atten our sweetest enjoyment, an great joys call for tears rather than laughter" 9f at first the number an !ariety of our amusements seem to contribute to our ha$$iness, if at first the e!en tenor of a quiet life seems te ious, when we look at it more closely we isco!er that the $leasantest habit of min consists in a mo erate enjoyment which lea!es little sco$e for esire an a!ersion" The unrest of $assion causes curiosity an ficklenessA the em$tiness of noisy $leasures causes weariness" Ce ne!er weary of our state when we know none more elightful" )a!ages suffer less than other men from curiosity an from te iumA e!erything is the same to themBthemsel!es, not their $ossessionsBan they are ne!er weary" The man of the worl almost always wears a mask" 8e is scarcely e!er himself an is almost a stranger to himselfA he is ill at ease when he is force into his own com$any" <ot what he is, but what he seems, is all he cares for" 9 cannot hel$ $icturing in the countenance of the young man 9 ha!e just s$oken of an in efinable but un$leasant im$ertinence, smoothness, an affectation, which is re$ulsi!e to a $lain man, an in the countenance of my own $u$il a sim$le an interesting e?$ression which in icates the real contentment an the calm of his min A an e?$ression which ins$ires res$ect an confi ence, an seems only to await the establishment of frien ly relations to bestow his own confi ence in return" 9t is thought that the e?$ression is merely the e!elo$ment of certain features esigne by nature" 7or my own $art 9 think that o!er an abo!e this e!elo$ment a man@s face is sha$e , all unconsciously, by the frequent an habitual influence of certain affections of the heart" These affections are shown on the face, there is nothing more certainA an when they become habitual, they must surely lea!e lasting traces" This is why 9 think the e?$ression shows the character, an that we can sometimes rea one another without seeking mysterious e?$lanations in $owers we o not $ossess" ' chil has only two istinct feelings, joy an sorrowA he laughs or he criesA he knows no mi le course, an he is constantly $assing from one e?treme to the other" 6n account of these $er$etual changes there is no lasting im$ression on the face, an no e?$ressionA but when the chil is ol er an more sensiti!e, his feelings are keener or more $ermanent, an these ee$er im$ressions lea!e traces more ifficult to eraseA an the habitual state of the feelings has an effect on the features which in course of time becomes ineffaceable" )till it is not uncommon to meet with men whose e?$ression !aries with their age" 9 ha!e met with se!eral, an 9 ha!e always foun that those whom 9 coul obser!e an follow ha also change their habitual tem$er" This one obser!ation thoroughly confirme woul seem to me ecisi!e, an it is not out of $lace in a treatise on e ucation, where it is a matter of im$ortance, that we shoul learn to ju ge the feelings of the heart by e?ternal signs" 9 o not know whether my young man will be any the less amiable for not ha!ing learnt to co$y con!entional manners an to feign sentiments

which are not his ownA that oes not concern me at $resent, 9 only know he will be more affectionateA an 9 fin it ifficult to belie!e that he, who cares for nobo y but himself, can so far isguise his true feelings as to $lease as rea ily as he who fin s fresh ha$$iness for himself in his affection for others" But with regar to this feeling of ha$$iness, 9 think 9 ha!e sai enough alrea y for the gui ance of any sensible rea er, an to show that 9 ha!e not contra icte myself" 9 return to my system, an 9 say, when the critical age a$$roaches, $resent to young $eo$le s$ectacles which restrain rather than e?cite themA $ut off their awning imagination with objects which, far from inflaming their senses, $ut a check to their acti!ity" Remo!e them from great cities, where the flaunting attire an the bol ness of the women hasten an antici$ate the teaching of nature, where e!erything $resents to their !iew $leasures of which they shoul know nothing till they are of an age to choose for themsel!es" Bring them back to their early home, where rural sim$licity allows the $assions of their age to e!elo$ more slowlyA or if their taste for the arts kee$s them in town, guar them by means of this !ery taste from a angerous i leness" :hoose carefully their com$any, their occu$ations, an their $leasuresA show them nothing but mo est an $athetic $ictures which are touching but not se ucti!e, an nourish their sensibility without stimulating their senses" Remember also, that the anger of e?cess is not confine to any one $lace, an that immo erate $assions always o irre$arable amage" #ou nee not make your $u$il a sick-nurse or a Brother of PityA you nee not istress him by the $er$etual sight of $ain an sufferingA you nee not take him from one hos$ital to another, from the gallows to the $rison" 8e must be softene , not har ene , by the sight of human misery" Chen we ha!e seen a sight it ceases to im$ress us, use is secon nature, what is always before our eyes no longer a$$eals to the imagination, an it is only through the imagination that we can feel the sorrows of othersA this is why $riests an octors who are always behol ing eath an suffering become so har ene " %et your $u$il therefore know something of the lot of man an the woes of his fellow-creatures, but let him not see them too often" ' single thing, carefully selecte an shown at the right time, will fill him with $ity an set him thinking for a month" 8is o$inion about anything e$en s not so much on what he sees, but on how it reacts on himselfA an his lasting im$ression of any object e$en s less on the object itself than on the $oint of !iew from which he regar s it" Thus by a s$aring use of e?am$les, lessons, an $ictures, you may blunt the sting of sense an elay nature while following her own lea " 's he acquires knowle ge, choose what i eas he shall attach to itA as his $assions awake, select scenes calculate to re$ress them" ' !eteran, as istinguishe for his character as for his courage, once tol me that in early youth his father, a sensible man but e?tremely $ious, obser!e that through his growing sensibility he was attracte by women, an s$are no $ains to restrain himA but at last when, in s$ite of all his care, his son was about to esca$e from his control, he eci e to take him to a hos$ital, an , without telling him what to e?$ect, he intro uce him into a room where a number of wretche creatures were e?$iating, un er a terrible treatment, the !ices which ha brought them into this $light" This

hi eous an re!olting s$ectacle sickene the young man" D>iserable libertine,D sai his father !ehemently, DbegoneA follow your !ile tastesA you will soon be only too gla to be a mitte to this war , an a !ictim to the most shameful sufferings, you will com$el your father to thank Go when you are ea "D These few wor s, together with the striking s$ectacle he behel , ma e an im$ression on the young man which coul ne!er be efface " :om$elle by his $rofession to $ass his youth in garrison, he $referre to face all the jests of his comra es rather than to share their e!il ways" D9 ha!e been a man,D he sai to me, D9 ha!e ha my weaknesses, but e!en to the $resent ay the sight of a harlot ins$ires me with horror"D )ay little to your $u$il, but choose time, $lace, an $eo$leA then rely on concrete e?am$les for your teaching, an be sure it will take effect" The way chil hoo is s$ent is no great matterA the e!il which may fin its way is not irreme iable, an the goo which may s$ring u$ might come later" But it is not so in those early years when a youth really begins to li!e" This time is ne!er long enough for what there is to be one, an its im$ortance eman s unceasing attentionA this is why 9 lay so much stress on the art of $rolonging it" 6ne of the best rules of goo farming is to kee$ things back as much as $ossible" %et your $rogress also be slow an sureA $re!ent the youth from becoming a man all at once" Chile the bo y is growing the s$irits estine to gi!e !igour to the bloo an strength to the muscles are in $rocess of formation an elaboration" 9f you turn them into another channel, an $ermit that strength which shoul ha!e gone to the $erfecting of one $erson to go to the making of another, both remain in a state of weakness an the work of nature is unfinishe " The workings of the min , in their turn, are affecte by this change, an the min , as sickly as the bo y, functions langui ly an feebly" %ength an strength of limb are not the same thing as courage or genius, an 9 grant that strength of min oes not always accom$any strength of bo y, when the means of connection between the two are otherwise faulty" But howe!er well $lanne they may be, they will always work feebly if for moti!e $ower they e$en u$on an e?hauste , im$o!erishe su$$ly of bloo , e$ri!e of the substance which gi!es strength an elasticity to all the s$rings of the machinery" There is generally more !igour of min to be foun among men whose early years ha!e been $reser!e from $recocious !ice, than among those whose e!il li!ing has begun at the earliest o$$ortunityA an this is no oubt the reason why nations whose morals are $ure are generally su$erior in sense an courage to those whose morals are ba " The latter shine only through 9 know not what small an trifling qualities, which they call wit, sagacity, cunningA but those great an noble features of goo ness an reason, by which a man is istinguishe an honoure through goo ee s, !irtues, really useful efforts, are scarcely to be foun e?ce$t among the nations whose morals are $ure" Teachers com$lain that the energy of this age makes their $u$ils unrulyA 9 see that it is so, but are not they themsel!es to blameE Chen once they ha!e let this energy flow through the channel of the senses, o they not know that they cannot change its courseE Cill the long an reary

sermons of the $e ant efface from the min of his scholar the thoughts of $leasure when once they ha!e foun an entranceA will they banish from his heart the esires by which it is tormente A will they chill the heat of a $assion whose meaning the scholar realisesE Cill not the $u$il be rouse to anger by the obstacles o$$ose to the only kin of ha$$iness of which he has any notionE 'n in the harsh law im$ose u$on him before he can un erstan it, what will he see but the ca$rice an hatre of a man who is trying to torment himE 9s it strange that he rebels an hates you tooE 9 know !ery well that if one is easy-going one may be tolerate , an one may kee$ u$ a show of authority" But 9 fail to see the use of an authority o!er the $u$il which is only maintaine by fomenting the !ices it ought to re$ressA it is like attem$ting to soothe a fiery stee by making it lea$ o!er a $reci$ice" 7ar from being a hin rance to e ucation, this enthusiasm of a olescence is its crown an co$ing-stoneA this it is that gi!es you a hol on the youth@s heart when he is no longer weaker than you" 8is first affections are the reins by which you control his mo!ementsA he was free, an now 9 behol him in your $ower" )o long as he lo!e nothing, he was in e$en ent of e!erything but himself an his own necessitiesA as soon as he lo!es, he is e$en ent on his affections" Thus the first ties which unite him to his s$ecies are alrea y forme " Chen you irect his increasing sensibility in this irection, o not e?$ect that it will at once inclu e all men, an that the wor Dmankin D will ha!e any meaning for him" <ot soA this sensibility will at first confine itself to those like himself, an these will not be strangers to him, but those he knows, those whom habit has ma e ear to him or necessary to him, those who are e!i ently thinking an feeling as he oes, those whom he $ercei!es to be e?$ose to the $ains he has en ure , those who enjoy the $leasures he has enjoye A in a wor , those who are so like himself that he is the more is$ose to self-lo!e" 9t is only after long training, after much consi eration as to his own feelings an the feelings he obser!es in others, that he will be able to generalise his in i!i ual notions un er the abstract i ea of humanity, an a to his in i!i ual affections those which may i entify him with the race" Chen he becomes ca$able of affection, he becomes aware of the affection of others, .7ootnote& 'ffection may be unrequite A not so frien shi$" 7rien shi$ is a bargain, a contract like any otherA though a bargain more sacre than the rest" The wor Dfrien D has no other correlation" 'ny man who is not the frien of his frien is un oubte ly a rascalA for one can only obtain frien shi$ by gi!ing it, or $reten ing to gi!e it"3 an he is on the lookout for the signs of that affection" (o you not see how you will acquire a fresh hol on himE Chat ban s ha!e you boun about his heart while he was yet unaware of themH Chat will he feel, when he behol s himself an sees what you ha!e one for himA when he can com$are himself with other youths, an other tutors with youH 9 say, DChen he sees it,D but beware lest you tell him of itA if you tell him he will not $ercei!e it" 9f you claim his obe ience in return for the care bestowe u$on him, he will think you ha!e o!er-reache himA he will

see that while you $rofess to ha!e care for him without rewar , you meant to sa le him with a ebt an to bin him to a bargain which he ne!er ma e" 9n !ain you will a that what you eman is for his own goo A you eman it, an you eman it in !irtue of what you ha!e one without his consent" Chen a man own on his luck acce$ts the shilling which the sergeant $rofesses to gi!e him, an fin s he has enliste without knowing what he was about, you $rotest against the injusticeA is it not still more unjust to eman from your $u$il the $rice of care which he has not e!en acce$te H 9ngratitu e woul be rarer if kin ness were less often the in!estment of a usurer" Ce lo!e those who ha!e one us a kin nessA what a natural feelingH 9ngratitu e is not to be foun in the heart of man, but selfinterest is thereA those who are ungrateful for benefits recei!e are fewer than those who o a kin ness for their own en s" 9f you sell me your gifts, 9 will haggle o!er the $riceA but if you $reten to gi!e, in or er to sell later on at your own $rice, you are guilty of frau A it is the free gift which is beyon $rice" The heart is a law to itselfA if you try to bin it, you lose itA gi!e it its liberty, an you make it your own" Chen the fisherman baits his line, the fish come roun him without sus$icionA but when they are caught on the hook conceale in the bait, they feel the line tighten an they try to esca$e" 9s the fisherman a benefactorE 9s the fish ungratefulE (o we fin a man forgotten by his benefactor, unmin ful of that benefactorE 6n the contrary, he elights to s$eak of him, he cannot think of him without emotionA if he gets a chance of showing him, by some une?$ecte ser!ice, that he remembers what he i for him, how elighte he is to satisfy his gratitu eA what a $leasure it is to earn the gratitu e of his benefactor" 8ow elightful to say, D9t is my turn now"D This is in ee the teaching of natureA a goo ee ne!er cause ingratitu e" 9f therefore gratitu e is a natural feeling, an you o not estroy its effects by your blun ers, be sure your $u$il, as he begins to un erstan the !alue of your care for him, will be grateful for it, $ro!i e you ha!e not $ut a $rice u$on itA an this will gi!e you an authority o!er his heart which nothing can o!erthrow" But beware of losing this a !antage before it is really yours, beware of insisting on your own im$ortance" Boast of your ser!ices an they become intolerableA forget them an they will not be forgotten" ;ntil the time comes to treat him as a man let there be no question of his uty to you, but his uty to himself" %et him ha!e his free om if you woul make him ocileA hi e yourself so that he may seek youA raise his heart to the noble sentiment of gratitu e by only s$eaking of his own interest" ;ntil he was able to un erstan 9 woul not ha!e him tol that what was one was for his goo A he woul only ha!e un erstoo such wor s to mean that you were e$en ent on him an he woul merely ha!e ma e you his ser!ant" But now that he is beginning to feel what lo!e is, he also knows what a ten er affection may bin a man to what he lo!esA an in the Feal which kee$s you busy on his account, he now sees not the bon s of a sla!e, but the affection of a frien " <ow there is nothing which carries so much weight with the human heart as the !oice of frien shi$ recognise as such, for we know that it ne!er

s$eaks but for our goo " Ce may think our frien is mistaken, but we ne!er belie!e he is ecei!ing us" Ce may reject his a !ice now an then, but we ne!er scorn it"

Ce ha!e reache the moral or er at lastA we ha!e just taken the secon ste$ towar s manhoo " 9f this were the $lace for it, 9 woul try to show how the first im$ulses of the heart gi!e rise to the first stirrings of conscience, an how from the feelings of lo!e an hatre s$ring the first notions of goo an e!il" 9 woul show that justice an kin ness are no mere abstract terms, no mere moral conce$tions frame by the un erstan ing, but true affections of the heart enlightene by reason, the natural outcome of our $rimiti!e affectionsA that by reason alone, unai e by conscience, we cannot establish any natural law, an that all natural right is a !ain ream if it oes not rest u$on some instincti!e nee of the human heart" .7ootnote& The $rece$t D(o unto others as you woul ha!e them o unto youD has no true foun ation but that of conscience an feelingA for what !ali reason is there why 9, being myself, shoul o what 9 woul o if 9 were some one else, es$ecially when 9 am morally certain 9 ne!er shall fin myself in e?actly the same caseA an who will answer for it that if 9 faithfully follow out this ma?im, 9 shall get others to follow it with regar to meE The wicke takes a !antage both of the u$rightness of the just an of his own injusticeA he will gla ly ha!e e!erybo y just but himself" This bargain, whate!er you may say, is not greatly to the a !antage of the just" But if the enthusiasm of an o!erflowing heart i entifies me with my fellow-creature, if 9 feel, so to s$eak, that 9 will not let him suffer lest 9 shoul suffer too, 9 care for him because 9 care for myself, an the reason of the $rece$t is foun in nature herself, which ins$ires me with the esire for my own welfare where!er 9 may be" 7rom this 9 conclu e that it is false to say that the $rece$ts of natural law are base on reason onlyA they ha!e a firmer an more soli foun ation" The lo!e of others s$ringing from self-lo!e, is the source of human justice" The whole of morality is summe u$ in the gos$el in this summary of the law"3 But 9 o not think it is my business at $resent to $re$are treatises on meta$hysics an morals, nor courses of stu y of any kin whatsoe!erA it is enough if 9 in icate the or er an e!elo$ment of our feelings an our knowle ge in relation to our growth" 6thers will $erha$s work out what 9 ha!e here merely in icate " 8itherto my Emile has thought only of himself, so his first glance at his equals lea s him to com$are himself with themA an the first feeling e?cite by this com$arison is the esire to be first" 9t is here that self-lo!e is transforme into selfishness, an this is the starting $oint of all the $assions which s$ring from selfishness" But to etermine whether the $assions by which his life will be go!erne shall be humane an gentle or harsh an cruel, whether they shall be the $assions of bene!olence an $ity or those of en!y an co!etousness, we must know what he belie!es his $lace among men to be, an what sort of obstacles he e?$ects to ha!e to o!ercome in or er to attain to the $osition he seeks" To gui e him in this inquiry, after we ha!e shown him men by means of the acci ents common to the s$ecies, we must now show him them by means of their ifferences" This is the time for estimating inequality natural an ci!il, an for the scheme of the whole social or er"

)ociety must be stu ie in the in i!i ual an the in i!i ual in societyA those who esire to treat $olitics an morals a$art from one another will ne!er un erstan either" By confining oursel!es at first to the $rimiti!e relations, we see how men shoul be influence by them an what $assions shoul s$ring from themA we see that it is in $ro$ortion to the e!elo$ment of these $assions that a man@s relations with others e?$an or contract" 9t is not so much strength of arm as mo eration of s$irit which makes men free an in e$en ent" The man whose wants are few is e$en ent on but few $eo$le, but those who constantly confoun our !ain esires with our bo ily nee s, those who ha!e ma e these nee s the basis of human society, are continually mistaking effects for causes, an they ha!e only confuse themsel!es by their own reasoning" )ince it is im$ossible in the state of nature that the ifference between man an man shoul be great enough to make one e$en ent on another, there is in fact in this state of nature an actual an in estructible equality" 9n the ci!il state there is a !ain an chimerical equality of rightA the means inten e for its maintenance, themsel!es ser!e to estroy itA an the $ower of the community, a e to the $ower of the strongest for the o$$ression of the weak, isturbs the sort of equilibrium which nature has establishe between them" .7ootnote& The uni!ersal s$irit of the laws of e!ery country is always to take the $art of the strong against the weak, an the $art of him who has against him who has notA this efect is ine!itable, an there is no e?ce$tion to it"3 7rom this first contra iction s$ring all the other contra ictions between the real an the a$$arent, which are to be foun in the ci!il or er" The many will always be sacrifice to the few, the common weal to $ri!ate interestA those s$ecious wor sBjustice an subor inationBwill always ser!e as the tools of !iolence an the wea$ons of injusticeA hence it follows that the higher classes which claim to be useful to the rest are really only seeking their own welfare at the e?$ense of othersA from this we may ju ge how much consi eration is ue to them accor ing to right an justice" 9t remains to be seen if the rank to which they ha!e attaine is more fa!ourable to their own ha$$iness to know what o$inion each one of us shoul form with regar to his own lot" This is the stu y with which we are now concerne A but to o it thoroughly we must begin with a knowle ge of the human heart" 9f it were only a question of showing young $eo$le man in his mask, there woul be no nee to $oint him out, an he woul always be before their eyesA but since the mask is not the man, an since they must not be le away by its s$ecious a$$earance, when you $aint men for your scholar, $aint them as they are, not that he may hate them, but that he may $ity them an ha!e no wish to be like them" 9n my o$inion that is the most reasonable !iew a man can hol with regar to his fellow-men" Cith this object in !iew we must take the o$$osite way from that hitherto followe , an instruct the youth rather through the e?$erience of others than through his own" 9f men ecei!e him he will hate themA but, if, while they treat him with res$ect, he sees them ecei!ing each other, he will $ity them" DThe s$ectacle of the worl ,D sai Pythagoras, Dis like the 6lym$ic gamesA some are buying an selling an think only of their

gainsA others take an acti!e $art an stri!e for gloryA others, an these not the worst, are content to be lookers-on"D 9 woul ha!e you so choose the com$any of a youth that he shoul think well of those among whom he li!es, an 9 woul ha!e you so teach him to know the worl that he shoul think ill of all that takes $lace in it" %et him know that man is by nature goo , let him feel it, let him ju ge his neighbour by himselfA but let him see how men are e$ra!e an $er!erte by societyA let him fin the source of all their !ices in their $reconcei!e o$inionsA let him be is$ose to res$ect the in i!i ual, but to es$ise the multitu eA let him see that all men wear almost the same mask, but let him also know that some faces are fairer than the mask that conceals them" 9t must be a mitte that this metho has its rawbacks, an it is not easy to carry it outA for if he becomes too soon engrosse in watching other $eo$le, if you train him to mark too closely the actions of others, you will make him s$iteful an satirical, quick an eci e in his ju gments of othersA he will fin a hateful $leasure in seeking ba moti!es, an will fail to see the goo e!en in that which is really goo " 8e will, at least, get use to the sight of !ice, he will behol the wicke without horror, just as we get use to seeing the wretche without $ity" )oon the $er!ersity of mankin will be not so much a warning as an e?cuseA he will say, D>an is ma e so,D an he will ha!e no wish to be ifferent from the rest" But if you wish to teach him theoretically to make him acquainte , not only with the heart of man, but also with the a$$lication of the e?ternal causes which turn our inclinations into !icesA when you thus trans$ort him all at once from the objects of sense to the objects of reason, you em$loy a system of meta$hysics which he is not in a $osition to un erstan A you fall back into the error, so carefully a!oi e hitherto, of gi!ing him lessons which are like lessons, of substituting in his min the e?$erience an the authority of the master for his own e?$erience an the e!elo$ment of his own reason" To remo!e these two obstacles at once, an to bring the human heart within his reach without risk of s$oiling his own, 9 woul show him men from afar, in other times or in other $laces, so that he may behol the scene but cannot take $art in it" This is the time for historyA with its hel$ he will rea the hearts of men without any lessons in $hiloso$hyA with its hel$ he will !iew them as a mere s$ectator, is$assionate an without $reju iceA he will !iew them as their ju ge, not as their accom$lice or their accuser" To know men you must behol their actions" 9n society we hear them talkA they show their wor s an hi e their ee sA but in history the !eil is rawn asi e, an they are ju ge by their ee s" Their sayings e!en hel$ us to un erstan themA for com$aring what they say an what they o, we see not only what they are but what they woul a$$earA the more they isguise themsel!es the more thoroughly they stan re!eale " ;nluckily this stu y has its angers, its rawbacks of se!eral kin s" 9t is ifficult to a o$t a $oint of !iew which will enable one to ju ge one@s

fellow-creatures fairly" 9t is one of the chief efects of history to $aint men@s e!il ee s rather than their goo onesA it is re!olutions an catastro$hes that make history interestingA so long as a nation grows an $ros$ers quietly in the tranquillity of a $eaceful go!ernment, history says nothingA she only begins to s$eak of nations when, no longer able to be self-sufficing, they interfere with their neighbours@ business, or allow their neighbours to interfere with their ownA history only makes them famous when they are on the ownwar $athA all our histories begin where they ought to en " Ce ha!e !ery accurate accounts of eclining nationsA what we lack is the history of those nations which are multi$lyingA they are so ha$$y an so goo that history has nothing to tell us of themA an we see in ee in our own times that the most successful go!ernments are least talke of" Ce only hear what is ba A the goo is scarcely mentione " 6nly the wicke become famous, the goo are forgotten or laughe to scorn, an thus history, like $hiloso$hy, is for e!er slan ering mankin " >oreo!er, it is ine!itable that the facts escribe in history shoul not gi!e an e?act $icture of what really ha$$ene A they are transforme in the brain of the historian, they are moul e by his interests an coloure by his $reju ices" Cho can $lace the rea er $recisely in a $osition to see the e!ent as it really ha$$ene E 9gnorance or $artiality isguises e!erything" Chat a ifferent im$ression may be gi!en merely by e?$an ing or contracting the circumstances of the case without altering a single historical inci ent" The same object may be seen from se!eral $oints of !iew, an it will har ly seem the same thing, yet there has been no change e?ce$t in the eye that behol s it" (o you in ee o honour to truth when what you tell me is a genuine fact, but you make it a$$ear something quite ifferentE ' tree more or less, a rock to the right or to the left, a clou of ust raise by the win , how often ha!e these eci e the result of a battle without any one knowing itE (oes that $re!ent history from telling you the cause of efeat or !ictory with as much assurance as if she ha been on the s$otE But what are the facts to me, while 9 am ignorant of their causes, an what lessons can 9 raw from an e!ent, whose true cause is unknown to meE The historian in ee gi!es me a reason, but he in!ents itA an criticism itself, of which we hear so much, is only the art of guessing, the art of choosing from among se!eral lies, the lie that is most like truth" 8a!e you e!er rea :leo$atra or :assan ra or any books of the kin E The author selects some well-known e!ent, he then a a$ts it to his $ur$ose, a orns it with etails of his own in!ention, with $eo$le who ne!er e?iste , with imaginary $ortraitsA thus he $iles fiction on fiction to len a charm to his story" 9 see little ifference between such romances an your histories, unless it is that the no!elist raws more on his own imagination, while the historian sla!ishly co$ies what another has imagine A 9 will also a mit, if you $lease, that the no!elist has some moral $ur$ose goo or ba , about which the historian scarcely concerns himself" #ou will tell me that accuracy in history is of less interest than a true $icture of men an mannersA $ro!i e the human heart is truly $ortraye , it matters little that e!ents shoul be accurately recor e A for

after all you say, what oes it matter to us what ha$$ene two thousan years agoE #ou are right if the $ortraits are in ee truly gi!en accor ing to natureA but if the mo el is to be foun for the most $art in the historian@s imagination, are you not falling into the !ery error you inten e to a!oi , an surren ering to the authority of the historian what you woul not yiel to the authority of the teacherE 9f my $u$il is merely to see fancy $ictures, 9 woul rather raw them myselfA they will, at least, be better suite to him" The worst historians for a youth are those who gi!e their o$inions" 7actsH 7actsH an let him eci e for himselfA this is how he will learn to know mankin " 9f he is always irecte by the o$inion of the author, he is only seeing through the eyes of another $erson, an when those ayes are no longer at his is$osal he can see nothing" 9 lea!e mo ern history on one si e, not only because it has no character an all our $eo$le are alike, but because our historians, wholly taken u$ with effect, think of nothing but highly coloure $ortraits, which often re$resent nothing" .7ootnote& Take, for instance, Guicciar ini, )tre a, )olis, >achia!elli, an sometimes e!en (e Thou himself" Gertot is almost the only one who knows how to escribe without gi!ing fancy $ortraits"3 The ol historians generally gi!e fewer $ortraits an bring more intelligence an common-sense to their ju gmentsA but e!en among them there is $lenty of sco$e for choice, an you must not begin with the wisest but with the sim$lest" 9 woul not $ut Polybius or )allust into the han s of a youthA Tacitus is the author of the ol , young men cannot un erstan himA you must learn to see in human actions the sim$lest features of the heart of man before you try to soun its e$ths" #ou must be able to rea facts clearly before you begin to stu y ma?ims" Philoso$hy in the form of ma?ims is only fit for the e?$erience " #outh shoul ne!er eal with the general, all its teaching shoul eal with in i!i ual instances" To my min Thucy i es is the true mo el of historians" 8e relates facts without gi!ing his o$inionA but he omits no circumstance a a$te to make us ju ge for oursel!es" 8e $uts e!erything that he relates before his rea erA far from inter$osing between the facts an the rea ers, he conceals himselfA we seem not to rea but to see" ;nfortunately he s$eaks of nothing but war, an in his stories we only see the least instructi!e $art of the worl , that is to say the battles" The !irtues an efects of the Retreat of the Ten Thousan an the :ommentaries of :aesar are almost the same" The kin ly 8ero otus, without $ortraits, without ma?ims, yet flowing, sim$le, full of etails calculate to elight an interest in the highest egree, woul be $erha$s the best historian if these !ery etails i not often egenerate into chil ish folly, better a a$te to s$oil the taste of youth than to form itA we nee iscretion before we can rea him" 9 say nothing of %i!y, his turn will comeA but he is a statesman, a rhetorician, he is e!erything which is unsuitable for a youth" 8istory in general is lacking because it only takes note of striking an clearly marke facts which may be fi?e by names, $laces, an atesA but the slow e!olution of these facts, which cannot be efinitely note in

this way, still remains unknown" Ce often fin in some battle, lost or won, the ostensible cause of a re!olution which was ine!itable before this battle took $lace" Car only makes manifest e!ents alrea y etermine by moral causes, which few historians can $ercei!e" The $hiloso$hic s$irit has turne the thoughts of many of the historians of our times in this irectionA but 9 oubt whether truth has $rofite by their labours" The rage for systems has got $ossession of all alike, no one seeks to see things as they are, but only as they agree with his system" ' to all these consi erations the fact that history shows us actions rather than men, because she only seiFes men at certain chosen times in full ressA she only $ortrays the statesman when he is $re$are to be seenA she oes not follow him to his home, to his stu y, among his family an his frien sA she only shows him in stateA it is his clothes rather than himself that she escribes" 9 woul $refer to begin the stu y of the human heart with rea ing the li!es of in i!i ualsA for then the man hi es himself in !ain, the historian follows him e!erywhereA he ne!er gi!es him a moment@s grace nor any corner where he can esca$e the $iercing eye of the s$ectatorA an when he thinks he is concealing himself, then it is that the writer shows him u$ most $lainly" DThose who write li!es,D says >ontaigne, Din so far as they elight more in i eas than in e!ents, more in that which comes from within than in that which comes from without, these are the writers 9 $referA for this reason Plutarch is in e!ery way the man for me"D 9t is true that the genius of men in grou$s or nations is !ery ifferent from the character of the in i!i ual man, an that we ha!e a !ery im$erfect knowle ge of the human heart if we o not also e?amine it in crow sA but it is none the less true that to ju ge of men we must stu y the in i!i ual man, an that he who ha a $erfect knowle ge of the inclinations of each in i!i ual might foresee all their combine effects in the bo y of the nation" Ce must go back again to the ancients, for the reasons alrea y state , an also because all the etails common an familiar, but true an characteristic, are banishe by mo ern stylists, so that men are as much tricke out by our mo ern authors in their $ri!ate life as in $ublic" Pro$riety, no less strict in literature than in life, no longer $ermits us to say anything in $ublic which we might not o in $ublicA an as we may only show the man resse u$ for his $art, we ne!er see a man in our books any more than we o on the stage" The li!es of kings may be written a hun re times, but to no $ur$oseA we shall ne!er ha!e another )uetonius" The e?cellence of Plutarch consists in these !ery etails which we are no longer $ermitte to escribe" Cith inimitable grace he $aints the great man in little thingsA an he is so ha$$y in the choice of his instances that a wor , a smile, a gesture, will often suffice to in icate the nature of his hero" Cith a jest 8annibal cheers his frightene sol iers, an lea s them laughing to the battle which will lay 9taly at his feetA 'gesilaus ri ing on a

stick makes me lo!e the conqueror of the great kingA :aesar $assing through a $oor !illage an chatting with his frien s unconsciously betrays the traitor who $rofesse that he only wishe to be Pom$ey@s equal" 'le?an er swallows a raught without a wor Bit is the finest moment in his lifeA 'risti es writes his own name on the shell an so justifies his titleA Philo$oemen, his mantle lai asi e, cho$s firewoo in the kitchen of his host" This is the true art of $ortraiture" 6ur is$osition oes not show itself in our features, nor our character in our great ee sA it is trifles that show what we really are" Chat is one in $ublic is either too common$lace or too artificial, an our mo ern authors are almost too gran to tell us anything else" >" e Turenne was un oubte ly one of the greatest men of the last century" They ha!e ha the courage to make his life interesting by the little etails which make us know an lo!e himA but how many etails ha!e they felt oblige to omit which might ha!e ma e us know an lo!e him better stillE 9 will only quote one which 9 ha!e on goo authority, one which Plutarch woul ne!er ha!e omitte , an one which Ramsai woul ne!er ha!e inserte ha he been acquainte with it" 6n a hot summer@s ay Giscount Turenne in a little white !est an nightca$ was stan ing at the win ow of his antechamberA one of his men came u$ an , misle by the ress, took him for one of the kitchen la s whom he knew" 8e cre$t u$ behin him an smacke him with no light han " The man he struck turne roun hastily" The !alet saw it was his master an tremble at the sight of his face" 8e fell on his knees in es$eration" D)ir, 9 thought it was George"D DCell, e!en if it was George,D e?claime Turenne rubbing the injure $art, Dyou nee not ha!e struck so har "D #ou o not are to say this, you miserable writersH Remain for e!er without humanity an without feelingA steel your har hearts in your !ile $ro$riety, make yoursel!es contem$tible through your highmightiness" But as for you, ear youth, when you rea this anec ote, when you are touche by all the kin liness is$laye e!en on the im$ulse of the moment, rea also the littleness of this great man when it was a question of his name an birth" Remember it was this !ery Turenne who always $rofesse to yiel $rece ence to his ne$hew, so that all men might see that this chil was the hea of a royal house" %ook on this $icture an on that, lo!e nature, es$ise $o$ular $reju ice, an know the man as he was" There are few $eo$le able to realise what an effect such rea ing, carefully irecte , will ha!e u$on the uns$oilt min of a youth" Ceighe own by books from our earliest chil hoo , accustome to rea without thinking, what we rea strikes us e!en less, because we alrea y bear in oursel!es the $assions an $reju ices with which history an the li!es of men are fille A all that they o strikes us as only natural, for we oursel!es are unnatural an we ju ge others by oursel!es" But imagine my Emile, who has been carefully guar e for eighteen years with the sole object of $reser!ing a right ju gment an a healthy heart, imagine him when the curtain goes u$ casting his eyes for the first time u$on the worl @s stageA or rather $icture him behin the scenes watching the actors on their costumes, an counting the cor s an $ulleys which ecei!e with their

feigne shows the eyes of the s$ectators" 8is first sur$rise will soon gi!e $lace to feelings of shame an scorn of his fellow-manA he will be in ignant at the sight of the whole human race ecei!ing itself an stoo$ing to this chil ish follyA he will grie!e to see his brothers tearing each other limb from limb for a mere ream, an transforming themsel!es into wil beasts because they coul not be content to be men" Gi!en the natural is$osition of the $u$il, there is no oubt that if the master e?ercises any sort of $ru ence or iscretion in his choice of rea ing, howe!er little he may $ut him in the way of reflecting on the subject-matter, this e?ercise will ser!e as a course in $ractical $hiloso$hy, a $hiloso$hy better un erstoo an more thoroughly mastere than all the em$ty s$eculations with which the brains of la s are mu le in our schools" 'fter following the romantic schemes of Pyrrhus, :ineas asks him what real goo he woul gain by the conquest of the worl , which he can ne!er enjoy without such great sufferingsA this only arouses in us a $assing interest as a smart sayingA but Emile will think it a !ery wise thought, one which ha alrea y occurre to himself, an one which he will ne!er forget, because there is no hostile $reju ice in his min to $re!ent it sinking in" Chen he rea s more of the life of this ma man, he will fin that all his great $lans resulte in his eath at the han s of a woman, an instea of a miring this $inchbeck heroism, what will he see in the e?$loits of this great ca$tain an the schemes of this great statesman but so many ste$s towar s that unlucky tile which was to bring life an schemes alike to a shameful eathE 'll conquerors ha!e not been kille A all usur$ers ha!e not faile in their $lansA to min s imbue with !ulgar $reju ices many of them will seem ha$$y, but he who looks below the surface an reckons men@s ha$$iness by the con ition of their hearts will $ercei!e their wretche ness e!en in the mi st of their successesA he will see them $anting after a !ancement an ne!er attaining their $riFe, he will fin them like those ine?$erience tra!ellers among the 'l$s, who think that e!ery height they see is the last, who reach its summit only to fin to their isa$$ointment there are loftier $eaks beyon " 'ugustus, when he ha sub ue his fellow-citiFens an estroye his ri!als, reigne for forty years o!er the greatest em$ire that e!er e?iste A but all this !ast $ower coul not hin er him from beating his hea against the walls, an filling his $alace with his groans as he crie to Garus to restore his slaughtere legions" 9f he ha conquere all his foes what goo woul his em$ty trium$hs ha!e one him, when troubles of e!ery kin beset his $ath, when his life was threatene by his earest frien s, an when he ha to mourn the isgrace or eath of all near an ear to himE The wretche man esire to rule the worl an faile to rule his own househol " Chat was the result of this neglectE 8e behel his ne$hew, his a o$te chil , his son-in-law, $erish in the flower of youth, his gran son re uce to eat the stuffing of his mattress to $rolong his wretche e?istence for a few hoursA his aughter an his gran aughter, after they ha co!ere him with infamy, ie , the one of hunger an want on a esert islan , the other in $rison by the han of a

common archer" 8e himself, the last sur!i!or of his unha$$y house, foun himself com$elle by his own wife to acknowle ge a monster as his heir" )uch was the fate of the master of the worl , so famous for his glory an his goo fortune" 9 cannot belie!e that any one of those who a mire his glory an fortune woul acce$t them at the same $rice" 9 ha!e taken ambition as my e?am$le, but the $lay of e!ery human $assion offers similar lessons to any one who will stu y history to make himself wise an goo at the e?$ense of those who went before" The time is rawing near when the teaching of the life of 'nthony will a$$eal more forcibly to the youth than the life of 'ugustus" Emile will scarcely know where he is among the many strange sights in his new stu iesA but he will know beforehan how to a!oi the illusion of $assions before they arise, an seeing how in all ages they ha!e blin e men@s eyes, he will be forewarne of the way in which they may one ay blin his own shoul he aban on himself to them" .7ootnote& 9t is always $reju ice which stirs u$ $assion in our heart" 8e who only sees what really e?ists an only !alues what he knows, rarely becomes angry" The errors of our ju gment $ro uce the warmth of our esires"3 These lessons, 9 know, are unsuite to him, $erha$s at nee they may $ro!e scanty an ill-time A but remember they are not the lessons 9 wishe to raw from this stu y" To begin with, 9 ha quite another en in !iewA an in ee , if this $ur$ose is unfulfille , the teacher will be to blame" Remember that, as soon as selfishness has e!elo$e , the self in its relations to others is always with us, an the youth ne!er obser!es others without coming back to himself an com$aring himself with them" 7rom the way young men are taught to stu y history 9 see that they are transforme , so to s$eak, into the $eo$le they behol , that you stri!e to make a :icero, a Trajan, or an 'le?an er of them, to iscourage them when they are themsel!es again, to make e!ery one regret that he is merely himself" There are certain a !antages in this $lan which 9 o not enyA but, so far as Emile is concerne , shoul it ha$$en at any time when he is making these com$arisons that he wishes to be any one but himselfBwere it )ocrates or :atoB9 ha!e faile entirelyA he who begins to regar himself as a stranger will soon forget himself altogether" 9t is not $hiloso$hers who know most about menA they only !iew them through the $reconcei!e i eas of $hiloso$hy, an 9 know no one so $reju ice as $hiloso$hers" ' sa!age woul ju ge us more sanely" The $hiloso$her is aware of his own !ices, he is in ignant at ours, an he says to himself, DCe are all ba alikeAD the sa!age behol s us unmo!e an says, D#ou are ma "D 8e is right, for no one oes e!il for e!il@s sake" >y $u$il is that sa!age, with this ifference& Emile has thought more, he has com$are i eas, seen our errors at close quarters, he is more on his guar against himself, an only ju ges of what he knows" 9t is our own $assions that e?cite us against the $assions of othersA it is our self-interest which makes us hate the wicke A if they i us no harm we shoul $ity rather than hate them" Ce shoul rea ily forgi!e their !ices if we coul $ercei!e how their own heart $unishes those !ices" Ce are aware of the offence, but we o not see the $unishmentA the a !antages are $lain, the $enalty is hi en" The man who thinks he is

enjoying the fruits of his !ices is no less tormente by them than if they ha not been successfulA the object is ifferent, the an?iety is the sameA in !ain he is$lays his goo fortune an hi es his heartA in s$ite of himself his con uct betrays himA but to iscern this, our own heart must be utterly unlike his" Ce are le astray by those $assions which we shareA we are isguste by those that militate against our own interestsA an with a want of logic ue to these !ery $assions, we blame in others what we fain woul imitate" '!ersion an self- ece$tion are ine!itable when we are force to en ure at another@s han s what we oursel!es woul o in his $lace" Chat then is require for the $ro$er stu y of menE ' great wish to know men, great im$artiality of ju gment, a heart sufficiently sensiti!e to un erstan e!ery human $assion, an calm enough to be free from $assion" 9f there is any time in our life when this stu y is likely to be a$$reciate , it is this that 9 ha!e chosen for EmileA before this time men woul ha!e been strangers to himA later on he woul ha!e been like them" :on!ention, the effects of which he alrea y $ercei!es, has not yet ma e him its sla!e, the $assions, whose consequences he realises, ha!e not yet stirre his heart" 8e is a manA he takes an interest in his brethrenA he is a just man an he ju ges his $eers" <ow it is certain that if he ju ges them rightly he will not want to change $laces with any one of them, for the goal of all their an?ious efforts is the result of $reju ices which he oes not share, an that goal seems to him a mere ream" 7or his own $art, he has all he wants within his reach" 8ow shoul he be e$en ent on any one when he is self-sufficing an free from $reju iceE )trong arms, goo health, .7ootnote& 9 think 9 may fairly reckon health an strength among the a !antages he has obtaine by his e ucation, or rather among the gifts of nature which his e ucation has $reser!e for him"3 mo eration, few nee s, together with the means to satisfy those nee s, are his" 8e has been brought u$ in com$lete liberty an ser!itu e is the greatest ill he un erstan s" 8e $ities these miserable kings, the sla!es of all who obey themA he $ities these false $ro$hets fettere by their em$ty fameA he $ities these rich fools, martyrs to their own $om$A he $ities these ostentatious !olu$tuaries, who s$en their life in ea ly ullness that they may seem to enjoy its $leasures" 8e woul $ity the !ery foe who harme him, for he woul iscern his wretche ness beneath his cloak of s$ite" 8e woul say to himself, DThis man has yiel e to his esire to hurt me, an this nee of his $laces him at my mercy"D 6ne ste$ more an our goal is attaine " )elfishness is a angerous tool though a useful oneA it often woun s the han that uses it, an it rarely oes goo unmi?e with e!il" Chen Emile consi ers his $lace among men, when he fin s himself so fortunately situate , he will be tem$te to gi!e cre it to his own reason for the work of yours, an to attribute to his own eserts what is really the result of his goo fortune" 8e will say to himself, D9 am wise an other men are fools"D 8e will $ity an es$ise them an will congratulate himself all the more heartilyA an as he knows he is ha$$ier than they, he will think his eserts are greater" This is the fault we ha!e most to fear, for it is the most ifficult to era icate" 9f he

remaine in this state of min , he woul ha!e $rofite little by all our careA an if 9 ha to choose, 9 har ly know whether 9 woul not rather choose the illusions of $reju ice than those of $ri e" Great men are un er no illusion with res$ect to their su$eriorityA they see it an know it, but they are none the less mo est" The more they ha!e, the better they know what they lack" They are less !ain of their su$eriority o!er us than ashame by the consciousness of their weakness, an among the goo things they really $ossess, they are too wise to $ri e themsel!es on a gift which is none of their getting" The goo man may be $rou of his !irtue for it is his own, but what cause for $ri e has the man of intellectE Chat has Racine one that he is not Pra on, an Boileau that he is not :otinE The circumstances with which we are concerne are quite ifferent" %et us kee$ to the common le!el" 9 assume that my $u$il ha neither sur$assing genius nor a efecti!e un erstan ing" 9 chose him of an or inary min to show what e ucation coul o for man" E?ce$tions efy all rules" 9f, therefore, as a result of my care, Emile $refers his way of li!ing, seeing, an feeling to that of others, he is rightA but if he thinks because of this that he is nobler an better born than they, he is wrongA he is ecei!ing himselfA he must be un ecei!e , or rather let us $re!ent the mistake, lest it be too late to correct it" Pro!i e a man is not ma , he can be cure of any folly but !anityA there is no cure for this but e?$erience, if in ee there is any cure for it at allA when it first a$$ears we can at least $re!ent its further growth" But o not on this account waste your breath on em$ty arguments to $ro!e to the youth that he is like other men an subject to the same weaknesses" >ake him feel it or he will ne!er know it" This is another instance of an e?ce$tion to my own rulesA 9 must !oluntarily e?$ose my $u$il to e!ery acci ent which may con!ince him that he is no wiser than we" The a !enture with the conjurer will be re$eate again an again in ifferent waysA 9 shall let flatterers take a !antage of himA if rash comra es raw him into some $erilous a !enture, 9 will let him run the riskA if he falls into the han s of shar$ers at the car -table, 9 will aban on him to them as their u$e".7ootnote& >oreo!er our $u$il will be little tem$te by this snareA he has so many amusements about him, he has ne!er been bore in his life, an he scarcely knows the use of money" 's chil ren ha!e been le by these two moti!es, self-interest an !anity, rogues an courtesans use the same means to get hol of them later" Chen you see their gree iness encourage by $riFes an rewar s, when you fin their $ublic $erformances at ten years ol a$$lau e at school or college, you see too how at twenty they will be in uce to lea!e their $urse in a gambling hell an their health in a worse $lace" #ou may safely wager that the shar$est boy in the class will become the greatest gambler an ebauchee" <ow the means which ha!e not been em$loye in chil hoo ha!e not the same effect in youth" But we must bear in min my constant $lan an take the thing at its worst" 7irst 9 try to $re!ent the !iceA then 9 assume its e?istence in or er to correct it"3 9 will let them flatter him, $luck him, an rob himA an when ha!ing sucke him ry they turn an mock him, 9 will e!en thank them to his face for the lessons

they ha!e been goo enough to gi!e him" The only snares from which 9 will guar him with my utmost care are the wiles of wanton women" The only $recaution 9 shall take will be to share all the angers 9 let him run, an all the insults 9 let him recei!e" 9 will bear e!erything in silence, without a murmur or re$roach, without a wor to him, an be sure that if this wise con uct is faithfully a here to, what he sees me en ure on his account will make more im$ression on his heart than what he himself suffers" 9 cannot refrain at this $oint from rawing attention to the sham ignity of tutors, who foolishly $reten to be wise, who iscourage their $u$ils by always $rofessing to treat them as chil ren, an by em$hasising the ifference between themsel!es an their scholars in e!erything they o" 7ar from am$ing their youthful s$irits in this fashion, s$are no effort to stimulate their courageA that they may become your equals, treat them as such alrea y, an if they cannot rise to your le!el, o not scru$le to come own to theirs without being ashame of it" Remember that your honour is no longer in your own kee$ing but in your $u$il@s" )hare his faults that you may correct them, bear his isgrace that you may wi$e it outA follow the e?am$le of that bra!e Roman who, unable to rally his fleeing sol iers, $lace himself at their hea , e?claiming, DThey o not flee, they follow their ca$tainHD (i this ishonour himE <ot soA by sacrificing his glory he increase it" The $ower of uty, the beauty of !irtue, com$el our res$ect in s$ite of all our foolish $reju ices" 9f 9 recei!e a blow in the course of my uties to Emile, far from a!enging it 9 woul boast of itA an 9 oubt whether there is in the whole worl a man so !ile as to res$ect me any the less on this account" 9 o not inten the $u$il to su$$ose his master to be as ignorant, or as liable to be le astray, as he is himself" This i ea is all !ery well for a chil who can neither see nor com$are things, who thinks e!erything is within his reach, an only bestows his confi ence on those who know how to come own to his le!el" But a youth of Emile@s age an sense is no longer so foolish as to make this mistake, an it woul not be esirable that he shoul " The confi ence he ought to ha!e in his tutor is of another kin A it shoul rest on the authority of reason, an on su$erior knowle ge, a !antages which the young man is ca$able of a$$reciating while he $ercei!es how useful they are to himself" %ong e?$erience has con!ince him that his tutor lo!es him, that he is a wise an goo man who esires his ha$$iness an knows how to $rocure it" 8e ought to know that it is to his own a !antage to listen to his a !ice" But if the master lets himself be taken in like the isci$le, he will lose his right to e?$ect eference from him, an to gi!e him instruction" )till less shoul the $u$il su$$ose that his master is $ur$osely letting him fall into snares or $re$aring $itfalls for his ine?$erience" 8ow can we a!oi these two ifficultiesE :hoose the best an most natural meansA be frank an straightforwar like himselfA warn him of the angers to which he is e?$ose , $oint them out $lainly an sensibly, without e?aggeration, without tem$er, without $e antic is$lay, an abo!e all without gi!ing your o$inions in the form of or ers, until they ha!e become such, an until this im$erious tone is absolutely necessary" )houl he still be obstinate as he often will be, lea!e him free to follow his own choice,

follow him, co$y his e?am$le, an that cheerfully an franklyA if $ossible fling yourself into things, amuse yourself as much as he oes" 9f the consequences become too serious, you are at han to $re!ent themA an yet when this young man has behel your foresight an your kin liness, will he not be at once struck by the one an touche by the otherE 'll his faults are but so many han s with which he himself $ro!i es you to restrain him at nee " <ow un er these circumstances the great art of the master consists in controlling e!ents an irecting his e?hortations so that he may know beforehan when the youth will gi!e in, an when he will refuse to o so, so that all aroun him he may encom$ass him with the lessons of e?$erience, an yet ne!er let him run too great a risk" Carn him of his faults before he commits themA o not blame him when once they are committe A you woul only stir his self-lo!e to mutiny" Ce learn nothing from a lesson we etest" 9 know nothing more foolish than the $hrase, D9 tol you so"D The best way to make him remember what you tol him is to seem to ha!e forgotten it" Go further than this, an when you fin him ashame of ha!ing refuse to belie!e you, gently smooth away the shame with kin ly wor s" 8e will in ee hol you ear when he sees how you forget yourself on his account, an how you console him instea of re$roaching him" But if you increase his annoyance by your re$roaches he will hate you, an will make it a rule ne!er to hee you, as if to show you that he oes not agree with you as to the !alue of your o$inion" The turn you gi!e to your consolation may itself be a lesson to him, an all the more because he oes not sus$ect it" Chen you tell him, for e?am$le, that many other $eo$le ha!e ma e the same mistakes, this is not what he was e?$ectingA you are a ministering correction un er the guise of $ityA for when one thinks oneself better than other $eo$le it is a !ery mortifying e?cuse to console oneself by their e?am$leA it means that we must realise that the most we can say is that they are no better than we" The time of faults is the time for fables" Chen we blame the guilty un er the co!er of a story we instruct without offen ing himA an he then un erstan s that the story is not untrue by means of the truth he fin s in its a$$lication to himself" The chil who has ne!er been ecei!e by flattery un erstan s nothing of the fable 9 recently e?amine A but the rash youth who has just become the u$e of a flatterer $ercei!es only too rea ily that the crow was a fool" Thus he acquires a ma?im from the fact, an the e?$erience he woul soon ha!e forgotten is engra!e on his min by means of the fable" There is no knowle ge of morals which cannot be acquire through our own e?$erience or that of others" Chen there is anger, instea of letting him try the e?$eriment himself, we ha!e recourse to history" Chen the risk is com$arati!ely slight, it is just as well that the youth shoul be e?$ose to itA then by means of the a$ologue the s$ecial cases with which the young man is now acquainte are transforme into ma?ims" 9t is not, howe!er, my intention that these ma?ims shoul be e?$laine , nor e!en formulate " <othing is so foolish an unwise as the moral at the en of most of the fablesA as if the moral was not, or ought not to be so

clear in the fable itself that the rea er cannot fail to $ercei!e it" Chy then a the moral at the en , an go e$ri!e him of the $leasure of isco!ering it for himself" The art of teaching consists in making the $u$il wish to learn" But if the $u$il is to wish to learn, his min must not remain in such a $assi!e state with regar to what you tell him that there is really nothing for him to o but listen to you" The master@s !anity must always gi!e way to the scholarsA he must be able to say, 9 un erstan , 9 see it, 9 am getting at it, 9 am learning something" 6ne of the things which makes the Pantaloon in the 9talian come ies so wearisome is the $ains taken by him to e?$lain to the au ience the $latitu es they un erstan only too well alrea y" Ce must always be intelligible, but we nee not say all there is to be sai " 9f you talk much you will say little, for at last no one will listen to you" Chat is the sense of the four lines at the en of %a 7ontaine@s fable of the frog who $uffe herself u$" 9s he afrai we shoul not un erstan itE (oes this great $ainter nee to write the names beneath the things he has $ainte E 8is morals, far from generalising, restrict the lesson to some e?tent to the e?am$les gi!en, an $re!ent our a$$lying them to others" Before 9 $ut the fables of this inimitable author into the han s of a youth, 9 shoul like to cut out all the conclusions with which he stri!es to e?$lain what he has just sai so clearly an $leasantly" 9f your $u$il oes not un erstan the fable without the e?$lanation, he will not un erstan it with it" >oreo!er, the fables woul require to be arrange in a more i actic or er, one more in agreement with the feelings an knowle ge of the young a olescent" :an you imagine anything so foolish as to follow the mere numerical or er of the book without regar to our requirements or our o$$ortunities" 7irst the grassho$$er, then the crow, then the frog, then the two mules, etc" 9 am sick of these two mulesA 9 remember seeing a chil who was being e ucate for financeA they ne!er let him alone, but were always insisting on the $rofession he was to followA they ma e him rea this fable, learn it, say it, re$eat it again an again without fin ing in it the slightest argument against his future calling" <ot only ha!e 9 ne!er foun chil ren make any real use of the fables they learn, but 9 ha!e ne!er foun anybo y who took the trouble to see that they ma e such a use of them" The stu y claims to be instruction in moralsA but the real aim of mother an chil is nothing but to set a whole $arty watching the chil while he recites his fablesA when he is too ol to recite them an ol enough to make use of them, they are altogether forgotten" 6nly men, 9 re$eat, can learn from fables, an Emile is now ol enough to begin" 9 o not mean to tell you e!erything, so 9 only in icate the $aths which i!erge from the right way, so that you may know how to a!oi them" 9f you follow the roa 9 ha!e marke out for you, 9 think your $u$il will buy his knowle ge of mankin an his knowle ge of himself in the chea$est marketA you will enable him to behol the tricks of fortune without en!ying the lot of her fa!ourites, an to be content with himself without thinking himself better than others" #ou ha!e begun by making him an actor that he may learn to be one of the au ienceA you must continue your task, for from the theatre things are what they seem, from the stage they seem what they are" 7or the general effect we must get a istant !iew, for the etails we must obser!e more closely" But how can a young

man take $art in the business of lifeE Chat right has he to be initiate into its ark secretsE 8is interests are confine within the limits of his own $leasures, he has no $ower o!er others, it is much the same as if he ha no $ower at all" >an is the chea$est commo ity on the market, an among all our im$ortant rights of $ro$erty, the rights of the in i!i ual are always consi ere last of all" Chen 9 see the stu ies of young men at the $erio of their greatest acti!ity confine to $urely s$eculati!e matters, while later on they are su enly $lunge , without any sort of e?$erience, into the worl of men an affairs, it strikes me as contrary alike to reason an to nature, an 9 cease to be sur$rise that so few men know what to o" 8ow strange a choice to teach us so many useless things, while the art of oing is ne!er touche u$onH They $rofess to fit us for society, an we are taught as if each of us were to li!e a life of contem$lation in a solitary cell, or to iscuss theories with $ersons whom they i not concern" #ou think you are teaching your scholars how to li!e, an you teach them certain bo ily contortions an certain forms of wor s without meaning" 9, too, ha!e taught Emile how to li!eA for 9 ha!e taught him to enjoy his own society an , more than that, to earn his own brea " But this is not enough" To li!e in the worl he must know how to get on with other $eo$le, he must know what forces mo!e them, he must calculate the action an re-action of self-interest in ci!il society, he must estimate the results so accurately that he will rarely fail in his un ertakings, or he will at least ha!e trie in the best $ossible way" The law oes not allow young $eo$le to manage their own affairs nor to is$ose of their own $ro$ertyA but what woul be the use of these $recautions if they ne!er gaine any e?$erience until they were of age" They woul ha!e gaine nothing by the elay, an woul ha!e no more e?$erience at fi!e-an -twenty than at fifteen" <o oubt we must take $recautions, so that a youth, blin e by ignorance or misle by $assion, may not hurt himselfA but at any age there are o$$ortunities when ee s of kin ness an of care for the weak may be $erforme un er the irection of a wise man, on behalf of the unfortunate who nee hel$" >others an nurses grow fon of chil ren because of the care they la!ish on themA the $ractice of social !irtues touches the !ery heart with the lo!e of humanityA by oing goo we become goo A an 9 know no surer way to this en " =ee$ your $u$il busy with the goo ee s that are within his $ower, let the cause of the $oor be his own, let him hel$ them not merely with his money, but with his ser!iceA let him work for them, $rotect them, let his $erson an his time be at their is$osalA let him be their agentA he will ne!er all his life long ha!e a more honourable office" 8ow many of the o$$resse , who ha!e ne!er got a hearing, will obtain justice when he eman s it for them with that courage an firmness which the $ractice of !irtue ins$iresA when he makes his way into the $resence of the rich an great, when he goes, if nee be, to the footstool of the king himself, to $lea the cause of the wretche , the cause of those who fin all oors close to them by their $o!erty, those who are so afrai of being $unishe for their misfortunes that they o not are to com$lainE

But shall we make of Emile a knight-errant, a re resser of wrongs, a $ala inE )hall he thrust himself into $ublic life, $lay the sage an the efen er of the laws before the great, before the magistrates, before the kingE )hall he lay $etitions before the ju ges an $lea in the law courtsE That 9 cannot say" The nature of things is not change by terms of mockery an scorn" 8e will o all that he knows to be useful an goo " 8e will o nothing more, an he knows that nothing is useful an goo for him which is unbefitting his age" 8e knows that his first uty is to himselfA that young men shoul istrust themsel!esA that they shoul act circums$ectlyA that they shoul show res$ect to those ol er than themsel!es, reticence an iscretion in talking without cause, mo esty in things in ifferent, but courage in well oing, an bol ness to s$eak the truth" )uch were those illustrious Romans who, ha!ing been a mitte into $ublic life, s$ent their ays in bringing criminals to justice an in $rotecting the innocent, without any moti!es beyon those of learning, an of the furtherance of justice an of the $rotection of right con uct" Emile is not fon of noise or quarrelling, not only among men, but among animals" .7ootnote& DBut what will he o if any one seeks a quarrel with himED >y answer is that no one will e!er quarrel with him, he will ne!er len himself to such a thing" But, in ee , you continue, who can be safe from a blow, or an insult from a bully, a runkar , a bra!o, who for the joy of killing his man begins by ishonouring himE That is another matter" The life an honour of the citiFens shoul not be at the mercy of a bully, a runkar , or a bra!o, an one can no more insure oneself against such an acci ent than against a falling tile" ' blow gi!en, or a lie in the teeth, if he submit to them, ha!e social consequences which no wis om can $re!ent an no tribunal can a!enge" The weakness of the laws, therefore, so far restores a man@s in e$en enceA he is the sole magistrate an ju ge between the offen er an himself, the sole inter$reter an a ministrator of natural law" Justice is his ue, an he alone can obtain it, an in such a case there is no go!ernment on earth so foolish as to $unish him for so oing" 9 o not say he must fightA that is absur A 9 say justice is his ue, an he alone can is$ense it" 9f 9 were king, 9 $romise you that in my king om no one woul e!er strike a man or call him a liar, an yet 9 woul o without all those useless laws against uelsA the means are sim$le an require no law courts" 8owe!er that may be, Emile knows what is ue to himself in such a case, an the e?am$le ue from him to the safety of men of honour" The strongest of men cannot $re!ent insult, but he can take goo care that his a !ersary has no o$$ortunity to boast of that insult"3 8e will ne!er set two ogs to fight, he will ne!er set a og to chase a cat" This $eaceful s$irit is one of the results of his e ucation, which has ne!er stimulate self-lo!e or a high o$inion of himself, an so has not encourage him to seek his $leasure in omination an in the sufferings of others" The sight of suffering makes him suffer tooA this is a natural feeling" 9t is one of the after effects of !anity that har ens a young man an makes him take a elight in seeing the torments of a li!ing an feeling creatureA it makes him consi er himself beyon the reach of similar sufferings through his su$erior wis om or !irtue" 8e who is beyon the reach of !anity cannot fall into the !ice which results from !anity" )o Emile lo!es $eace" 8e is elighte at the sight of ha$$iness, an if he can hel$ to bring it about, this is an

a itional reason for sharing it" 9 o not assume that when he sees the unha$$y he will merely feel for them that barren an cruel $ity which is content to $ity the ills it can heal" 8is kin ness is acti!e an teaches him much he woul ha!e learnt far more slowly, or he woul ne!er ha!e learnt at all, if his heart ha been har er" 9f he fin s his comra es at strife, he tries to reconcile themA if he sees the afflicte , he inquires as to the cause of their sufferingsA if he meets two men who hate each other, he wants to know the reason of their enmityA if he fin s one who is owntro en groaning un er the o$$ression of the rich an $owerful, he tries to isco!er by what means he can counteract this o$$ression, an in the interest he takes with regar to all these unha$$y $ersons, the means of remo!ing their sufferings are ne!er out of his sight" Chat use shall we make of this is$osition so that it may re-act in a way suite to his ageE %et us irect his efforts an his knowle ge, an use his Feal to increase them" 9 am ne!er weary of re$eating& let all the lessons of young $eo$le take the form of oing rather than talkingA let them learn nothing from books which they can learn from e?$erience" 8ow absur to attem$t to gi!e them $ractice in s$eaking when they ha!e nothing to say, to e?$ect to make them feel, at their school esks, the !igour of the language of $assion an all the force of the arts of $ersuasion when they ha!e nothing an nobo y to $ersua eH 'll the rules of rhetoric are mere waste of wor s to those who o not know how to use them for their own $ur$oses" 8ow oes it concern a schoolboy to know how 8annibal encourage his sol iers to cross the 'l$sE 9f instea of these gran s$eeches you showe him how to in uce his $refect to gi!e him a holi ay, you may be sure he woul $ay more attention to your rules" 9f 9 wante to teach rhetoric to a youth whose $assions were as yet un e!elo$e , 9 woul raw his attention continually to things that woul stir his $assions, an 9 woul iscuss with him how he shoul talk to $eo$le so as to get them to regar his wishes fa!ourably" But Emile is not in a con ition so fa!ourable to the art of oratory" :oncerne mainly with his $hysical well-being, he has less nee of others than they of himA an ha!ing nothing to ask of others on his own account, what he wants to $ersua e them to o oes not affect him sufficiently to awake any !ery strong feeling" 7rom this it follows that his language will be on the whole sim$le an literal" 8e usually s$eaks to the $oint an only to make himself un erstoo " 8e is not sententious, for he has not learnt to generaliseA he oes not s$eak in figures, for he is rarely im$assione " #et this is not because he is altogether col an $hlegmatic, neither his age, his character, nor his tastes $ermit of this" 9n the fire of a olescence the life-gi!ing s$irits, retaine in the bloo an istille again an again, ins$ire his young heart with a warmth which glows in his eye, a warmth which is felt in his wor s an $ercei!e in his actions" The lofty feeling with which he is ins$ire gi!es him strength an nobilityA imbue with ten er lo!e for mankin his wor s betray the thoughts of his heartA 9 know not how it is, but there is more charm in his o$en-hearte generosity than in the artificial eloquence of othersA or rather this

eloquence of his is the only true eloquence, for he has only to show what he feels to make others share his feelings" The more 9 think of it the more con!ince 9 am that by thus translating our kin ly im$ulses into action, by rawing from our goo or ill success conclusions as to their cause, we shall fin that there is little useful knowle ge that cannot be im$arte to a youthA an that together with such true learning as may be got at college he will learn a science of more im$ortance than all the rest together, the a$$lication of what he has learne to the $ur$oses of life" Taking such an interest in his fellowcreatures, it is im$ossible that he shoul fail to learn !ery quickly how to note an weigh their actions, their tastes, their $leasures, an to estimate generally at their true !alue what may increase or iminish the ha$$iness of menA he shoul o this better than those who care for nobo y an ne!er o anything for any one" The feelings of those who are always occu$ie with their own concerns are too keenly affecte for them to ju ge wisely of things" They consi er e!erything as it affects themsel!es, they form their i eas of goo an ill solely on their own e?$erience, their min s are fille with all sorts of absur $reju ices, an anything which affects their own a !antage e!er so little, seems an u$hea!al of the uni!erse" E?ten self-lo!e to others an it is transforme into !irtue, a !irtue which has its root in the heart of e!ery one of us" The less the object of our care is irectly e$en ent on oursel!es, the less we ha!e to fear from the illusion of self-interestA the more general this interest becomes, the juster it isA an the lo!e of the human race is nothing but the lo!e of justice within us" 9f therefore we esire Emile to be a lo!er of truth, if we esire that he shoul in ee $ercei!e it, let us kee$ him far from self-interest in all his business" The more care he bestows u$on the ha$$iness of others the wiser an better he is, an the fewer mistakes he will make between goo an e!ilA but ne!er allow him any blin $reference foun e merely on $ersonal $re ilection or unfair $reju ice" Chy shoul he harm one $erson to ser!e anotherE Chat oes it matter to him who has the greater share of ha$$iness, $ro!i ing he $romotes the ha$$iness of allE '$art from self-interest this care for the general well-being is the first concern of the wise man, for each of us forms $art of the human race an not $art of any in i!i ual member of that race" To $re!ent $ity egenerating into weakness we must generalise it an e?ten it to mankin " Then we only yiel to it when it is in accor ance with justice, since justice is of all the !irtues that which contributes most to the common goo " Reason an self-lo!e com$el us to lo!e mankin e!en more than our neighbour, an to $ity the wicke is to be !ery cruel to other men" >oreo!er, you must bear in min that all these means em$loye to $roject my $u$il beyon himself ha!e also a istinct relation to himselfA since they not only cause him inwar elight, but 9 am also en ea!ouring to instruct him, while 9 am making him kin ly is$ose towar s others" 7irst 9 showe the means em$loye , now 9 will show the result" Chat wi e $ros$ects o 9 $ercei!e unfol ing themsel!es before his min H Chat

noble feelings stifle the lesser $assions in his heartH Chat clearness of ju gment, what accuracy in reasoning, o 9 see e!elo$ing from the inclinations we ha!e culti!ate , from the e?$erience which concentrates the esires of a great heart within the narrow boun s of $ossibility, so that a man su$erior to others can come own to their le!el if he cannot raise them to his ownH True $rinci$les of justice, true ty$es of beauty, all moral relations between man an man, all i eas of or er, these are engra!e on his un erstan ingA he sees the right $lace for e!erything an the causes which ri!e it from that $laceA he sees what may o goo , an what hin ers it" Cithout ha!ing felt the $assions of mankin , he knows the illusions they $ro uce an their mo e of action" 9 $rocee along the $ath which the force of circumstances com$els me to trea , but 9 o not insist that my rea ers shall follow me" %ong ago they ha!e ma e u$ their min s that 9 am wan ering in the lan of chimeras, while for my $art 9 think they are welling in the country of $reju ice" Chen 9 wan er so far from $o$ular beliefs 9 o not cease to bear them in min A 9 e?amine them, 9 consi er them, not that 9 may follow them or shun them, but that 9 may weigh them in the balance of reason" Chene!er reason com$els me to aban on these $o$ular beliefs, 9 know by e?$erience that my rea ers will not follow my e?am$leA 9 know that they will $ersist in refusing to go beyon what they can see, an that they will take the youth 9 am escribing for the creation of my fanciful imagination, merely because he is unlike the youths with whom they com$are himA they forget that he must nee s be ifferent, because he has been brought u$ in a totally ifferent fashionA he has been influence by wholly ifferent feelings, instructe in a wholly ifferent manner, so that it woul be far stranger if he were like your $u$ils than if he were what 9 ha!e su$$ose " 8e is a man of nature@s making, not man@s" <o won er men fin him strange" Chen 9 began this work 9 took for grante nothing but what coul be obser!e as rea ily by others as by myselfA for our starting-$oint, the birth of man, is the same for allA but the further we go, while 9 am seeking to culti!ate nature an you are seeking to e$ra!e it, the further a$art we fin oursel!es" 't si? years ol my $u$il was not so !ery unlike yours, whom you ha not yet ha time to isfigureA now there is nothing in common between themA an when they reach the age of manhoo , which is now a$$roaching, they will show themsel!es utterly ifferent from each other, unless all my $ains ha!e been thrown away" There may not be so !ery great a ifference in the amount of knowle ge they $ossess, but there is all the ifference in the worl in the kin of knowle ge" #ou are amaFe to fin that the one has noble sentiments of which the others ha!e not the smallest germ, but remember that the latter are alrea y $hiloso$hers an theologians while Emile oes not e!en know what is meant by a $hiloso$her an has scarcely hear the name of Go " But if you come an tell me, DThere are no such young men, young $eo$le are not ma e that wayA they ha!e this $assion or that, they o this or that,D it is as if you enie that a $ear tree coul e!er be a tall tree because the $ear trees in our gar ens are all warfs"

9 beg these critics who are so rea y with their blame to consi er that 9 am as well acquainte as they are with e!erything they say, that 9 ha!e $robably gi!en more thought to it, an that, as 9 ha!e no $ri!ate en to ser!e in getting them to agree with me, 9 ha!e a right to eman that they shoul at least take time to fin out where 9 am mistaken" %et them thoroughly e?amine the nature of man, let them follow the earliest growth of the heart in any gi!en circumstances, so as to see what a ifference e ucation may make in the in i!i ualA then let them com$are my metho of e ucation with the results 9 ascribe to itA an let them tell me where my reasoning is unsoun , an 9 shall ha!e no answer to gi!e them" 9t is this that makes me s$eak so strongly, an as 9 think with goo e?cuse& 9 ha!e not $le ge myself to any system, 9 e$en as little as $ossible on arguments, an 9 trust to what 9 myself ha!e obser!e " 9 o not base my i eas on what 9 ha!e imagine , but on what 9 ha!e seen" 9t is true that 9 ha!e not confine my obser!ations within the walls of any one town, nor to a single class of $eo$leA but ha!ing com$are men of e!ery class an e!ery nation which 9 ha!e been able to obser!e in the course of a life s$ent in this $ursuit, 9 ha!e iscar e as artificial what belonge to one nation an not to another, to one rank an not to anotherA an 9 ha!e regar e as $ro$er to mankin what was common to all, at any age, in any station, an in any nation whatsoe!er" <ow if in accor ance with this metho you follow from infancy the course of a youth who has not been sha$e to any s$ecial moul , one who e$en s as little as $ossible on authority an the o$inions of others, which will he most resemble, my $u$il or yoursE 9t seems to me that this is the question you must answer if you woul know if 9 am mistaken" 9t is not easy for a man to begin to thinkA but when once he has begun he will ne!er lea!e off" 6nce a thinker, always a thinker, an the un erstan ing once $ractise in reflection will ne!er rest" #ou may therefore think that 9 o too much or too littleA that the human min is not by nature so quick to unfol A an that after ha!ing gi!en it o$$ortunities it has not got, 9 kee$ it too long confine within a circle of i eas which it ought to ha!e outgrown" But remember, in the first $lace, that when 9 want to train a natural man, 9 o not want to make him a sa!age an to sen him back to the woo s, but that li!ing in the whirl of social life it is enough that he shoul not let himself be carrie away by the $assions an $reju ices of menA let him see with his eyes an feel with his heart, let him own no sway but that of reason" ;n er these con itions it is $lain that many things will strike himA the oft-recurring feelings which affect him, the ifferent ways of satisfying his real nee s, must gi!e him many i eas he woul not otherwise ha!e acquire or woul only ha!e acquire much later" The natural $rogress of the min is quickene but not re!erse " The same man who woul remain stu$i in the forests shoul become wise an reasonable in towns, if he were merely a s$ectator in them" <othing is better fitte to make one wise than the sight of follies we o not share, an e!en if we share them, we still learn, $ro!i e we are not the u$e

of our follies an $ro!i e we o not bring to them the same mistakes as the others" :onsi er also that while our faculties are confine to the things of sense, we offer scarcely any hol to the abstractions of $hiloso$hy or to $urely intellectual i eas" To attain to these we require either to free oursel!es from the bo y to which we are so strongly boun , or to $rocee ste$ by ste$ in a slow an gra ual course, or else to lea$ across the inter!ening s$ace with a gigantic boun of which no chil is ca$able, one for which grown men e!en require many ste$s hewn on $ur$ose for themA but 9 fin it !ery ifficult to see how you $ro$ose to construct such ste$s" The 9ncom$rehensible embraces all, he gi!es its motion to the earth, an sha$es the system of all creatures, but our eyes cannot see him nor can our han s search him out, he e!a es the efforts of our sensesA we behol the work, but the workman is hi en from our eyes" 9t is no small matter to know that he e?ists, an when we ha!e got so far, an when we ask" Chat is heE Chere is heE our min is o!erwhelme , we lose oursel!es, we know not what to think" %ocke woul ha!e us begin with the stu y of s$irits an go on to that of bo ies" This is the metho of su$erstition, $reju ice, an errorA it is not the metho of nature, nor e!en that of well-or ere reasonA it is to learn to see by shutting our eyes" Ce must ha!e stu ie bo ies long enough before we can form any true i ea of s$irits, or e!en sus$ect that there are such beings" The contrary $ractice merely $uts materialism on a firmer footing" )ince our senses are the first instruments to our learning, cor$oreal an sensible bo ies are the only bo ies we irectly a$$rehen " The wor Ds$iritD has no meaning for any one who has not $hiloso$hise " To the unlearne an to the chil a s$irit is merely a bo y" (o they not fancy that s$irits groan, s$eak, fight, an make noisesE <ow you must own that s$irits with arms an !oices are !ery like bo ies" This is why e!ery nation on the face of the earth, not e!en e?ce$ting the Jews, ha!e ma e to themsel!es i ols" Ce, oursel!es, with our wor s, )$irit, Trinity, Persons, are for the most $art quite anthro$omor$hic" 9 a mit that we are taught that Go is e!erywhereA but we also belie!e that there is air e!erywhere, at least in our atmos$hereA an the wor )$irit meant originally nothing more than breath an win " 6nce you teach $eo$le to say what they o not un erstan , it is easy enough to get them to say anything you like" The $erce$tion of our action u$on other bo ies must ha!e first in uce us to su$$ose that their action u$on us was effecte in like manner" Thus man began by thinking that all things whose action affecte him were ali!e" 8e i not recognise the limits of their $owers, an he therefore su$$ose that they were boun lessA as soon as he ha su$$lie them with bo ies they became his go s" 9n the earliest times men went in terror of e!erything an e!erything in nature seeme ali!e" The i ea of matter was e!elo$e as slowly as that of s$irit, for the former is itself an abstraction"

Thus the uni!erse was $eo$le with go s like themsel!es" The stars, the win s an the mountains, ri!ers, trees, an towns, their !ery wellings, each ha its soul, its go , its life" The tera$him of %aban, the manitos of sa!ages, the fetishes of the negroes, e!ery work of nature an of man, were the first go s of mortalsA $olytheism was their first religion an i olatry their earliest form of worshi$" The i ea of one Go was beyon their gras$, till little by little they forme general i eas, an they rose to the i ea of a first cause an ga!e meaning to the wor Dsubstance,D which is at bottom the greatest of abstractions" )o e!ery chil who belie!es in Go is of necessity an i olater or at least he regar s the (eity as a man, an when once the imagination has $ercei!e Go , it is !ery sel om that the un erstan ing concei!es him" %ocke@s or er lea s us into this same mistake" 8a!ing arri!e , 9 know not how, at the i ea of substance, it is clear that to allow of a single substance it must be assume that this substance is en owe with incom$atible an mutually e?clusi!e $ro$erties, such as thought an siFe, one of which is by its nature i!isible an the other wholly inca$able of i!ision" >oreo!er it is assume that thought or, if you $refer it, feeling is a $rimiti!e quality inse$arable from the substance to which it belongs, that its relation to the substance is like the relation between substance an siFe" 8ence it is inferre that beings who lose one of these attributes lose the substance to which it belongs, an that eath is, therefore, but a se$aration of substances, an that those beings in whom the two attributes are foun are com$ose of the two substances to which those two qualities belong" But consi er what a gulf there still is between the i ea of two substances an that of the i!ine nature, between the incom$rehensible i ea of the influence of our soul u$on our bo y an the i ea of the influence of Go u$on e!ery li!ing creature" The i eas of creation, estruction, ubiquity, eternity, almighty $ower, those of the i!ine attributesBthese are all i eas so confuse an obscure that few men succee in gras$ing themA yet there is nothing obscure about them to the common $eo$le, because they o not un erstan them in the leastA how then shoul they $resent themsel!es in full force, that is to say in all their obscurity, to the young min which is still occu$ie with the first working of the senses, an fails to realise anything but what it han lesE 9n !ain o the abysses of the 9nfinite o$en aroun us, a chil oes not know the meaning of fearA his weak eyes cannot gauge their e$ths" To chil ren e!erything is infinite, they cannot assign limits to anythingA not that their measure is so large, but because their un erstan ing is so small" 9 ha!e e!en notice that they $lace the infinite rather below than abo!e the imensions known to them" They ju ge a istance to be immense rather by their feet than by their eyesA infinity is boun e for them, not so much by what they can see, but how far they can go" 9f you talk to them of the $ower of Go , they will think he is nearly as strong as their father" 's their own knowle ge is in e!erything the stan ar by which they ju ge of what is $ossible, they always $icture what is escribe to them as rather smaller than what they know" )uch are the natural reasonings of an ignorant an feeble min " 'ja? was afrai to measure his strength against 'chilles, yet he challenge Ju$iter to combat, for he knew 'chilles an i not know

Ju$iter" ' )wiss $easant thought himself the richest man ali!eA when they trie to e?$lain to him what a king was, he aske with $ri e, D8as the king got a hun re cows on the high $asturesED 9 am aware that many of my rea ers will be sur$rise to fin me tracing the course of my scholar through his early years without s$eaking to him of religion" 't fifteen he will not e!en know that he has a soul, at eighteen e!en he may not be rea y to learn about it" 7or if he learns about it too soon, there is the risk of his ne!er really knowing anything about it" 9f 9 ha to e$ict the most heart-breaking stu$i ity, 9 woul $aint a $e ant teaching chil ren the catechismA if 9 wante to ri!e a chil craFy 9 woul set him to e?$lain what he learne in his catechism" #ou will re$ly that as most of the :hristian octrines are mysteries, you must wait, not merely till the chil is a man, but till the man is ea , before the human min will un erstan those octrines" To that 9 re$ly, that there are mysteries which the heart of man can neither concei!e nor belie!e, an 9 see no use in teaching them to chil ren, unless you want to make liars of them" >oreo!er, 9 assert that to a mit that there are mysteries, you must at least realise that they are incom$rehensible, an chil ren are not e!en ca$able of this conce$tionH 't an age when e!erything is mysterious, there are no mysteries $ro$erly so-calle " DCe must belie!e in Go if we woul be sa!e "D This octrine wrongly un erstoo is the root of bloo thirsty intolerance an the cause of all the futile teaching which strikes a ea ly blow at human reason by training it to cheat itself with mere wor s" <o oubt there is not a moment to be lost if we woul eser!e eternal sal!ationA but if the re$etition of certain wor s suffices to obtain it, 9 o not see why we shoul not $eo$le hea!en with starlings an mag$ies as well as with chil ren" The obligation of faith assumes the $ossibility of belief" The $hiloso$her who oes not belie!e is wrong, for he misuses the reason he has culti!ate , an he is able to un erstan the truths he rejects" But the chil who $rofesses the :hristian faithBwhat oes he belie!eE Just what he un erstan sA an he un erstan s so little of what he is ma e to re$eat that if you tell him to say just the o$$osite he will be quite rea y to o it" The faith of chil ren an the faith of many men is a matter of geogra$hy" Cill they be rewar e for ha!ing been born in Rome rather than in >eccaE 6ne is tol that >ahomet is the $ro$het of Go an he says, D>ahomet is the $ro$het of Go "D The other is tol that >ahomet is a rogue an he says, D>ahomet is a rogue"D Either of them woul ha!e sai just the o$$osite ha he stoo in the other@s shoes" Chen they are so much alike to begin with, can the one be consigne to Para ise an the other to 8ellE Chen a chil says he belie!es in Go , it is not Go he belie!es in, but Peter or James who tol him that there is something calle Go , an he belie!es it after the fashion of Euri$i esB

D6 Ju$iter, of whom 9 know nothing but thy name"D .7ootnote& Plutarch" 9t is thus that the trage y of >enali$$us originally began, but the clamour of the 'thenians com$elle Euri$i es to change these o$ening lines"3 Ce hol that no chil who ies before the age of reason will be e$ri!e of e!erlasting ha$$inessA the :atholics belie!e the same of all chil ren who ha!e been ba$tise , e!en though they ha!e ne!er hear of Go " There are, therefore, circumstances in which one can be sa!e without belief in Go , an these circumstances occur in the case of chil ren or ma men when the human min is inca$able of the o$erations necessary to $ercei!e the Go hea " The only ifference 9 see between you an me is that you $rofess that chil ren of se!en years ol are able to o this an 9 o not think them rea y for it at fifteen" Chether 9 am right or wrong e$en s, not on an article of the cree , but on a sim$le obser!ation in natural history" 7rom the same $rinci$le it is $lain that any man ha!ing reache ol age without faith in Go will not, therefore, be e$ri!e of Go @s $resence in another life if his blin ness was not wilfulA an 9 maintain that it is not always wilful" #ou a mit that it is so in the case of lunatics e$ri!e by isease of their s$iritual faculties, but not of their manhoo , an therefore still entitle to the goo ness of their :reator" Chy then shoul we not a mit it in the case of those brought u$ from infancy in seclusion, those who ha!e le the life of a sa!age an are without the knowle ge that comes from intercourse with other men" .7ootnote& 7or the natural con ition of the human min an its slow e!elo$ment, cf" the first $art of the (iscours sur 9negalite"3 7or it is clearly im$ossible that such a sa!age coul e!er raise his thoughts to the knowle ge of the true Go " Reason tells that man shoul only be $unishe for his wilful faults, an that in!incible ignorance can ne!er be im$ute to him as a crime" 8ence it follows that in the sight of the Eternal Justice e!ery man who woul belie!e if he ha the necessary knowle ge is counte a belie!er, an that there will be no unbelie!ers to be $unishe e?ce$t those who ha!e close their hearts against the truth" %et us beware of $roclaiming the truth to those who cannot as yet com$rehen it, for to o so is to try to inculcate error" 9t woul be better to ha!e no i ea at all of the (i!inity than to ha!e mean, grotesque, harmful, an unworthy i easA to fail to $ercei!e the (i!ine is a lesser e!il than to insult it" The worthy Plutarch says, D9 woul rather men sai , @There is no such $erson as Plutarch,@ than that they shoul say, @Plutarch is unjust, en!ious, jealous, an such a tyrant that he eman s more than can be $erforme "@D The chief harm which results from the monstrous i eas of Go which are instille into the min s of chil ren is that they last all their life long, an as men they un erstan no more of Go than they i as chil ren" 9n )witFerlan 9 once saw a goo an $ious mother who was so con!ince of the truth of this ma?im that she refuse to teach her son religion when

he was a little chil for fear lest he shoul be satisfie with this cru e teaching an neglect a better teaching when he reache the age of reason" This chil ne!er hear the name of Go $ronounce e?ce$t with re!erence an e!otion, an as soon as he attem$te to say the wor he was tol to hol his tongue, as if the subject were too sublime an great for him" This reticence arouse his curiosity an his self-lo!eA he looke forwar to the time when he woul know this mystery so carefully hi en from him" The less they s$oke of Go to him, the less he was himself $ermitte to s$eak of Go , the more he thought about 8imA this chil behel Go e!erywhere" Chat 9 shoul most rea as the result of this unwise affectation of mystery is this& by o!er-stimulating the youth@s imagination you may turn his hea , an make him at the best a fanatic rather than a belie!er" But we nee fear nothing of the sort for Emile, who always eclines to $ay attention to what is beyon his reach, an listens with $rofoun in ifference to things he oes not un erstan " There are so many things of which he is accustome to say, DThat is no concern of mine,D that one more or less makes little ifference to himA an when he oes begin to $er$le? himself with these great matters, it is because the natural growth of his knowle ge is turning his thoughts that way" Ce ha!e seen the roa by which the culti!ate human min a$$roaches these mysteries, an 9 am rea y to a mit that it woul not attain to them naturally, e!en in the bosom of society, till a much later age" But as there are in this same society ine!itable causes which hasten the e!elo$ment of the $assions, if we i not also hasten the e!elo$ment of the knowle ge which controls these $assions we shoul in ee e$art from the $ath of nature an isturb her equilibrium" Chen we can no longer restrain a $recocious e!elo$ment in one irection we must $romote a corres$on ing e!elo$ment in another irection, so that the or er of nature may not be in!erte , an so that things shoul $rogress together, not se$arately, so that the man, com$lete at e!ery moment of his life, may ne!er fin himself at one stage in one of his faculties an at another stage in another faculty" Chat a ifficulty o 9 see before meH ' ifficulty all the greater because it e$en s less on actual facts than on the cowar ice of those who are not look the ifficulty in the face" %et us at least !enture to state our $roblem" ' chil shoul always be brought u$ in his father@s religionA he is always gi!en $lain $roofs that this religion, whate!er it may be, is the only true religion, that all others are ri iculous an absur " The force of the argument e$en s entirely on the country in which it is $ut forwar " %et a Turk, who thinks :hristianity so absur at :onstantino$le, come to Paris an see what they think of >ahomet" 9t is in matters of religion more than in anything else that $reju ice is trium$hant" But when we who $rofess to shake off its yoke entirely, we who refuse to yiel any homage to authority, ecline to teach Emile anything which he coul not learn for himself in any country, what religion shall we gi!e him, to what sect shall this chil of nature belongE The answer strikes me as quite easy" Ce will not attach him to any sect, but we will gi!e him the means to choose for himself accor ing to the right use of his own reason"

9nce o $er ignes )u$$ositos cineri oloso"B8orace, lib" ii" o e 9" <o matterH Thus far Feal an $ru ence ha!e taken the $lace of caution" 9 ho$e that these guar ians will not fail me now" Rea er, o not fear lest 9 shoul take $recautions unworthy of a lo!er of truthA 9 shall ne!er forget my motto, but 9 istrust my own ju gment all too easily" 9nstea of telling you what 9 think myself, 9 will tell you the thoughts of one whose o$inions carry more weight than mine" 9 guarantee the truth of the facts 9 am about to relateA they actually ha$$ene to the author whose writings 9 am about to transcribeA it is for you to ju ge whether we can raw from them any consi erations bearing on the matter in han " 9 o not offer you my own i ea or another@s as your ruleA 9 merely $resent them for your e?amination" Thirty years ago there was a young man in an 9talian townA he was an e?ile from his nati!e lan an foun himself re uce to the e$ths of $o!erty" 8e ha been born a :al!inist, but the consequences of his own folly ha ma e him a fugiti!e in a strange lan A he ha no money an he change his religion for a morsel of brea " There was a hostel for $roselytes in that town to which he gaine a mission" The stu y of contro!ersy ins$ire oubts he ha ne!er felt before, an he ma e acquaintance with e!il hitherto unsus$ecte by himA he hear strange octrines an he met with morals still stranger to himA he behel this e!il con uct an nearly fell a !ictim to it" 8e longe to esca$e, but he was locke u$A he com$laine , but his com$laints were unhee e A at the mercy of his tyrants, he foun himself treate as a criminal because he woul not share their crimes" The anger kin le in a young an untrie heart by the first e?$erience of !iolence an injustice may be realise by those who ha!e themsel!es e?$erience it" Tears of anger flowe from his eyes, he was wil with rageA he $raye to hea!en an to man, an his $rayers were unhear A he s$oke to e!ery one an no one listene to him" 8e saw no one but the !ilest ser!ants un er the control of the wretch who insulte him, or accom$lices in the same crime who laughe at his resistance an encourage him to follow their e?am$le" 8e woul ha!e been ruine ha not a worthy $riest !isite the hostel on some matter of business" 8e foun an o$$ortunity of consulting him secretly" The $riest was $oor an in nee of hel$ himself, but the !ictim ha more nee of his assistance, an he i not hesitate to hel$ him to esca$e at the risk of making a angerous enemy" 8a!ing esca$e from !ice to return to $o!erty, the young man struggle !ainly against fate& for a moment he thought he ha gaine the !ictory" 't the first gleam of goo fortune his woes an his $rotector were alike forgotten" 8e was soon $unishe for this ingratitu eA all his ho$es !anishe A youth in ee was on his si e, but his romantic i eas s$oile e!erything" 8e ha neither talent nor skill to make his way easily, he coul neither be common$lace nor wicke , he e?$ecte so much that he got nothing" Chen he ha sunk to his former $o!erty, when he was without foo or shelter an rea y to ie of hunger, he remembere his benefactor"

8e went back to him, foun him, an was kin ly welcome A the sight of him remin e the $riest of a goo ee he ha oneA such a memory always rejoices the heart" This man was by nature humane an $itifulA he felt the sufferings of others through his own, an his heart ha not been har ene by $ros$erityA in a wor , the lessons of wis om an an enlightene !irtue ha reinforce his natural kin ness of heart" 8e welcome the young man, foun him a lo ging, an recommen e himA he share with him his li!ing which was barely enough for two" 8e i more, he instructe him, console him, an taught him the ifficult art of bearing a !ersity in $atience" #ou $reju ice $eo$le, woul you ha!e e?$ecte to fin all this in a $riest an in 9talyE This worthy $riest was a $oor )a!oyar clergyman who ha offen e his bisho$ by some youthful faultA he ha crosse the 'l$s to fin a $osition which he coul not obtain in his own country" 8e lacke neither wit nor learning, an with his interesting countenance he ha met with $atrons who foun him a $lace in the househol of one of the ministers, as tutor to his son" 8e $referre $o!erty to e$en ence, an he i not know how to get on with the great" 8e i not stay long with this minister, an when he e$arte he took with him his goo o$inionA an as he li!e a goo life an gaine the hearts of e!erybo y, he was gla to be forgi!en by his bisho$ an to obtain from him a small $arish among the mountains, where he might $ass the rest of his life" This was the limit of his ambition" 8e was attracte by the young fugiti!e an he questione him closely" 8e saw that ill-fortune ha alrea y seare his heart, that scorn an isgrace ha o!erthrown his courage, an that his $ri e, transforme into bitterness an s$ite, le him to see nothing in the harshness an injustice of men but their e!il is$osition an the !anity of all !irtue" 8e ha seen that religion was but a mask for selfishness, an its holy ser!ices but a screen for hy$ocrisyA he ha foun in the subtleties of em$ty is$utations hea!en an hell awar e as $riFes for mere wor sA he ha seen the sublime an $rimiti!e i ea of (i!inity isfigure by the !ain fancies of menA an when, as he thought, faith in Go require him to renounce the reason Go himself ha gi!en him, he hel in equal scorn our foolish imaginings an the object with which they are concerne " Cith no knowle ge of things as they are, without any i ea of their origins, he was immerse in his stubborn ignorance an utterly es$ise those who thought they knew more than himself" The neglect of all religion soon lea s to the neglect of a man@s uties" The heart of this young libertine was alrea y far on this roa " #et his was not a ba nature, though incre ulity an misery were gra ually stifling his natural is$osition an ragging him own to ruinA they were lea ing him into the con uct of a rascal an the morals of an atheist" The almost ine!itable e!il was not actually consummate " The young man was not ignorant, his e ucation ha not been neglecte " 8e was at that ha$$y age when the $ulse beats strongly an the heart is warm, but is not yet ensla!e by the ma ness of the senses" 8is heart ha not lost its elasticity" ' nati!e mo esty, a timi is$osition restraine him, an $rolonge for him that $erio uring which you watch your $u$il so

carefully" The hateful e?am$le of brutal e$ra!ity, of !ice without any charm, ha not merely faile to quicken his imagination, it ha ea ene it" 7or a long time isgust rather than !irtue $reser!e his innocence, which woul only succumb to more se ucti!e charms" The $riest saw the anger an the way of esca$e" 8e was not iscourage by ifficulties, he took a $leasure in his taskA he etermine to com$lete it an to restore to !irtue the !ictim he ha snatche from !ice" 8e set about it cautiouslyA the beauty of the moti!e ga!e him courage an ins$ire him with means worthy of his Feal" Chate!er might be the result, his $ains woul not be waste " Ce are always successful when our sole aim is to o goo " 8e began to win the confi ence of the $roselyte by not asking any $rice for his kin ness, by not intru ing himself u$on him, by not $reaching at him, by always coming own to his le!el, an treating him as an equal" 9t was, so 9 think, a touching sight to see a serious $erson becoming the comra e of a young scam$, an !irtue $utting u$ with the s$eech of licence in or er to trium$h o!er it more com$letely" Chen the young fool came to him with his silly confi ences an o$ene his heart to him, the $riest listene an set him at his easeA without gi!ing his a$$ro!al to what was ba , he took an interest in e!erythingA no tactless re$roof checke his chatter or close his heartA the $leasure which he thought was gi!en by his con!ersation increase his $leasure in telling e!erythingA thus he ma e his general confession without knowing he was confessing anything" 'fter he ha ma e a thorough stu y of his feelings an is$osition, the $riest saw $lainly that, although he was not ignorant for his age, he ha forgotten e!erything that he most nee e to know, an that the isgrace which fortune ha brought u$on him ha stifle in him all real sense of goo an e!il" There is a stage of egra ation which robs the soul of its lifeA an the inner !oice cannot be hear by one whose whole min is bent on getting foo " To $rotect the unlucky youth from the moral eath which threatene him, he began to re!i!e his self-lo!e an his goo o$inion of himself" 8e showe him a ha$$ier future in the right use of his talentsA he re!i!e the generous warmth of his heart by stories of the noble ee s of othersA by rousing his a miration for the oers of these ee s he re!i!e his esire to o like ee s himself" To raw him gra ually from his i le an wan ering life, he ma e him co$y out e?tracts from well-chosen booksA he $reten e to want these e?tracts, an so nourishe in him the noble feeling of gratitu e" 8e taught him in irectly through these books, an thus he ma e him sufficiently regain his goo o$inion of himself so that he woul no longer think himself goo for nothing, an woul not make himself es$icable in his own eyes" ' trifling inci ent will show how this kin ly man trie , unknown to him, to raise the heart of his isci$le out of its egra ation, without seeming to think of teaching" The $riest was so well known for his u$rightness an his iscretion, that many $eo$le $referre to entrust their alms to him, rather than to the wealthy clergy of the town" 6ne ay some one ha gi!en him some money to istribute among the $oor, an the young man was mean enough to ask for some of it on the score of $o!erty" D<o,D sai

he, Dwe are brothers, you belong to me an 9 must not touch the money entruste to me"D Then he ga!e him the sum he ha aske for out of his own $ocket" %essons of this sort sel om fail to make an im$ression on the heart of young $eo$le who are not wholly corru$t" 9 am weary of s$eaking in the thir $erson, an the $recaution is unnecessaryA for you are well aware, my ear frien , that 9 myself was this unha$$y fugiti!eA 9 think 9 am so far remo!e from the isor ers of my youth that 9 may !enture to confess them, an the han which rescue me well eser!es that 9 shoul at least o honour to its goo ness at the cost of some slight shame" Chat struck me most was to see in the $ri!ate life of my worthy master, !irtue without hy$ocrisy, humanity without weakness, s$eech always $lain an straightforwar , an con uct in accor ance with this s$eech" 9 ne!er saw him trouble himself whether those whom he assiste went to !es$ers or confession, whether they faste at the a$$ointe seasons an went without meatA nor i he im$ose u$on them any other like con itions, without which you might ie of hunger before you coul ho$e for any hel$ from the e!out" 7ar from is$laying before him the Feal of a new con!ert, 9 was encourage by these obser!ations an 9 ma e no secret of my way of thinking, nor i he seem to be shocke by it" )ometimes 9 woul say to myself, he o!erlooks my in ifference to the religion 9 ha!e a o$te because he sees 9 am equally in ifferent to the religion in which 9 was brought u$A he knows that my scorn for religion is not confine to one sect" But what coul 9 think when 9 sometimes hear him gi!e his a$$ro!al to octrines contrary to those of the Roman :atholic :hurch, an a$$arently ha!ing but a $oor o$inion of its ceremonies" 9 shoul ha!e thought him a Protestant in isguise if 9 ha not behel him so faithful to those !ery customs which he seeme to !alue so lightlyA but 9 knew he fulfille his $riestly uties as carefully in $ri!ate as in $ublic, an 9 knew not what to think of these a$$arent contra ictions" E?ce$t for the fault which ha formerly brought about his isgrace, a fault which he ha only $artially o!ercome, his life was e?em$lary, his con uct beyon re$roach, his con!ersation honest an iscreet" Chile 9 li!e on !ery frien ly terms with him, 9 learnt ay by ay to res$ect him moreA an when he ha com$letely won my heart by such great kin ness, 9 awaite with eager curiosity the time when 9 shoul learn what was the $rinci$le on which the uniformity of this strange life was base " This o$$ortunity was a long time coming" Before taking his isci$le into his confi ence, he trie to get the see s of reason an kin ness which he ha sown in my heart to germinate" The most ifficult fault to o!ercome in me was a certain haughty misanthro$y, a certain bitterness against the rich an successful, as if their wealth an ha$$iness ha been gaine at my own e?$ense, an as if their su$$ose ha$$iness ha been unjustly taken from my own" The foolish !anity of youth, which kicks against the $ricks of humiliation, ma e me only too much incline to this angry tem$erA an the self-res$ect, which my mentor stro!e to re!i!e, le to $ri e, which ma e men still more !ile in my eyes, an only a e scorn to my hatre "

Cithout irectly attacking this $ri e, he $re!ente it from e!elo$ing into har ness of heartA an without e$ri!ing me of my self-esteem, he ma e me less scornful of my neighbours" By continually rawing my attention from the em$ty show, an irecting it to the genuine sufferings conceale by it, he taught me to e$lore the faults of my fellows an feel for their sufferings, to $ity rather than en!y them" Touche with com$assion towar s human weaknesses through the $rofoun con!iction of his own failings, he !iewe all men as the !ictims of their own !ices an those of othersA he behel the $oor groaning un er the tyranny of the rich, an the rich un er the tyranny of their own $reju ices" DBelie!e me,D sai he, Dour illusions, far from concealing our woes, only increase them by gi!ing !alue to what is in itself !alueless, in making us aware of all sorts of fancie $ri!ations which we shoul not otherwise feel" Peace of heart consists in es$ising e!erything that might isturb that $eaceA the man who clings most closely to life is the man who can least enjoy itA an the man who most eagerly esires ha$$iness is always most miserable"D DChat gloomy i easHD 9 e?claime bitterly" D9f we must eny oursel!es e!erything, we might as well ne!er ha!e been bornA an if we must es$ise e!en ha$$iness itself who can be ha$$yED D9 am,D re$lie the $riest one ay, in a tone which ma e a great im$ression on me" D#ou ha$$yH )o little fa!oure by fortune, so $oor, an e?ile an $ersecute , you are ha$$yH 8ow ha!e you contri!e to be ha$$yED D>y chil ,D he answere , D9 will gla ly tell you"D Thereu$on he e?$laine that, ha!ing hear my confessions, he woul confess to me" D9 will o$en my whole heart to yours,D he sai , embracing me" D#ou will see me, if not as 9 am, at least as 9 seem to myself" Chen you ha!e hear my whole confession of faith, when you really know the con ition of my heart, you will know why 9 think myself ha$$y, an if you think as 9 o, you will know how to be ha$$y too" But these e?$lanations are not the affair of a moment, it will take time to show you all my i eas about the lot of man an the true !alue of lifeA let us choose a fitting time an a $lace where we may continue this con!ersation without interru$tion"D 9 showe him how eager 9 was to hear him" The meeting was fi?e for the !ery ne?t morning" 9t was summer timeA we rose at aybreak" 8e took me out of the town on to a high hill abo!e the ri!er Po, whose course we behel as it flowe between its fertile banksA in the istance the lan sca$e was crowne by the !ast chain of the 'l$sA the beams of the rising sun alrea y touche the $lains an cast across the fiel s long sha ows of trees, hillocks, an houses, an enriche with a thousan gleams of light the fairest $icture which the human eye can see" #ou woul ha!e thought that nature was is$laying all her s$len our before our eyes to furnish a te?t for our con!ersation" 'fter contem$lating this scene for a s$ace in silence, the man of $eace s$oke to me"
THE CREED OF A SAVOYARD PRIEST

>y chil , o not look to me for learne s$eeches or $rofoun arguments" 9 am no great $hiloso$her, nor o 9 esire to be one" 9 ha!e, howe!er, a

certain amount of common-sense an a constant e!otion to truth" 9 ha!e no wish to argue with you nor e!en to con!ince youA it is enough for me to show you, in all sim$licity of heart, what 9 really think" :onsult your own heart while 9 s$eakA that is all 9 ask" 9f 9 am mistaken, 9 am honestly mistaken, an therefore my error will not be counte to me as a crimeA if you, too, are honestly mistaken, there is no great harm one" 9f 9 am right, we are both en owe with reason, we ha!e both the same moti!e for listening to the !oice of reason" Chy shoul not you think as 9 oE By birth 9 was a $easant an $oorA to till the groun was my $ortionA but my $arents thought it a finer thing that 9 shoul learn to get my li!ing as a $riest an they foun means to sen me to college" 9 am quite sure that neither my $arents nor 9 ha any i ea of seeking after what was goo , useful, or trueA we only sought what was wante to get me or aine " 9 learne what was taught me, 9 sai what 9 was tol to say, 9 $romise all that was require , an 9 became a $riest" But 9 soon isco!ere that when 9 $romise not to be a man, 9 ha $romise more than 9 coul $erform" :onscience, they tell us, is the creature of $reju ice, but 9 know from e?$erience that conscience $ersists in following the or er of nature in s$ite of all the laws of man" 9n !ain is this or that forbi enA remorse makes her !oice hear but feebly when what we o is $ermitte by wellor ere nature, an still more when we are oing her bi ing" >y goo youth, nature has not yet a$$eale to your sensesA may you long remain in this ha$$y state when her !oice is the !oice of innocence" Remember that to antici$ate her teaching is to offen more ee$ly against her than to resist her teachingA you must first learn to resist, that you may know when to yiel without wrong- oing" 7rom my youth u$ 9 ha re!erence the marrie state as the first an most sacre institution of nature" 8a!ing renounce the right to marry, 9 was resol!e not to $rofane the sanctity of marriageA for in s$ite of my e ucation an rea ing 9 ha always le a sim$le an regular life, an my min ha $reser!e the innocence of its natural instinctsA these instincts ha not been obscure by worl ly wis om, while my $o!erty ke$t me remote from the tem$tations ictate by the so$histry of !ice" This !ery resolution $ro!e my ruin" >y res$ect for marriage le to the isco!ery of my miscon uct" The scan al must be e?$iate A 9 was arreste , sus$en e , an ismisse A 9 was the !ictim of my scru$les rather than of my incontinence, an 9 ha reason to belie!e, from the re$roaches which accom$anie my isgrace, that one can often esca$e $unishment by being guilty of a worse fault" ' thoughtful min soon learns from such e?$eriences" 9 foun my former i eas of justice, honesty, an e!ery uty of man o!erturne by these $ainful e!ents, an ay by ay 9 was losing my hol on one or another of the o$inions 9 ha acce$te " Chat was left was not enough to form a bo y of i eas which coul stan alone, an 9 felt that the e!i ence on which my $rinci$les reste was being weakene A at last 9 knew not what to think, an 9 came to the same conclusion as yourself, but with this

ifference& >y lack of faith was the slow growth of manhoo , attaine with great ifficulty, an all the har er to u$root" 9 was in that state of oubt an uncertainty which (escartes consi ers essential to the search for truth" 9t is a state which cannot continue, it is isquieting an $ainfulA only !icious ten encies an an i le heart can kee$ us in that state" >y heart was not so corru$t as to elight in it, an there is nothing which so maintains the habit of thinking as being better $lease with oneself than with one@s lot" 9 $on ere , therefore, on the sa fate of mortals, a rift u$on this sea of human o$inions, without com$ass or ru er, an aban one to their stormy $assions with no gui e but an ine?$erience $ilot who oes not know whence he comes or whither he is going" 9 sai to myself, D9 lo!e truth, 9 seek her, an cannot fin her" )how me truth an 9 will hol her fastA why oes she hi e her face from the eager heart that woul fain worshi$ herED 'lthough 9 ha!e often e?$erience worse sufferings, 9 ha!e ne!er le a life so uniformly istressing as this $erio of unrest an an?iety, when 9 wan ere incessantly from one oubt to another, gaining nothing from my $rolonge me itations but uncertainty, arkness, an contra iction with regar to the source of my being an the rule of my uties" 9 cannot un erstan how any one can be a sce$tic sincerely an on $rinci$le" Either such $hiloso$hers o not e?ist or they are the most miserable of men" (oubt with regar to what we ought to know is a con ition too !iolent for the human min A it cannot long be en ure A in s$ite of itself the min eci es one way or another, an it $refers to be ecei!e rather than to belie!e nothing" >y $er$le?ity was increase by the fact that 9 ha been brought u$ in a church which eci es e!erything an $ermits no oubts, so that ha!ing rejecte one article of faith 9 was force to reject the restA as 9 coul not acce$t absur ecisions, 9 was e$ri!e of those which were not absur " Chen 9 was tol to belie!e e!erything, 9 coul belie!e nothing, an 9 knew not where to sto$" 9 consulte the $hiloso$hers, 9 searche their books an e?amine their !arious theoriesA 9 foun them all alike $rou , asserti!e, ogmatic, $rofessing, e!en in their so-calle sce$ticism, to know e!erything, $ro!ing nothing, scoffing at each other" This last trait, which was common to all of them, struck me as the only $oint in which they were right" Braggarts in attack, they are weaklings in efence" Ceigh their arguments, they are all estructi!eA count their !oices, e!ery one s$eaks for himselfA they are only agree in arguing with each other" 9 coul fin no way out of my uncertainty by listening to them" 9 su$$ose this $ro igious i!ersity of o$inion is cause , in the first $lace, by the weakness of the human intellectA an , in the secon , by $ri e" Ce ha!e no means of measuring this !ast machine, we are unable to calculate its workingsA we know neither its gui ing $rinci$les nor its final $ur$oseA we o not know oursel!es, we know neither our nature nor the s$irit that mo!es usA we scarcely know whether man is one or manyA we

are surroun e by im$enetrable mysteries" These mysteries are beyon the region of sense, we think we can $enetrate them by the light of reason, but we fall back on our imagination" Through this imagine worl each forces a way for himself which he hol s to be rightA none can tell whether his $ath will lea him to the goal" #et we long to know an un erstan it all" The one thing we o not know is the limit of the knowable" Ce $refer to trust to chance an to belie!e what is not true, rather than to own that not one of us can see what really is" ' fragment of some !ast whole whose boun s are beyon our gaFe, a fragment aban one by its :reator to our foolish quarrels, we are !ain enough to want to etermine the nature of that whole an our own relations with regar to it" 9f the $hiloso$hers were in a $osition to eclare the truth, which of them woul care to o soE E!ery one of them knows that his own system rests on no surer foun ations than the rest, but he maintains it because it is his own" There is not one of them who, if he chance to isco!er the ifference between truth an falsehoo , woul not $refer his own lie to the truth which another ha isco!ere " Chere is the $hiloso$her who woul not ecei!e the whole worl for his own gloryE 9f he can rise abo!e the crow , if he can e?cel his ri!als, what more oes he wantE 'mong belie!ers he is an atheistA among atheists he woul be a belie!er" The first thing 9 learne from these consi erations was to restrict my inquiries to what irectly concerne myself, to rest in $rofoun ignorance of e!erything else, an not e!en to trouble myself to oubt anything beyon what 9 require to know" 9 also realise that the $hiloso$hers, far from ri ing me of my !ain oubts, only multi$lie the oubts that tormente me an faile to remo!e any one of them" )o 9 chose another gui e an sai , D%et me follow the 9nner %ightA it will not lea me so far astray as others ha!e one, or if it oes it will be my own fault, an 9 shall not go so far wrong if 9 follow my own illusions as if 9 truste to their eceits"D 9 then went o!er in my min the !arious o$inions which 9 ha hel in the course of my life, an 9 saw that although no one of them was $lain enough to gain imme iate belief, some were more $robable than others, an my inwar consent was gi!en or withhel in $ro$ortion to this im$robability" 8a!ing isco!ere this, 9 ma e an un$reju ice com$arison of all these ifferent i eas, an 9 $ercei!e that the first an most general of them was also the sim$lest an the most reasonable, an that it woul ha!e been acce$te by e!ery one if only it ha been last instea of first" 9magine all your $hiloso$hers, ancient an mo ern, ha!ing e?hauste their strange systems of force, chance, fate, necessity, atoms, a li!ing worl , animate matter, an e!ery !ariety of materialism" Then comes the illustrious :larke who gi!es light to the worl an $roclaims the Being of beings an the Gi!er of things" Chat uni!ersal a miration, what unanimous a$$lause woul ha!e greete this new systemBa system so great, so illuminating, an so sim$le" 6ther systems are full of absur itiesA this system seems to me to contain fewer things which are beyon the un erstan ing of the human min " 9 sai to myself, DE!ery system has its insoluble $roblems, for the finite min of man is

too small to eal with themA these ifficulties are therefore no final arguments, against any system" But what a ifference there is between the irect e!i ence on which these systems are base H )houl we not $refer that theory which alone e?$lains all the facts, when it is no more ifficult than the restED Bearing thus within my heart the lo!e of truth as my only $hiloso$hy, an as my only metho a clear an sim$le rule which is$ense with the nee for !ain an subtle arguments, 9 returne with the hel$ of this rule to the e?amination of such knowle ge as concerne myselfA 9 was resol!e to a mit as self-e!i ent all that 9 coul not honestly refuse to belie!e, an to a mit as true all that seeme to follow irectly from thisA all the rest 9 etermine to lea!e un eci e , neither acce$ting nor rejecting it, nor yet troubling myself to clear u$ ifficulties which i not lea to any $ractical en s" But who am 9E Chat right ha!e 9 to eci eE Chat is it that etermines my ju gmentsE 9f they are ine!itable, if they are the results of the im$ressions 9 recei!e, 9 am wasting my strength in such inquiriesA they woul be ma e or not without any interference of mine" 9 must therefore first turn my eyes u$on myself to acquaint myself with the instrument 9 esire to use, an to isco!er how far it is reliable" 9 e?ist, an 9 ha!e senses through which 9 recei!e im$ressions" This is the first truth that strikes me an 9 am force to acce$t it" 8a!e 9 any in e$en ent knowle ge of my e?istence, or am 9 only aware of it through my sensationsE This is my first ifficulty, an so far 9 cannot sol!e it" 7or 9 continually e?$erience sensations, either irectly or in irectly through memory, so how can 9 know if the feeling of self is something beyon these sensations or if it can e?ist in e$en ently of themE >y sensations take $lace in myself, for they make me aware of my own e?istenceA but their cause is outsi e me, for they affect me whether 9 ha!e any reason for them or not, an they are $ro uce or estroye in e$en ently of me" )o 9 clearly $ercei!e that my sensation, which is within me, an its cause or its object, which is outsi e me, are ifferent things" Thus, not only o 9 e?ist, but other entities e?ist also, that is to say, the objects of my sensationsA an e!en if these objects are merely i eas, still these i eas are not me" But e!erything outsi e myself, e!erything which acts u$on my senses, 9 call matter, an all the $articles of matter which 9 su$$ose to be unite into se$arate entities 9 call bo ies" Thus all the is$utes of the i ealists an the realists ha!e no meaning for meA their istinctions between the a$$earance an the reality of bo ies are wholly fanciful" 9 am now as con!ince of the e?istence of the uni!erse as of my own" 9 ne?t consi er the objects of my sensations, an 9 fin that 9 ha!e the $ower of com$aring them, so 9 $ercei!e that 9 am en owe with an acti!e force of which 9 was not $re!iously aware"

To $ercei!e is to feelA to com$are is to ju geA to ju ge an to feel are not the same" Through sensation objects $resent themsel!es to me se$arately an singly as they are in natureA by com$aring them 9 rearrange them, 9 shift them so to s$eak, 9 $lace one u$on another to eci e whether they are alike or ifferent, or more generally to fin out their relations" To my min , the istincti!e faculty of an acti!e or intelligent being is the $ower of un erstan ing this wor Dis"D 9 seek in !ain in the merely sensiti!e entity that intelligent force which com$ares an ju gesA 9 can fin no trace of it in its nature" This $assi!e entity will be aware of each object se$arately, it will e!en be aware of the whole forme by the two together, but ha!ing no $ower to $lace them si e by si e it can ne!er com$are them, it can ne!er form a ju gment with regar to them" To see two things at once is not to see their relations nor to ju ge of their ifferencesA to $ercei!e se!eral objects, one beyon the other, is not to relate them" 9 may ha!e at the same moment an i ea of a big stick an a little stick without com$aring them, without ju ging that one is less than the other, just as 9 can see my whole han without counting my fingers" .7ootnote& >" e le :or amines@ narrati!es tell of a $eo$le who only know how to count u$ to three" #et the men of this nation, ha!ing han s, ha!e often seen their fingers without learning to count u$ to fi!e"3 These com$arati!e i eas, @greater@, @smaller@, together with number i eas of @one@, @two@, etc" are certainly not sensations, although my min only $ro uces them when my sensations occur" Ce are tol that a sensiti!e being istinguishes sensations from each other by the inherent ifferences in the sensationsA this requires e?$lanation" Chen the sensations are ifferent, the sensiti!e being istinguishes them by their ifferencesA when they are alike, he istinguishes them because he is aware of them one beyon the other" 6therwise, how coul he istinguish between two equal objects simultaneously e?$erience E 8e woul necessarily confoun the two objects an take them for one object, es$ecially un er a system which $rofesse that the re$resentati!e sensations of s$ace ha!e no e?tension" Chen we become aware of the two sensations to be com$are , their im$ression is ma e, each object is $ercei!e , both are $ercei!e , but for all that their relation is not $ercei!e " 9f the ju gment of this relation were merely a sensation, an came to me solely from the object itself, my ju gments woul ne!er be mistaken, for it is ne!er untrue that 9 feel what 9 feel" Chy then am 9 mistaken as to the relation between these two sticks, es$ecially when they are not $arallelE Chy, for e?am$le, o 9 say the small stick is a thir of the large, when it is only a quarterE Chy is the $icture, which is the sensation, unlike its mo el which is the objectE 9t is because 9 am acti!e when 9 ju ge, because the o$eration of com$arison is at faultA because my un erstan ing, which ju ges of relations, mingles its errors with the truth of sensations, which only re!eal to me things" ' to this a consi eration which will, 9 feel sure, a$$eal to you when you ha!e thought about it& it is thisB9f we were $urely $assi!e in the use of

our senses, there woul be no communication between themA it woul be im$ossible to know that the bo y we are touching an the thing we are looking at is the same" Either we shoul ne!er $ercei!e anything outsi e oursel!es, or there woul be for us fi!e substances $erce$tible by the senses, whose i entity we shoul ha!e no means of $ercei!ing" This $ower of my min which brings my sensations together an com$ares them may be calle by any nameA let it be calle attention, me itation, reflection, or what you willA it is still true that it is in me an not in things, that it is 9 alone who $ro uce it, though 9 only $ro uce it when 9 recei!e an im$ression from things" Though 9 am com$elle to feel or not to feel, 9 am free to e?amine more or less what 9 feel" Being now, so to s$eak, sure of myself, 9 begin to look at things outsi e myself, an 9 behol myself with a sort of shu er flung at ran om into this !ast uni!erse, $lunge as it were into the !ast number of entities, knowing nothing of what they are in themsel!es or in relation to me" 9 stu y them, 9 obser!e themA an the first object which suggests itself for com$arison with them is myself" 'll that 9 $ercei!e through the senses is matter, an 9 e uce all the essential $ro$erties of matter from the sensible qualities which make me $ercei!e it, qualities which are inse$arable from it" 9 see it sometimes in motion, sometimes at rest, .7ootnote& This re$ose is, if you $refer it, merely relati!eA but as we $ercei!e more or less of motion, we may $lainly concei!e one of two e?tremes, which is restA an we concei!e it so clearly that we are e!en is$ose to take for absolute rest what is only relati!e" But it is not true that motion is of the essence of matter, if matter may be concei!e of as at rest"3 hence 9 infer that neither motion nor rest is essential to it, but motion, being an action, is the result of a cause of which rest is only the absence" Chen, therefore, there is nothing acting u$on matter it oes not mo!e, an for the !ery reason that rest an motion are in ifferent to it, its natural state is a state of rest" 9 $ercei!e two sorts of motions of bo ies, acquire motion an s$ontaneous or !oluntary motion" 9n the first the cause is e?ternal to the bo y mo!e , in the secon it is within" 9 shall not conclu e from that that the motion, say of a watch, is s$ontaneous, for if no e?ternal cause o$erate u$on the s$ring it woul run own an the watch woul cease to go" 7or the same reason 9 shoul not a mit that the mo!ements of flui s are s$ontaneous, neither shoul 9 attribute s$ontaneous motion to fire which causes their flui ity" .7ootnote& :hemists regar $hlogiston or the element of fire as iffuse , motionless, an stagnant in the com$oun s of which it forms $art, until e?ternal forces set it free, collect it an set it in motion, an change it into fire"3 #ou ask me if the mo!ements of animals are s$ontaneousA my answer is, D9 cannot tell,D but analogy $oints that way" #ou ask me again, how o 9 know that there are s$ontaneous mo!ementsE 9 tell you, D9 know it because 9 feel them"D 9 want to mo!e my arm an 9 mo!e it without any other imme iate cause of the mo!ement but my own will" 9n !ain woul any one try to argue me out of this feeling, it is stronger than any $roofsA you might as well try to con!ince me that 9 o not e?ist"

9f there were no s$ontaneity in men@s actions, nor in anything that ha$$ens on this earth, it woul be all the more ifficult to imagine a first cause for all motion" 7or my own $art, 9 feel myself so thoroughly con!ince that the natural state of matter is a state of rest, an that it has no $ower of action in itself, that when 9 see a bo y in motion 9 at once assume that it is either a li!ing bo y or that this motion has been im$arte to it" >y min eclines to acce$t in any way the i ea of inorganic matter mo!ing of its own accor , or gi!ing rise to any action" #et this !isible uni!erse consists of matter, matter iffuse an ea , .7ootnote& 9 ha!e trie har to gras$ the i ea of a li!ing molecule, but in !ain" The i ea of matter feeling without any senses seems to me unintelligible an self-contra ictory" To acce$t or reject this i ea one must first un erstan it, an 9 confess that so far 9 ha!e not succee e "3 matter which has none of the cohesion, the organisation, the common feeling of the $arts of a li!ing bo y, for it is certain that we who are $arts ha!e no consciousness of the whole" This same uni!erse is in motion, an in its mo!ements, or ere , uniform, an subject to fi?e laws, it has none of that free om which a$$ears in the s$ontaneous mo!ements of men an animals" )o the worl is not some huge animal which mo!es of its own accor A its mo!ements are therefore ue to some e?ternal cause, a cause which 9 cannot $ercei!e, but the inner !oice makes this cause so a$$arent to me that 9 cannot watch the course of the sun without imagining a force which ri!es it, an when the earth re!ol!es 9 think 9 see the han that sets it in motion" 9f 9 must acce$t general laws whose essential relation to matter is un$ercei!e by me, how much further ha!e 9 gotE These laws, not being real things, not being substances, ha!e therefore some other basis unknown to me" E?$eriment an obser!ation ha!e acquainte us with the laws of motionA these laws etermine the results without showing their causesA they are quite ina equate to e?$lain the system of the worl an the course of the uni!erse" Cith the hel$ of ice (escartes ma e hea!en an earthA but he coul not set his ice in motion, nor start the action of his centrifugal force without the hel$ of rotation" <ewton isco!ere the law of gra!itationA but gra!itation alone woul soon re uce the uni!erse to a motionless massA he was com$elle to a a $rojectile force to account for the elli$tical course of the celestial bo iesA let <ewton show us the han that launche the $lanets in the tangent of their orbits" The first causes of motion are not to be foun in matterA matter recei!es an transmits motion, but oes not $ro uce it" The more 9 obser!e the action an reaction of the forces of nature $laying on one another, the more 9 see that we must always go back from one effect to another, till we arri!e at a first cause in some willA for to assume an infinite succession of causes is to assume that there is no first cause" 9n a wor , no motion which is not cause by another motion can take $lace, e?ce$t by a s$ontaneous, !oluntary actionA inanimate bo ies ha!e no action but motion, an there is no real action without will" This is my first $rinci$le" 9 belie!e, therefore, that there is a will which sets the uni!erse in motion

an gi!es life to nature" This is my first ogma, or the first article of my cree " 8ow oes a will $ro uce a $hysical an cor$oreal actionE 9 cannot tell, but 9 $ercei!e that it oes so in myselfA 9 will to o something an 9 o itA 9 will to mo!e my bo y an it mo!es, but if an inanimate bo y, when at rest, shoul begin to mo!e itself, the thing is incom$rehensible an without $rece ent" The will is known to me in its action, not in its nature" 9 know this will as a cause of motion, but to concei!e of matter as $ro ucing motion is clearly to concei!e of an effect without a cause, which is not to concei!e at all" 9t is no more $ossible for me to concei!e how my will mo!es my bo y than to concei!e how my sensations affect my min " 9 o not e!en know why one of these mysteries has seeme less ine?$licable than the other" 7or my own $art, whether 9 am acti!e or $assi!e, the means of union of the two substances seem to me absolutely incom$rehensible" 9t is !ery strange that $eo$le make this !ery incom$rehensibility a ste$ towar s the com$oun ing of the two substances, as if o$erations so ifferent in kin were more easily e?$laine in one case than in two" The octrine 9 ha!e just lai own is in ee obscureA but at least it suggests a meaning an there is nothing in it re$ugnant to reason or e?$erienceA can we say as much of materialismE 9s it not $lain that if motion is essential to matter it woul be inse$arable from it, it woul always be $resent in it in the same egree, always $resent in e!ery $article of matter, always the same in each $article of matter, it woul not be ca$able of transmission, it coul neither increase nor iminish, nor coul we e!er concei!e of matter at rest" Chen you tell me that motion is not essential to matter but necessary to it, you try to cheat me with wor s which woul be easier to refute if there was a little more sense in them" 7or either the motion of matter arises from the matter itself an is therefore essential to itA or it arises from an e?ternal cause an is not necessary to the matter, because the moti!e cause acts u$on itA we ha!e got back to our original ifficulty" The chief source of human error is to be foun in general an abstract i easA the jargon of meta$hysics has ne!er le to the isco!ery of any single truth, an it has fille $hiloso$hy with absur ities of which we are ashame as soon as we stri$ them of their long wor s" Tell me, my frien , when they talk to you of a blin force iffuse throughout nature, o they $resent any real i ea to your min E They think they are saying something by these !ague e?$ressionsBuni!ersal force, essential motion Bbut they are saying nothing at all" The i ea of motion is nothing more than the i ea of transference from $lace to $laceA there is no motion without irectionA for no in i!i ual can mo!e all ways at once" 9n what irection then oes matter mo!e of necessityE 8as the whole bo y of matter a uniform motion, or has each atom its own motionE 'ccor ing to the first i ea the whole uni!erse must form a soli an in i!isible massA accor ing to the secon it can only form a iffuse an incoherent flui , which woul make the union of any two atoms im$ossible" Chat irection shall be taken by this motion common to all matterE )hall it be in a straight line, in a circle, or from abo!e ownwar s, to the right or to the

leftE 9f each molecule has its own irection, what are the causes of all these irections an all these ifferencesE 9f e!ery molecule or atom only re!ol!e on its own a?is, nothing woul e!er lea!e its $lace an there woul be no transmitte motion, an e!en then this circular mo!ement woul require to follow some irection" To set matter in motion by an abstraction is to utter wor s without meaning, an to attribute to matter a gi!en irection is to assume a etermining cause" The more e?am$les 9 take, the more causes 9 ha!e to e?$lain, without e!er fin ing a common agent which controls them" 7ar from being able to $icture to myself an entire absence of or er in the fortuitous concurrence of elements, 9 cannot e!en imagine such a strife, an the chaos of the uni!erse is less concei!able to me than its harmony" 9 can un erstan that the mechanism of the uni!erse may not be intelligible to the human min , but when a man sets to work to e?$lain it, he must say what men can un erstan " 9f matter in motion $oints me to a will, matter in motion accor ing to fi?e laws $oints me to an intelligenceA that is the secon article of my cree " To act, to com$are, to choose, are the o$erations of an acti!e, thinking beingA so this being e?ists" Chere o you fin him e?isting, you will sayE <ot merely in the re!ol!ing hea!ens, nor in the sun which gi!es us light, not in myself alone, but in the shee$ that graFes, the bir that flies, the stone that falls, an the leaf blown by the win " 9 ju ge of the or er of the worl , although 9 know nothing of its $ur$ose, for to ju ge of this or er it is enough for me to com$are the $arts one with another, to stu y their co-o$eration, their relations, an to obser!e their unite action" 9 know not why the uni!erse e?ists, but 9 see continually how it is change A 9 ne!er fail to $ercei!e the close connection by which the entities of which it consists len their ai one to another" 9 am like a man who sees the works of a watch for the first timeA he is ne!er weary of a miring the mechanism, though he oes not know the use of the instrument an has ne!er seen its face" 9 o not know what this is for, says he, but 9 see that each $art of it is fitte to the rest, 9 a mire the workman in the etails of his work, an 9 am quite certain that all these wheels only work together in this fashion for some common en which 9 cannot $ercei!e" %et us com$are the s$ecial en s, the means, the or ere relations of e!ery kin , then let us listen to the inner !oice of feelingA what healthy min can reject its e!i enceE ;nless the eyes are blin e by $reju ices, can they fail to see that the !isible or er of the uni!erse $roclaims a su$reme intelligenceE Chat so$hisms must be brought together before we fail to un erstan the harmony of e?istence an the won erful coo$eration of e!ery $art for the maintenance of the restE )ay what you will of combinations an $robabilitiesA what o you gain by re ucing me to silence if you cannot gain my consentE 'n how can you rob me of the s$ontaneous feeling which, in s$ite of myself, continually gi!es you the lieE 9f organise bo ies ha come together fortuitously in all sorts of ways before assuming settle forms, if stomachs are ma e without mouths, feet without hea s, han s without arms, im$erfect organs of e!ery kin which ie because they coul not $reser!e their life, why o none of

these im$erfect attem$ts now meet our eyesA why has nature at length $rescribe laws to herself which she i not at first recogniseE 9 must not be sur$rise if that which is $ossible shoul ha$$en, an if the im$robability of the e!ent is com$ensate for by the number of the attem$ts" 9 grant thisA yet if any one tol me that $rinte characters scattere broa cast ha $ro uce the 'enei all com$lete, 9 woul not con escen to take a single ste$ to !erify this falsehoo " #ou will tell me 9 am forgetting the multitu e of attem$ts" But how many such attem$ts must 9 assume to bring the combination within the boun s of $robabilityE 7or my own $art the only $ossible assum$tion is that the chances are infinity to one that the $ro uct is not the work of chance" 9n a ition to this, chance combinations yiel nothing but $ro ucts of the same nature as the elements combine , so that life an organisation will not be $ro uce by a flow of atoms, an a chemist when making his com$oun s will ne!er gi!e them thought an feeling in his crucible" .7ootnote& :oul one belie!e, if one ha not seen it, that human absur ity coul go so farE 'matus %usitanus asserts that he saw a little man an inch long enclose in a glass, which Julius :amillus, like a secon Prometheus, ha ma e by alchemy" Paracelsis L(e natura rerumM teaches the metho of making these tiny men, an he maintains that the $ygmies, fauns, satyrs, an nym$hs ha!e been ma e by chemistry" 9n ee 9 cannot see that there is anything more to be one, to establish the $ossibility of these facts, unless it is to assert that organic matter resists the heat of fire an that its molecules can $reser!e their life in the hottest furnace"3 9 was sur$rise an almost shocke when 9 rea <euwentit" 8ow coul this man esire to make a book out of the won ers of nature, won ers which show the wis om of the author of natureE 8is book woul ha!e been as large as the worl itself before he ha e?hauste his subject, an as soon as we attem$t to gi!e etails, that greatest won er of all, the concor an harmony of the whole, esca$es us" The mere generation of li!ing organic bo ies is the es$air of the human min A the insurmountable barrier raise by nature between the !arious s$ecies, so that they shoul not mi? with one another, is the clearest $roof of her intention" )he is not content to ha!e establishe or er, she has taken a equate measures to $re!ent the isturbance of that or er" There is not a being in the uni!erse which may not be regar e as in some res$ects the common centre of all, aroun which they are grou$e , so that they are all reci$rocally en an means in relation to each other" The min is confuse an lost ami these innumerable relations, not one of which is itself confuse or lost in the crow " Chat absur assum$tions are require to e uce all this harmony from the blin mechanism of matter set in motion by chanceH 9n !ain o those who eny the unity of intention manifeste in the relations of all the $arts of this great whole, in !ain o they conceal their nonsense un er abstractions, co-or inations, general $rinci$les, symbolic e?$ressionsA whate!er they o 9 fin it im$ossible to concei!e of a system of entities so firmly or ere unless 9 belie!e in an intelligence that or ers them" 9t is not in my $ower to belie!e that $assi!e an ea matter can ha!e brought forth li!ing an feeling beings, that blin chance has brought forth intelligent beings, that that which oes not think has brought forth thinking beings"

9 belie!e, therefore, that the worl is go!erne by a wise an $owerful willA 9 see it or rather 9 feel it, an it is a great thing to know this" But has this same worl always e?iste , or has it been create E 9s there one source of all thingsE 're there two or manyE Chat is their natureE 9 know notA an what concern is it of mineE Chen these things become of im$ortance to me 9 will try to learn themA till then 9 abjure these i le s$eculations, which may trouble my $eace, but cannot affect my con uct nor be com$rehen e by my reason" Recollect that 9 am not $reaching my own o$inion but e?$laining it" Chether matter is eternal or create , whether its origin is $assi!e or not, it is still certain that the whole is one, an that it $roclaims a single intelligenceA for 9 see nothing that is not $art of the same or ere system, nothing which oes not co-o$erate to the same en , namely, the conser!ation of all within the establishe or er" This being who wills an can $erform his will, this being acti!e through his own $ower, this being, whoe!er he may be, who mo!es the uni!erse an or ers all things, is what 9 call Go " To this name 9 a the i eas of intelligence, $ower, will, which 9 ha!e brought together, an that of kin ness which is their necessary consequenceA but for all this 9 know no more of the being to which 9 ascribe them" 8e hi es himself alike from my senses an my un erstan ingA the more 9 think of him, the more $er$le?e 9 amA 9 know full well that he e?ists, an that he e?ists of himself aloneA 9 know that my e?istence e$en s on his, an that e!erything 9 know e$en s u$on him also" 9 see Go e!erywhere in his worksA 9 feel him within myselfA 9 behol him all aroun meA but if 9 try to $on er him himself, if 9 try to fin out where he is, what he is, what is his substance, he esca$es me an my trouble s$irit fin s nothing" :on!ince of my unfitness, 9 shall ne!er argue about the nature of Go unless 9 am ri!en to it by the feeling of his relations with myself" )uch reasonings are always rashA a wise man shoul !enture on them with trembling, he shoul be certain that he can ne!er soun their abyssesA for the most insolent attitu e towar s Go is not to abstain from thinking of him, but to think e!il of him" 'fter the isco!ery of such of his attributes as enable me to concei!e of his e?istence, 9 return to myself, an 9 try to isco!er what is my $lace in the or er of things which he go!erns, an 9 can myself e?amine" 't once, an beyon $ossibility of oubt, 9 isco!er my s$eciesA for by my own will an the instruments 9 can control to carry out my will, 9 ha!e more $ower to act u$on all bo ies about me, either to make use of or to a!oi their action at my $leasure, than any of them has $ower to act u$on me against my will by mere $hysical im$ulsionA an through my intelligence 9 am the only one who can e?amine all the rest" Chat being here below, e?ce$t man, can obser!e others, measure, calculate, forecast their motions, their effects, an unite, so to s$eak, the feeling of a common e?istence with that of his in i!i ual e?istenceE Chat is there so absur in the thought that all things are ma e for me, when 9 alone can relate all things to myselfE 9t is true, therefore, that man is lor of the earth on which he wellsA for not only oes he tame all the beasts, not only oes he control its

elements through his in ustryA but he alone knows how to control itA by contem$lation he takes $ossession of the stars which he cannot a$$roach" )how me any other creature on earth who can make a fire an who can behol with a miration the sun" ChatH can 9 obser!e an know all creatures an their relationsA can 9 feel what is meant by or er, beauty, an !irtueA can 9 consi er the uni!erse an raise myself towar s the han that gui es itA can 9 lo!e goo an $erform itA an shoul 9 then liken myself to the beastsE Cretche soul, it is your gloomy $hiloso$hy which makes you like the beastsA or rather in !ain o you seek to egra e yourselfA your genius belies your $rinci$les, your kin ly heart belies your octrines, an e!en the abuse of your $owers $ro!es their e?cellence in your own es$ite" 7or myself, 9 am not $le ge to the su$$ort of any system" 9 am a $lain an honest man, one who is not carrie away by $arty s$irit, one who has no ambition to be hea of a sectA 9 am content with the $lace where Go has set meA 9 see nothing, ne?t to Go himself, which is better than my s$eciesA an if 9 ha to choose my $lace in the or er of creation, what more coul 9 choose than to be a manH 9 am not $uffe u$ by this thought, 9 am ee$ly mo!e by itA for this state was no choice of mine, it was not ue to the eserts of a creature who as yet i not e?ist" :an 9 behol myself thus istinguishe without congratulating myself on this $ost of honour, without blessing the han which bestowe itE The first return to self has gi!en birth to a feeling of gratitu e an thankfulness to the author of my s$ecies, an this feeling calls forth my first homage to the beneficent Go hea " 9 worshi$ his 'lmighty $ower an my heart acknowle ges his mercies" 9s it not a natural consequence of our self-lo!e to honour our $rotector an to lo!e our benefactorE But when, in my esire to isco!er my own $lace within my s$ecies, 9 consi er its ifferent ranks an the men who fill them, where am 9 nowE Chat a sight meets my eyesH Chere is now the or er 9 $ercei!e E <ature showe me a scene of harmony an $ro$ortionA the human race shows me nothing but confusion an isor er" The elements agree togetherA men are in a state of chaos" The beasts are ha$$yA their king alone is wretche " 6 Cis om, where are thy lawsE 6 Pro!i ence, is this thy rule o!er the worl E >erciful Go , where is thy PowerE 9 behol the earth, an there is e!il u$on it" Coul you belie!e it, ear frien , from these gloomy thoughts an a$$arent contra ictions, there was sha$e in my min the sublime i ea of the soul, which all my seeking ha hitherto faile to isco!erE Chile 9 me itate u$on man@s nature, 9 seeme to isco!er two istinct $rinci$les in itA one of them raise him to the stu y of the eternal truths, to the lo!e of justice, an of true morality, to the regions of the worl of thought, which the wise elight to contem$lateA the other le him ownwar s to himself, ma e him the sla!e of his senses, of the $assions which are their instruments, an thus o$$ose e!erything suggeste to him by the former $rinci$le" Chen 9 felt myself carrie away, istracte by these conflicting moti!es, 9 sai , <oA man is not oneA 9 will an 9 will notA 9 feel myself at once a sla!e an a free manA 9 $ercei!e what is right,

9 lo!e it, an 9 o what is wrongA 9 am acti!e when 9 listen to the !oice of reasonA 9 am $assi!e when 9 am carrie away by my $assionsA an when 9 yiel , my worst suffering is the knowle ge that 9 might ha!e resiste " #oung man, hear me with confi ence" 9 will always be honest with you" 9f conscience is the creature of $reju ice, 9 am certainly wrong, an there is no such thing as a $roof of moralityA but if to $ut oneself first is an inclination natural to man, an if the first sentiment of justice is moreo!er inborn in the human heart, let those who say man is a sim$le creature remo!e these contra ictions an 9 will grant that there is but one substance" #ou will note that by this term @substance@ 9 un erstan generally the being en owe with some $rimiti!e quality, a$art from all s$ecial an secon ary mo ifications" 9f then all the $rimiti!e qualities which are known to us can be unite in one an the same being, we shoul only acknowle ge one substanceA but if there are qualities which are mutually e?clusi!e, there are as many ifferent substances as there are such e?clusions" #ou will think this o!erA for my own $art, whate!er %ocke may say, it is enough for me to recognise matter as ha!ing merely e?tension an i!isibility to con!ince myself that it cannot think, an if a $hiloso$her tells me that trees feel an rocks think .7ootnote& 9t seems to me that mo ern $hiloso$hy, far from saying that rocks think, has isco!ere that men o not think" 9t $ercei!es nothing more in nature than sensiti!e beingsA an the only ifference it fin s between a man an a stone is that a man is a sensiti!e being which e?$eriences sensations, an a stone is a sensiti!e being which oes not e?$erience sensations" But if it is true that all matter feels, where shall 9 fin the sensiti!e unit, the in i!i ual egoE )hall it be in each molecule of matter or in bo ies as aggregates of moleculesE )hall 9 $lace this unity in flui s an soli s alike, in com$oun s an in elementsE #ou tell me nature consists of in i!i uals" But what are these in i!i ualsE 9s that stone an in i!i ual or an aggregate of in i!i ualsE 9s it a single sensiti!e being, or are there as many beings in it as there are grains of san E 9f e!ery elementary atom is a sensiti!e being, how shall 9 concei!e of that intimate communication by which one feels within the other, so that their two egos are blen e in oneE 'ttraction may be a law of nature whose mystery is unknown to usA but at least we concei!e that there is nothing in attraction acting in $ro$ortion to mass which is contrary to e?tension an i!isibility" :an you concei!e of sensation in the same wayE The sensiti!e $arts ha!e e?tension, but the sensiti!e being is one an in i!isibleA he cannot be cut in two, he is a whole or he is nothingA therefore the sensiti!e being is not a material bo y" 9 know not how our materialists un erstan it, but it seems to me that the same ifficulties which ha!e le them to reject thought, shoul ha!e ma e them also reject feelingA an 9 see no reason why, when the first ste$ has been taken, they shoul not take the secon tooA what more woul it cost themE )ince they are certain they o not think, why o they are to affirm that they feelE3 in !ain will he $er$le? me with his cunning argumentsA 9 merely regar him as a ishonest so$hist, who $refers to say that stones ha!e feeling rather than that men ha!e souls"

)u$$ose a eaf man enies the e?istence of soun s because he has ne!er hear them" 9 $ut before his eyes a stringe instrument an cause it to soun in unison by means of another instrument conceale from himA the eaf man sees the chor !ibrate" 9 tell him, DThe soun makes it o that"D D<ot at all,D says he, Dthe string itself is the cause of the !ibrationA to !ibrate in that way is a quality common to all bo ies"D DThen show me this !ibration in other bo ies,D 9 answer, Dor at least show me its cause in this string"D D9 cannot,D re$lies the eaf manA Dbut because 9 o not un erstan how that string !ibrates why shoul 9 try to e?$lain it by means of your soun s, of which 9 ha!e not the least i eaE 9t is e?$laining one obscure fact by means of a cause still more obscure" >ake me $ercei!e your soun sA or 9 say there are no such things"D The more 9 consi er thought an the nature of the human min , the more likeness 9 fin between the arguments of the materialists an those of the eaf man" 9n ee , they are eaf to the inner !oice which cries alou to them, in a tone which can har ly be mistaken" ' machine oes not think, there is neither mo!ement nor form which can $ro uce reflectionA something within thee tries to break the ban s which confine itA s$ace is not thy measure, the whole uni!erse oes not suffice to contain theeA thy sentiments, thy esires, thy an?iety, thy $ri e itself, ha!e another origin than this small bo y in which thou art im$risone " <o material creature is in itself acti!e, an 9 am acti!e" 9n !ain o you argue this $oint with meA 9 feel it, an it is this feeling which s$eaks to me more forcibly than the reason which is$utes it" 9 ha!e a bo y which is acte u$on by other bo ies, an it acts in turn u$on themA there is no oubt about this reci$rocal actionA but my will is in e$en ent of my sensesA 9 consent or 9 resistA 9 yiel or 9 win the !ictory, an 9 know !ery well in myself when 9 ha!e one what 9 wante an when 9 ha!e merely gi!en way to my $assions" 9 ha!e always the $ower to will, but not always the strength to o what 9 will" Chen 9 yiel to tem$tation 9 surren er myself to the action of e?ternal objects" Chen 9 blame myself for this weakness, 9 listen to my own will aloneA 9 am a sla!e in my !ices, a free man in my remorseA the feeling of free om is ne!er efface in me but when 9 myself o wrong, an when 9 at length $re!ent the !oice of the soul from $rotesting against the authority of the bo y" 9 am only aware of will through the consciousness of my own will, an intelligence is no better known to me" Chen you ask me what is the cause which etermines my will, it is my turn to ask what cause etermines my ju gmentA for it is $lain that these two causes are but oneA an if you un erstan clearly that man is acti!e in his ju gments, that his intelligence is only the $ower to com$are an ju ge, you will see that his free om is only a similar $ower or one eri!e from thisA he chooses between goo an e!il as he ju ges between truth an falsehoo A if his ju gment is at fault, he chooses amiss" Chat then is the cause that etermines his willE 9t is his ju gment" 'n what is the cause that etermines his ju gmentE 9t is his intelligence, his $ower of ju gingA the etermining cause is in himself" Beyon that, 9 un erstan nothing" <o oubt 9 am not free not to esire my own welfare, 9 am not free to esire my own hurtA but my free om consists in this !ery thing, that 9 can

will what is for my own goo , or what 9 esteem as such, without any e?ternal com$ulsion" (oes it follow that 9 am not my own master because 9 cannot be other than myselfE The moti!e $ower of all action is in the will of a free creatureA we can go no farther" 9t is not the wor free om that is meaningless, but the wor necessity" To su$$ose some action which is not the effect of an acti!e moti!e $ower is in ee to su$$ose effects without cause, to reason in a !icious circle" Either there is no original im$ulse, or e!ery original im$ulse has no antece ent cause, an there is no will $ro$erly so-calle without free om" >an is therefore free to act, an as such he is animate by an immaterial substanceA that is the thir article of my cree " 7rom these three you will easily e uce the rest, so that 9 nee not enumerate them" 9f man is at once acti!e an free, he acts of his own accor A what he oes freely is no $art of the system marke out by Pro!i ence an it cannot be im$ute to Pro!i ence" Pro!i ence oes not will the e!il that man oes when he misuses the free om gi!en to himA neither oes Pro!i ence $re!ent him oing it, either because the wrong one by so feeble a creature is as nothing in its eyes, or because it coul not $re!ent it without oing a greater wrong an egra ing his nature" Pro!i ence has ma e him free that he may choose the goo an refuse the e!il" 9t has ma e him ca$able of this choice if he uses rightly the faculties bestowe u$on him, but it has so strictly limite his $owers that the misuse of his free om cannot isturb the general or er" The e!il that man oes reacts u$on himself without affecting the system of the worl , without $re!enting the $reser!ation of the human s$ecies in s$ite of itself" To com$lain that Go oes not $re!ent us from oing wrong is to com$lain because he has ma e man of so e?cellent a nature, that he has en owe his actions with that morality by which they are ennoble , that he has ma e !irtue man@s birthright" )u$reme ha$$iness consists in selfcontentA that we may gain this self-content we are $lace u$on this earth an en owe with free om, we are tem$te by our $assions an restraine by conscience" Chat more coul i!ine $ower itself ha!e one on our behalfE :oul it ha!e ma e our nature a contra iction, an ha!e gi!en the $riFe of well- oing to one who was inca$able of e!ilE To $re!ent a man from wicke ness, shoul Pro!i ence ha!e restricte him to instinct an ma e him a foolE <ot so, 6 Go of my soul, 9 will ne!er re$roach thee that thou hast create me in thine own image, that 9 may be free an goo an ha$$y like my >akerH 9t is the abuse of our $owers that makes us unha$$y an wicke " 6ur cares, our sorrows, our sufferings are of our own making" >oral ills are un oubte ly the work of man, an $hysical ills woul be nothing but for our !ices which ha!e ma e us liable to them" 8as not nature ma e us feel our nee s as a means to our $reser!ationH 9s not bo ily suffering a sign that the machine is out of or er an nee s attentionE (eathO" (o not the wicke $oison their own life an oursE Cho woul wish to li!e for e!erE (eath is the cure for the e!ils you bring u$on yourselfA nature woul not ha!e you suffer $er$etually" 8ow few sufferings are felt by man li!ing in a state of $rimiti!e sim$licityH 8is life is almost entirely free from suffering an from $assionA he neither fears nor feels eathA if he

feels it, his sufferings make him esire itA henceforth it is no e!il in his eyes" 9f we were but content to be oursel!es we shoul ha!e no cause to com$lain of our lotA but in the search for an imaginary goo we fin a thousan real ills" 8e who cannot bear a little $ain must e?$ect to suffer greatly" 9f a man injures his constitution by issi$ation, you try to cure him with me icineA the ill he fears is a e to the ill he feelsA the thought of eath makes it horrible an hastens its a$$roachA the more we seek to esca$e from it, the more we are aware of itA an we go through life in the fear of eath, blaming nature for the e!ils we ha!e inflicte on oursel!es by our neglect of her laws" 6 >anH seek no further for the author of e!ilA thou art he" There is no e!il but the e!il you o or the e!il you suffer, an both come from yourself" E!il in general can only s$ring from isor er, an in the or er of the worl 9 fin a ne!er failing system" E!il in $articular cases e?ists only in the min of those who e?$erience itA an this feeling is not the gift of nature, but the work of man himself" Pain has little $ower o!er those who, ha!ing thought little, look neither before nor after" Take away our fatal $rogress, take away our faults an our !ices, take away man@s han iwork, an all is well" Chere all is well, there is no such thing as injustice" Justice an goo ness are inse$arableA now goo ness is the necessary result of boun less $ower an of that self-lo!e which is innate in all sentient beings" The omni$otent $rojects himself, so to s$eak, into the being of his creatures" :reation an $reser!ation are the e!erlasting work of $owerA it oes not act on that which has no e?istenceA Go is not the Go of the ea A he coul not harm an estroy without injury to himself" The omni$otent can only will what is goo " .7ootnote& The ancients were right when they calle the su$reme Go 6$timus >a?imus, but it woul ha!e been better to say >a?imus 6$timus, for his goo ness s$rings from his $ower, he is goo because he is great"3 Therefore he who is su$remely goo , because he is su$remely $owerful, must also be su$remely just, otherwise he woul contra ict himselfA for that lo!e of or er which creates or er we call goo ness an that lo!e of or er which $reser!es or er we call justice" >en say Go owes nothing to his creatures" 9 think he owes them all he $romise when he ga!e them their being" <ow to gi!e them the i ea of something goo an to make them feel the nee of it, is to $romise it to them" The more closely 9 stu y myself, the more carefully 9 consi er, the more $lainly o 9 rea these wor s, DBe just an you will be ha$$y"D 9t is not so, howe!er, in the $resent con ition of things, the wicke $ros$ers an the o$$ression of the righteous continues" 6bser!e how angry we are when this e?$ectation is isa$$ointe " :onscience re!olts an murmurs against her :reatorA she e?claims with cries an groans, DThou hast ecei!e me"D

D9 ha!e ecei!e thee, rash soulH Cho tol thee thisE 9s thy soul estroye E 8ast thou cease to e?istE 6 BrutusH 6 my sonH let there be no stain u$on the close of thy noble lifeA o not aban on thy ho$e an thy glory with thy cor$se u$on the $lains of Phili$$i" Chy ost thou say, @Girtue is naught,@ when thou art about to enjoy the rewar of !irtueE Thou art about to ieH <ay, thou shalt li!e, an thus my $romise is fulfille "D 6ne might ju ge from the com$laints of im$atient men that Go owes them the rewar before they ha!e eser!e it, that he is boun to $ay for !irtue in a !ance" 6hH let us first be goo an then we shall be ha$$y" %et us not claim the $riFe before we ha!e won it, nor eman our wages before we ha!e finishe our work" D9t is not in the lists that we crown the !ictors in the sacre games,D says Plutarch, Dit is when they ha!e finishe their course"D 9f the soul is immaterial, it may sur!i!e the bo yA an if it so sur!i!es, Pro!i ence is justifie " 8a 9 no other $roof of the immaterial nature of the soul, the trium$h of the wicke an the o$$ression of the righteous in this worl woul be enough to con!ince me" 9 shoul seek to resol!e so a$$alling a iscor in the uni!ersal harmony" 9 shoul say to myself, D'll is not o!er with life, e!erything fin s its $lace at eath"D 9 shoul still ha!e to answer the question, DChat becomes of man when all we know of him through our senses has !anishe ED This question no longer $resents any ifficulty to me when 9 a mit the two substances" 9t is easy to un erstan that what is im$erce$tible to those senses esca$es me, uring my bo ily life, when 9 $ercei!e through my senses only" Chen the union of soul an bo y is estroye , 9 think one may be issol!e an the other may be $reser!e " Chy shoul the estruction of the one im$ly the estruction of the otherE 6n the contrary, so unlike in their nature, they were uring their union in a highly unstable con ition, an when this union comes to an en they both return to their natural stateA the acti!e !ital substance regains all the force which it e?$en e to set in motion the $assi!e ea substance" 'lasH my !ices make me only too well aware that man is but half ali!e uring this lifeA the life of the soul only begins with the eath of the bo y" But what is that lifeE 9s the soul of man in its nature immortalE 9 know not" >y finite un erstan ing cannot hol the infiniteA what is calle eternity elu es my gras$" Chat can 9 assert or eny, how can 9 reason with regar to what 9 cannot concei!eE 9 belie!e that the soul sur!i!es the bo y for the maintenance of or erA who knows if this is enough to make it eternalE 8owe!er, 9 know that the bo y is worn out an estroye by the i!ision of its $arts, but 9 cannot concei!e a similar estruction of the conscious nature, an as 9 cannot imagine how it can ie, 9 $resume that it oes not ie" 's this assum$tion is consoling an in itself not unreasonable, why shoul 9 fear to acce$t itE 9 am aware of my soulA it is known to me in feeling an in thoughtA 9 know what it is without knowing its essenceA 9 cannot reason about i eas which are unknown to me" Chat 9 o know is this, that my $ersonal i entity

e$en s u$on memory, an that to be in ee the same self 9 must remember that 9 ha!e e?iste " <ow after eath 9 coul not recall what 9 was when ali!e unless 9 also remembere what 9 felt an therefore what 9 i A an 9 ha!e no oubt that this remembrance will one ay form the ha$$iness of the goo an the torment of the ba " 9n this worl our inner consciousness is absorbe by the crow of eager $assions which cheat remorse" The humiliation an isgrace in!ol!e in the $ractice of !irtue o not $ermit us to realise its charm" But when, free from the illusions of the bo ily senses, we behol with joy the su$reme Being an the eternal truths which flow from himA when all the $owers of our soul are ali!e to the beauty of or er an we are wholly occu$ie in com$aring what we ha!e one with what we ought to ha!e one, then it is that the !oice of conscience will regain its strength an swayA then it is that the $ure elight which s$rings from self-content, an the shar$ regret for our own egra ation of that self, will eci e by means of o!er$owering feeling what shall be the fate which each has $re$are for himself" >y goo frien , o not ask me whether there are other sources of ha$$iness or sufferingA 9 cannot tellA that which my fancy $ictures is enough to console me in this life an to bi me look for a life to come" 9 o not say the goo will be rewar e , for what greater goo can a truly goo being e?$ect than to e?ist in accor ance with his natureE But 9 o assert that the goo will be ha$$y, because their maker, the author of all justice, who has ma e them ca$able of feeling, has not ma e them that they may sufferA moreo!er, they ha!e not abuse their free om u$on earth an they ha!e not change their fate through any fault of their ownA yet they ha!e suffere in this life an it will be ma e u$ to them in the life to come" This feeling relies not so much on man@s eserts as on the i ea of goo which seems to me inse$arable from the i!ine essence" 9 only assume that the laws of or er are constant an that Go is true to himself" (o not ask me whether the torments of the wicke will en ure for e!er, whether the goo ness of their creator can con emn them to the eternal sufferingA again, 9 cannot tell, an 9 ha!e no em$ty curiosity for the in!estigation of useless $roblems" 8ow oes the fate of the wicke concern meE 9 take little interest in it" 'll the same 9 fin it har to belie!e that they will be con emne to e!erlasting torments" 9f the su$reme justice calls for !engeance, it claims it in this life" The nations of the worl with their errors are its ministers" Justice uses self-inflicte ills to $unish the crimes which ha!e eser!e them" 9t is in your own insatiable souls, e!oure by en!y, gree , an ambition, it is in the mi st of your false $ros$erity, that the a!enging $assions fin the ue rewar of your crimes" Chat nee to seek a hell in the future lifeE 9t is here in the breast of the wicke " Chen our fleeting nee s are o!er, an our ma esires are at rest, there shoul also be an en of our $assions an our crimes" :an $ure s$irits be ca$able of any $er!ersityE 8a!ing nee of nothing, why shoul they be wicke E 9f they are free from our gross senses, if their ha$$iness consists in the contem$lation of other beings, they can only esire what is goo A an he who ceases to be ba can ne!er be miserable" This is what 9 am incline to think though 9 ha!e not been at the $ains to come to any

ecision" 6 Go , merciful an goo , whate!er thy ecrees may be 9 a ore themA if thou shoul st commit the wicke to e!erlasting $unishment, 9 aban on my feeble reason to thy justiceA but if the remorse of these wretche beings shoul in the course of time be e?tinguishe , if their sufferings shoul come to an en , an if the same $eace shall one ay be the lot of all mankin , 9 gi!e thanks to thee for this" 9s not the wicke my brotherE 8ow often ha!e 9 been tem$te to be like himE %et him be eli!ere from his misery an free from the s$irit of hatre that accom$anie itA let him be as ha$$y as 9 myselfA his ha$$iness, far from arousing my jealousy, will only increase my own" Thus it is that, in the contem$lation of Go in his works, an in the stu y of such of his attributes as it concerne me to know, 9 ha!e slowly gras$e an e!elo$e the i ea, at first $artial an im$erfect, which 9 ha!e forme of this 9nfinite Being" But if this i ea has become nobler an greater it is also more suite to the human reason" 's 9 a$$roach in s$irit the eternal light, 9 am confuse an aFFle by its glory, an com$elle to aban on all the earthly notions which hel$e me to $icture it to myself" Go is no longer cor$oreal an sensibleA the su$reme min which rules the worl is no longer the worl itselfA in !ain o 9 stri!e to gras$ his inconcei!able essence" Chen 9 think that it is he that gi!es life an mo!ement to the li!ing an mo!ing substance which controls all li!ing bo iesA when 9 hear it sai that my soul is s$iritual an that Go is a s$irit, 9 re!olt against this abasement of the i!ine essenceA as if Go an my soul were of one an the same natureH 's if Go were not the one an only absolute being, the only really acti!e, feeling, thinking, willing being, from whom we eri!e our thought, feeling, motion, will, our free om an our !ery e?istenceH Ce are free because he wills our free om, an his ine?$licable substance is to our souls what our souls are to our bo ies" 9 know not whether he has create matter, bo y, soul, the worl itself" The i ea of creation confoun s me an elu es my gras$A so far as 9 can concei!e of it 9 belie!e itA but 9 know that he has forme the uni!erse an all that is, that he has ma e an or ere all things" <o oubt Go is eternalA but can my min gras$ the i ea of eternityE Chy shoul 9 cheat myself with meaningless wor sE This is what 9 o un erstan A before things wereBGo wasA he will be when they are no more, an if all things come to an en he will still en ure" That a being beyon my com$rehension shoul gi!e life to other beings, this is merely ifficult an beyon my un erstan ingA but that Being an <othing shoul be con!ertible terms, this is in ee a $al$able contra iction, an e!i ent absur ity" Go is intelligent, but howE >an is intelligent when he reasons, but the )u$reme 9ntelligence oes not nee to reasonA there is neither $remise nor conclusion for him, there is not e!en a $ro$osition" The )u$reme 9ntelligence is wholly intuiti!e, it sees what is an what shall beA all truths are one for it, as all $laces are but one $oint an all time but one moment" >an@s $ower makes use of means, the i!ine $ower is selfacti!e" Go can because he willsA his will is his $ower" Go is goo A this is certainA but man fin s his ha$$iness in the welfare of his kin " Go @s ha$$iness consists in the lo!e of or erA for it is through or er that he maintains what is, an unites each $art in the whole" Go is justA of this 9

am sure, it is a consequence of his goo nessA man@s injustice is not Go @s work, but his ownA that moral justice which seems to the $hiloso$hers a $resum$tion against Pro!i ence, is to me a $roof of its e?istence" But man@s justice consists in gi!ing to each his ueA Go @s justice consists in eman ing from each of us an account of that which he has gi!en us" 9f 9 ha!e succee e in iscerning these attributes of which 9 ha!e no absolute i ea, it is in the form of una!oi able e uctions, an by the right use of my reasonA but 9 affirm them without un erstan ing them, an at bottom that is no affirmation at all" 9n !ain o 9 say, Go is thus, 9 feel it, 9 e?$erience it, none the more o 9 un erstan how Go can be thus" 9n a wor & the more 9 stri!e to en!isage his infinite essence the less o 9 com$rehen itA but it is, an that is enough for meA the less 9 un erstan , the more 9 a ore" 9 abase myself, saying, DBeing of beings, 9 am because thou artA to fi? my thoughts on thee is to ascen to the source of my being" The best use 9 can make of my reason is to resign it before theeA my min elights, my weakness rejoices, to feel myself o!erwhelme by thy greatness"D 8a!ing thus e uce from the $erce$tion of objects of sense an from my inner consciousness, which lea s me to ju ge of causes by my nati!e reason, the $rinci$al truths which 9 require to know, 9 must now seek such $rinci$les of con uct as 9 can raw from them, an such rules as 9 must lay own for my gui ance in the fulfilment of my estiny in this worl , accor ing to the $ur$ose of my >aker" )till following the same metho , 9 o not eri!e these rules from the $rinci$les of the higher $hiloso$hy, 9 fin them in the e$ths of my heart, trace by nature in characters which nothing can efface" 9 nee only consult myself with regar to what 9 wish to oA what 9 feel to be right is right, what 9 feel to be wrong is wrongA conscience is the best casuistA an it is only when we haggle with conscience that we ha!e recourse to the subtleties of argument" 6ur first uty is towar s ourselfA yet how often oes the !oice of others tell us that in seeking our goo at the e?$ense of others we are oing illE Ce think we are following the gui ance of nature, an we are resisting itA we listen to what she says to our senses, an we neglect what she says to our heartA the acti!e being obeys, the $assi!e comman s" :onscience is the !oice of the soul, the $assions are the !oice of the bo y" 9t is strange that these !oices often contra ict each otherE 'n then to which shoul we gi!e hee E Too often oes reason ecei!e usA we ha!e only too goo a right to oubt herA but conscience ne!er ecei!es usA she is the true gui e of manA it is to the soul what instinct is to the bo y, .7ootnote& >o ern $hiloso$hy, which only a mits what it can un erstan , is careful not to a mit this obscure $ower calle instinct which seems to gui e the animals to some en without any acquire e?$erience" 9nstinct, accor ing to some of our wise $hiloso$hers, is only a secret habit of reflection, acquire by reflectionA an from the way in which they e?$lain this e!elo$ment one ought to su$$ose that chil ren reflect more than grown-u$ $eo$le& a $ara o? strange enough to be worth e?amining" Cithout entering u$on this iscussion 9 must ask what name 9 shall gi!e to the eagerness with which my og makes war on the moles he oes not

eat, or to the $atience with which he sometimes watches them for hours an the skill with which he seiFes them, throws them to a istance from their earth as soon as they emerge, an then kills them an lea!es them" #et no one has traine him to this s$ort, nor e!en tol him there were such things as moles" 'gain, 9 ask, an this is a more im$ortant question, why, when 9 threatene this same og for the first time, why i he throw himself on the groun with his $aws fol e , in such a su$$liant attitu e O""calculate to touch me, a $osition which he woul ha!e maintaine if, without being touche by it, 9 ha continue to beat him in that $ositionE ChatH 8a my og, little more than a $u$$y, acquire moral i easE (i he know the meaning of mercy an generosityE By what acquire knowle ge i he seek to a$$ease my wrath by yiel ing to my iscretionE E!ery og in the worl oes almost the same thing in similar circumstances, an 9 am asserting nothing but what any one can !erify for himself" Cill the $hiloso$hers, who so scornfully reject instinct, kin ly e?$lain this fact by the mere $lay of sensations an e?$erience which they assume we ha!e acquire E %et them gi!e an account of it which will satisfy any sensible manA in that case 9 ha!e nothing further to urge, an 9 will say no more of instinct"3 he who obeys his conscience is following nature an he nee not fear that he will go astray" This is a matter of great im$ortance, continue my benefactor, seeing that 9 was about to interru$t himA let me sto$ awhile to e?$lain it more fully" The morality of our actions consists entirely in the ju gments we oursel!es form with regar to them" 9f goo is goo , it must be goo in the e$th of our heart as well as in our actionsA an the first rewar of justice is the consciousness that we are acting justly" 9f moral goo ness is in accor ance with our nature, man can only be healthy in min an bo y when he is goo " 9f it is not so, an if man is by nature e!il, he cannot cease to be e!il without corru$ting his nature, an goo ness in him is a crime against nature" 9f he is ma e to o harm to his fellow-creatures, as the wolf is ma e to e!our his $rey, a humane man woul be as e$ra!e a creature as a $itiful wolfA an !irtue alone woul cause remorse" >y young frien , let us look within, let us set asi e all $ersonal $reju ices an see whither our inclinations lea us" (o we take more $leasure in the sight of the sufferings of others or their joysE 9s it $leasanter to o a kin action or an unkin action, an which lea!es the more elightful memory behin itE Chy o you enjoy the theatreE (o you elight in the crimes you behol E (o you wee$ o!er the $unishment which o!ertakes the criminalE They say we are in ifferent to e!erything but self-interestA yet we fin our consolation in our sufferings in the charms of frien shi$ an humanity, an e!en in our $leasures we shoul be too lonely an miserable if we ha no one to share them with us" 9f there is no such thing as morality in man@s heart, what is the source of his ra$turous a miration of noble ee s, his $assionate e!otion to great menE Chat connection is there between self-interest an this enthusiasm for !irtueE Chy shoul 9 choose to be :ato ying by his own han , rather than :aesar in his trium$hsE Take from our hearts this lo!e of what is noble an you rob us of the joy of life" The mean-s$irite man in whom these elicious feelings ha!e been stifle among !ile $assions, who by thinking

of no one but himself comes at last to lo!e no one but himself, this man feels no ra$tures, his col heart no longer throbs with joy, an his eyes no longer fill with the sweet tears of sym$athy, he elights in nothingA the wretch has neither life nor feeling, he is alrea y ea " There are many ba men in this worl , but there are few of these ea souls, ali!e only to self-interest, an insensible to all that is right an goo " Ce only elight in injustice so long as it is to our own a !antageA in e!ery other case we wish the innocent to be $rotecte " 9f we see some act of !iolence or injustice in town or country, our hearts are at once stirre to their e$ths by an instincti!e anger an wrath, which bi s us go to the hel$ of the o$$resse A but we are restraine by a stronger uty, an the law e$ri!es us of our right to $rotect the innocent" 6n the other han , if some ee of mercy or generosity meets our eye, what re!erence an lo!e oes it ins$ireH (o we not say to oursel!es, D9 shoul like to ha!e one that myselfDE Chat oes it matter to us that two thousan years ago a man was just or unjustE an yet we take the same interest in ancient history as if it ha$$ene yester ay" Chat are the crimes of :ataline to meE 9 shall not be his !ictim" Chy then ha!e 9 the same horror of his crimes as if he were li!ing nowE Ce o not hate the wicke merely because of the harm they o to oursel!es, but because they are wicke " <ot only o we wish to be ha$$y oursel!es, we wish others to be ha$$y too, an if this ha$$iness oes not interfere with our own ha$$iness, it increases it" 9n conclusion, whether we will or not, we $ity the unfortunateA when we see their suffering we suffer too" E!en the most e$ra!e are not wholly without this instinct, an it often lea s them to self-contra iction" The highwayman who robs the tra!eller, clothes the nake ness of the $oorA the fiercest mur erer su$$orts a fainting man" >en s$eak of the !oice of remorse, the secret $unishment of hi en crimes, by which such are often brought to light" 'lasH who oes not know its unwelcome !oiceE Ce s$eak from e?$erience, an we woul gla ly stifle this im$erious feeling which causes us such agony" %et us obey the call of natureA we shall see that her yoke is easy an that when we gi!e hee to her !oice we fin a joy in the answer of a goo conscience" The wicke fears an flees from herA he elights to esca$e from himselfA his an?ious eyes look aroun him for some object of i!ersionA without bitter satire an ru e mockery he woul always be sorrowfulA the scornful laugh is his one $leasure" <ot so the just man, who fin s his $eace within himselfA there is joy not malice in his laughter, a joy which s$rings from his own heartA he is as cheerful alone as in com$any, his satisfaction oes not e$en on those who a$$roach himA it inclu es them" :ast your eyes o!er e!ery nation of the worl A $eruse e!ery !olume of its historyA in the mi st of all these strange an cruel forms of worshi$, among this amaFing !ariety of manners an customs, you will e!erywhere fin the same i eas of right an justiceA e!erywhere the same $rinci$les of morality, the same i eas of goo an e!il" The ol $aganism ga!e birth to abominable go s who woul ha!e been $unishe as scoun rels here below, go s who merely offere , as a $icture of

su$reme ha$$iness, crimes to be committe an lust to be gratifie " But in !ain i !ice escen from the abo e of the go s arme with their sacre authorityA the moral instinct refuse to a mit it into the heart of man" Chile the ebaucheries of Ju$iter were celebrate , the continence of Ienocrates was re!ere A the chaste %ucrece a ore the shameless GenusA the bol Roman offere sacrifices to 7earA he in!oke the go who mutilate his father, an he ie without a murmur at the han of his own father" The most unworthy go s were worshi$$e by the noblest men" The sacre !oice of nature was stronger than the !oice of the go s, an won re!erence u$on earthA it seeme to relegate guilt an the guilty alike to hea!en" There is therefore at the bottom of our hearts an innate $rinci$le of justice an !irtue, by which, in s$ite of our ma?ims, we ju ge our own actions or those of others to be goo or e!ilA an it is this $rinci$le that 9 call conscience" But at this wor 9 hear the murmurs of all the wise men so-calle " :hil ish errors, $reju ices of our u$bringing, they e?claim in concertH There is nothing in the human min but what it has gaine by e?$erienceA an we ju ge e!erything solely by means of the i eas we ha!e acquire " They go furtherA they e!en !enture to reject the clear an uni!ersal agreement of all $eo$les, an to set against this striking unanimity in the ju gment of mankin , they seek out some obscure e?ce$tion known to themsel!es aloneA as if the whole tren of nature were ren ere null by the e$ra!ity of a single nation, an as if the e?istence of monstrosities ma e an en of s$ecies" But to what $ur$ose oes the sce$tic >ontaigne stri!e himself to unearth in some obscure corner of the worl a custom which is contrary to the i eas of justiceE To what $ur$ose oes he cre it the most untrustworthy tra!ellers, while he refuses to belie!e the greatest writersE ' few strange an oubtful customs, base on local causes, unknown to usA shall these estroy a general inference base on the agreement of all the nations of the earth, iffering from each other in all else, but agree in thisE 6 >ontaigne, you $ri e yourself on your truth an honestyA be sincere an truthful, if a $hiloso$her can be so, an tell me if there is any country u$on earth where it is a crime to kee$ one@s $lighte wor , to be merciful, hel$ful, an generous, where the goo man is scorne , an the traitor is hel in honour" )elf-interest, so they say, in uces each of us to agree for the common goo " But how is it that the goo man consents to this to his own hurtE (oes a man go to eath from self-interestE <o oubt each man acts for his own goo , but if there is no such thing as moral goo to be taken into consi eration, self-interest will only enable you to account for the ee s of the wicke A $ossibly you will not attem$t to o more" ' $hiloso$hy which coul fin no $lace for goo ee s woul be too etestableA you woul fin yourself com$elle either to fin some mean $ur$ose, some wicke moti!e, or to abuse )ocrates an slan er Regulus" 9f such octrines e!er took root among us, the !oice of nature, together with the !oice of reason, woul constantly $rotest against them, till no a herent of such teaching coul $lea an honest e?cuse for his $artisanshi$"

9t is no $art of my scheme to enter at $resent into meta$hysical iscussions which neither you nor 9 can un erstan , iscussions which really lea nowhere" 9 ha!e tol you alrea y that 9 o not wish to $hiloso$hise with you, but to hel$ you to consult your own heart" 9f all the $hiloso$hers in the worl shoul $ro!e that 9 am wrong, an you feel that 9 am right, that is all 9 ask" 7or this $ur$ose it is enough to lea you to istinguish between our acquire i eas an our natural feelingsA for feeling $rece es knowle geA an since we o not learn to seek what is goo for us an a!oi what is ba for us, but get this esire from nature, in the same way the lo!e of goo an the hatre of e!il are as natural to us as our self-lo!e" The ecrees of conscience are not ju gments but feelings" 'lthough all our i eas come from without, the feelings by which they are weighe are within us, an it is by these feelings alone that we $ercei!e fitness or unfitness of things in relation to oursel!es, which lea s us to seek or shun these things" To e?ist is to feelA our feeling is un oubte ly earlier than our intelligence, an we ha feelings before we ha i eas".7ootnote& 9n some res$ects i eas are feelings an feelings are i eas" Both terms are a$$ro$riate to any $erce$tion with which we are concerne , a$$ro$riate both to the object of that $erce$tion an to oursel!es who are affecte by itA it is merely the or er in which we are affecte which eci es the a$$ro$riate term" Chen we are chiefly concerne with the object an only think of oursel!es as it were by reflection, that is an i eaA when, on the other han , the im$ression recei!e e?cites our chief attention an we only think in the secon $lace of the object which cause it, it is a feeling"3 Chate!er may be the cause of our being, it has $ro!i e for our $reser!ation by gi!ing us feelings suite to our natureA an no one can eny that these at least are innate" These feelings, so far as the in i!i ual is concerne , are self-lo!e, fear, $ain, the rea of eath, the esire for comfort" 'gain, if, as it is im$ossible to oubt, man is by nature sociable, or at least fitte to become sociable, he can only be so by means of other innate feelings, relati!e to his kin A for if only $hysical well-being were consi ere , men woul certainly be scattere rather than brought together" But the moti!e $ower of conscience is eri!e from the moral system forme through this twofol relation to himself an to his fellow-men" To know goo is not to lo!e itA this knowle ge is not innate in manA but as soon as his reason lea s him to $ercei!e it, his conscience im$els him to lo!e itA it is this feeling which is innate" )o 9 o not think, my young frien , that it is im$ossible to e?$lain the imme iate force of conscience as a result of our own nature, in e$en ent of reason itself" 'n e!en shoul it be im$ossible, it is unnecessaryA for those who eny this $rinci$le, a mitte an recei!e by e!erybo y else in the worl , o not $ro!e that there is no such thingA they are content to affirm, an when we affirm its e?istence we ha!e quite as goo groun s as they, while we ha!e moreo!er the witness within us, the !oice of conscience, which s$eaks on its own behalf" 9f the first beams of ju gment aFFle us an confuse the objects we behol , let us wait till our feeble sight grows clear an strong, an in the light of reason we shall

soon behol these !ery objects as nature has alrea y showe them to us" 6r rather let us be sim$ler an less $retentiousA let us be content with the first feelings we e?$erience in oursel!es, since science always brings us back to these, unless it has le us astray" :onscienceH :onscienceH (i!ine instinct, immortal !oice from hea!enA sure gui e for a creature ignorant an finite in ee , yet intelligent an freeA infallible ju ge of goo an e!il, making man like to Go H 9n thee consists the e?cellence of man@s nature an the morality of his actionsA a$art from thee, 9 fin nothing in myself to raise me abo!e the beastsB nothing but the sa $ri!ilege of wan ering from one error to another, by the hel$ of an unbri le un erstan ing an a reason which knows no $rinci$le" Thank hea!en we ha!e now got ri of all that alarming show of $hiloso$hyA we may be men without being scholarsA now that we nee not s$en our life in the stu y of morality, we ha!e foun a less costly an surer gui e through this !ast labyrinth of human thought" But it is not enough to be aware that there is such a gui eA we must know her an follow her" 9f she s$eaks to all hearts, how is it that so few gi!e hee to her !oiceE )he s$eaks to us in the language of nature, an e!erything lea s us to forget that tongue" :onscience is timi , she lo!es $eace an retirementA she is startle by noise an numbersA the $reju ices from which she is sai to arise are her worst enemies" )he flees before them or she is silentA their noisy !oices rown her wor s, so that she cannot get a hearingA fanaticism ares to counterfeit her !oice an to ins$ire crimes in her name" )he is iscourage by ill-treatmentA she no longer s$eaks to us, no longer answers to our callA when she has been scorne so long, it is as har to recall her as it was to banish her" 8ow often in the course of my inquiries ha!e 9 grown weary of my own col ness of heartH 8ow often ha!e grief an weariness $oure their $oison into my first me itations an ma e them hateful to meH >y barren heart yiel e nothing but a feeble Feal an a lukewarm lo!e of truth" 9 sai to myself& Chy shoul 9 stri!e to fin what oes not e?istE >oral goo is a ream, the $leasures of sense are the only real goo " Chen once we ha!e lost the taste for the $leasures of the soul, how har it is to reco!er itH 8ow much more ifficult to acquire it if we ha!e ne!er $ossesse itH 9f there were any man so wretche as ne!er to ha!e one anything all his life long which he coul remember with $leasure, an which woul make him gla to ha!e li!e , that man woul be inca$able of self-knowle ge, an for want of knowle ge of goo ness, of which his nature is ca$able, he woul be constraine to remain in his wicke ness an woul be for e!er miserable" But o you think there is any one man u$on earth so e$ra!e that he has ne!er yiel e to the tem$tation of well- oingE This tem$tation is so natural, so $leasant, that it is im$ossible always to resist itA an the thought of the $leasure it has once affor e is enough to recall it constantly to our memory" ;nluckily it is har at first to fin satisfaction for itA we ha!e any number of reasons for refusing to follow the inclinations of our heartA $ru ence, so calle , restricts the heart within the limits of the selfA a thousan efforts are nee e to break these bon s" The joy of well- oing is the $riFe of ha!ing

one well, an we must eser!e the $riFe before we win it" There is nothing sweeter than !irtueA but we o not know this till we ha!e trie it" %ike Proteus in the fable, she first assumes a thousan terrible sha$es when we woul embrace her, an only shows her true self to those who refuse to let her go" E!er at strife between my natural feelings, which s$oke of the common weal, an my reason, which s$oke of self, 9 shoul ha!e rifte through life in $er$etual uncertainty, hating e!il, lo!ing goo , an always at war with myself, if my heart ha not recei!e further light, if that truth which etermine my o$inions ha not also settle my con uct, an set me at $eace with myself" Reason alone is not a sufficient foun ation for !irtueA what soli groun can be foun E Girtue we are tol is lo!e of or er" But can this lo!e $re!ail o!er my lo!e for my own well-being, an ought it so to $re!ailE %et them gi!e me clear an sufficient reason for this $reference" Their so-calle $rinci$le is in truth a mere $laying with wor sA for 9 also say that !ice is lo!e of or er, ifferently un erstoo " Chere!er there is feeling an intelligence, there is some sort of moral or er" The ifference is this& the goo man or ers his life with regar to all menA the wicke or ers it for self alone" The latter centres all things roun himselfA the other measures his ra ius an remains on the circumference" Thus his $lace e$en s on the common centre, which is Go , an on all the concentric circles which are 8is creatures" 9f there is no Go , the wicke is right an the goo man is nothing but a fool" >y chil H >ay you one ay feel what a bur en is remo!e when, ha!ing fathome the !anity of human thoughts an taste the bitterness of $assion, you fin at length near at han the $ath of wis om, the $riFe of this life@s labours, the source of that ha$$iness which you es$aire of" E!ery uty of natural law, which man@s injustice ha almost efface from my heart, is engra!en there, for the secon time in the name of that eternal justice which lays these uties u$on me an behol s my fulfilment of them" 9 feel myself merely the instrument of the 6mni$otent, who wills what is goo , who $erforms it, who will bring about my own goo through the co-o$eration of my will with his own, an by the right use of my liberty" 9 acquiesce in the or er he establishes, certain that one ay 9 shall enjoy that or er an fin my ha$$iness in itA for what sweeter joy is there than this, to feel oneself a $art of a system where all is goo E ' $rey to $ain, 9 bear it in $atience, remembering that it will soon be o!er, an that it results from a bo y which is not mine" 9f 9 o a goo ee in secret, 9 know that it is seen, an my con uct in this life is a $le ge of the life to come" Chen 9 suffer injustice, 9 say to myself, the 'lmighty who oes all things well will rewar me& my bo ily nee s, my $o!erty, make the i ea of eath less intolerable" There will be all the fewer bon s to be broken when my hour comes" Chy is my soul subjecte to my senses, an im$risone in this bo y by which it is ensla!e an thwarte E 9 know notA ha!e 9 entere into the counsels of the 'lmightyE But 9 may, without rashness, !enture on a mo est conjecture" 9 say to myself& 9f man@s soul ha remaine in a state of free om an innocence, what merit woul there ha!e been in lo!ing an obeying the or er he foun establishe , an or er which it woul not

ha!e been to his a !antage to isturbE 8e woul be ha$$y, no oubt, but his ha$$iness woul not attain to the highest $oint, the $ri e of !irtue, an the witness of a goo conscience within himA he woul be but as the angels are, an no oubt the goo man will be more than they" Boun to a mortal bo y, by bon s as strange as they are $owerful, his care for the $reser!ation of this bo y tem$ts the soul to think only of self, an gi!es it an interest o$$ose to the general or er of things, which it is still ca$able of knowing an lo!ingA then it is that the right use of his free om becomes at once the merit an the rewar A then it is that it $re$ares for itself unen ing ha$$iness, by resisting its earthly $assions an following its original irection" 9f e!en in the lowly $osition in which we are $lace uring our $resent life our first im$ulses are always goo , if all our !ices are of our own making, why shoul we com$lain that they are our mastersE Chy shoul we blame the :reator for the ills we ha!e oursel!es create , an the enemies we oursel!es ha!e arme against usE 6h, let us lea!e man uns$oiltA he will always fin it easy to be goo an he will always be ha$$y without remorse" The guilty, who assert that they are ri!en to crime, are liars as well as e!il- oersA how is it that they fail to $ercei!e that the weakness they bewail is of their own makingA that their earliest e$ra!ity was the result of their own willA that by int of wishing to yiel to tem$tations, they at length yiel to them whether they will or no an make them irresistibleE <o oubt they can no longer a!oi being weak an wicke , but they nee not ha!e become weak an wicke " 6h, how easy woul it be to $reser!e control of oursel!es an of our $assions, e!en in this life, if with habits still unforme , with a min beginning to e?$an , we were able to kee$ to such things as we ought to know, in or er to !alue rightly what is unknownA if we really wishe to learn, not that we might shine before the eyes of others, but that we might be wise an goo in accor ance with our nature, that we might be ha$$y in the $erformance of our uty" This stu y seems te ious an $ainful to us, for we o not attem$t it till we are alrea y corru$te by !ice an ensla!e by our $assions" 6ur ju gments an our stan ar s of worth are etermine before we ha!e the knowle ge of goo an e!ilA an then we measure all things by this false stan ar , an gi!e nothing its true worth" There is an age when the heart is still free, but eager, unquiet, gree y of a ha$$iness which is still unknown, a ha$$iness which it seeks in curiosity an oubtA ecei!e by the senses it settles at length u$on the em$ty show of ha$$iness an thinks it has foun it where it is not" 9n my own case these illusions en ure for a long time" 'lasH too late i 9 become aware of them, an 9 ha!e not succee e in o!ercoming them altogetherA they will last as long as this mortal bo y from which they arise" 9f they lea me astray, 9 am at least no longer ecei!e by themA 9 know them for what they are, an e!en when 9 gi!e way to them, 9 es$ise myselfA far from regar ing them as the goal of my ha$$iness, 9 behol in them an obstacle to it" 9 long for the time when, free from the fetters of the bo y, 9 shall be myself, at one with myself, no longer torn in two, when 9 myself shall suffice for my own ha$$iness" >eanwhile 9 am ha$$y e!en in this life, for 9 make small account of all its e!ils, in which 9 regar myself as

ha!ing little or no $art, while all the real goo that 9 can get out of this life e$en s on myself alone" To raise myself so far as may be e!en now to this state of ha$$iness, strength, an free om, 9 e?ercise myself in lofty contem$lation" 9 consi er the or er of the uni!erse, not to e?$lain it by any futile system, but to re!ere it without ceasing, to a ore the wise 'uthor who re!eals himself in it" 9 hol intercourse with himA 9 immerse all my $owers in his i!ine essenceA 9 am o!erwhelme by his kin ness, 9 bless him an his gifts, but 9 o not $ray to him" Chat shoul 9 ask of himBto change the or er of nature, to work miracles on my behalfE )houl 9, who am boun to lo!e abo!e all things the or er which he has establishe in his wis om an maintaine by his $ro!i ence, shoul 9 esire the isturbance of that or er on my own accountE <o, that rash $rayer woul eser!e to be $unishe rather than to be grante " <either o 9 ask of him the $ower to o rightA why shoul 9 ask what he has gi!en me alrea yE 8as he not gi!en me conscience that 9 may lo!e the right, reason that 9 may $ercei!e it, an free om that 9 may choose itE 9f 9 o e!il, 9 ha!e no e?cuseA 9 o it of my own free willA to ask him to change my will is to ask him to o what he asks of meA it is to want him to o the work while 9 get the wagesA to be issatisfie with my lot is to wish to be no longer a man, to wish to be other than what 9 am, to wish for isor er an e!il" Thou source of justice an truth, merciful an gracious Go , in thee o 9 trust, an the esire of my heart isBThy will be one" Chen 9 unite my will with thine, 9 o what thou oestA 9 ha!e a share in thy goo nessA 9 belie!e that 9 enjoy beforehan the su$reme ha$$iness which is the rewar of goo ness" 9n my well-foun e self- istrust the only thing that 9 ask of Go , or rather e?$ect from his justice, is to correct my error if 9 go astray, if that error is angerous to me" To be honest 9 nee not think myself infallibleA my o$inions, which seem to me true, may be so many liesA for what man is there who oes not cling to his own beliefsA an how many men are agree in e!erythingE The illusion which ecei!es me may in ee ha!e its source in myself, but it is Go alone who can remo!e it" 9 ha!e one all 9 can to attain to truthA but its source is beyon my reachA is it my fault if my strength fails me an 9 can go no furtherA it is for Truth to raw near to me" The goo $riest ha s$oken with $assionA he an 9 were o!ercome with emotion" 9t seeme to me as if 9 were listening to the i!ine 6r$heus when he sang the earliest hymns an taught men the worshi$ of the go s" 9 saw any number of objections which might be raise A yet 9 raise none, for 9 $ercei!e that they were more $er$le?ing than serious, an that my inclination took his $art" Chen he s$oke to me accor ing to his conscience, my own seeme to confirm what he sai " DThe no!elty of the sentiments you ha!e ma e known to me,D sai 9, Dstrikes me all the more because of what you confess you o not know, than because of what you say you belie!e" They seem to be !ery like that theism or natural religion, which :hristians $rofess to confoun with atheism or irreligion which is their e?act o$$osite" But in the $resent state of my faith 9 shoul ha!e to ascen rather than escen to acce$t

your !iews, an 9 fin it ifficult to remain just where you are unless 9 were as wise as you" That 9 may be at least as honest, 9 want time to take counsel with myself" By your own showing, the inner !oice must be my gui e, an you ha!e yourself tol me that when it has long been silence it cannot be recalle in a moment" 9 take what you ha!e sai to heart, an 9 must consi er it" 9f after 9 ha!e thought things out, 9 am as con!ince as you are, you will be my final teacher, an 9 will be your isci$le till eath" :ontinue your teaching howe!erA you ha!e only tol me half what 9 must know" )$eak to me of re!elation, of the )cri$tures, of those ifficult octrines among which 9 ha!e straye e!er since 9 was a chil , inca$able either of un erstan ing or belie!ing them, unable to a o$t or reject them"D D#es, my chil ,D sai he, embracing me, D9 will tell you all 9 thinkA 9 will not o$en my heart to you by hal!esA but the esire you e?$ress was necessary before 9 coul cast asi e all reser!e" )o far 9 ha!e tol you nothing but what 9 thought woul be of ser!ice to you, nothing but what 9 was quite con!ince of" The inquiry which remains to be ma e is !ery ifficult" 9t seems to me full of $er$le?ity, mystery, an arknessA 9 bring to it only oubt an istrust" 9 make u$ my min with trembling, an 9 tell you my oubts rather than my con!ictions" 9f your own o$inions were more settle 9 shoul hesitate to show you mineA but in your $resent con ition, to think like me woul be gain" .7ootnote& 9 think the worthy clergyman might say this at the $resent time to the general $ublic"3 >oreo!er, gi!e to my wor s only the authority of reasonA 9 know not whether 9 am mistaken" 9t is ifficult in iscussion to a!oi assuming sometimes a ogmatic toneA but remember in this res$ect that all my assertions are but reasons to oubt me" )eek truth for yourself, for my own $art 9 only $romise you sincerity" D9n my e?$osition you fin nothing but natural religionA strange that we shoul nee moreH 8ow shall 9 become aware of this nee E Chat guilt can be mine so long as 9 ser!e Go accor ing to the knowle ge he has gi!en to my min , an the feelings he has $ut into my heartE Chat $urity of morals, what ogma useful to man an worthy of its author, can 9 eri!e from a $ositi!e octrine which cannot be eri!e without the ai of this octrine by the right use of my facultiesE )how me what you can a to the uties of the natural law, for the glory of Go , for the goo of mankin , an for my own welfareA an what !irtue you will get from the new form of religion which oes not result from mine" The gran est i eas of the (i!ine nature come to us from reason only" Behol the s$ectacle of natureA listen to the inner !oice" 8as not Go s$oken it all to our eyes, to our conscience, to our reasonE Chat more can man tell usE Their re!elations o but egra e Go , by in!esting him with $assions like our own" 7ar from throwing light u$on the i eas of the )u$reme Being, s$ecial octrines seem to me to confuse these i easA far from ennobling them, they egra e themA to the inconcei!able mysteries which surroun the 'lmighty, they a absur contra ictions, they make man $rou , intolerant, an cruelA instea of bringing $eace u$on earth, they bring fire an swor " 9 ask myself what is the use of it all, an 9 fin no answer" 9 see nothing but the crimes of men an the misery of mankin "

DThey tell me a re!elation was require to teach men how Go woul be ser!e A as a $roof of this they $oint to the many strange rites which men ha!e institute , an they o not $ercei!e that this !ery i!ersity s$rings from the fanciful nature of the re!elations" 's soon as the nations took to making Go s$eak, e!ery one ma e him s$eak in his own fashion, an ma e him say what he himself wante " 8a they listene only to what Go says in the heart of man, there woul ha!e been but one religion u$on earth" D6ne form of worshi$ was require A just so, but was this a matter of such im$ortance as to require all the $ower of the Go hea to establish itE (o not let us confuse the outwar forms of religion with religion itself" The ser!ice Go requires is of the heartA an when the heart is sincere that is e!er the same" 9t is a strange sort of conceit which fancies that Go takes such an interest in the sha$e of the $riest@s !estments, the form of wor s he utters, the gestures he makes before the altar an all his genuflections" 6h, my frien , stan u$right, you will still be too near the earth" Go esires to be worshi$$e in s$irit an in truthA this uty belongs to e!ery religion, e!ery country, e!ery in i!i ual" 's to the form of worshi$, if or er eman s uniformity, that is only a matter of isci$line an nee s no re!elation" DThese thoughts i not come to me to begin with" :arrie away by the $reju ices of my e ucation, an by that angerous !anity which always stri!es to lift man out of his $ro$er s$here, when 9 coul not raise my feeble thoughts u$ to the great Being, 9 trie to bring him own to my own le!el" 9 trie to re uce the istance he has $lace between his nature an mine" 9 esire more imme iate relations, more in i!i ual instructionA not content to make Go in the image of man that 9 might be fa!oure abo!e my fellows, 9 esire su$ernatural knowle geA 9 require a s$ecial form of worshi$A 9 wante Go to tell me what he ha not tol others, or what others ha not un erstoo like myself" D:onsi ering the $oint 9 ha now reache as the common centre from which all belie!ers set out on the quest for a more enlightene form of religion, 9 merely foun in natural religion the elements of all religion" 9 behel the multitu e of i!erse sects which hol sway u$on earth, each of which accuses the other of falsehoo an errorA which of these, 9 aske , is the rightE E!ery one re$lie , @>y ownA@ e!ery one sai , @9 alone an those who agree with me think rightly, all the others are mistaken"@ 'n how o you know that your sect is in the rightE Because Go sai so" 'n how o you know Go sai soE .7ootnote& D'll men,D sai a wise an goo $riest, Dmaintain that they hol an belie!e their religion Lan all use the same jargonM, not of man, nor of any creature, but of Go " But to s$eak truly, without $retence or flattery, none of them o soA whate!er they may say, religions are taught by human han s an meansA take, for e?am$le, the way in which religions ha!e been recei!e by the worl , the way in which they are still recei!e e!ery ay by in i!i ualsA the nation, the country, the locality gi!es the religionA we belong to the religion of the $lace where we are born an brought u$A we are ba$tise or circumcise , we are :hristians, Jews, >ohametans before we know that we are menA we o not $ick an choose our religion for see how ill the life

an con uct agree with the religion, see for what slight an human causes men go against the teaching of their religion"DB:harron, (e la )agesse"B9t seems clear that the honest cree of the holy theologian of :on om woul not ha!e iffere greatly from that of the )a!oyar $riest"3 'n who tol you that Go sai itE >y $astor, who knows all about it" >y $astor tells me what to belie!e an 9 belie!e itA he assures me that any one who says anything else is mistaken, an 9 gi!e not hee to them" DChatH thought 9, is not truth oneA can that which is true for me be false for youE 9f those who follow the right $ath an those who go astray ha!e the same metho , what merit or what blame can be assigne to one more than to the otherE Their choice is the result of chanceA it is unjust to hol them res$onsible for it, to rewar or $unish them for being born in one country or another" To are to say that Go ju ges us in this manner is an outrage on his justice" DEither all religions are goo an $leasing to Go , or if there is one which he $rescribes for men, if they will be $unishe for es$ising it, he will ha!e istinguishe it by $lain an certain signs by which it can be known as the only true religionA these signs are alike in e!ery time an $lace, equally $lain to all men, great or small, learne or unlearne , Euro$eans, 9n ians, 'fricans, sa!ages" 9f there were but one religion u$on earth, an if all beyon its $ale were con emne to eternal $unishment, an if there were in any corner of the worl one single honest man who was not con!ince by this e!i ence, the Go of that religion woul be the most unjust an cruel of tyrants" D%et us therefore seek honestly after truthA let us yiel nothing to the claims of birth, to the authority of $arents an $astors, but let us summon to the bar of conscience an of reason all that they ha!e taught us from our chil hoo " 9n !ain o they e?claim, @)ubmit your reasonA@ a ecei!er might say as muchA 9 must ha!e reasons for submitting my reason" D'll the theology 9 can get for myself by obser!ation of the uni!erse an by the use of my faculties is containe in what 9 ha!e alrea y tol you" To know more one must ha!e recourse to strange means" These means cannot be the authority of men, for e!ery man is of the same s$ecies as myself, an all that a man knows by nature 9 am ca$able of knowing, an another may be ecei!e as much as 9A when 9 belie!e what he says, it is not because he says it but because he $ro!es its truth" The witness of man is therefore nothing more than the witness of my own reason, an it a s nothing to the natural means which Go has gi!en me for the knowle ge of truth" D'$ostle of truth, what ha!e you to tell me of which 9 am not the sole ju geE Go himself has s$okenA gi!e hee to his re!elation" That is another matter" Go has s$oken, these are in ee wor s which eman attention" To whom has he s$okenE 8e has s$oken to men" Chy then ha!e 9 hear nothingE 8e has instructe others to make known his wor s to you" 9 un erstan A it is men who come an tell me what Go has sai " 9 woul rather ha!e hear the wor s of Go himselfA it woul ha!e been as

easy for him an 9 shoul ha!e been secure from frau " 8e $rotects you from frau by showing that his en!oys come from him" 8ow oes he show thisE By miracles" Chere are these miraclesE 9n the books" 'n who wrote the booksE >en" 'n who saw the miraclesE The men who bear witness to them" ChatH <othing but human testimonyH <othing but men who tell me what others tol themH 8ow many men between Go an meH %et us see, howe!er, let us e?amine, com$are, an !erify" 6hH if Go ha but eigne to free me from all this labour, 9 woul ha!e ser!e him with all my heart" D:onsi er, my frien , the terrible contro!ersy in which 9 am now engage A what !ast learning is require to go back to the remotest antiquity, to e?amine, weigh, confront $ro$hecies, re!elations, facts, all the monuments of faith set forth throughout the worl , to assign their ate, $lace, authorshi$, an occasion" Chat e?actness of critical ju gment is nee e to istinguish genuine ocuments from forgeries, to com$are objections with their answers, translations with their originalsA to eci e as to the im$artiality of witnesses, their common-sense, their knowle geA to make sure that nothing has been omitte , nothing a e , nothing trans$ose , altere , or falsifie A to $oint out any remaining contra ictions, to etermine what weight shoul be gi!en to the silence of our a !ersaries with regar to the charges brought against themA how far were they aware of those chargesA i they think them sufficiently serious to require an answerA were books sufficiently well known for our books to reach themA ha!e we been honest enough to allow their books to circulate among oursel!es an to lea!e their strongest objections unaltere E DChen the authenticity of all these ocuments is acce$te , we must now $ass to the e!i ence of their authors@ missionA we must know the laws of chance, an $robability, to eci e which $ro$hecy cannot be fulfille without a miracleA we must know the s$irit of the original languages, to istinguish between $ro$hecy an figures of s$eechA we must know what facts are in accor ance with nature an what facts are not, so that we may say how far a cle!er man may ecei!e the eyes of the sim$le an may e!en astonish the learne A we must isco!er what are the characteristics of a $ro igy an how its authenticity may be establishe , not only so far as to gain cre ence, but so that oubt may be eser!ing of $unishmentA we must com$are the e!i ence for true an false miracles, an fin sure tests to istinguish between themA lastly we must say why Go chose as a witness to his wor s means which themsel!es require so much e!i ence on their behalf, as if he were $laying with human cre ulity, an a!oi ing of set $ur$ose the true means of $ersuasion" D'ssuming that the i!ine majesty con escen s so far as to make a man the channel of his sacre will, is it reasonable, is it fair, to eman that the whole of mankin shoul obey the !oice of this minister without making him known as suchE 9s it just to gi!e him as his sole cre entials certain $ri!ate signs, $erforme in the $resence of a few obscure $ersons, signs which e!erybo y else can only know by hearsayE 9f one were to belie!e all the miracles that the une ucate an cre ulous

$rofess to ha!e seen in e!ery country u$on earth, e!ery sect woul be in the rightA there woul be more miracles than or inary e!entsA an it woul be the greatest miracle if there were no miracles where!er there were $ersecute fanatics" The unchangeable or er of nature is the chief witness to the wise han that gui es itA if there were many e?ce$tions, 9 shoul har ly know what to thinkA for my own $art 9 ha!e too great a faith in Go to belie!e in so many miracles which are so little worthy of him" D%et a man come an say to us& >ortals, 9 $roclaim to you the will of the >ost 8ighestA acce$t my wor s as those of him who has sent meA 9 bi the sun to change his course, the stars to range themsel!es in a fresh or er, the high $laces to become smooth, the floo s to rise u$, the earth to change her face" By these miracles who will not recognise the master of natureE )he oes not obey im$ostors, their miracles are wrought in holes an corners, in eserts, within close oors, where they fin easy u$es among a small com$any of s$ectators alrea y is$ose to belie!e them" Cho will !enture to tell me how many eye-witnesses are require to make a miracle cre ibleH Chat use are your miracles, $erforme if $roof of your octrine, if they themsel!es require so much $roofH #ou might as well ha!e let them alone" DThere still remains the most im$ortant inquiry of all with regar to the octrine $roclaime A for since those who tell us Go works miracles in this worl , $rofess that the e!il sometimes imitates them, when we ha!e foun the best atteste miracles we ha!e got !ery little furtherA an since the magicians of Pharaoh are in the $resence of >oses to counterfeit the !ery signs he wrought at Go @s comman , why shoul they not, behin his back, claim a like authorityE )o when we ha!e $ro!e our octrine by means of miracles, we must $ro!e our miracles by means of octrine, .7ootnote& This is e?$ressly state in many $assages of )cri$ture, among others in (euteronomy ?iii", where it is sai that when a $ro$het $reaching strange go s confirms his wor s by means of miracles an what he foretells comes to $ass, far from gi!ing hee to him, this $ro$het must be $ut to eath" 9f then the heathen $ut the a$ostles to eath when they $reache a strange go an confirme their wor s by miracles which came to $ass 9 cannot see what groun s we ha!e for com$laint which they coul not at once turn against us" <ow, what shoul be one in such a caseE There is only one courseA to return to argument an let the miracles alone" 9t woul ha!e been better not to ha!e ha recourse to them at all" That is $lain common-sense which can only be obscure by great subtlety of istinction" )ubtleties in :hristianityH )o Jesus :hrist was mistaken when he $romise the king om of hea!en to the sim$le, he was mistaken when he began his finest iscourse with the $raise of the $oor in s$irit, if so much wit is nee e to un erstan his teaching an to get others to belie!e in him" Chen you ha!e con!ince me that submission is my uty, all will be wellA but to con!ince me of this, come own to my le!elA a a$t your arguments to a lowly min , or 9 shall not recognise you as a true isci$le of your master, an it is not his octrine that you are teaching me"3 for fear lest we shoul take the e!il@s oings for the han iwork of Go " Chat think you of this ilemmaE

DThis octrine, if it comes from Go , shoul bear the sacre stam$ of the go hea A not only shoul it illumine the trouble thoughts which reason im$rints on our min s, but it shoul also offer us a form of worshi$, a morality, an rules of con uct in accor ance with the attributes by means of which we alone concei!e of Go @s essence" 9f then it teaches us what is absur an unreasonable, if it ins$ires us with feelings of a!ersion for our fellows an terror for oursel!es, if it $aints us a Go , angry, jealous, re!engeful, $artial, hating men, a Go of war an battles, e!er rea y to strike an to estroy, e!er s$eaking of $unishment an torment, boasting e!en of the $unishment of the innocent, my heart woul not be rawn towar s this terrible Go , 9 woul take goo care not to quit the realm of natural religion to embrace such a religion as thatA for you see $lainly 9 must choose between them" #our Go is not ours" 8e who begins by selecting a chosen $eo$le, an $roscribing the rest of mankin , is not our common fatherA he who consigns to eternal $unishment the greater $art of his creatures, is not the merciful an gracious Go re!eale to me by my reason" DReason tells me that ogmas shoul be $lain, clear, an striking in their sim$licity" 9f there is something lacking in natural religion, it is with res$ect to the obscurity in which it lea!es the great truths it teachesA re!elation shoul teach us these truths in a way which the min of man can un erstan A it shoul bring them within his reach, make him com$rehen them, so that he may belie!e them" 7aith is confirme an strengthene by un erstan ingA the best religion is of necessity the sim$lest" 8e who hi es beneath mysteries an contra ictions the religion that he $reaches to me, teaches me at the same time to istrust that religion" The Go whom 9 a ore is not the Go of arkness, he has not gi!en me un erstan ing in or er to forbi me to use itA to tell me to submit my reason is to insult the gi!er of reason" The minister of truth oes not tyrannise o!er my reason, he enlightens it" DCe ha!e set asi e all human authority, an without it 9 o not see how any man can con!ince another by $reaching a octrine contrary to reason" %et them fight it out, an let us see what they ha!e to say with that harshness of s$eech which is common to both" D9<)P9R'T96<& Reason tells you that the whole is greater than the $artA but 9 tell you, in Go @s name, that the $art is greater than the whole" DRE')6<& 'n who are you to are to tell me that Go contra icts himselfE 'n which shall 9 choose to belie!e" Go who teaches me, through my reason, the eternal truth, or you who, in his name, $roclaim an absur ityE D9<)P9R'T96<& Belie!e me, for my teaching is more $ositi!eA an 9 will $ro!e to you beyon all manner of oubt that he has sent me" DRE')6<& ChatH you will con!ince me that Go has sent you to bear witness against himselfE Chat sort of $roofs will you a uce to con!ince me that Go s$eaks more surely by your mouth than through the un erstan ing he has gi!en meE

D9<)P9R'T96<& The un erstan ing he has gi!en youH Petty, conceite creatureH 's if you were the first im$ious $erson who ha been le astray through his reason corru$te by sin" DRE')6<& >an of Go , you woul not be the first scoun rel who asserts his arrogance as a $roof of his mission" D9<)P9R'T96<& ChatH o e!en $hiloso$hers call namesE DRE')6<& )ometimes, when the saints set them the e?am$le" D9<)P9R'T96<& 6h, but 9 ha!e a right to o it, for 9 am s$eaking on Go @s behalf" DRE')6<& #ou woul o well to show your cre entials before you make use of your $ri!ileges" D9<)P9R'T96<& >y cre entials are authentic, earth an hea!en will bear witness on my behalf" 7ollow my arguments carefully, if you $lease" DRE')6<& #our argumentsH #ou forget what you are saying" Chen you teach me that my reason mislea s me, o you not refute what it might ha!e sai on your behalfE 8e who enies the right of reason, must con!ince me without recourse to her ai " 7or su$$ose you ha!e con!ince me by reason, how am 9 to know that it is not my reason, corru$te by sin, which makes me acce$t what you sayE besi es, what $roof, what emonstration, can you a !ance, more self-e!i ent than the a?iom it is to estroyE 9t is more cre ible that a goo syllogism is a lie, than that the $art is greater than the whole" D9<)P9R'T96<& Chat a ifferenceH There is no answer to my e!i enceA it is of a su$ernatural kin " DRE')6<& )u$ernaturalH Chat o you mean by the wor E 9 o not un erstan it" D9<)P9R'T96<& 9 mean changes in the or er of nature, $ro$hecies, signs, an won ers of e!ery kin " DRE')6<& )igns an won ersH 9 ha!e ne!er seen anything of the kin " D9<)P9R'T96<& 6thers ha!e seen them for you" :lou s of witnessesBthe witness of whole nationsO" DRE')6<& 9s the witness of nations su$ernaturalE D9<)P9R'T96<& <oA but when it is unanimous, it is incontestable" DRE')6<& There is nothing so incontestable as the $rinci$les of reason, an one cannot acce$t an absur ity on human e!i ence" 6nce more, let us see your su$ernatural e!i ence, for the consent of mankin is not su$ernatural" D9<)P9R'T96<& 6h, har ene heart, grace oes not s$eak to you"

DRE')6<& That is not my faultA for by your own showing, one must ha!e alrea y recei!e grace before one is able to ask for it" Begin by s$eaking to me in its stea " D9<)P9R'T96<& But that is just what 9 am oing, an you will not listen" But what o you say to $ro$hecyE DRE')6<& 9n the first $lace, 9 say 9 ha!e no more hear a $ro$het than 9 ha!e seen a miracle" 9n the ne?t, 9 say that no $ro$het coul claim authority o!er me" D9<)P9R'T96<& 7ollower of the e!ilH Chy shoul not the wor s of the $ro$hets ha!e authority o!er youE DRE')6<& Because three things are require , three things which will ne!er ha$$en& firstly, 9 must ha!e hear the $ro$hecyA secon ly, 9 must ha!e seen its fulfilmentA an thir ly, it must be clearly $ro!e that the fulfilment of the $ro$hecy coul not by any $ossibility ha!e been a mere coinci enceA for e!en if it was as $recise, as $lain, an clear as an a?iom of geometry, since the clearness of a chance $re iction oes not make its fulfilment im$ossible, this fulfilment when it oes take $lace oes not, strictly s$eaking, $ro!e what was foretol " D)ee what your so-calle su$ernatural $roofs, your miracles, your $ro$hecies come to& belie!e all this u$on the wor of another" )ubmit to the authority of men the authority of Go which s$eaks to my reason" 9f the eternal truths which my min concei!es of coul suffer any shock, there woul be no sort of certainty for meA an far from being sure that you s$eak to me on Go @s behalf, 9 shoul not e!en be sure that there is a Go " D>y chil , here are ifficulties enough, but these are not all" 'mong so many religions, mutually e?clu ing an $roscribing each other, one only is true, if in ee any one of them is true" To recognise the true religion we must inquire into, not one, but allA an in any question whatsoe!er we ha!e no right to con emn unhear " .7ootnote& 6n the other han , Plutarch relates that the )toics maintaine , among other strange $ara o?es, that it was no use hearing both si esA for, sai they, the first either $ro!es his $oint or he oes not $ro!e itA if he has $ro!e it, there is an en of it, an the other shoul be con emne & if he has not $ro!e it, he himself is in the wrong an ju gment shoul be gi!en against him" 9 consi er the metho of those who acce$t an e?clusi!e re!elation !ery much like that of these )toics" Chen each of them claims to be the sole guar ian of truth, we must hear them all before we can choose between them without injustice"3 The objections must be com$are with the e!i enceA we must know what accusation each brings against the other, an what answers they recei!e" The $lainer any feeling a$$ears to us, the more we must try to isco!er why so many other $eo$le refuse to acce$t it" Ce shoul be sim$le, in ee , if we thought it enough to hear the octors on our own si e, in or er to acquaint oursel!es with the arguments of the other" Chere can you fin theologians who $ri e themsel!es on their honestyE Chere are those who, to refute the arguments of their o$$onents, o not begin by making out that they are

of little im$ortanceE ' man may make a goo show among his own frien s, an be !ery $rou of his arguments, who woul cut a !ery $oor figure with those same arguments among those who are on the other si e" Coul you fin out for yourself from booksE Chat learning you will nee H Chat languages you must learnA what libraries you must ransackA what an amount of rea ing must be got throughH Cho will gui e me in such a choiceE 9t will be har to fin the best books on the o$$osite si e in any one country, an all the har er to fin those on all si esA when foun they woul be easily answere " The absent are always in the wrong, an ba arguments bol ly asserte easily efface goo arguments $ut forwar with scorn" Besi es books are often !ery mislea ing, an scarcely e?$ress the o$inions of their authors" 9f you think you can ju ge the :atholic faith from the writings of Bossuet, you will fin yourself greatly mistaken when you ha!e li!e among us" #ou will see that the octrines with which Protestants are answere are quite ifferent from those of the $ul$it" To ju ge a religion rightly, you must not stu y it in the books of its $artisans, you must learn it in their li!esA this is quite another matter" Each religion has its own tra itions, meaning, customs, $reju ices, which form the s$irit of its cree , an must be taken in connection with it" D8ow many great nations neither $rint books of their own nor rea oursH 8ow shall they ju ge of our o$inions, or we of theirsE Ce laugh at them, they es$ise usA an if our tra!ellers turn them into ri icule, they nee only tra!el among us to $ay us back in our own coin" 're there not, in e!ery country, men of common-sense, honesty, an goo faith, lo!ers of truth, who only seek to know what truth is that they may $rofess itE #et e!ery one fin s truth in his own religion, an thinks the religion of other nations absur A so all these foreign religions are not so absur as they seem to us, or else the reason we fin for our own $ro!es nothing" DCe ha!e three $rinci$al forms of religion in Euro$e" 6ne acce$ts one re!elation, another two, an another three" Each hates the others, showers curses on them, accuses them of blin ness, obstinacy, har ness of heart, an falsehoo " Chat fair-min e man will are to eci e between them without first carefully weighing their e!i ence, without listening attenti!ely to their argumentsE That which acce$ts only one re!elation is the ol est an seems the best establishe A that which acce$ts three is the newest an seems the most consistentA that which acce$ts two re!elations an rejects the thir may $erha$s be the best, but $reju ice is certainly against itA its inconsistency is glaring" D9n all three re!elations the sacre books are written in languages unknown to the $eo$le who belie!e in them" The Jews no longer un erstan 8ebrew, the :hristians un erstan neither 8ebrew nor GreekA the Turks an Persians o not un erstan 'rabic, an the 'rabs of our time o not s$eak the language of >ahomet" 9s not it a !ery foolish way of teaching, to teach $eo$le in an unknown tongueE These books are translate , you say" Chat an answerH 8ow am 9 to know that the translations are correct, or how am 9 to make sure that such a thing as a correct translation is $ossibleE 9f Go has gone so far as to s$eak to men, why shoul he require an inter$reterE

D9 can ne!er belie!e that e!ery man is oblige to know what is containe in books, an that he who is out of reach of these books, an of those who un erstan them, will be $unishe for an ignorance which is no fault of his" Books u$on booksH Chat ma nessH 's all Euro$e is full of books, Euro$eans regar them as necessary, forgetting that they are unknown throughout three-quarters of the globe" Cere not all these books written by menE Chy then shoul a man nee them to teach him his uty, an how i he learn his uty before these books were in e?istenceE Either he must ha!e learnt his uties for himself, or his ignorance must ha!e been e?cuse " D6ur :atholics talk lou ly of the authority of the :hurchA but what is the use of it all, if they also nee just as great an array of $roofs to establish that authority as the other seeks to establish their octrineE The :hurch eci es that the :hurch has a right to eci e" Chat a well-foun e authorityH Go beyon it, an you are back again in our iscussions" D(o you know many :hristians who ha!e taken the trouble to inquire what the Jews allege against themE 9f any one knows anything at all about it, it is from the writings of :hristians" Chat a way of ascertaining the arguments of our a !ersariesH But what is to be oneE 9f any one are to $ublish in our ay books which were o$enly in fa!our of the Jewish religion, we shoul $unish the author, $ublisher, an bookseller" This regulation is a sure an certain $lan for always being in the right" 9t is easy to refute those who are not !enture to s$eak" DThose among us who ha!e the o$$ortunity of talking with Jews are little better off" These unha$$y $eo$le feel that they are in our $owerA the tyranny they ha!e suffere makes them timi A they know that :hristian charity thinks nothing of injustice an crueltyA will they are to run the risk of an outcry against blas$hemyE 6ur gree ins$ires us with Feal, an they are so rich that they must be in the wrong" The more learne , the more enlightene they are, the more cautious" #ou may con!ert some $oor wretch whom you ha!e $ai to slan er his religionA you get some wretche ol -clothes-man to s$eak, an he says what you wantA you may trium$h o!er their ignorance an cowar ice, while all the time their men of learning are laughing at your stu$i ity" But o you think you woul get off so easily in any $lace where they knew they were safeH 't the )orbonne it is $lain that the >essianic $ro$hecies refer to Jesus :hrist" 'mong the rabbis of 'mster am it is just as clear that they ha!e nothing to o with him" 9 o not think 9 ha!e e!er hear the arguments of the Jews as to why they shoul not ha!e a free state, schools an uni!ersities, where they can s$eak an argue without anger" Then alone can we know what they ha!e to say" D't :onstantino$le the Turks state their arguments, but we are not gi!e oursA then it is our turn to cringe" :an we blame the Turks if they require us to show the same res$ect for >ahomet, in whom we o not belie!e, as we eman from the Jews with regar to Jesus :hrist in whom they o not belie!eE 're we rightE 6n what groun s of justice can we answer this questionE

DTwo-thir s of mankin are neither Jews, >ahometans, nor :hristiansA an how many millions of men ha!e ne!er hear the name of >oses, Jesus :hrist, or >ahometE They eny itA they maintain that our missionaries go e!erywhere" That is easily sai " But o they go into the heart of 'frica, still un isco!ere , where as yet no Euro$ean has e!er !enture E (o they go to Eastern Tartary to follow on horseback the wan ering tribes, whom no stranger a$$roaches, who not only know nothing of the $o$e, but ha!e scarcely hear tell of the Gran %amaH (o they $enetrate into the !ast continents of 'merica, where there are still whole nations unaware that the $eo$le of another worl ha!e set foot on their shoresE (o they go to Ja$an, where their intrigues ha!e le to their $er$etual banishment, where their $re ecessors are only known to the rising generation as skilful $lotters who came with feigne Feal to take $ossession in secret of the em$ireE (o they reach the harems of the 'siatic $rinces to $reach the gos$el to those thousan s of $oor sla!esE Chat ha!e the women of those countries one that no missionary may $reach the faith to themE Cill they all go to hell because of their seclusionE D9f it were true that the gos$el is $reache throughout the worl , what a !antage woul there beE The ay before the first missionary set foot in any country, no oubt somebo y ie who coul not hear him" <ow tell me what we shall o with himE 9f there were a single soul in the whole worl , to whom Jesus :hrist ha ne!er been $reache , this objection woul be as strong for that man as for a quarter of the human race" D9f the ministers of the gos$el ha!e ma e themsel!es hear among faroff nations, what ha!e they tol them which might reasonably be acce$te on their wor , without further an more e?act !erificationE #ou $reach to me Go , born an ying, two thousan years ago, at the other en of the worl , in some small town 9 know not whereA an you tell me that all who ha!e not belie!e this mystery are amne " These are strange things to be belie!e so quickly on the authority of an unknown $erson" Chy i your Go make these things ha$$en so far off, if he woul com$el me to know about themE 9s it a crime to be unaware of what is ha$$ening half a worl awayE :oul 9 guess that in another hemis$here there was a 8ebrew nation an a town calle JerusalemE #ou might as well e?$ect me to know what was ha$$ening in the moon" #ou say you ha!e come to teach meA but why i you not come an teach my father, or why o you consign that goo ol man to amnation because he knew nothing of all thisE >ust he be $unishe e!erlastingly for your laFiness, he who was so kin an hel$ful, he who sought only for truthE Be honestA $ut yourself in my $laceA see if 9 ought to belie!e, on your wor alone, all these incre ible things which you ha!e tol me, an reconcile all this injustice with the just Go you $roclaim to me" 't least allow me to go an see this istant lan where such won ers, unhear of in my own country, took $laceA let me go an see why the inhabitants of Jerusalem $ut their Go to eath as a robber" #ou tell me they i not know he was Go " Chat then shall 9 o, 9 who ha!e only hear of him from youE #ou say they ha!e been $unishe , is$erse , o$$resse , ensla!e A that none of them are a$$roach that town" 9n ee they richly eser!e itA but what o its $resent inhabitants say of their crime in

slaying their Go H They eny himA they too refuse to recognise Go as Go " They are no better than the chil ren of the original inhabitants" DChatH 9n the !ery town where Go was $ut to eath, neither the former nor the latter inhabitants knew him, an you e?$ect that 9 shoul know him, 9 who was born two thousan years after his time, an two thousan leagues awayE (o you not see that before 9 can belie!e this book which you call sacre , but which 9 o not in the least un erstan , 9 must know from others than yourself when an by whom it was written, how it has been $reser!e , how it came into your $ossession, what they say about it in those lan s where it is rejecte , an what are their reasons for rejecting it, though they know as well as you what you are telling meE #ou $ercei!e 9 must go to Euro$e, 'sia, Palestine, to e?amine these things for myselfA it woul be ma ness to listen to you before that"

D<ot only oes this seem reasonable to me, but 9 maintain that it is what e!ery wise man ought to say in similar circumstancesA that he ought to banish to a great istance the missionary who wants to instruct an ba$tise him all of a su en before the e!i ence is !erifie " <ow 9 maintain that there is no re!elation against which these or similar objections cannot be ma e, an with more force than against :hristianity" 8ence it follows that if there is but one true religion an if e!ery man is boun to follow it un er $ain of amnation, he must s$en his whole life in stu ying, testing, com$aring all these religions, in tra!elling through the countries in which they are establishe " <o man is free from a man@s first utyA no one has a right to e$en on another@s ju gment" The artisan who earns his brea by his aily toil, the $loughboy who cannot rea , the elicate an timi mai en, the in!ali who can scarcely lea!e his be , all without e?ce$tion must stu y, consi er, argue, tra!el o!er the whole worl A there will be no more fi?e an settle nationsA the whole earth will swarm with $ilgrims on their way, at great cost of time an trouble, to !erify, com$are, an e?amine for themsel!es the !arious religions to be foun " Then farewell to the tra es, the arts, the sciences of mankin , farewell to all $eaceful occu$ationsA there can be no stu y but that of religion, e!en the strongest, the most in ustrious, the most intelligent, the ol est, will har ly be able in his last years to know where he isA an it will be a won er if he manages to fin out what religion he ought to li!e by, before the hour of his eath" D8ar $resse by these arguments, some $refer to make Go unjust an to $unish the innocent for the sins of their fathers, rather than to renounce their barbarous ogmas" 6thers get out of the ifficulty by kin ly sen ing an angel to instruct all those who in in!incible ignorance ha!e li!e a righteous life" ' goo i ea, that angelH <ot content to be the sla!es of their own in!entions they e?$ect Go to make use of them alsoH DBehol , my son, the absur ities to which $ri e an intolerance bring us, when e!erybo y wants others to think as he oes, an e!erybo y fancies that he has an e?clusi!e claim u$on the rest of mankin " 9 call to witness the Go of Peace whom 9 a ore, an whom 9 $roclaim to you, that my inquiries were honestly ma eA but when 9 isco!ere that they were an always woul be unsuccessful, an that 9 was embarke u$on a boun less ocean, 9 turne back, an restricte my faith within the limits of my $rimiti!e i eas" 9 coul ne!er con!ince myself that Go woul require such learning of me un er $ain of hell" )o 9 close all my books" There is one book which is o$en to e!ery oneBthe book of nature" 9n this goo an great !olume 9 learn to ser!e an a ore its 'uthor" There is no e?cuse for not rea ing this book, for it s$eaks to all in a language they can un erstan " )u$$ose 9 ha been born in a esert islan , su$$ose 9 ha ne!er seen any man but myself, su$$ose 9 ha ne!er hear what took $lace in ol en ays in a remote corner of the worl A yet if 9 use my reason, if 9 culti!ate it, if 9 em$loy rightly the innate faculties which Go bestows u$on me, 9 shall learn by myself to know an lo!e him, to lo!e

his works, to will what he wills, an to fulfil all my uties u$on earth, that 9 may o his $leasure" Chat more can all human learning teach meE DCith regar to re!elation, if 9 were a more accom$lishe is$utant, or a more learne $erson, $erha$s 9 shoul feel its truth, its usefulness for those who are ha$$y enough to $ercei!e itA but if 9 fin e!i ence for it which 9 cannot combat, 9 also fin objections against it which 9 cannot o!ercome" There are so many weighty reasons for an against that 9 o not know what to eci e, so that 9 neither acce$t nor reject it" 9 only reject all obligation to be con!ince of its truthA for this so-calle obligation is incom$atible with Go @s justice, an far from remo!ing objections in this way it woul multi$ly them, an woul make them insurmountable for the greater $art of mankin " 9n this res$ect 9 maintain an attitu e of re!erent oubt" 9 o not $resume to think myself infallibleA other men may ha!e been able to make u$ their min s though the matter seems oubtful to myselfA 9 am s$eaking for myself, not for themA 9 neither blame them nor follow in their ste$sA their ju gment may be su$erior to mine, but it is no fault of mine that my ju gment oes not agree with it" D9 own also that the holiness of the gos$el s$eaks to my heart, an that this is an argument which 9 shoul be sorry to refute" :onsi er the books of the $hiloso$hers with all their outwar showA how $etty they are in com$arisonH :an a book at once so gran an so sim$le be the work of menE 9s it $ossible that he whose history is containe in this book is no more than manE 9s the tone of this book, the tone of the enthusiast or the ambitious sectaryE Chat gentleness an $urity in his actions, what a touching grace in his teaching, how lofty are his sayings, how $rofoun ly wise are his sermons, how rea y, how iscriminating, an how just are his answersH Chat man, what sage, can li!e, suffer, an ie without weakness or ostentationE Chen Plato escribes his imaginary goo man, o!erwhelme with the isgrace of crime, an eser!ing of all the rewar s of !irtue, e!ery feature of the $ortrait is that of :hristA the resemblance is so striking that it has been notice by all the 7athers, an there can be no oubt about it" Chat $reju ices an blin ness must there be before we are to com$are the son of )o$hronisca with the son of >ary" 8ow far a$art they areH )ocrates ies a $ainless eath, he is not $ut to o$en shame, an he $lays his $art easily to the lastA an if this easy eath ha not one honour to his life, we might ha!e oubte whether )ocrates, with all his intellect, was more than a mere so$hist" 8e in!ente morality, so they sayA others before him ha $ractise itA he only sai what they ha one, an ma e use of their e?am$le in his teaching" 'risti es was just before )ocrates efine justiceA %eoni as ie for his country before )ocrates eclare that $atriotism was a !irtueA )$arta was sober before )ocrates e?tolle sobrietyA there were $lenty of !irtuous men in Greece before he efine !irtue" But among the men of his own time where i Jesus fin that $ure an lofty morality of which he is both the teacher an $atternE .7ootnote& :f" in the )ermon on the >ount the $arallel he himself raws between the teaching of >oses an his own"B>att" !"3 The !oice of loftiest wis om arose among the fiercest fanaticism, the sim$licity of the most heroic !irtues i honour to the most egra e of nations" 6ne coul wish no easier eath than that of )ocrates, calmly

iscussing $hiloso$hy with his frien sA one coul fear nothing worse than that of Jesus, ying in torment, among the insults, the mockery, the curses of the whole nation" 9n the mi st of these terrible sufferings, Jesus $rays for his cruel mur erers" #es, if the life an eath of )ocrates are those of a $hiloso$her, the life an eath of :hrist are those of a Go " )hall we say that the gos$el story is the work of the imaginationE >y frien , such things are not imagine A an the oings of )ocrates, which no one oubts, are less well atteste than those of Jesus :hrist" 't best, you only $ut the ifficulty from youA it woul be still more incre ible that se!eral $ersons shoul ha!e agree together to in!ent such a book, than that there was one man who su$$lie its subject matter" The tone an morality of this story are not those of any Jewish authors, an the gos$el in ee contains characters so great, so striking, so entirely inimitable, that their in!ention woul be more astonishing than their hero" Cith all this the same gos$el is full of incre ible things, things re$ugnant to reason, things which no natural man can un erstan or acce$t" Chat can you o among so many contra ictionsE #ou can be mo est an wary, my chil A res$ect in silence what you can neither reject nor un erstan , an humble yourself in the sight of the (i!ine Being who alone knows the truth" DThis is the unwilling sce$ticism in which 9 restA but this sce$ticism is in no way $ainful to me, for it oes not e?ten to matters of $ractice, an 9 am well assure as to the $rinci$les un erlying all my uties" 9 ser!e Go in the sim$licity of my heartA 9 only seek to know what affects my con uct" 's to those ogmas which ha!e no effect u$on action or morality, ogmas about which so many men torment themsel!es, 9 gi!e no hee to them" 9 regar all in i!i ual religions as so many wholesome institutions which $rescribe a uniform metho by which each country may o honour to Go in $ublic worshi$A institutions which may each ha!e its reason in the country, the go!ernment, the genius of the $eo$le, or in other local causes which make one $referable to another in a gi!en time or $lace" 9 think them all goo alike, when Go is ser!e in a fitting manner" True worshi$ is of the heart" Go rejects no homage, howe!er offere , $ro!i e it is sincere" :alle to the ser!ice of the :hurch in my own religion, 9 fulfil as scru$ulously as 9 can all the uties $rescribe to me, an my conscience woul re$roach me if 9 were knowingly wanting with regar to any $oint" #ou are aware that after being sus$en e for a long time, 9 ha!e, through the influence of >" >ellare e, obtaine $ermission to resume my $riestly uties, as a means of li!elihoo " 9 use to say >ass with the le!ity that comes from long e?$erience e!en of the most serious matters when they are too familiar to usA with my new $rinci$les 9 now celebrate it with more re!erenceA 9 well u$on the majesty of the )u$reme Being, his $resence, the insufficiency of the human min , which so little realises what concerns its :reator" Chen 9 consi er how 9 $resent before him the $rayers of all the $eo$le in a form lai own for me, 9 carry out the whole ritual e?actlyA 9 gi!e hee to what 9 say, 9 am careful not to omit the least wor , the least ceremonyA when the moment of the consecration a$$roaches, 9 collect my $owers, that 9 may o all things as require by the :hurch an by the greatness of this sacramentA 9 stri!e to annihilate my own reason before the )u$reme >in A 9 say to myself, Cho art thou to measure infinite $owerE 9

re!erently $ronounce the sacramental wor s, an 9 gi!e to their effect all the faith 9 can bestow" Chate!er may be this mystery which $asses un erstan ing, 9 am not afrai that at the ay of ju gment 9 shall be $unishe for ha!ing $rofane it in my heart"D 8onoure with the sacre ministry, though in its lowest ranks, 9 will ne!er o or say anything which may make me unworthy to fulfil these sublime uties" 9 will always $reach !irtue an e?hort men to well- oingA an so far as 9 can 9 will set them a goo e?am$le" 9t will be my business to make religion attracti!eA it will be my business to strengthen their faith in those octrines which are really useful, those which e!ery man must belie!eA but, $lease Go , 9 shall ne!er teach them to hate their neighbour, to say to other men, #ou will be amne A to say, <o sal!ation outsi e the :hurch" .7ootnote& The uty of following an lo!ing the religion of our country oes not go so far as to require us to acce$t octrines contrary to goo morals, such as intolerance" This horrible octrine sets men in arms against their fellow-men, an makes them all enemies of mankin " The istinction between ci!il toleration an theological toleration is !ain an chil ish" These two kin s of toleration are inse$arable, an we cannot acce$t one without the other" E!en the angels coul not li!e at $eace with men whom they regar e as the enemies of Go "3 9f 9 were in a more cons$icuous $osition, this reticence might get me into troubleA but 9 am too obscure to ha!e much to fear, an 9 coul har ly sink lower than 9 am" :ome what may, 9 will ne!er blas$heme the justice of Go , nor lie against the 8oly Ghost" D9 ha!e long esire to ha!e a $arish of my ownA it is still my ambition, but 9 no longer ho$e to attain it" >y ear frien , 9 think there is nothing so elightful as to be a $arish $riest" ' goo clergyman is a minister of mercy, as a goo magistrate is a minister of justice" ' clergyman is ne!er calle u$on to o e!ilA if he cannot always o goo himself, it is ne!er out of $lace for him to beg for others, an he often gets what he asks if he knows how to gain res$ect" 6hH if 9 shoul e!er ha!e some $oor mountain $arish where 9 might minister to kin ly folk, 9 shoul be ha$$y in ee A for it seems to me that 9 shoul make my $arishioners ha$$y" 9 shoul not bring them riches, but 9 shoul share their $o!ertyA 9 shoul remo!e from them the scorn an o$$robrium which are har er to bear than $o!erty" 9 shoul make them lo!e $eace an equality, which often remo!e $o!erty, an always make it tolerable" Chen they saw that 9 was in no way better off than themsel!es, an that yet 9 was content with my lot, they woul learn to $ut u$ with their fate an to be content like me" 9n my sermons 9 woul lay more stress on the s$irit of the gos$el than on the s$irit of the churchA its teaching is sim$le, its morality sublimeA there is little in it about the $ractices of religion, but much about works of charity" Before 9 teach them what they ought to o, 9 woul try to $ractise it myself, that they might see that at least 9 think what 9 say" 9f there were Protestants in the neighbourhoo or in my $arish, 9 woul make no ifference between them an my own congregation so far as concerns :hristian charityA 9 woul get them to lo!e one another, to consi er themsel!es brethren, to res$ect all religions, an each to li!e $eaceably in his own religion" To ask any one to aban on the religion in which he was born is, 9 consi er, to ask him to o wrong, an therefore to o wrong oneself" Chile we

await further knowle ge, let us res$ect $ublic or erA in e!ery country let us res$ect the laws, let us not isturb the form of worshi$ $rescribe by lawA let us not lea its citiFens into isobe ienceA for we ha!e no certain knowle ge that it is goo for them to aban on their own o$inions for others, an on the other han we are quite certain that it is a ba thing to isobey the law" D>y young frien , 9 ha!e now re$eate to you my cree as Go rea s it in my heartA you are the first to whom 9 ha!e tol itA $erha$s you will be the last" 's long as there is any true faith left among men, we must not trouble quiet souls, nor scare the faith of the ignorant with $roblems they cannot sol!e, with ifficulties which cause them uneasiness, but o not gi!e them any gui ance" But when once e!erything is shaken, the trunk must be $reser!e at the cost of the branches" :onsciences, restless, uncertain, an almost quenche like yours, require to be strengthene an arouse A to set the feet again u$on the foun ation of eternal truth, we must remo!e the trembling su$$orts on which they think they rest" D#ou are at that critical age when the min is o$en to con!iction, when the heart recei!es its form an character, when we eci e our own fate for life, either for goo or e!il" 't a later ate, the material has har ene an fresh im$ressions lea!e no trace" #oung man, take the stam$ of truth u$on your heart which is not yet har ene , if 9 were more certain of myself, 9 shoul ha!e a o$te a more eci e an ogmatic toneA but 9 am a man ignorant an liable to errorA what coul 9 oE 9 ha!e o$ene my heart fully to youA an 9 ha!e tol what 9 myself hol for certain an sureA 9 ha!e tol you my oubts as oubts, my o$inions as o$inionsA 9 ha!e gi!en you my reasons both for faith an oubt" 9t is now your turn to ju geA you ha!e aske for timeA that is a wise $recaution an it makes me think well of you" Begin by bringing your conscience into that state in which it esires to see clearlyA be honest with yourself" Take to yourself such of my o$inions as con!ince you, reject the rest" #ou are not yet so e$ra!e by !ice as to run the risk of choosing amiss" 9 woul offer to argue with you, but as soon as men is$ute they lose their tem$erA $ri e an obstinacy come in, an there is an en of honesty" >y frien , ne!er argueA for by arguing we gain no light for oursel!es or for others" )o far as 9 myself am concerne , 9 ha!e only ma e u$ my min after many years of me itationA here 9 rest, my conscience is at $eace, my heart is satisfie " 9f 9 wante to begin afresh the e?amination of my feelings, 9 shoul not bring to the task a $urer lo!e of truthA an my min , which is alrea y less acti!e, woul be less able to $ercei!e the truth" 8ere 9 shall rest, lest the lo!e of contem$lation, e!elo$ing ste$ by ste$ into an i le $assion, shoul make me lukewarm in the $erformance of my uties, lest 9 shoul fall into my former sce$ticism without strength to struggle out of it" >ore than half my life is s$entA 9 ha!e barely time to make goo use of what is left, to blot out my faults by my !irtues" 9f 9 am mistaken, it is against my will" 8e who rea s my inmost heart knows that 9 ha!e no lo!e for my blin ness" 's my own knowle ge is $owerless to free me from this blin ness, my only way out of it is by a goo lifeA an if Go from the !ery stones can raise u$ chil ren to 'braham, e!ery man has a right to ho$e that he may be taught the truth, if he makes himself worthy of it"

D9f my reflections lea you to think as 9 o, if you share my feelings, if we ha!e the same cree , 9 gi!e you this a !ice& (o not continue to e?$ose your life to the tem$tations of $o!erty an es$air, nor waste it in egra ation an at the mercy of strangersA no longer eat the shameful brea of charity" Return to your own country, go back to the religion of your fathers, an follow it in sincerity of heart, an ne!er forsake itA it is !ery sim$le an !ery holyA 9 think there is no other religion u$on earth whose morality is $urer, no other more satisfying to the reason" (o not trouble about the cost of the journey, that will be $ro!i e for you" <either o you fear the false shame of a humiliating returnA we shoul blush to commit a fault, not to re$air it" #ou are still at an age when all is forgi!en, but when we cannot go on sinning with im$unity" 9f you esire to listen to your conscience, a thousan em$ty objections will isa$$ear at her !oice" #ou will feel that, in our $resent state of uncertainty, it is an ine?cusable $resum$tion to $rofess any faith but that we were born into, while it is treachery not to $ractise honestly the faith we $rofess" 9f we go astray, we e$ri!e oursel!es of a great e?cuse before the tribunal of the so!ereign ju ge" Cill he not $ar on the errors in which we were brought u$, rather than those of our own choosingE D>y son, kee$ your soul in such a state that you always esire that there shoul be a Go an you will ne!er oubt it" >oreo!er, whate!er ecision you come to, remember that the real uties of religion are in e$en ent of human institutionsA that a righteous heart is the true tem$le of the Go hea A that in e!ery lan , in e!ery sect, to lo!e Go abo!e all things an to lo!e our neighbour as ourself is the whole lawA remember there is no religion which absol!es us from our moral utiesA that these alone are really essential, that the ser!ice of the heart is the first of these uties, an that without faith there is no such thing as true !irtue" D)hun those who, un er the $retence of e?$laining nature, sow estructi!e octrines in the heart of men, those whose a$$arent sce$ticism is a hun re fol more self-asserti!e an ogmatic than the firm tone of their o$$onents" ;n er the arrogant claim, that they alone are enlightene , true, honest, they subject us im$eriously to their farreaching ecisions, an $rofess to gi!e us, as the true $rinci$les of all things, the unintelligible systems frame by their imagination" >oreo!er, they o!erthrow, estroy, an tram$le un er foot all that men re!erenceA they rob the afflicte of their last consolation in their miseryA they e$ri!e the rich an $owerful of the sole bri le of their $assionsA they tear from the !ery e$ths of man@s heart all remorse for crime, an all ho$e of !irtueA an they boast, moreo!er, that they are the benefactors of the human race" Truth, they say, can ne!er o a man harm" 9 think so too, an to my min that is strong e!i ence that what they teach is not true" .7ootnote& The ri!al $arties attack each other with so many so$histries that it woul be a rash an o!erwhelming enter$rise to attem$t to eal with all of themA it is ifficult enough to note some of them as they occur" 6ne of the commonest errors among the $artisans of $hiloso$hy is to contrast a nation of goo $hiloso$hers with a nation of ba :hristiansA as if it were easier to make a nation of goo $hiloso$hers than a nation of goo :hristians" 9 know not whether in in i!i ual cases it is easier to isco!er one rather than the otherA but 9 am quite certain

that, as far as nations are concerne , we must assume that there will be those who misuse their $hiloso$hy without religion, just as our $eo$le misuse their religion without $hiloso$hy, an that seems to $ut quite a ifferent face u$on the matter"3BBayle has $ro!e !ery satisfactorily that fanaticism is more harmful than atheism, an that cannot be enie A but what he has not taken the trouble to say, though it is none the less true, is this& 7anaticism, though cruel an bloo thirsty, is still a great an $owerful $assion, which stirs the heart of man, teaching him to es$ise eath, an gi!ing him an enormous moti!e $ower, which only nee s to be gui e rightly to $ro uce the noblest !irtuesA while irreligion, an the argumentati!e $hiloso$hic s$irit generally, on the other han , assaults the life an enfeebles it, egra es the soul, concentrates all the $assions in the basest self-interest, in the meanness of the human selfA thus it sa$s unnotice the !ery foun ations of all society, for what is common to all these $ri!ate interests is so small that it will ne!er outweigh their o$$osing interests"B9f atheism oes not lea to bloo she , it is less from lo!e of $eace than from in ifference to what is goo A as if it mattere little what ha$$ene to others, $ro!i e the sage remaine un isturbe in his stu y" 8is $rinci$les o not kill men, but they $re!ent their birth, by estroying the morals by which they were multi$lie , by etaching them from their fellows, by re ucing all their affections to a secret selfishness, as fatal to $o$ulation as to !irtue" The in ifference of the $hiloso$her is like the $eace in a es$otic stateA it is the re$ose of eathA war itself is not more estructi!e"BThus fanaticism though its imme iate results are more fatal than those of what is now calle the $hiloso$hic min , is much less fatal in its after effects" >oreo!er, it is an easy matter to e?hibit fine ma?ims in booksA but the real question isB're they really in accor ance with your teaching, are they the necessary consequences of itE an this has not been clearly $ro!e so far" 9t remains to be seen whether $hiloso$hy, safely enthrone , coul control successfully man@s $etty !anity, his self-interest, his ambition, all the lesser $assions of mankin , an whether it woul $ractise that sweet humanity which it boasts of, $en in han "B9n theory, there is no goo which $hiloso$hy can bring about which is not equally secure by religion, while religion secures much that $hiloso$hy cannot secure"B9n $ractice, it is another matterA but still we must $ut it to the $roof" <o man follows his religion in all things, e!en if his religion is trueA most $eo$le ha!e har ly any religion, an they o not in the least follow what they ha!eA that is still more trueA but still there are some $eo$le who ha!e a religion an follow it, at least to some e?tentA an beyon oubt religious moti!es o $re!ent them from wrong- oing, an win from them !irtues, $raiseworthy actions, which woul not ha!e e?iste but for these moti!es"B' monk enies that money was entruste to himA what of thatE 9t only $ro!es that the man who entruste the money to him was a fool" 9f Pascal ha one the same, that woul ha!e $ro!e that Pascal was a hy$ocrite" But a monkH 're those who make a tra e of religion religious $eo$leE 'll the crimes committe by the clergy, as by other men, o not $ro!e that religion is useless, but that !ery few $eo$le are religious"B>ost certainly our mo ern go!ernments owe to :hristianity their more stable authority, their less frequent re!olutionsA it has ma e those go!ernments less bloo thirstyA this can be shown by com$aring them with the go!ernments of former times" '$art from fanaticism, the best known

religion has gi!en greater gentleness to :hristian con uct" This change is not the result of learningA for where!er learning has been most illustrious humanity has been no more res$ecte on that accountA the cruelties of the 'thenians, the Egy$tians, the Roman em$erors, the :hinese bear witness to this" Chat works of mercy s$ring from the gos$elH 8ow many acts of restitution, re$aration, confession oes the gos$el lea to among :atholicsH 'mong oursel!es, as the times of communion raw near, o they not lea us to reconciliation an to alms-gi!ingE (i not the 8ebrew Jubilee make the gras$ing less gree y, i it not $re!ent much $o!ertyE The brotherhoo of the %aw ma e the nation oneA no beggar was foun among them" <either are there beggars among the Turks, where there are countless $ious institutionsA from moti!es of religion they e!en show hos$itality to the foes of their religion"BDThe >ahometans say, accor ing to :har in, that after the interrogation which will follow the general resurrection, all bo ies will tra!erse a bri ge calle Poul-)errho, which is thrown across the eternal fires, a bri ge which may be calle the thir an last test of the great Ju gment, because it is there that the goo an ba will be se$arate , etc"BDThe Persians, continues :har in, make a great $oint of this bri geA an when any one suffers a wrong which he can ne!er ho$e to wi$e out by any means or at any time, he fin s his last consolation in these wor s& @By the li!ing Go , you will $ay me ouble at the last ayA you will ne!er get across the Poul-)errho if you o not first o me justiceA 9 will hol the hem of your garment, 9 will cling about your knees"@ 9 ha!e seen many eminent men, of e!ery $rofession, who for fear lest this hue an cry shoul be raise against them as they cross that fearful bri ge, beg $ar on of those who com$laine against themA it has ha$$ene to me myself on many occasions" >en of rank, who ha com$elle me by their im$ortunity to o what 9 i not wish to o, ha!e come to me when they thought my anger ha ha time to cool, an ha!e sai to meA 9 $ray you D8alal becon antchisra,D that is, D>ake this matter lawful an right"D )ome of them ha!e e!en sent gifts an one me ser!ice, so that 9 might forgi!e them an say 9 i it willinglyA the cause of this is nothing else but this belief that they will not be able to get across the bri ge of hell until they ha!e $ai the uttermost farthing to the o$$resse "DB>ust 9 think that the i ea of this bri ge where so many iniquities are ma e goo is of no a!ailE 9f the Persians were e$ri!e of this i ea, if they were $ersua e that there was no Poul-)errho, nor anything of the kin , where the o$$resse were a!enge of their tyrants after eath, is it not clear that they woul be !ery much at their ease, an they woul be free from the care of a$$easing the wretche E But it is false to say that this octrine is hurtfulA yet it woul not be true"B6 Philoso$her, your moral laws are all !ery fineA but kin ly show me their sanction" :ease to shirk the question, an tell me $lainly what you woul $ut in the $lace of Poul-)errho" D>y goo youth, be honest an humbleA learn how to be ignorant, then you will ne!er ecei!e yourself or others" 9f e!er your talents are so far culti!ate as to enable you to s$eak to other men, always s$eak accor ing to your conscience, without oaring for their a$$lause" The abuse of knowle ge causes incre ulity" The learne always es$ise the o$inions of the crow A each of them must ha!e his own o$inion" ' haughty $hiloso$hy lea s to atheism just as blin e!otion lea s to

fanaticism" '!oi these e?tremesA kee$ stea fastly to the $ath of truth, or what seems to you truth, in sim$licity of heart, an ne!er let yourself be turne asi e by $ri e or weakness" (are to confess Go before the $hiloso$hersA are to $reach humanity to the intolerant" 9t may be you will stan alone, but you will bear within you a witness which will make the witness of men of no account with you" %et them lo!e or hate, let them rea your writings or es$ise themA no matter" )$eak the truth an o the rightA the one thing that really matters is to o one@s uty in this worl A an when we forget oursel!es we are really working for oursel!es" >y chil , self-interest mislea s usA the ho$e of the just is the only sure gui e"D 9 ha!e transcribe this ocument not as a rule for the sentiments we shoul a o$t in matters of religion, but as an e?am$le of the way in which we may reason with our $u$il without forsaking the metho 9 ha!e trie to establish" )o long as we yiel nothing to human authority, nor to the $reju ices of our nati!e lan , the light of reason alone, in a state of nature, can lea us no further than to natural religionA an this is as far as 9 shoul go with Emile" 9f he must ha!e any other religion, 9 ha!e no right to be his gui eA he must choose for himself" Ce are working in agreement with nature, an while she is sha$ing the $hysical man, we are stri!ing to sha$e his moral being, but we o not make the same $rogress" The bo y is alrea y strong an !igorous, the soul is still frail an elicate, an whate!er can be one by human art, the bo y is always ahea of the min " 8itherto all our care has been e!ote to restrain the one an stimulate the other, so that the man might be as far as $ossible at one with himself" By e!elo$ing his in i!i uality, we ha!e ke$t his growing susce$tibilities in checkA we ha!e controlle it by culti!ating his reason" 6bjects of thought mo erate the influence of objects of sense" By going back to the causes of things, we ha!e with rawn him from the sway of the sensesA it is an easy thing to raise him from the stu y of nature to the search for the author of nature" Chen we ha!e reache this $oint, what a fresh hol we ha!e got o!er our $u$ilA what fresh ways of s$eaking to his heartH Then alone oes he fin a real moti!e for being goo , for oing right when he is far from e!ery human eye, an when he is not ri!en to it by law" To be just in his own eyes an in the sight of Go , to o his uty, e!en at the cost of life itself, an to bear in his heart !irtue, not only for the lo!e of or er which we all subor inate to the lo!e of self, but for the lo!e of the 'uthor of his being, a lo!e which mingles with that self-lo!e, so that he may at length enjoy the lasting ha$$iness which the $eace of a goo conscience an the contem$lation of that su$reme being $romise him in another life, after he has use this life aright" Go beyon this, an 9 see nothing but injustice, hy$ocrisy, an falsehoo among menA $ri!ate interest, which in com$etition necessarily $re!ails o!er e!erything else, teaches all things to a orn !ice with the outwar show of !irtue" %et all men o what is goo for me at the cost of what is goo for themsel!esA let e!erything e$en on me aloneA let the whole human race $erish, if nee s be, in suffering an want, to s$are me a moment@s $ain or hunger" #es, 9 shall

always maintain that whoso says in his heart, DThere is no Go ,D while he takes the name of Go u$on his li$s, is either a liar or a ma man" Rea er, it is all in !ainA 9 $ercei!e that you an 9 shall ne!er see Emile with the same eyesA you will always fancy him like your own young $eo$le, hasty, im$etuous, flighty, wan ering from fete to fete, from amusement to amusement, ne!er able to settle to anything" #ou smile when 9 e?$ect to make a thinker, a $hiloso$her, a young theologian, of an ar ent, li!ely, eager, an fiery young man, at the most im$ulsi!e $erio of youth" This reamer, you say, is always in $ursuit of his fancyA when he gi!es us a $u$il of his own making, he oes not merely form him, he creates him, he makes him u$ out of his own hea A an while he thinks he is trea ing in the ste$s of nature, he is getting further an further from her" 's for me, when 9 com$are my $u$il with yours, 9 can scarcely fin anything in common between them" )o ifferently brought u$, it is almost a miracle if they are alike in any res$ect" 's his chil hoo was $asse in the free om they assume in youth, in his youth he begins to bear the yoke they bore as chil renA this yoke becomes hateful to them, they are sick of it, an they see in it nothing but their masters@ tyrannyA when they esca$e from chil hoo , they think they must shake off all control, they make u$ for the $rolonge restraint im$ose u$on them, as a $risoner, free from his fetters, mo!es an stretches an shakes his limbs" .7ootnote& There is no one who looks own u$on chil hoo with such lofty scorn as those who are barely grown-u$A just as there is no country where rank is more strictly regar e than that where there is little real inequalityA e!erybo y is afrai of being confoun e with his inferiors"3 Emile, howe!er, is $rou to be a man, an to submit to the yoke of his growing reasonA his bo y, alrea y well grown, no longer nee s so much action, an begins to control itself, while his half-fle ge min tries its wings on e!ery occasion" Thus the age of reason becomes for the one the age of licenceA for the other, the age of reasoning" Coul you know which of the two is nearer to the or er of natureH :onsi er the ifferences between those who are more or less remo!e from a state of nature" 6bser!e young !illagers an see if they are as un isci$line as your scholars" The )ieur e Beau says that sa!ages in chil hoo are always acti!e, an e!er busy with s$orts that kee$ the bo y in motionA but scarcely o they reach a olescence than they become quiet an reamyA they no longer e!ote themsel!es to games of skill or chance" Emile, who has been brought u$ in full free om like young $easants an sa!ages, shoul beha!e like them an change as he grows u$" The whole ifference is in this, that instea of merely being acti!e in s$ort or for foo , he has, in the course of his s$orts, learne to think" 8a!ing reache this stage, an by this roa , he is quite rea y to enter u$on the ne?t stage to which 9 intro uce himA the subjects 9 suggest for his consi eration rouse his curiosity, because they are fine in themsel!es, because they are quite new to him, an because he is able to un erstan them" #our young $eo$le, on the other han , are weary an o!er one with your stu$i lessons, your long sermons, an your te ious catechismsA why shoul they not refuse to e!ote their min s to what has ma e them sa , to the bur ensome $rece$ts which ha!e been continually $ile u$on them, to the thought of the 'uthor of their being,

who has been re$resente as the enemy of their $leasuresE 'll this has only ins$ire in them a!ersion, isgust, an wearinessA constraint has set them against itA why then shoul they e!ote themsel!es to it when they are beginning to choose for themsel!esE They require no!elty, you must not re$eat what they learne as chil ren" Just so with my own $u$il, when he is a man 9 s$eak to him as a man, an only tell him what is new to himA it is just because they are te ious to your $u$ils that he will fin them to his taste" This is how 9 oubly gain time for him by retar ing nature to the a !antage of reason" But ha!e 9 in ee retar e the $rogress of natureE <o, 9 ha!e only $re!ente the imagination from hastening itA 9 ha!e em$loye another sort of teaching to counterbalance the $recocious instruction which the young man recei!es from other sources" Chen he is carrie away by the floo of e?isting customs an 9 raw him in the o$$osite irection by means of other customs, this is not to remo!e him from his $lace, but to kee$ him in it" <ature@s ue time comes at length, as come it must" )ince man must ie, he must re$ro uce himself, so that the s$ecies may en ure an the or er of the worl continue" Chen by the signs 9 ha!e s$oken of you $ercei!e that the critical moment is at han , at once aban on for e!er your former tone" 8e is still your isci$le, but not your scholar" 8e is a man an your frien A henceforth you must treat him as such" ChatH >ust 9 ab icate my authority when most 9 nee itE >ust 9 aban on the a ult to himself just when he least knows how to control himself, when he may fall into the gra!est errorsH >ust 9 renounce my rights when it matters most that 9 shoul use them on his behalfE Cho bi s you renounce themA he is only just becoming conscious of them" 8itherto all you ha!e gaine has been won by force or guileA authority, the law of uty, were unknown to him, you ha to constrain or ecei!e him to gain his obe ience" But see what fresh chains you ha!e boun about his heart" Reason, frien shi$, affection, gratitu e, a thousan bon s of affection, s$eak to him in a !oice he cannot fail to hear" 8is ears are not yet ulle by !ice, he is still sensiti!e only to the $assions of nature" )elflo!e, the first of these, eli!ers him into your han sA habit confirms this" 9f a $assing trans$ort tears him from you, regret restores him to you without elayA the sentiment which attaches him to you is the only lasting sentiment, all the rest are fleeting an self-effacing" (o not let him become corru$t, an he will always be ocileA he will not begin to rebel till he is alrea y $er!erte " 9 grant you, in ee , that if you irectly o$$ose his growing esires an foolishly treat as crimes the fresh nee s which are beginning to make themsel!es felt in him, he will not listen to you for longA but as soon as you aban on my metho 9 cannot be answerable for the consequences" Remember that you are nature@s ministerA you will ne!er be her foe" But what shall we eci e to oE #ou see no alternati!e but either to fa!our his inclinations or to resist themA to tyrannise or to wink at his miscon uctA an both of these may lea to such angerous results that one must in ee hesitate between them"

The first way out of the ifficulty is a !ery early marriageA this is un oubte ly the safest an most natural $lan" 9 oubt, howe!er, whether it is the best or the most useful" 9 will gi!e my reasons laterA meanwhile 9 a mit that young men shoul marry when they reach a marriageable age" But this age comes too soonA we ha!e ma e them $recociousA marriage shoul be $ost$one to maturity" 9f it were merely a case of listening to their wishes an following their lea it woul be an easy matterA but there are so many contra ictions between the rights of nature an the laws of society that to conciliate them we must continually contra ict oursel!es" >uch art is require to $re!ent man in society from being altogether artificial" 7or the reasons just state , 9 consi er that by the means 9 ha!e in icate an others like them the young man@s esires may be ke$t in ignorance an his senses $ure u$ to the age of twenty" This is so true that among the Germans a young man who lost his !irginity before that age was consi ere ishonoure A an the writers justly attribute the !igour of constitution an the number of chil ren among the Germans to the continence of these nations uring youth" This $erio may be $rolonge still further, an a few centuries ago nothing was more common e!en in 7rance" 'mong other well-known e?am$les, >ontaigne@s father, a man no less scru$ulously truthful than strong an healthy, swore that his was a !irgin marriage at three an thirty, an he ha ser!e for a long time in the 9talian wars" Ce may see in the writings of his son what strength an s$irit were shown by the father when he was o!er si?ty" :ertainly the contrary o$inion e$en s rather on our own morals an our own $reju ices than on the e?$erience of the race as a whole" 9 may, therefore, lea!e on one si e the e?$erience of our young $eo$leA it $ro!es nothing for those who ha!e been e ucate in another fashion" :onsi ering that nature has fi?e no e?act limits which cannot be a !ance or $ost$one , 9 think 9 may, without going beyon the law of nature, assume that un er my care Emil has so far remaine in his first innocence, but 9 see that this ha$$y $erio is rawing to a close" )urroun e by e!er-increasing $erils, he will esca$e me at the first o$$ortunity in s$ite of all my efforts, an this o$$ortunity will not long be elaye A he will follow the blin instinct of his sensesA the chances are a thousan to one on his ruin" 9 ha!e consi ere the morals of mankin too $rofoun ly not to be aware of the irre!ocable influence of this first moment on all the rest of his life" 9f 9 issimulate an $reten to see nothing, he will take a !antage of my weaknessA if he thinks he can ecei!e me, he will es$ise me, an 9 become an accom$lice in his estruction" 9f 9 try to recall him, the time is $ast, he no longer hee s me, he fin s me tiresome, hateful, intolerableA it will not be long before he is ri of me" There is therefore only one reasonable course o$en to meA 9 must make him accountable for his own actions, 9 must at least $reser!e him from being taken unawares, an 9 must show him $lainly the angers which beset his $ath" 9 ha!e restraine him so far through his ignoranceA henceforwar his restraint must be his own knowle ge"

This new teaching is of great im$ortance, an we will take u$ our story where we left it" This is the time to $resent my accounts, to show him how his time an mine ha!e been s$ent, to make known to him what he is an what 9 amA what 9 ha!e one, an what he has oneA what we owe to each otherA all his moral relations, all the un ertakings to which he is $le ge , all those to which others ha!e $le ge themsel!es in res$ect to himA the stage he has reache in the e!elo$ment of his faculties, the roa that remains to be tra!elle , the ifficulties he will meet, an the way to o!ercome themA how 9 can still hel$ him an how he must henceforwar hel$ himselfA in a wor , the critical time which he has reache , the new angers roun about him, an all the !ali reasons which shoul in uce him to kee$ a close watch u$on himself before gi!ing hee to his growing esires" Remember that to gui e a grown man you must re!erse all that you i to gui e the chil " (o not hesitate to s$eak to him of those angerous mysteries which you ha!e so carefully conceale from him hitherto" )ince he must become aware of them, let him not learn them from another, nor from himself, but from you aloneA since he must henceforth fight against them, let him know his enemy, that he may not be taken unawares" #oung $eo$le who are foun to be aware of these matters, without our knowing how they obtaine their knowle ge, ha!e not obtaine it with im$unity" This unwise teaching, which can ha!e no honourable object, stains the imagination of those who recei!e it if it oes nothing worse, an it inclines them to the !ices of their instructors" This is not allA ser!ants, by this means, ingratiate themsel!es with a chil , gain his confi ence, make him regar his tutor as a gloomy an tiresome $ersonA an one of the fa!ourite subjects of their secret colloquies is to slan er him" Chen the $u$il has got so far, the master may aban on his taskA he can o no goo " But why oes the chil choose s$ecial confi antsE Because of the tyranny of those who control him" Chy shoul he hi e himself from them if he were not ri!en to itE Chy shoul he com$lain if he ha nothing to com$lain ofE <aturally those who control him are his first confi antsA you can see from his eagerness to tell them what he thinks that he feels he has only half thought till he has tol his thoughts to them" #ou may be sure that when the chil knows you will neither $reach nor scol , he will always tell you e!erything, an that no one will are to tell him anything he must conceal from you, for they will know !ery well that he will tell you e!erything" Chat makes me most confi ent in my metho is this& when 9 follow it out as closely as $ossible, 9 fin no situation in the life of my scholar which oes not lea!e me some $leasing memory of him" E!en when he is carrie away by his ar ent tem$erament or when he re!olts against the han that gui es him, when he struggles an is on the $oint of esca$ing from me, 9 still fin his first sim$licity in his agitation an his angerA his heart as $ure as his bo y, he has no more knowle ge of $retence than of !iceA re$roach an scorn ha!e not ma e a cowar of himA base fears ha!e ne!er taught him the art of concealment" 8e has all the in iscretion of innocenceA he is absolutely out-s$okenA he oes not e!en know the

use of eceit" E!ery im$ulse of his heart is betraye either by wor or look, an 9 often know what he is feeling before he is aware of it himself" )o long as his heart is thus freely o$ene to me, so long as he elights to tell me what he feels, 9 ha!e nothing to fearA the anger is not yet at han A but if he becomes more timi , more reser!e , if 9 $ercei!e in his con!ersation the first signs of confusion an shame, his instincts are beginning to e!elo$, he is beginning to connect the i ea of e!il with these instincts, there is not a moment to lose, an if 9 o not hasten to instruct him, he will learn in s$ite of me" )ome of my rea ers, e!en of those who agree with me, will think that it is only a question of a con!ersation with the young man at any time" 6h, this is not the way to control the human heart" Chat we say has no meaning unless the o$$ortunity has been carefully chosen" Before we sow we must till the groun A the see of !irtue is har to growA an a long $erio of $re$aration is require before it will take root" 6ne reason why sermons ha!e so little effect is that they are offere to e!erybo y alike, without iscrimination or choice" 8ow can any one imagine that the same sermon coul be suitable for so many hearers, with their ifferent is$ositions, so unlike in min , tem$er, age, se?, station, an o$inion" Perha$s there are not two among those to whom what is a resse to all is really suitableA an all our affections are so transitory that $erha$s there are not e!en two occasions in the life of any man when the same s$eech woul ha!e the same effect on him" Ju ge for yourself whether the time when the eager senses isturb the un erstan ing an tyrannise o!er the will, is the time to listen to the solemn lessons of wis om" Therefore ne!er reason with young men, e!en when they ha!e reache the age of reason, unless you ha!e first $re$are the way" >ost lectures miss their mark more through the master@s fault than the isci$le@s" The $e ant an the teacher say much the sameA but the former says it at ran om, an the latter only when he is sure of its effect" 's a somnambulist, wan ering in his slee$, walks along the e ge of a $reci$ice, o!er which he woul fall if he were awake, so my Emile, in the slee$ of ignorance, esca$es the $erils which he oes not seeA were 9 to wake him with a start, he might fall" %et us first try to with raw him from the e ge of the $reci$ice, an then we will awake him to show him it from a istance" Rea ing, solitu e, i leness, a soft an se entary life, intercourse with women an young $eo$le, these are $erilous $aths for a young man, an these lea him constantly into anger" 9 i!ert his senses by other objects of senseA 9 trace another course for his s$irits by which 9 istract them from the course they woul ha!e takenA it is by bo ily e?ercise an har work that 9 check the acti!ity of the imagination, which was lea ing him astray" Chen the arms are har at work, the imagination is quietA when the bo y is !ery weary, the $assions are not easily inflame " The quickest an easiest $recaution is to remo!e him from imme iate anger" 't once 9 take him away from towns, away from things which might lea him into tem$tation" But that is not enoughA in what esert, in what wil s, shall he esca$e from the thoughts which $ursue himE 9t is not enough to remo!e angerous objectsA if 9 fail to remo!e the memory of

them, if 9 fail to fin a way to etach him from e!erything, if 9 fail to istract him from himself, 9 might as well ha!e left him where he was" Emile has learne a tra e, but we o not ha!e recourse to itA he is fon of farming an un erstan s it, but farming is not enoughA the occu$ations he is acquainte with egenerate into routineA when he is engage in them he is not really occu$ie A he is thinking of other thingsA hea an han are at work on ifferent subjects" 8e must ha!e some fresh occu$ation which has the interest of no!eltyBan occu$ation which kee$s him busy, iligent, an har at work, an occu$ation which he may become $assionately fon of, one to which he will e!ote himself entirely" <ow the only one which seems to $ossess all these characteristics is the chase" 9f hunting is e!er an innocent $leasure, if it is e!er worthy of a man, now is the time to betake oursel!es to it" Emile is well-fitte to succee in it" 8e is strong, skilful, $atient, unwearie " 8e is sure to take a fancy to this s$ortA he will bring to it all the ar our of youthA in it he will lose, at least for a time, the angerous inclinations which s$ring from softness" The chase har ens the heart a well as the bo yA we get use to the sight of bloo an cruelty" (iana is re$resente as the enemy of lo!eA an the allegory is true to lifeA the languors of lo!e are born of soft re$ose, an ten er feelings are stifle by !iolent e?ercise" 9n the woo s an fiel s, the lo!er an the s$ortsman are so i!ersely affecte that they recei!e !ery ifferent im$ressions" The fresh sha e, the arbours, the $leasant resting-$laces of the one, to the other are but fee ing groun s, or $laces where the quarry will hi e or turn to bay" Chere the lo!er hears the flute an the nightingale, the hunter hears the horn an the houn sA one $ictures to himself the nym$hs an rya s, the other sees the horses, the huntsman, an the $ack" Take a country walk with one or other of these menA their ifferent con!ersation will soon show you that they behol the earth with other eyes, an that the irection of their thoughts is as ifferent as their fa!ourite $ursuit" 9 un erstan how these tastes may be combine , an that at last men fin time for both" But the $assions of youth cannot be i!i e in this way" Gi!e the youth a single occu$ation which he lo!es, an the rest will soon be forgotten" Garie esires come with !arie knowle ge, an the first $leasures we know are the only ones we esire for long enough" 9 woul not ha!e the whole of Emile@s youth s$ent in killing creatures, an 9 o not e!en $rofess to justify this cruel $assionA it is enough for me that it ser!es to elay a more angerous $assion, so that he may listen to me calmly when 9 s$eak of it, an gi!e me time to escribe it without stimulating it" There are moments in human life which can ne!er be forgotten" )uch is the time when Emile recei!es the instruction of which 9 ha!e s$okenA its influence shoul en ure all his life through" %et us try to engra!e it on his memory so that it may ne!er fa e away" 9t is one of the faults of our age to rely too much on col reason, as if men were all min " By neglecting the language of e?$ression we ha!e lost the most forcible mo e of s$eech" The s$oken wor is always weak, an we s$eak to the heart rather through the eyes than the ears" 9n our attem$t to a$$eal to reason only, we ha!e re uce our $rece$ts to wor s, we ha!e not embo ie

them in ee " >ere reason is not acti!eA occasionally she restrains, more rarely she stimulates, but she ne!er oes any great thing" )mall min s ha!e a mania for reasoning" )trong souls s$eak a !ery ifferent language, an it is by this language that men are $ersua e an ri!en to action" 9 obser!e that in mo ern times men only get a hol o!er others by force or self-interest, while the ancients i more by $ersuasion, by the affections of the heartA because they i not neglect the languageA of symbolic e?$ression" 'll agreements were rawn u$ solemnly, so that they might be more in!iolableA before the reign of force, the go s were the ju ges of mankin A in their $resence, in i!i uals ma e their treaties an alliances, an $le ge themsel!es to $erform their $romisesA the face of the earth was the book in which the archi!es were $reser!e " The lea!es of this book were rocks, trees, $iles of stones, ma e sacre by these transactions, an regar e with re!erence by barbarous menA an these $ages were always o$en before their eyes" The well of the oath, the well of the li!ing an seeing oneA the ancient oak of >amre, the stones of witness, such were the sim$le but stately monuments of the sanctity of contractsA none are to lay a sacrilegious han on these monuments, an man@s faith was more secure un er the warrant of these umb witnesses than it is to- ay u$on all the rigour of the law" 9n go!ernment the $eo$le were o!er-awe by the $om$ an s$len our of royal $ower" The symbols of greatness, a throne, a sce$tre, a $ur$le robe, a crown, a fillet, these were sacre in their sight" These symbols, an the res$ect which they ins$ire , le them to re!erence the !enerable man whom they behel a orne with themA without sol iers an without threats, he s$oke an was obeye " .7ootnote& The Roman :atholic clergy ha!e !ery wisely retaine these symbols, an certain re$ublics, such as Genice, ha!e followe their e?am$le" Thus the Genetian go!ernment, es$ite the fallen con ition of the state, still enjoys, un er the tra$$ings of its former greatness, all the affection, all the re!erence of the $eo$leA an ne?t to the $o$e in his tri$le crown, there is $erha$s no king, no $otentate, no $erson in the worl so much res$ecte as the (oge of GeniceA he has no $ower, no authority, but he is ren ere sacre by his $om$, an he wears beneath his ucal coronet a woman@s flowing locks" That ceremony of the Bucentaurius, which stirs the laughter of fools, stirs the Genetian $o$ulace to she its life-bloo for the maintenance of this tyrannical go!ernment"3 9n our own ay men $rofess to o away with these symbols" Chat are the consequences of this contem$tE The kingly majesty makes no im$ression on all hearts, kings can only gain obe ience by the hel$ of troo$s, an the res$ect of their subjects is base only on the fear of $unishment" =ings are s$are the trouble of wearing their crowns, an our nobles esca$e from the outwar signs of their station, but they must ha!e a hun re thousan men at their comman if their or ers are to be obeye " Though this may seem a finer thing, it is easy to see that in the long run they will gain nothing" 9t is amaFing what the ancients accom$lishe with the ai of eloquenceA but this eloquence i not merely consist in fine s$eeches carefully $re$are A an it was most effecti!e when the orator sai least" The most

startling s$eeches were e?$resse not in wor s but in signsA they were not uttere but shown" ' thing behel by the eyes kin les the imagination, stirs the curiosity, an kee$s the min on the alert for what we are about to say, an often enough the thing tells the whole story" Thrasybulus an Tarquin cutting off the hea s of the $o$$ies, 'le?an er $lacing his seal on the li$s of his fa!ourite, (iogenes marching before Neno, o not these s$eak more $lainly than if they ha uttere long orationsE Chat flow of wor s coul ha!e e?$resse the i eas as clearlyE (arius, in the course of the )cythian war, recei!e from the king of the )cythians a bir , a frog, a mouse, an fi!e arrows" The ambassa or e$osite this gift an retire without a wor " 9n our ays he woul ha!e been taken for a ma man" This terrible s$eech was un erstoo , an (arius with rew to his own country with what s$ee he coul " )ubstitute a letter for these symbols an the more threatening it was the less terror it woul ins$ireA it woul ha!e been merely a $iece of bluff, to which (arius woul ha!e $ai no attention" Chat hee the Romans ga!e to the language of signsH (ifferent ages an ifferent ranks ha their a$$ro$riate garments, toga, tunic, $atrician robes, fringes an bor ers, seats of honour, lictors, ro s an a?es, crowns of gol , crowns of lea!es, crowns of flowers, o!ations, trium$hs, e!erything ha its $om$, its obser!ances, its ceremonial, an all these s$oke to the heart of the citiFens" The state regar e it as a matter of im$ortance that the $o$ulace shoul assemble in one $lace rather than another, that they shoul or shoul not behol the :a$itol, that they shoul or shoul not turn towar s the )enate, that this ay or that shoul be chosen for their eliberations" The accuse wore a s$ecial ress, so i the can i ates for electionA warriors i not boast of their e?$loits, they showe their scars" 9 can fancy one of our orators at the eath of :aesar e?hausting all the common$laces of rhetoric to gi!e a $athetic escri$tion of his woun s, his bloo , his ea bo yA 'nthony was an orator, but he sai none of thisA he showe the mur ere :aesar" Chat rhetoric was thisH But this igression, like many others, is rawing me unawares away from my subjectA an my igressions are too frequent to be borne with $atience" 9 therefore return to the $oint" (o not reason col ly with youth" :lothe your reason with a bo y, if you woul make it felt" %et the min s$eak the language of the heart, that it may be un erstoo " 9 say again our o$inions, not our actions, may be influence by col argumentA they set us thinking, not oingA they show us what we ought to think, not what we ought to o" 9f this is true of men, it is all the truer of young $eo$le who are still enwra$$e in their senses an cannot think otherwise than they imagine" E!en after the $re$arations of which 9 ha!e s$oken, 9 shall take goo care not to go all of a su en to Emile@s room an $reach a long an hea!y sermon on the subject in which he is to be instructe " 9 shall begin by rousing his imaginationA 9 shall choose the time, $lace, an surroun ings most fa!ourable to the im$ression 9 wish to makeA 9 shall, so to s$eak, summon all nature as witness to our con!ersationsA 9 shall call u$on the eternal Go , the :reator of nature, to bear witness to the truth of what 9

say" 8e shall ju ge between Emile an myselfA 9 will make the rocks, the woo s, the mountains roun about us, the monuments of his $romises an mineA eyes, !oice, an gesture shall show the enthusiasm 9 esire to ins$ire" Then 9 will s$eak an he will listen, an his emotion will be stirre by my own" The more im$resse 9 am by the sanctity of my uties, the more sacre he will regar his own" 9 will enforce the !oice of reason with images an figures, 9 will not gi!e him long-win e s$eeches or col $rece$ts, but my o!erflowing feelings will break their boun sA my reason shall be gra!e an serious, but my heart cannot s$eak too warmly" Then when 9 ha!e shown him all that 9 ha!e one for him, 9 will show him how he is ma e for meA he will see in my ten er affection the cause of all my care" 8ow greatly shall 9 sur$rise an isturb him when 9 change my tone" 9nstea of shri!elling u$ his soul by always talking of his own interests, 9 shall henceforth s$eak of my ownA he will be more ee$ly touche by this" 9 will kin le in his young heart all the sentiments of affection, generosity, an gratitu e which 9 ha!e alrea y calle into being, an it will in ee be sweet to watch their growth" 9 will $ress him to my bosom, an wee$ o!er him in my emotionA 9 will say to him& D#ou are my wealth, my chil , my han iworkA my ha$$iness is boun u$ in yoursA if you frustrate my ho$es, you rob me of twenty years of my life, an you bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the gra!e"D This is the way to gain a hearing an to im$ress what is sai u$on the heart an memory of the young man" 8itherto 9 ha!e trie to gi!e e?am$les of the way in which a tutor shoul instruct his $u$il in cases of ifficulty" 9 ha!e trie to o so in this instanceA but after many attem$ts 9 ha!e aban one the task, con!ince that the 7rench language is too artificial to $ermit in $rint the $lainness of s$eech require for the first lessons in certain subjects" They say 7rench is more chaste than other languagesA for my own $art 9 think it more obsceneA for it seems to me that the $urity of a language oes not consist in a!oi ing coarse e?$ressions but in ha!ing none" 9n ee , if we are to a!oi them, they must be in our thoughts, an there is no language in which it is so ifficult to s$eak with $urity on e!ery subject than 7rench" The rea er is always quicker to etect than the author to a!oi a gross meaning, an he is shocke an startle by e!erything" 8ow can what is hear by im$ure ears a!oi coarsenessE 6n the other han , a nation whose morals are $ure has fit terms for e!erything, an these terms are always right because they are rightly use " 6ne coul not imagine more mo est language than that of the Bible, just because of its $lainness of s$eech" The same things translate into 7rench woul become immo est" Chat 9 ought to say to Emile will soun $ure an honourable to himA but to make the same im$ression in $rint woul eman a like $urity of heart in the rea er" 9 shoul e!en think that reflections on true $urity of s$eech an the sham elicacy of !ice might fin a useful $lace in the con!ersations as to morality to which this subject brings usA for when he learns the language of $lain-s$oken goo ness, he must also learn the language of ecency, an he must know why the two are so ifferent" 8owe!er this may be, 9 maintain that if instea of the em$ty $rece$ts which are $rematurely

inne into the ears of chil ren, only to be scoffe at when the time comes when they might $ro!e useful, if instea of this we bi e our time, if we $re$are the way for a hearing, if we then show him the laws of nature in all their truth, if we show him the sanction of these laws in the $hysical an moral e!ils which o!ertake those who neglect them, if while we s$eak to him of this great mystery of generation, we join to the i ea of the $leasure which the 'uthor of nature has gi!en to this act the i ea of the e?clusi!e affection which makes it elightful, the i ea of the uties of faithfulness an mo esty which surroun it, an re ouble its charm while fulfilling its $ur$oseA if we $aint to him marriage, not only as the sweetest form of society, but also as the most sacre an in!iolable of contracts, if we tell him $lainly all the reasons which lea men to res$ect this sacre bon , an to $our hatre an curses u$on him who ares to ishonour itA if we gi!e him a true an terrible $icture of the horrors of ebauch, of its stu$i brutality, of the ownwar roa by which a first act of miscon uct lea s from ba to worse, an at last rags the sinner to his ruinA if, 9 say, we gi!e him $roofs that on a esire for chastity e$en s health, strength, courage, !irtue, lo!e itself, an all that is truly goo for manB9 maintain that this chastity will be so ear an so esirable in his eyes, that his min will be rea y to recei!e our teaching as to the way to $reser!e itA for so long as we are chaste we res$ect chastityA it is only when we ha!e lost this !irtue that we scorn it" 9t is not true that the inclination to e!il is beyon our control, an that we cannot o!ercome it until we ha!e acquire the habit of yiel ing to it" 'urelius Gictor says that many men were ma enough to $urchase a night with :leo$atra at the $rice of their life, an this is not incre ible in the ma ness of $assion" But let us su$$ose the ma est of men, the man who has his senses least un er controlA let him see the $re$arations for his eath, let him realise that he will certainly ie in torment a quarter of an hour laterA not only woul that man, from that time forwar , become able to resist tem$tation, he woul e!en fin it easy to o soA the terrible $icture with which they are associate will soon istract his attention from these tem$tations, an when they are continually $ut asi e they will cease to recur" The sole cause of our weakness is the feebleness of our will, an we ha!e always strength to $erform what we strongly esire" DGolenti nihil ifficileHD 6hH if only we hate !ice as much as we lo!e life, we shoul abstain as easily from a $leasant sin as from a ea ly $oison in a elicious ish" 8ow is it that you fail to $ercei!e that if all the lessons gi!en to a young man on this subject ha!e no effect, it is because they are not a a$te to his age, an that at e!ery age reason must be $resente in a sha$e which will win his affectionE )$eak seriously to him if require , but let what you say to him always ha!e a charm which will com$el him to listen" (o not col ly o$$ose his wishesA o not stifle his imagination, but irect it lest it shoul bring forth monsters" )$eak to him of lo!e, of women, of $leasureA let him fin in your con!ersation a charm which elights his youthful heartA s$are no $ains to make yourself his confi antA un er this name alone will you really be his master" Then you nee not fear he will fin your con!ersation te iousA he will make you talk more than you esire"

9f 9 ha!e manage to take all the requisite $recautions in accor ance with these ma?ims, an ha!e sai the right things to Emile at the age he has now reache , 9 am quite con!ince that he will come of his own accor to the $oint to which 9 woul lea him, an will eagerly confi e himself to my care" Chen he sees the angers by which he is surroun e , he will say to me with all the warmth of youth, D6h, my frien , my $rotector, my masterH resume the authority you esire to lay asi e at the !ery time when 9 most nee itA hitherto my weakness has gi!en you this $ower" 9 now $lace it in your han s of my own free-will, an it will be all the more sacre in my eyes" Protect me from all the foes which are attacking me, an abo!e all from the traitors within the cita elA watch o!er your work, that it may still be worthy of you" 9 mean to obey your laws, 9 shall e!er o so, that is my stea fast $ur$oseA if 9 e!er isobey you, it will be against my willA make me free by guar ing me against the $assions which o me !iolenceA o not let me become their sla!eA com$el me to be my own master an to obey, not my senses, but my reason"D Chen you ha!e le your $u$il so far Lan it will be your own fault if you fail to o soM, beware of taking him too rea ily at his wor , lest your rule shoul seem too strict to him, an lest he shoul think he has a right to esca$e from it, by accusing you of taking him by sur$rise" This is the time for reser!e an seriousnessA an this attitu e will ha!e all the more effect u$on him seeing that it is the first time you ha!e a o$te it towar s him" #ou will say to him therefore& D#oung man, you rea ily make $romises which are har to kee$A you must un erstan what they mean before you ha!e a right to make themA you o not know how your fellows are rawn by their $assions into the whirl$ool of !ice masquera ing as $leasure" #ou are honourable, 9 knowA you will ne!er break your wor , but how often will you re$ent of ha!ing gi!en itE 8ow often will you curse your frien , when, in or er to guar you from the ills which threaten you, he fin s himself com$elle to o !iolence to your heart" %ike ;lysses who, hearing the song of the )irens, crie alou to his rowers to unbin him, you will break your chains at the call of $leasureA you will im$ortune me with your lamentations, you will re$roach me as a tyrant when 9 ha!e your welfare most at heartA when 9 am trying to make you ha$$y, 9 shall incur your hatre " 6h, Emile, 9 can ne!er bear to be hateful in your eyesA this is too hea!y a $rice to $ay e!en for your ha$$iness" >y ear young man, o you not see that when you un ertake to obey me, you com$el me to $romise to be your gui e, to forget myself in my e!otion to you, to refuse to listen to your murmurs an com$laints, to wage unceasing war against your wishes an my own" Before we either of us un ertake such a task, let us count our resourcesA take your time, gi!e me time to consi er, an be sure that the slower we are to $romise, the more faithfully will our $romises be ke$t"D #ou may be sure that the more ifficulty he fin s in getting your $romise, the easier you will fin it to carry it out" The young man must learn that he is $romising a great eal, an that you are $romising still more" Chen the time is come, when he has, so to say, signe the contract, then change your tone, an make your rule as gentle as you sai it woul be se!ere" )ay to him, D>y young frien , it is e?$erience that you lackA but 9

ha!e taken care that you o not lack reason" #ou are rea y to see the moti!es of my con uct in e!ery res$ectA to o this you nee only wait till you are free from e?citement" 'lways obey me first, an then ask the reasons for my comman sA 9 am always rea y to gi!e my reasons so soon as you are rea y to listen to them, an 9 shall ne!er be afrai to make you the ju ge between us" #ou $romise to follow my teaching, an 9 $romise only to use your obe ience to make you the ha$$iest of men" 7or $roof of this 9 ha!e the life you ha!e li!e hitherto" )how me any one of your age who has le as ha$$y a life as yours, an 9 $romise you nothing more"D Chen my authority is firmly establishe , my first care will be to a!oi the necessity of using it" 9 shall s$are no $ains to become more an more firmly establishe in his confi ence, to make myself the confi ant of his heart an the arbiter of his $leasures" 7ar from combating his youthful tastes, 9 shall consult them that 9 may be their masterA 9 will look at things from his $oint of !iew that 9 may be his gui eA 9 will not seek a remote istant goo at the cost of his $resent ha$$iness" 9 woul always ha!e him ha$$y always if that may be" Those who esire to gui e young $eo$le rightly an to $reser!e them from the snares of sense gi!e them a isgust for lo!e, an woul willingly make the !ery thought of it a crime, as if lo!e were for the ol " 'll these mistaken lessons ha!e no effectA the heart gi!es the lie to them" The young man, gui e by a surer instinct, laughs to himself o!er the gloomy ma?ims which he $reten s to acce$t, an only awaits the chance of isregar ing them" 'll that is contrary to nature" By following the o$$osite course 9 reach the same en more safely" 9 am not afrai to encourage in him the ten er feeling for which he is so eager, 9 shall $aint it as the su$reme joy of life, as in ee it isA when 9 $icture it to him, 9 esire that he shall gi!e himself u$ to itA by making him feel the charm which the union of hearts a s to the elights of sense, 9 shall ins$ire him with a isgust for ebaucheryA 9 shall make him a lo!er an a goo man" 8ow narrow-min e to see nothing in the rising esires of a young heart but obstacles to the teaching of reason" 9n my eyes, these are the right means to make him obe ient to that !ery teaching" 6nly through $assion can we gain the mastery o!er $assionsA their tyranny must be controlle by their legitimate $ower, an nature herself must furnish us with the means to control her" Emile is not ma e to li!e alone, he is a member of society, an must fulfil his uties as such" 8e is ma e to li!e among his fellow-men an he must get to know them" 8e knows mankin in generalA he has still to learn to know in i!i ual men" 8e knows what goes on in the worl A he has now to learn how men li!e in the worl " 9t is time to show him the front of that !ast stage, of which he alrea y knows the hi en workings" 9t will not arouse in him the foolish a miration of a gi y youth, but the iscrimination of an e?act an u$right s$irit" 8e may no oubt be ecei!e by his $assionsA who is there who yiel s to his $assions without being le astray by themE 't least he will not be ecei!e by the $assions of other $eo$le" 9f he sees them, he will regar them with the

eye of the wise, an will neither be le away by their e?am$le nor se uce by their $reju ices" 's there is a fitting age for the stu y of the sciences, so there is a fitting age for the stu y of the ways of the worl " Those who learn these too soon, follow them throughout life, without choice or consi eration, an although they follow them fairly well they ne!er really know what they are about" But he who stu ies the ways of the worl an sees the reason for them, follows them with more insight, an therefore more e?actly an gracefully" Gi!e me a chil of twel!e who knows nothing at allA at fifteen 9 will restore him to you knowing as much as those who ha!e been un er instruction from infancyA with this ifference, that your scholars only know things by heart, while mine knows how to use his knowle ge" 9n the same way $lunge a young man of twenty into societyA un er goo gui ance, in a year@s time, he will be more charming an more truly $olite than one brought u$ in society from chil hoo " 7or the former is able to $ercei!e the reasons for all the $rocee ings relating to age, $osition, an se?, on which the customs of society e$en , an can re uce them to general $rinci$les, an a$$ly them to unforeseen emergenciesA while the latter, who is gui e solely by habit, is at a loss when habit fails him" #oung 7rench la ies are all brought u$ in con!ents till they are marrie " (o they seem to fin any ifficulty in acquiring the ways which are so new to them, an is it $ossible to accuse the la ies of Paris of awkwar an embarrasse manners or of ignorance of the ways of society, because they ha!e not acquire them in infancyH This is the $reju ice of men of the worl , who know nothing of more im$ortance than this trifling science, an wrongly imagine that you cannot begin to acquire it too soon" 6n the other han , it is quite true that we must not wait too long" 'ny one who has s$ent the whole of his youth far from the great worl is all his life long awkwar , constraine , out of $laceA his manners will be hea!y an clumsy, no amount of $ractice will get ri of this, an he will only make himself more ri iculous by trying to o so" There is a time for e!ery kin of teaching an we ought to recognise it, an each has its own angers to be a!oi e " 't this age there are more angers than at any otherA but 9 o not e?$ose my $u$il to them without safeguar s" Chen my metho succee s com$letely in attaining one object, an when in a!oi ing one ifficulty it also $ro!i es against another, 9 then consi er that it is a goo metho , an that 9 am on the right track" This seems to be the case with regar to the e?$e ient suggeste by me in the $resent case" 9f 9 esire to be stern an col towar s my $u$il, 9 shall lose his confi ence, an he will soon conceal himself from me" 9f 9 wish to be easy an com$laisant, to shut my eyes, what goo oes it o him to be un er my careE 9 only gi!e my authority to his e?cesses, an relie!e his conscience at the e?$ense of my own" 9f 9 intro uce him into society with no object but to teach him, he will learn more than 9 want" 9f 9 kee$ him a$art from society, what will he ha!e learnt from meE E!erything $erha$s, e?ce$t the one art absolutely necessary to a ci!ilise man, the art of li!ing among his fellow-men" 9f 9 try to atten to this at a istance,

it will be of no a!ailA he is only concerne with the $resent" 9f 9 am content to su$$ly him with amusement, he will acquire habits of lu?ury an will learn nothing" Ce will ha!e none of this" >y $lan $ro!i es for e!erything" #our heart, 9 say to the young man, requires a com$anionA let us go in search of a fitting oneA $erha$s we shall not easily fin such a one, true worth is always rare, but we will be in no hurry, nor will we be easily iscourage " <o oubt there is such a one, an we shall fin her at last, or at least we shall fin some one like her" Cith an en so attracti!e to himself, 9 intro uce him into society" Chat more nee 9 sayE 8a!e 9 not achie!e my $ur$oseE By escribing to him his future mistress, you may imagine whether 9 shall gain a hearing, whether 9 shall succee in making the qualities he ought to lo!e $leasing an ear to him, whether 9 shall sway his feelings to seek or shun what is goo or ba for him" 9 shall be the stu$i est of men if 9 fail to make him in lo!e with he knows not whom" <o matter that the $erson 9 escribe is imaginary, it is enough to isgust him with those who might ha!e attracte himA it is enough if it is continually suggesting com$arisons which make him $refer his fancy to the real $eo$le he seesA an is not lo!e itself a fancy, a falsehoo , an illusionE Ce are far more in lo!e with our own fancy than with the object of it" 9f we saw the object of our affections as it is, there woul be no such thing as lo!e" Chen we cease to lo!e, the $erson we use to lo!e remains unchange , but we no longer see with the same eyesA the magic !eil is rawn asi e, an lo!e isa$$ears" But when 9 su$$ly the object of imagination, 9 ha!e control o!er com$arisons, an 9 am able easily to $re!ent illusion with regar to realities"

7or all that 9 woul not mislea a young man by escribing a mo el of $erfection which coul ne!er e?istA but 9 woul so choose the faults of his mistress that they will suit him, that he will be $lease by them, an they may ser!e to correct his own" <either woul 9 lie to him an affirm that there really is such a $ersonA let him elight in the $ortrait, he will soon esire to fin the original" 7rom esire to belief the transition is easyA it is a matter of a little skilful escri$tion, which un er more $erce$tible features will gi!e to this imaginary object an air of greater reality" 9 woul go so far as to gi!e her a nameA 9 woul say, smiling" %et us call your future mistress )o$hyA )o$hy is a name of goo omenA if it is not the name of the la y of your choice at least she will be worthy of the nameA we may honour her with it meanwhile" 9f after all these etails, without affirming or enying, we e?cuse oursel!es from gi!ing an answer, his sus$icions will become certaintyA he will think that his estine bri e is $ur$osely conceale from him, an that he will see her in goo time" 9f once he has arri!e at this conclusion an if the characteristics to be shown to him ha!e been well chosen, the rest is easyA there will be little risk in e?$osing him to the worl A $rotect him from his senses, an his heart is safe" But whether or no he $ersonifies the mo el 9 ha!e contri!e to make so attracti!e to him, this mo el, if well one, will attach him none the less to e!erything that resembles itself, an will gi!e him as great a istaste for all that is unlike it as if )o$hy really e?iste " Chat a means to $reser!e his heart from the angers to which his a$$earance woul e?$ose him, to re$ress his senses by means of his imagination, to rescue him from the han s of those women who $rofess to e ucate young men, an make them $ay so ear for their teaching, an only teach a young man manners by making him utterly shameless" )o$hy is so mo estE Chat woul she think of their a !ancesH )o$hy is so sim$leH 8ow woul she like their airsE They are too far from his thoughts an his obser!ations to be angerous" E!ery one who eals with the control of chil ren follows the same $reju ices an the same ma?ima, for their obser!ation is at fault, an their reflection still more so" ' young man is le astray in the first $lace neither by tem$erament nor by the senses, but by $o$ular o$inion" 9f we were concerne with boys brought u$ in boar ing schools or girls in con!ents, 9 woul show that this a$$lies e!en to themA for the first lessons they learn from each other, the only lessons that bear fruit, are those of !iceA an it is not nature that corru$ts them but e?am$le" But let us lea!e the boar ers in schools an con!ents to their ba moralsA there is no cure for them" 9 am ealing only with home training" Take a young man carefully e ucate in his father@s country house, an e?amine him when he reaches Paris an makes his entrance into societyA you will fin him thinking clearly about honest matters, an you will fin his will as wholesome as his reason" #ou will fin scorn of !ice an isgust for ebaucheryA his face will betray his innocent horror at the !ery mention of a $rostitute" 9 maintain that no young man coul make u$ his min to

enter the gloomy abo es of these unfortunates by himself, if in ee he were aware of their $ur$ose an felt their necessity" )ee the same young man si? months later, you will not know himA from his bol con!ersation, his fashionable ma?ims, his easy air, you woul take him for another man, if his jests o!er his former sim$licity an his shame when any one recalls it i not show that it is he in ee an that he is ashame of himself" 8ow greatly has he change in so short a timeH Chat has brought about so su en an com$lete a changeE 8is $hysical e!elo$mentE Coul not that ha!e taken $lace in his father@s house, an certainly he woul not ha!e acquire these ma?ims an this tone at homeE The first charms of senseE 6n the contraryA those who are beginning to aban on themsel!es to these $leasures are timi an an?ious, they shun the light an noise" The first $leasures are always mysterious, mo esty gi!es them their sa!our, an mo esty conceals themA the first mistress oes not make a man bol but timi " Cholly absorbe in a situation so no!el to him, the young man retires into himself to enjoy it, an trembles for fear it shoul esca$e him" 9f he is noisy he knows neither $assion nor lo!eA howe!er he may boast, he has not enjoye " These changes are merely the result of change i eas" 8is heart is the same, but his o$inions ha!e altere " 8is feelings, which change more slowly, will at length yiel to his o$inions an it is then that he is in ee corru$te " 8e has scarcely ma e his entrance into society before he recei!es a secon e ucation quite unlike the first, which teaches him to es$ise what he esteeme , an esteem what he es$ise A he learns to consi er the teaching of his $arents an masters as the jargon of $e ants, an the uties they ha!e instille into him as a chil ish morality, to be scorne now that he is grown u$" 8e thinks he is boun in honour to change his con uctA he becomes forwar without esire, an he talks foolishly from false shame" 8e rails against morality before he has any taste for !ice, an $ri es himself on ebauchery without knowing how to set about it" 9 shall ne!er forget the confession of a young officer in the )wiss Guar s, who was utterly sick of the noisy $leasures of his comra es, but are not refuse to take $art in them lest he shoul be laughe at" D9 am getting use to it,D he sai , Das 9 am getting use to taking snuffA the taste will come with $racticeA it will not o to be a chil for e!er"D )o a young man when he enters society must be $reser!e from !anity rather than from sensibilityA he succumbs rather to the tastes of others than to his own, an self-lo!e is res$onsible for more libertines than lo!e" This being grante , 9 ask you" 9s there any one on earth better arme than my $u$il against all that may attack his morals, his sentiments, his $rinci$lesA is there any one more able to resist the floo E Chat se uction is there against which he is not forearme E 9f his esires attract him towar s women, he fails to fin what he seeks, an his heart, alrea y occu$ie , hol s him back" 9f he is isturbe an urge onwar by his senses, where will he fin satisfactionE 8is horror of a ultery an ebauch kee$s him at a istance from $rostitutes an marrie women, an the isor ers of youth may always be trace to one or other of these"

' mai en may be a coquette, but she will not be shameless, she will not fling herself at the hea of a young man who may marry her if he belie!es in her !irtueA besi es she is always un er su$er!ision" Emile, too, will not be left entirely to himselfA both of them will be un er the guar ianshi$ of fear an shame, the constant com$anions of a first $assionA they will not $rocee at once to miscon uct, an they will not ha!e time to come to it gra ually without hin rance" 9f he beha!es otherwise, he must ha!e taken lessons from his comra es, he must ha!e learne from them to es$ise his self-control, an to imitate their bol ness" But there is no one in the whole worl so little gi!en to imitation as Emile" Chat man is there who is so little influence by mockery as one who has no $reju ices himself an yiel s nothing to the $reju ices of others" 9 ha!e laboure twenty years to arm him against mockeryA they will not make him their u$e in a ayA for in his eyes ri icule is the argument of fools, an nothing makes one less susce$tible to raillery than to be beyon the influence of $reju ice" 9nstea of jests he must ha!e arguments, an while he is in this frame of min , 9 am not afrai that he will be carrie away by young foolsA conscience an truth are on my si e" 9f $reju ice is to enter into the matter at all, an affection of twenty years@ stan ing counts for somethingA no one will e!er con!ince him that 9 ha!e wearie him with !ain lessonsA an in a heart so u$right an so sensiti!e the !oice of a trie an truste frien will soon efface the shouts of twenty libertines" 's it is therefore merely a question of showing him that he is ecei!e , that while they $reten to treat him as a man they are really treating him as a chil , 9 shall choose to be always sim$le but serious an $lain in my arguments, so that he may feel that 9 o in ee treat him as a man" 9 will say to him, #ou will see that your welfare, in which my own is boun u$, com$els me to s$eakA 9 can o nothing else" But why o these young men want to $ersua e youE Because they esire to se uce youA they o not care for you, they take no real interest in youA their only moti!e is a secret s$ite because they see you are better than theyA they want to rag you own to their own le!el, an they only re$roach you with submitting to control that they may themsel!es control you" (o you think you ha!e anything to gain by thisE 're they so much wiser than 9, is the affection of a ay stronger than mineE To gi!e any weight to their jests they must gi!e weight to their authorityA an by what e?$erience o they su$$ort their ma?ima abo!e oursE They ha!e only followe the e?am$le of other gi y youths, as they woul ha!e you follow theirs" To esca$e from the so-calle $reju ices of their fathers, they yiel to those of their comra es" 9 cannot see that they are any the better offA but 9 see that they lose two things of !alueBthe affection of their $arents, whose a !ice is that of ten erness an truth, an the wis om of e?$erience which teaches us to ju ge by what we knowA for their fathers ha!e once been young, but the young men ha!e ne!er been fathers" But you think they are at least sincere in their foolish $rece$ts" <ot so, ear EmileA they ecei!e themsel!es in or er to ecei!e youA they are not in agreement with themsel!esA their heart continually re!olts, an their !ery wor s often contra ict themsel!es" This man who mocks at e!erything goo woul be in es$air if his wife hel the same !iews" 'nother e?ten s his in ifference to goo morals e!en to his future wife,

or he sinks to such e$ths of infamy as to be in ifferent to his wife@s con uctA but go a ste$ furtherA s$eak to him of his motherA is he willing to be treate as the chil of an a ulteress an the son of a woman of ba character, is he rea y to assume the name of a family, to steal the $atrimony of the true heir, in a wor will he bear being treate as a bastar E Chich of them will $ermit his aughter to be ishonoure as he ishonours the aughter of anotherE There is not one of them who woul not kill you if you a o$te in your con uct towar s him all the $rinci$les he tries to teach you" Thus they $ro!e their inconsistency, an we know they o not belie!e what they say" 8ere are reasons, ear EmileA weigh their arguments if they ha!e any, an com$are them with mine" 9f 9 wishe to ha!e recourse like them to scorn an mockery, you woul see that they len themsel!es to ri icule as much or more than myself" But 9 am not afrai of serious inquiry" The trium$h of mockers is soon o!erA truth en ures, an their foolish laughter ies away" #ou o not think that Emile, at twenty, can $ossibly be ocile" 8ow ifferently we thinkH 9 cannot un erstan how he coul be ocile at ten, for what hol ha!e 9 on him at that ageE 9t took me fifteen years of careful $re$aration to secure that hol " 9 was not e ucating him, but $re$aring him for e ucation" 8e is now sufficiently e ucate to be ocileA he recognises the !oice of frien shi$ an he knows how to obey reason" 9t is true 9 allow him a show of free om, but he was ne!er more com$letely un er control, because he obeys of his own free will" )o long as 9 coul not get the mastery o!er his will, 9 retaine my control o!er his $ersonA 9 ne!er left him for a moment" <ow 9 sometimes lea!e him to himself because 9 control him continually" Chen 9 lea!e him 9 embrace him an 9 say with confi ence& Emile, 9 trust you to my frien , 9 lea!e you to his honourA he will answer for you" To corru$t healthy affections which ha!e not been $re!iously e$ra!e , to efface $rinci$les which are irectly eri!e from our own reasoning, is not the work of a moment" 9f any change takes $lace uring my absence, that absence will not be long, he will ne!er be able to conceal himself from me, so that 9 shall $ercei!e the anger before any harm comes of it, an 9 shall be in time to $ro!i e a reme y" 's we o not become e$ra!e all at once, neither o we learn to ecei!e all at onceA an if e!er there was a man unskille in the art of ece$tion it is Emile, who has ne!er ha any occasion for eceit" By means of these $recautions an others like them, 9 e?$ect to guar him so com$letely against strange sights an !ulgar $rece$ts that 9 woul rather see him in the worst com$any in Paris than alone in his room or in a $ark left to all the restlessness of his age" Chate!er we may o, a young man@s worst enemy is himself, an this is an enemy we cannot a!oi " #et this is an enemy of our own making, for, as 9 ha!e sai again an again, it is the imagination which stirs the senses" (esire is not a $hysical nee A it is not true that it is a nee at all" 9f no lasci!ious object ha met our eye, if no unclean thought ha entere our min , this socalle nee might ne!er ha!e ma e itself felt, an we shoul ha!e remaine chaste, without tem$tation, effort, or merit" Ce o not know how the bloo of youth is stirre by certain situations an certain sights,

while the youth himself oes not un erstan the cause of his uneasinessan uneasiness ifficult to sub ue an certain to recur" 7or my own $art, the more 9 consi er this serious crisis an its causes, imme iate an remote, the more con!ince 9 am that a solitary brought u$ in some esert, a$art from books, teaching, an women, woul ie a !irgin, howe!er long he li!e " But we are not concerne with a sa!age of this sort" Chen we e ucate a man among his fellow-men an for social life, we cannot, an in ee we ought not to, bring him u$ in this wholesome ignorance, an half knowle ge is worse than none" The memory of things we ha!e obser!e , the i eas we ha!e acquire , follow us into retirement an $eo$le it, against our will, with images more se ucti!e than the things themsel!es, an these make solitu e as fatal to those who bring such i eas with them as it is wholesome for those who ha!e ne!er left it" Therefore, watch carefully o!er the young manA he can $rotect himself from all other foes, but it is for you to $rotect him against himself" <e!er lea!e him night or ay, or at least share his roomA ne!er let him go to be till he is slee$y, an let him rise as soon as he wakes" (istrust instinct as soon as you cease to rely altogether u$on it" 9nstinct was goo while he acte un er its gui ance onlyA now that he is in the mi st of human institutions, instinct is not to be truste A it must not be estroye , it must be controlle , which is $erha$s a more ifficult matter" 9t woul be a angerous matter if instinct taught your $u$il to abuse his sensesA if once he acquires this angerous habit he is ruine " 7rom that time forwar , bo y an soul will be ener!ate A he will carry to the gra!e the sa effects of this habit, the most fatal habit which a young man can acquire" 9f you cannot attain to the mastery of your $assions, ear Emile, 9 $ity youA but 9 shall not hesitate for a moment, 9 will not $ermit the $ur$oses of nature to be e!a e " 9f you must be a sla!e, 9 $refer to surren er you to a tyrant from whom 9 may eli!er youA whate!er ha$$ens, 9 can free you more easily from the sla!ery of women than from yourself" ;$ to the age of twenty, the bo y is still growing an requires all its strengthA till that age continence is the law of nature, an this law is rarely !iolate without injury to the constitution" 'fter twenty, continence is a moral utyA it is an im$ortant uty, for it teaches us to control oursel!es, to be masters of our own a$$etites" But moral uties ha!e their mo ifications, their e?ce$tions, their rules" Chen human weakness makes an alternati!e ine!itable, of two e!ils choose the leastA in any case it is better to commit a mis ee than to contract a !icious habit" Remember, 9 am not talking of my $u$il now, but of yours" 8is $assions, to which you ha!e gi!en way, are your masterA yiel to them o$enly an without concealing his !ictory" 9f you are able to show him it in its true light, he will be ashame rather than $rou of it, an you will secure the right to gui e him in his wan erings, at least so as to a!oi $reci$ices" The isci$le must o nothing, not e!en e!il, without the knowle ge an consent of his masterA it is a hun re fol better that the tutor shoul a$$ro!e of a mis ee than that he shoul ecei!e himself or be ecei!e by his $u$il, an the wrong shoul be one without his knowle ge" 8e

who thinks he must shut his eyes to one thing, must soon shut them altogetherA the first abuse which is $ermitte lea s to others, an this chain of consequences only en s in the com$lete o!erthrow of all or er an contem$t for e!ery law" There is another mistake which 9 ha!e alrea y ealt with, a mistake continually ma e by narrow-min e $ersonsA they constantly affect the ignity of a master, an wish to be regar e by their isci$les as $erfect" This metho is just the contrary of what shoul be one" 8ow is it that they fail to $ercei!e that when they try to strengthen their authority they are really estroying itA that to gain a hearing one must $ut oneself in the $lace of our hearers, an that to s$eak to the human heart, one must be a man" 'll these $erfect $eo$le neither touch nor $ersua eA $eo$le always say, D9t is easy for them to fight against $assions they o not feel"D )how your $u$il your own weaknesses if you want to cure hisA let him see in you struggles like his ownA let him learn by your e?am$le to master himself an let him not say like other young men, DThese ol $eo$le, who are !e?e because they are no longer young, want to treat all young $eo$le as if they were ol A an they make a crime of our $assions because their own $assions are ea "D >ontaigne tells us that he once aske )eigneur e %angey how often, in his negotiations with Germany, he ha got runk in his king@s ser!ice" 9 woul willingly ask the tutor of a certain young man how often he has entere a house of ill-fame for his $u$il@s sake" 8ow oftenE 9 am wrong" 9f the first time has not cure the young libertine of all esire to go there again, if he oes not return $enitent an ashame , if he oes not she torrents of tears u$on your bosom, lea!e him on the s$otA either he is a monster or you are a foolA you will ne!er o him any goo " But let us ha!e one with these last e?$e ients, which are as istressing as they are angerousA our kin of e ucation has no nee of them" Chat $recautions we must take with a young man of goo birth before e?$osing him to the scan alous manners of our ageH These $recautions are $ainful but necessaryA negligence in this matter is the ruin of all our young menA egeneracy is the result of youthful e?cesses, an it is these e?cesses which make men what they are" 6l an base in their !ices, their hearts are shri!elle , because their worn-out bo ies were corru$te at an early ageA they ha!e scarcely strength to stir" The subtlety of their thoughts betrays a min lacking in substanceA they are inca$able of any great or noble feeling, they ha!e neither sim$licity nor !igourA altogether abject an meanly wicke , they are merely fri!olous, eceitful, an falseA they ha!e not e!en courage enough to be istinguishe criminals" )uch are the es$icable men $ro uce by early ebaucheryA if there were but one among them who knew how to be sober an tem$erate, to guar his heart, his bo y, his morals from the contagion of ba e?am$le, at the age of thirty he woul crush all these insects, an woul become their master with far less trouble than it cost him to become master of himself" 8owe!er little Emile owes to birth an fortune, he might be this man if he choseA but he es$ises such $eo$le too much to con escen to make them his sla!es" %et us now watch him in their mi st, as he enters into

society, not to claim the first $lace, but to acquaint himself with it an to seek a hel$meet worthy of himself" Chate!er his rank or birth, whate!er the society into which he is intro uce , his entrance into that society will be sim$le an unaffecte A Go grant he may not be unlucky enough to shine in societyA the qualities which make a goo im$ression at the first glance are not his, he neither $ossesses them, nor esires to $ossess them" 8e cares too little for the o$inions of other $eo$le to !alue their $reju ices, an he is in ifferent whether $eo$le esteem him or not until they know him" 8is a ress is neither shy nor conceite , but natural an sincere, he knows nothing of constraint or concealment, an he is just the same among a grou$ of $eo$le as he is when he is alone" Cill this make him ru e, scornful, an careless of othersE 6n the contraryA if he were not hee less of others when he li!e alone, why shoul he be hee less of them now that he is li!ing among themE 8e oes not $refer them to himself in his manners, because he oes not $refer them to himself in his heart, but neither oes he show them an in ifference which he is far from feelingA if he is unacquainte with the forms of $oliteness, he is not unacquainte with the attentions ictate by humanity" 8e cannot bear to see any one sufferA he will not gi!e u$ his $lace to another from mere e?ternal $oliteness, but he will willingly yiel it to him out of kin ness if he sees that he is being neglecte an that this neglect hurts himA for it will be less isagreeable to Emile to remain stan ing of his own accor than to see another com$elle to stan " 'lthough Emile has no !ery high o$inion of $eo$le in general, he oes not show any scorn of them, because he $ities them an is sorry for them" 's he cannot gi!e them a taste for what is truly goo , he lea!es them the imaginary goo with which they are satisfie , lest by robbing them of this he shoul lea!e them worse off than before" )o he neither argues nor contra ictsA neither oes he flatter nor agreeA he states his o$inion without arguing with others, because he lo!es liberty abo!e all things, an free om is one of the fairest gifts of liberty" 8e says little, for he is not an?ious to attract attentionA for the same reason he only says what is to the $ointA who coul in uce him to s$eak otherwiseE Emile is too well informe to be a chatter-bo?" ' great flow of wor s comes either from a $retentious s$irit, of which 9 shall s$eak $resently, or from the !alue lai u$on trifles which we foolishly think to be as im$ortant in the eyes of others as in our own" 8e who knows enough of things to !alue them at their true worth ne!er says too muchA for he can also ju ge of the attention bestowe on him an the interest arouse by what he says" Peo$le who know little are usually great talkers, while men who know much say little" 9t is $lain that an ignorant $erson thinks e!erything he oes know im$ortant, an he tells it to e!erybo y" But a well-e ucate man is not so rea y to is$lay his learningA he woul ha!e too much to say, an he sees that there is much more to be sai , so he hol s his $eace" 7ar from isregar ing the ways of other $eo$le, Emile conforms to them rea ily enoughA not that he may a$$ear to know all about them, nor yet to affect the airs of a man of fashion, but on the contrary for fear lest he

shoul attract attention, an in or er to $ass unnotice A he is most at his ease when no one $ays any attention to him" 'lthough when he makes his entrance into society he knows nothing of its customs, this oes not make him shy or timi A if he kee$s in the backgroun , it is not because he is embarrasse , but because, if you want to see, you must not be seenA for he scarcely troubles himself at all about what $eo$le think of him, an he is not the least afrai of ri icule" 8ence he is always quiet an self-$ossesse an is not trouble with shyness" 'll he has to o is one as well as he knows how to o it, whether $eo$le are looking at him or notA an as he is always on the alert to obser!e other $eo$le, he acquires their ways with an ease im$ossible to the sla!es of other $eo$le@s o$inions" Ce might say that he acquires the ways of society just because he cares so little about them" But o not make any mistake as to his bearingA it is not to be com$are with that of your young an ies" 9t is self-$ossesse , not conceite A his manners are easy, not haughtyA an insolent look is the mark of a sla!e, there is nothing affecte in in e$en ence" 9 ne!er saw a man of lofty soul who showe it in his bearingA this affectation is more suite to !ile an fri!olous souls, who ha!e no other means of asserting themsel!es" 9 rea somewhere that a foreigner a$$eare one ay in the $resence of the famous >arcel, who aske him what country he came from" D9 am an Englishman,D re$lie the stranger" D#ou are an EnglishmanHD re$lie the ancer, D#ou come from that islan where the citiFens ha!e a share in the go!ernment, an form $art of the so!ereign $owerE .7ootnote& 's if there were citiFens who were not $art of the city an ha not, as such, a share in so!ereign $owerH But the 7rench, who ha!e thought fit to usur$ the honourable name of citiFen which was formerly the right of the members of the Gallic cities, ha!e egra e the i ea till it has no longer any sort of meaning" ' man who recently wrote a number of silly criticisms on the D<ou!elle 8eloiseD a e to his signature the title D:itiFen of Paimboeuf,D an he thought it a ca$ital joke"3 <o, sir, that mo est bearing, that timi glance, that hesitating manner, $roclaim only a sla!e a orne with the title of an elector"D 9 cannot say whether this saying shows much knowle ge of the true relation between a man@s character an his a$$earance" 9 ha!e not the honour of being a ancing master, an 9 shoul ha!e thought just the o$$osite" 9 shoul ha!e sai , DThis Englishman is no courtierA 9 ne!er hear that courtiers ha!e a timi bearing an a hesitating manner" ' man whose a$$earance is timi in the $resence of a ancer might not be timi in the 8ouse of :ommons"D )urely this >" >arcel must take his fellow-countrymen for so many Romans" 8e who lo!es esires to be lo!e , Emile lo!es his fellows an esires to $lease them" E!en more oes he wish to $lease the womenA his age, his character, the object he has in !iew, all increase this esire" 9 say his character, for this has a great effectA men of goo character are those who really a ore women" They ha!e not the mocking jargon of gallantry like the rest, but their eagerness is more genuinely ten er, because it comes from the heart" 9n the $resence of a young woman, 9 coul $ick out a young man of character an self-control from among a hun re

thousan libertines" :onsi er what Emile must be, with all the eagerness of early youth an so many reasons for resistanceH 7or in the $resence of women 9 think he will sometimes be shy an timi A but this shyness will certainly not be is$leasing, an the least foolish of them will only too often fin a way to enjoy it an augment it" >oreo!er, his eagerness will take a ifferent sha$e accor ing to those he has to o with" 8e will be more mo est an res$ectful to marrie women, more eager an ten er towar s young girls" 8e ne!er loses sight of his $ur$ose, an it is always those who most recall it to him who recei!e the greater share of his attentions" <o one coul be more attenti!e to e!ery consi eration base u$on the laws of nature, an e!en on the laws of goo societyA but the former are always $referre before the latter, an Emile will show more res$ect to an el erly $erson in $ri!ate life than to a young magistrate of his own age" 's he is generally one of the youngest in the com$any, he will always be one of the most mo est, not from the !anity which a$es humility, but from a natural feeling foun e u$on reason" 8e will not ha!e the effrontery of the young fo$, who s$eaks lou er than the wise an interru$ts the ol in or er to amuse the com$any" 8e will ne!er gi!e any cause for the re$ly gi!en to %ouis IG by an ol gentleman who was aske whether he $referre this century or the last& D)ire, 9 s$ent my youth in re!erence towar s the ol A 9 fin myself com$elle to s$en my ol age in re!erence towar s the young"D 8is heart is ten er an sensiti!e, but he cares nothing for the weight of $o$ular o$inion, though he lo!es to gi!e $leasure to othersA so he will care little to be thought a $erson of im$ortance" 8ence he will be affectionate rather than $olite, he will ne!er be $om$ous or affecte , an he will be always more touche by a caress than by much $raise" 7or the same reasons he will ne!er be careless of his manners or his clothesA $erha$s he will be rather $articular about his ress, not that he may show himself a man of taste, but to make his a$$earance more $leasingA he will ne!er require a gilt frame, an he will ne!er s$oil his style by a is$lay of wealth" 'll this eman s, as you see, no stock of $rece$ts from meA it is all the result of his early e ucation" Peo$le make a great mystery of the ways of society, as if, at the age when these ways are acquire , we i not take to them quite naturally, an as if the first laws of $oliteness were not to be foun in a kin ly heart" True $oliteness consists in showing our goo will towar s menA it shows its $resence without any ifficultyA those only who lack this goo will are com$elle to re uce the outwar signs of it to an art" DThe worst effect of artificial $oliteness is that it teaches us how to is$ense with the !irtues it imitates" 9f our e ucation teaches us kin ness an humanity, we shall be $olite, or we shall ha!e no nee of $oliteness" D9f we ha!e not those qualities which is$lay themsel!es gracefully we shall ha!e those which $roclaim the honest man an the citiFenA we shall ha!e no nee for falsehoo "

D9nstea of seeking to $lease by artificiality, it will suffice that we are kin lyA instea of flattering the weaknesses of others by falsehoo , it will suffice to tolerate them" DThose with whom we ha!e to o will neither be $uffe u$ nor corru$te by such intercourseA they will only be grateful an will be informe by it"D .7ootnote& :onsi erations sur les moeurs e ce siecle, $ar >" (uclos"3 9t seems to me that if any e ucation is calculate to $ro uce the sort of $oliteness require by >" (uclos in this $assage, it is the e ucation 9 ha!e alrea y escribe " #et 9 a mit that with such ifferent teaching Emile will not be just like e!erybo y else, an hea!en $reser!e him from such a fateH But where he is unlike other $eo$le, he will neither cause annoyance nor will he be absur A the ifference will be $erce$tible but not un$leasant" Emile will be, if you like, an agreeable foreigner" 't first his $eculiarities will be e?cuse with the $hrase, D8e will learn"D 'fter a time $eo$le will get use to his ways, an seeing that he oes not change they will still make e?cuses for him an say, D8e is ma e that way"D 8e will not be fete as a charming man, but e!ery one will like him without knowing whyA no one will $raise his intellect, but e!ery one will be rea y to make him the ju ge between men of intellectA his own intelligence will be clear an limite , his min will be accurate, an his ju gment sane" 's he ne!er runs after new i eas, he cannot $ri e himself on his wit" 9 ha!e con!ince him that all wholesome i eas, i eas which are really useful to mankin , were among the earliest known, that in all times they ha!e forme the true bon s of society, an that there is nothing left for ambitious min s but to seek istinction for themsel!es by means of i eas which are injurious an fatal to mankin " This way of winning a miration scarcely a$$eals to himA he knows how he ought to seek his own ha$$iness in life, an how he can contribute to the ha$$iness of others" The s$here of his knowle ge is restricte to what is $rofitable" 8is $ath is narrow an clearly efine A as he has no tem$tation to lea!e it, he is lost in the crow A he will neither istinguish himself nor will he lose his way" Emile is a man of common sense an he has no esire to be anything moreA you may try in !ain to insult him by a$$lying this $hrase to himA he will always consi er it a title of honour" 'lthough from his wish to $lease he is no longer wholly in ifferent to the o$inion of others, he only consi ers that o$inion so far as he himself is irectly concerne , without troubling himself about arbitrary !alues, which are subject to no law but that of fashion or con!entionality" 8e will ha!e $ri e enough to wish to o well in e!erything that he un ertakes, an e!en to wish to o it better than othersA he will want to be the swiftest runner, the strongest wrestler, the cle!erest workman, the rea iest in games of skillA but he will not seek a !antages which are not in themsel!es clear gain, but nee to be su$$orte by the o$inion of others, such as to be thought wittier than another, a better s$eaker, more learne , etc"A still less will he trouble himself with those which ha!e nothing to o with the man himself, such as higher birth, a greater

re$utation for wealth, cre it, or $ublic estimation, or the im$ression create by a showy e?terior" 's he lo!es his fellows because they are like himself, he will $refer him who is most like himself, because he will feel that he is goo A an as he will ju ge of this resemblance by similarity of taste in morals, in all that belongs to a goo character, he will be elighte to win a$$ro!al" 8e will not say to himself in so many wor s, D9 am elighte to gain a$$ro!al,D but D9 am elighte because they say 9 ha!e one rightA 9 am elighte because the men who honour me are worthy of honourA while they ju ge so wisely, it is a fine thing to win their res$ect"D 's he stu ies men in their con uct in society, just as he formerly stu ie them through their $assions in history, he will often ha!e occasion to consi er what it is that $leases or offen s the human heart" 8e is now busy with the $hiloso$hy of the $rinci$les of taste, an this is the most suitable subject for his $resent stu y" The further we seek our efinitions of taste, the further we go astrayA taste is merely the $ower of ju ging what is $leasing or is$leasing to most $eo$le" Go beyon this, an you cannot say what taste is" 9t oes not follow that the men of taste are in the majorityA for though the majority ju ges wisely with regar to each in i!i ual thing, there are few men who follow the ju gment of the majority in e!erythingA an though the most general agreement in taste constitutes goo taste, there are few men of goo taste just as there are few beautiful $eo$le, although beauty consists in the sum of the most usual features" 9t must be obser!e that we are not here concerne with what we like because it is ser!iceable, or hate because it is harmful to us" Taste eals only with things that are in ifferent to us, or which affect at most our amusements, not those which relate to our nee sA taste is not require to ju ge of these, a$$etite only is sufficient" 9t is this which makes mere ecisions of taste so ifficult an as it seems so arbitraryA for beyon the instinct they follow there a$$ears to be no reason whate!er for them" Ce must also make a istinction between the laws of goo taste in morals an its laws in $hysical matters" 9n the latter the laws of taste a$$ear to be absolutely ine?$licable" But it must be obser!e that there is a moral element in e!erything which in!ol!es imitation".7ootnote& This is emonstrate in an DEssay on the 6rigin of %anguagesD which will be foun in my collecte works"3 This is the e?$lanation of beauties which seem to be $hysical, but are not so in reality" 9 may a that taste has local rules which make it e$en ent in many res$ects on the country we are in, its manners, go!ernment, institutionsA it has other rules which e$en u$on age, se?, an character, an it is in this sense that we must not is$ute o!er matters of taste" Taste is natural to menA but all o not $ossess it in the same egree, it is not e!elo$e to the same e?tent in e!ery oneA an in e!ery one it is liable to be mo ifie by a !ariety of causes" )uch taste as we may $ossess e$en s on our nati!e sensibilityA its culti!ation an its form e$en u$on the society in which we ha!e li!e " 9n the first $lace we must li!e in societies of many ifferent kin s, so as to com$are much" 9n

the ne?t $lace, there must be societies for amusement an i leness, for in business relations, interest, not $leasure, is our rule" %astly, there must be societies in which $eo$le are fairly equal, where the tyranny of $ublic o$inion may be mo erate, where $leasure rather than !anity is queenA where this is not so, fashion stifles taste, an we seek what gi!es istinction rather than elight" 9n the latter case it is no longer true that goo taste is the taste of the majority" Chy is thisE Because the $ur$ose is ifferent" Then the crow has no longer any o$inion of its own, it only follows the ju gment of those who are su$$ose to know more about itA its a$$ro!al is bestowe not on what is goo , but on what they ha!e alrea y a$$ro!e " 't any time let e!ery man ha!e his own o$inion, an what is most $leasing in itself will always secure most !otes" E!ery beauty that is to be foun in the works of man is imitate " 'll the true mo els of taste are to be foun in nature" The further we get from the master, the worse are our $ictures" Then it is that we fin our mo els in what we oursel!es like, an the beauty of fancy, subject to ca$rice an to authority, is nothing but what is $leasing to our lea ers" Those lea ers are the artists, the wealthy, an the great, an they themsel!es follow the lea of self-interest or $ri e" )ome to is$lay their wealth, others to $rofit by it, they seek eagerly for new ways of s$en ing it" This is how lu?ury acquires its $ower an makes us lo!e what is rare an costlyA this so-calle beauty consists, not in following nature, but in isobeying her" 8ence lu?ury an ba taste are inse$arable" Chere!er taste is la!ish, it is ba " Taste, goo or ba , takes its sha$e es$ecially in the intercourse between the two se?esA the culti!ation of taste is a necessary consequence of this form of society" But when enjoyment is easily obtaine , an the esire to $lease becomes lukewarm, taste must egenerateA an this is, in my o$inion, one of the best reasons why goo taste im$lies goo morals" :onsult the women@s o$inions in bo ily matters, in all that concerns the sensesA consult the men in matters of morality an all that concerns the un erstan ing" Chen women are what they ought to be, they will kee$ to what they can un erstan , an their ju gment will be rightA but since they ha!e set themsel!es u$ as ju ges of literature, since they ha!e begun to criticise books an to make them with might an main, they are altogether astray" 'uthors who take the a !ice of blue-stockings will always be ill-a !ise A gallants who consult them about their clothes will always be absur ly resse " 9 shall $resently ha!e an o$$ortunity of s$eaking of the real talents of the female se?, the way to culti!ate these talents, an the matters in regar to which their ecisions shoul recei!e attention" These are the elementary consi erations which 9 shall lay own as $rinci$les when 9 iscuss with Emile this matter which is by no means in ifferent to him in his $resent inquiries" 'n to whom shoul it be a matter of in ifferenceE To know what $eo$le may fin $leasant or un$leasant is not only necessary to any one who requires their hel$, it is

still more necessary to any one who woul hel$ themA you must $lease them if you woul o them ser!iceA an the art of writing is no i le $ursuit if it is use to make men hear the truth" 9f in or er to culti!ate my $u$il@s taste, 9 were com$elle to choose between a country where this form of culture has not yet arisen an those in which it has alrea y egenerate , 9 woul $rogress backwar sA 9 woul begin his sur!ey with the latter an en with the former" >y reason for this choice is, that taste becomes corru$te through e?cessi!e elicacy, which makes it sensiti!e to things which most men o not $ercei!eA this elicacy lea s to a s$irit of iscussion, for the more subtle is our iscrimination of things the more things there are for us" This subtlety increases the elicacy an ecreases the uniformity of our touch" )o there are as many tastes as there are $eo$le" 9n is$utes as to our $references, $hiloso$hy an knowle ge are enlarge , an thus we learn to think" 9t is only men accustome to $lenty of society who are ca$able of !ery elicate obser!ations, for these obser!ations o not occur to us till the last, an $eo$le who are unuse to all sorts of society e?haust their attention in the consi eration of the more cons$icuous features" There is $erha$s no ci!ilise $lace u$on earth where the common taste is so ba as in Paris" #et it is in this ca$ital that goo taste is culti!ate , an it seems that few books make any im$ression in Euro$e whose authors ha!e not stu ie in Paris" Those who think it is enough to rea our books are mistakenA there is more to be learnt from the con!ersation of authors than from their booksA an it is not from the authors that we learn most" 9t is the s$irit of social life which e!elo$s a thinking min , an carries the eye as far as it can reach" 9f you ha!e a s$ark of genius, go an s$en a year in ParisA you will soon be all that you are ca$able of becoming, or you will ne!er be goo for anything at all" 6ne may learn to think in $laces where ba taste rules su$remeA but we must not think like those whose taste is ba , an it is !ery ifficult to a!oi this if we s$en much time among them" Ce must use their efforts to $erfect the machinery of ju gment, but we must be careful not to make the same use of it" 9 shall take care not to $olish Emile@s ju gment so far as to transform it, an when he has acquire iscernment enough to feel an com$are the !arie tastes of men, 9 shall lea him to fi? his own taste u$on sim$ler matters" 9 will go still further in or er to kee$ his taste $ure an wholesome" 9n the tumult of issi$ation 9 shall fin o$$ortunities for useful con!ersation with himA an while these con!ersations are always about things in which he takes a elight, 9 shall take care to make them as amusing as they are instructi!e" <ow is the time to rea $leasant booksA now is the time to teach him to analyse s$eech an to a$$reciate all the beauties of eloquence an iction" 9t is a small matter to learn languages, they are less useful than $eo$le thinkA but the stu y of languages lea s us on to that of grammar in general" Ce must learn %atin if we woul ha!e a thorough knowle ge of 7renchA these two languages must be stu ie an com$are if we woul un erstan the rules of the art of s$eaking"

There is, moreo!er, a certain sim$licity of taste which goes straight to the heartA an this is only to be foun in the classics" 9n oratory, $oetry, an e!ery kin of literature, Emile will fin the classical authors as he foun them in history, full of matter an sober in their ju gment" The authors of our own time, on the contrary, say little an talk much" To take their ju gment as our constant law is not the way to form our own ju gment" These ifferences of taste make themsel!es felt in all that is left of classical times an e!en on their tombs" 6ur monuments are co!ere with $raises, theirs recor e facts" D)ta, !iatorA heroem calcas"D 9f 9 ha foun this e$ita$h on an ancient monument, 9 shoul at once ha!e guesse it was mo ernA for there is nothing so common among us as heroes, but among the ancients they were rare" 9nstea of saying a man was a hero, they woul ha!e sai what he ha one to gain that name" Cith the e$ita$h of this hero com$are that of the effeminate )ar ana$alusB DTarsus an 'nchiales 9 built in a ay, an now 9 am ea "D Chich o you think says mostE 6ur inflate monumental style is only fit to trum$et forth the $raises of $ygmies" The ancients showe men as they were, an it was $lain that they were men in ee " Ieno$hon i honour to the memory of some warriors who were slain by treason uring the retreat of the Ten Thousan " DThey ie ,D sai he, Dwithout stain in war an in lo!e"D That is all, but think how full was the heart of the author of this short an sim$le elegy" Coe to him who fails to $ercei!e its charm" The following wor s were engra!e on a tomb at Thermo$ylaeB DGo, Tra!eller, tell )$arta that here we fell in obe ience to her laws"D 9t is $retty clear that this was not the work of the 'ca emy of 9nscri$tions" 9f 9 am not mistaken, the attention of my $u$il, who sets so small !alue u$on wor s, will be irecte in the first $lace to these ifferences, an they will affect his choice in his rea ing" 8e will be carrie away by the manly eloquence of (emosthenes, an will say, DThis is an oratorAD but when he rea s :icero, he will say, DThis is a lawyer"D )$eaking generally Emile will ha!e more taste for the books of the ancients than for our own, just because they were the first, an therefore the ancients are nearer to nature an their genius is more istinct" Chate!er %a >otte an the 'bbe Terrasson may say, there is no real a !ance in human reason, for what we gain in one irection we lose in anotherA for all min s start from the same $oint, an as the time s$ent in learning what others ha!e thought is so much time lost in learning to think for oursel!es, we ha!e more acquire knowle ge an less !igour of min " 6ur min s like our arms are accustome to use tools for e!erything, an to o nothing for themsel!es" 7ontenelle use to say that all these is$utes as to the ancients an the mo erns came to thisBCere

the trees in former times taller than they are now" 9f agriculture ha change , it woul be worth our while to ask this question" 'fter 9 ha!e le Emile to the sources of $ure literature, 9 will also show him the channels into the reser!oirs of mo ern com$ilersA journals, translations, ictionaries, he shall cast a glance at them all, an then lea!e them for e!er" To amuse him he shall hear the chatter of the aca emiesA 9 will raw his attention to the fast that e!ery member of them is worth more by himself than he is as a member of the societyA he will then raw his own conclusions as to the utility of these fine institutions" 9 take him to the theatre to stu y taste, not moralsA for in the theatre abo!e all taste is re!eale to those who can think" %ay asi e $rece$ts an morality, 9 shoul sayA this is not the $lace to stu y them" The stage is not ma e for truthA its object is to flatter an amuse& there is no $lace where one can learn so com$letely the art of $leasing an of interesting the human heart" The stu y of $lays lea s to the stu y of $oetryA both ha!e the same en in !iew" 9f he has the least glimmering of taste for $oetry, how eagerly will he stu y the languages of the $oets, Greek, %atin, an 9talianH These stu ies will affor him unlimite amusement an will be none the less !aluableA they will be a elight to him at an age an in circumstances when the heart fin s so great a charm in e!ery kin of beauty which affects it" Picture to yourself on the one han Emile, on the other some young rascal from college, rea ing the fourth book of the 'enei , or Tibollus, or the Banquet of Plato& what a ifference between themH Chat stirs the heart of Emile to its e$ths, makes not the least im$ression on the otherH 6h, goo youth, stay, make a $ause in your rea ing, you are too ee$ly mo!e A 9 woul ha!e you fin $leasure in the language of lo!e, but 9 woul not ha!e you carrie away by itA be a wise man, but be a goo man too" 9f you are only one of these, you are nothing" 'fter this let him win fame or not in ea languages, in literature, in $oetry, 9 care little" 8e will be none the worse if he knows nothing of them, an his e ucation is not concerne with these mere wor s" >y main object in teaching him to feel an lo!e beauty of e!ery kin is to fi? his affections an his taste on these, to $re!ent the corru$tion of his natural a$$etites, lest he shoul ha!e to seek some ay in the mi st of his wealth for the means of ha$$iness which shoul be foun close at han " 9 ha!e sai elsewhere that taste is only the art of being a connoisseur in matters of little im$ortance, an this is quite trueA but since the charm of life e$en s on a tissue of these matters of little im$ortance, such efforts are no small thingA through their means we learn how to fill our life with the goo things within our reach, with as much truth as they may hol for us" 9 o not refer to the morally goo which e$en s on a goo is$osition of the heart, but only to that which e$en s on the bo y, on real elight, a$art from the $reju ices of $ublic o$inion" The better to unfol my i ea, allow me for a moment to lea!e Emile, whose $ure an wholesome heart cannot be taken as a rule for others,

an to seek in my own memory for an illustration better suite to the rea er an more in accor ance with his own manners" There are $rofessions which seem to change a man@s nature, to recast, either for better or worse, the men who a o$t them" ' cowar becomes a bra!e man in the regiment of <a!arre" 9t is not only in the army that es$rit e cor$s is acquire , an its effects are not always for goo " 9 ha!e thought again an again with terror that if 9 ha the misfortune to fill a certain $ost 9 am thinking of in a certain country, before to-morrow 9 shoul certainly be a tyrant, an e?tortioner, a estroyer of the $eo$le, harmful to my king, an a $rofesse enemy of mankin , a foe to justice an e!ery kin of !irtue" 9n the same way, if 9 were rich, 9 shoul ha!e one all that is require to gain richesA 9 shoul therefore be insolent an egra e , sensiti!e an feeling only on my own behalf, harsh an $itiless to all besi es, a scornful s$ectator of the sufferings of the lower classesA for that is what 9 shoul call the $oor, to make $eo$le forget that 9 was once $oor myself" %astly 9 shoul make my fortune a means to my own $leasures with which 9 shoul be wholly occu$ie A an so far 9 shoul be just like other $eo$le" But in one res$ect 9 shoul be !ery unlike themA 9 shoul be sensual an !olu$tuous rather than $rou an !ain, an 9 shoul gi!e myself u$ to the lu?ury of comfort rather than to that of ostentation" 9 shoul e!en be somewhat ashame to make too great a show of my wealth, an if 9 o!erwhelme the en!ious with my $om$ 9 shoul always fancy 9 hear him saying, D8ere is a rascal who is greatly afrai lest we shoul take him for anything but what he is"D 9n the !ast $rofusion of goo things u$on this earth 9 shoul seek what 9 like best, an what 9 can best a$$ro$riate to myself" To this en , the first use 9 shoul make of my wealth woul be to $urchase leisure an free om, to which 9 woul a health, if it were to be $urchase A but health can only be bought by tem$erance, an as there is no real $leasure without health, 9 shoul be tem$erate from sensual moti!es" 9 shoul also kee$ as close as $ossible to nature, to gratify the senses gi!en me by nature, being quite con!ince that, the greater her share in my $leasures, the more real 9 shall fin them" 9n the choice of mo els for imitation 9 shall always choose nature as my $atternA in my a$$etites 9 will gi!e her the $referenceA in my tastes she shall always be consulte A in my foo 9 will always choose what most owes its charm to her, an what has $asse through the fewest $ossible han s on its way to table" 9 will be on my guar against frau ulent shamsA 9 will go out to meet $leasure" <o cook shall grow rich on my gross an foolish gree inessA he shall not $oison me with fish which cost its weight in gol , my table shall not be ecke with feti s$len our or $utri flesh from far-off lan s" 9 will take any amount of trouble to gratify my sensibility, since this trouble has a $leasure of its own, a $leasure more than we e?$ect" 9f 9 wishe to taste a foo from the en s of the earth, 9 woul go, like '$icius, in search of it, rather than sen for itA for the aintiest ishes always lack a charm

which cannot be brought along with them, a fla!our which no cook can gi!e themBthe air of the country where they are $ro uce " 7or the same reason 9 woul not follow the e?am$le of those who are ne!er well off where they are, but are always setting the seasons at nought, an confusing countries an their seasonsA those who seek winter in summer an summer in winter, an go to 9taly to be col an to the north to be warm, o not consi er that when they think they are esca$ing from the se!erity of the seasons, they are going to meet that se!erity in $laces where $eo$le are not $re$are for it" 9 shall stay in one $lace, or 9 shall a o$t just the o$$osite courseA 9 shoul like to get all $ossible enjoyment out of one season to isco!er what is $eculiar to any gi!en country" 9 woul ha!e a !ariety of $leasures, an habits quite unlike one another, but each accor ing to natureA 9 woul s$en the summer at <a$les an the winter in )t" PetersburgA sometimes 9 woul breathe the soft Fe$hyr lying in the cool grottoes of Tarentum, an again 9 woul enjoy the illuminations of an ice $alace, breathless an wearie with the $leasures of the ance" 9n the ser!ice of my table an the a ornment of my welling 9 woul imitate in the sim$lest ornaments the !ariety of the seasons, an raw from each its charm without antici$ating its successor" There is no taste but only ifficulty to be foun in thus isturbing the or er of natureA to snatch from her unwilling gifts, which she yiel s regretfully, with her curse u$on themA gifts which ha!e neither strength nor fla!our, which can neither nourish the bo y nor tickle the $alate" <othing is more insi$i than force fruits" ' wealthy man in Paris, with all his sto!es an hothouses, only succee s in getting all the year roun $oor fruit an $oor !egetables for his table at a !ery high $rice" 9f 9 ha cherries in frost, an gol en melons in the e$ths of winter, what $leasure shoul 9 fin in them when my $alate i not nee moisture or refreshment" Coul the hea!y chestnut be !ery $leasant in the heat of the og- aysA shoul 9 $refer to ha!e it hot from the sto!e, rather than the gooseberry, the strawberry, the refreshing fruits which the earth takes care to $ro!i e for me" ' mantel$iece co!ere in January with force !egetation, with $ale an scentless flowers, is not winter a orne , but s$ring robbe of its beautyA we e$ri!e oursel!es of the $leasure of seeking the first !iolet in the woo s, of noting the earliest bu s, an e?claiming in a ra$ture of elight, D>ortals, you are not forsaken, nature is li!ing still"D To be well ser!e 9 woul ha!e few ser!antsA this has been sai before, but it is worth saying again" ' tra esman gets more real ser!ice from his one man than a uke from the ten gentlemen roun about him" 9t has often struck me when 9 am sitting at table with my glass besi e me that 9 can rink whene!er 9 $leaseA whereas, if 9 were ining in state, twenty men woul ha!e to call for DCineD before 9 coul quench my thirst" #ou may be sure that whate!er is one for you by other $eo$le is ill one" 9 woul not sen to the sho$s, 9 woul go myselfA 9 woul go so that my ser!ants shoul not make their own terms with the sho$kee$ers, an to get a better choice an chea$er $ricesA 9 woul go for the sake of $leasant e?ercise an to get a glim$se of what was going on out of oorsA this is amusing an sometimes instructi!eA lastly 9 woul go for the

sake of the walkA there is always something in that" ' se entary life is the source of te iumA when we walk a goo eal we are ne!er ull" ' $orter an footmen are $oor inter$reters, 9 shoul ne!er wish to ha!e such $eo$le between the worl an myself, nor woul 9 tra!el with all the fuss of a coach, as if 9 were afrai $eo$le woul s$eak to me" )hanks@ mare is always rea yA if she is tire or ill, her owner is the first to know itA he nee not be afrai of being ke$t at home while his coachman is on the s$reeA on the roa he will not ha!e to submit to all sorts of elays, nor will he be consume with im$atience, nor com$elle to stay in one $lace a moment longer than he chooses" %astly, since no one ser!es us so well as we ser!e oursel!es, ha we the $ower of 'le?an er an the wealth of :roesus we shoul acce$t no ser!ices from others, e?ce$t those we cannot $erform for oursel!es" 9 woul not li!e in a $alaceA for e!en in a $alace 9 shoul only occu$y one roomA e!ery room which is common $ro$erty belongs to nobo y, an the rooms of each of my ser!ants woul be as strange to me as my neighbour@s" The 6rientals, although !ery !olu$tuous, are lo ge in $lain an sim$ly furnishe wellings" They consi er life as a journey, an their house as an inn" This reason scarcely a$$eals to us rich $eo$le who $ro$ose to li!e for e!erA but 9 shoul fin another reason which woul ha!e the same effect" 9t woul seem to me that if 9 settle myself in one $lace in the mi st of such s$len our, 9 shoul banish myself from e!ery other $lace, an im$rison myself, so to s$eak, in my $alace" The worl is a $alace fair enough for any oneA an is not e!erything at the is$osal of the rich man when he seeks enjoymentE D;bi bene, ibi $atria,D that is his mottoA his home is anywhere where money will carry him, his country is anywhere where there is room for his strong-bo?, as Phili$ consi ere as his own any $lace where a mule la en with sil!er coul enter" .7ootnote& ' stranger, s$len i ly cla , was aske in 'thens what country he belonge to" D9 am one of the rich,D was his answerA an a !ery goo answer in my o$inion"3 Chy then shoul we shut oursel!es u$ within walls an gates as if we ne!er meant to lea!e themE 9f $estilence, war, or rebellion ri!e me from one $lace, 9 go to another, an 9 fin my hotel there before me" Chy shoul 9 buil a mansion for myself when the worl is alrea y at my is$osalE Chy shoul 9 be in such a hurry to li!e, to bring from afar elights which 9 can fin on the s$otE 9t is im$ossible to make a $leasant life for oneself when one is always at war with oneself" Thus Em$e ocles re$roache the men of 'grigentum with hea$ing u$ $leasures as if they ha but one ay to li!e, an buil ing as if they woul li!e for e!er" 'n what use ha!e 9 for so large a welling, as 9 ha!e so few $eo$le to li!e in it, an still fewer goo s to fill itE >y furniture woul be as sim$le as my tastesA 9 woul ha!e neither $icture-gallery nor library, es$ecially if 9 was fon of rea ing an knew something about $ictures" 9 shoul then know that such collections are ne!er com$lete, an that the lack of that which is wanting causes more annoyance than if one ha nothing at all" 9n this res$ect abun ance is the cause of want, as e!ery collector knows to his cost" 9f you are an e?$ert, o not make a collectionA if you know how to use your cabinets, you will not ha!e any to show"

Gambling is no s$ort for the rich, it is the resource of those who ha!e nothing to oA 9 shall be so busy with my $leasures that 9 shall ha!e no time to waste" 9 am $oor an lonely an 9 ne!er $lay, unless it is a game of chess now an then, an that is more than enough" 9f 9 were rich 9 woul $lay e!en less, an for !ery low stakes, so that 9 shoul not be isa$$ointe myself, nor see the isa$$ointment of others" The wealthy man has no moti!e for $lay, an the lo!e of $lay will not egenerate into the $assion for gambling unless the is$osition is e!il" The rich man is always more keenly aware of his losses than his gains, an as in games where the stakes are not high the winnings are generally e?hauste in the long run, he will usually lose more than he gains, so that if we reason rightly we shall scarcely take a great fancy to games where the o s are against us" 8e who flatters his !anity so far as to belie!e that 7ortune fa!ours him can seek her fa!our in more e?citing waysA an her fa!ours are just as clearly shown when the stakes are low as when they are high" The taste for $lay, the result of gree an ullness, only lays hol of em$ty hearts an hea sA an 9 think 9 shoul ha!e enough feeling an knowle ge to is$ense with its hel$" Thinkers are sel om gamblersA gambling interru$ts the habit of thought an turns it towar s barren combinationsA thus one goo result, $erha$s the only goo result of the taste for science, is that it ea ens to some e?tent this !ulgar $assionA $eo$le will $refer to try to isco!er the uses of $lay rather than to e!ote themsel!es to it" 9 shoul argue with the gamblers against gambling, an 9 shoul fin more elight in scoffing at their losses than in winning their money" 9 shoul be the same in $ri!ate life as in my social intercourse" 9 shoul wish my fortune to bring comfort in its train, an ne!er to make $eo$le conscious of inequalities of wealth" )howy ress is incon!enient in many ways" To $reser!e as much free om as $ossible among other men, 9 shoul like to be resse in such a way that 9 shoul not seem out of $lace among all classes, an shoul not attract attention in anyA so that without affectation or change 9 might mingle with the crow at the inn or with the nobility at the Palais Royal" 9n this way 9 shoul be more than e!er my own master, an shoul be free to enjoy the $leasures of all sorts an con itions of men" There are women, so they say, whose oors are close to embroi ere cuffs, women who will only recei!e guests who wear lace rufflesA 9 shoul s$en my ays elsewhereA though if these women were young an $retty 9 might sometimes $ut on lace ruffles to s$en an e!ening or so in their com$any" >utual affection, similarity of tastes, suitability of characterA these are the only bon s between my com$anions an myselfA among them 9 woul be a man, not a $erson of wealthA the charm of their society shoul ne!er be embittere by self-seeking" 9f my wealth ha not robbe me of all humanity, 9 woul scatter my benefits an my ser!ices broa cast, but 9 shoul want com$anions about me, not courtiers, frien s, not $rotegesA 9 shoul wish my frien s to regar me as their host, not their $atron" 9n e$en ence an equality woul lea!e to my relations with my frien s the sincerity of goo willA while uty an self-seeking woul ha!e no $lace among us, an we shoul know no law but that of $leasure an frien shi$"

<either a frien nor a mistress can be bought" Comen may be got for money, but that roa will ne!er lea to lo!e" %o!e is not only not for saleA money strikes it ea " 9f a man $ays, were he in ee the most lo!able of men, the mere fact of $ayment woul $re!ent any lasting affection" 8e will soon be $aying for some one else, or rather some one else will get his moneyA an in this ouble connection base on self-seeking an ebauchery, without lo!e, honour, or true $leasure, the woman is gras$ing, faithless, an unha$$y, an she is treate by the wretch to whom she gi!es her money as she treats the fool who gi!es his money to herA she has no lo!e for either" 9t woul be sweet to lie generous towar s one we lo!e, if that i not make a bargain of lo!e" 9 know only one way of gratifying this esire with the woman one lo!es without embittering lo!eA it is to bestow our all u$on her an to li!e at her e?$ense" 9t remains to be seen whether there is any woman with regar to whom such con uct woul not be unwise" 8e who sai , D%ais is mine, but 9 am not hers,D was talking nonsense" Possession which is not mutual is nothing at allA at most it is the $ossession of the se? not of the in i!i ual" But where there is no morality in lo!e, why make such a o about the restE <othing is so easy to fin " ' muleteer is in this res$ect as near to ha$$iness as a millionaire" 6h, if we coul thus trace out the unreasonableness of !ice, how often shoul we fin that, when it has attaine its object, it isco!ers it is not what it seeme H Chy is there this cruel haste to corru$t innocence, to make, a !ictim of a young creature whom we ought to $rotect, one who is ragge by this first false ste$ into a gulf of misery from which only eath can release herE Brutality, !anity, folly, error, an nothing more" This $leasure itself is unnaturalA it rests on $o$ular o$inion, an $o$ular o$inion at its worst, since it e$en s on scorn of self" 8e who knows he is the basest of men fears com$arison with others, an woul be the first that he may be less hateful" )ee if those who are most gree y in $ursuit of such fancie $leasures are e!er attracti!e young menBmen worthy of $leasing, men who might ha!e some e?cuse if they were har to $lease" <ot soA any one with goo looks, merit, an feeling has little fear of his mistress@ e?$erienceA with well-$lace confi ence he says to her, D#ou know what $leasure is, what is that to meE my heart assures me that this is not so"D But an age satyr, worn out with ebauchery, with no charm, no consi eration, no thought for any but himself, with no shre of honour, inca$able an unworthy of fin ing fa!our in the eyes of any woman who knows anything of men eser!ing of lo!e, e?$ects to make u$ for all this with an innocent girl by tra ing on her ine?$erience an stirring her emotions for the first time" 8is last ho$e is to fin fa!our as a no!eltyA no oubt this is the secret moti!e of this esireA but he is mistaken, the horror he e?cites is just as natural as the esires he wishes to arouse" 8e is also mistaken in his foolish attem$tA that !ery nature takes care to assert her rightsA e!ery girl who sells herself is no longer a mai A she has gi!en herself to the man of her choice, an she is making the !ery com$arison he rea s" The $leasure $urchase is imaginary, but none the less hateful"

7or my own $art, howe!er riches may change me, there is one matter in which 9 shall ne!er change" 9f 9 ha!e neither morals nor !irtue, 9 shall not be wholly without taste, without sense, without elicacyA an this will $re!ent me from s$en ing my fortune in the $ursuit of em$ty reams, from wasting my money an my strength in teaching chil ren to betray me an mock at me" 9f 9 were young, 9 woul seek the $leasures of youthA an as 9 woul ha!e them at their best 9 woul not seek them in the guise of a rich man" 9f 9 were at my $resent age, it woul be another matterA 9 woul wisely confine myself to the $leasures of my ageA 9 woul form tastes which 9 coul enjoy, an 9 woul stifle those which coul only cause suffering" 9 woul not go an offer my grey bear to the scornful jests of young girlsA 9 coul ne!er bear to sicken them with my isgusting caresses, to furnish them at my e?$ense with the most absur stories, to imagine them escribing the !ile $leasures of the ol a$e, so as to a!enge themsel!es for what they ha en ure " But if habits unresiste ha change my former esires into nee s, 9 woul $erha$s satisfy those nee s, but with shame an blushes" 9 woul istinguish between $assion an necessity, 9 woul fin a suitable mistress an woul kee$ to her" 9 woul not make a business of my weakness, an abo!e all 9 woul only ha!e one $erson aware of it" %ife has other $leasures when these fail usA by hastening in !ain after those that fly us, we e$ri!e oursel!es of those that remain" %et our tastes change with our years, let us no more me le with age than with the seasons" Ce shoul be oursel!es at all times, instea of struggling against natureA such !ain attem$ts e?haust our strength an $re!ent the right use of life" The lower classes are sel om ull, their life is full of acti!ityA if there is little !ariety in their amusements they o not recur frequentlyA many ays of labour teach them to enjoy their rare holi ays" )hort inter!als of leisure between long $erio s of labour gi!e a s$ice to the $leasures of their station" The chief curse of the rich is ullnessA in the mi st of costly amusements, among so many men stri!ing to gi!e them $leasure, they are e!oure an slain by ullnessA their life is s$ent in fleeing from it an in being o!ertaken by itA they are o!erwhelme by the intolerable bur enA women more es$ecially, who o not know how to work or $lay, are a $rey to te ium un er the name of the !a$oursA with them it takes the sha$e of a rea ful isease, which robs them of their reason an e!en of their life" 7or my own $art 9 know no more terrible fate than that of a $retty woman in Paris, unless it is that of the $retty manikin who e!otes himself to her, who becomes i le an effeminate like her, an so e$ri!es himself twice o!er of his manhoo , while he $ri es himself on his successes an for their sake en ures the longest an ullest ays which human being e!er $ut u$ with" Pro$rieties, fashions, customs which e$en on lu?ury an bree ing, confine the course of life within the limits of the most miserable uniformity" The $leasure we esire to is$lay to others is a $leasure lostA we neither enjoy it oursel!es, nor o others enjoy it" .7ootnote& Two la ies of fashion, who wishe to seem to be enjoying themsel!es greatly, eci e ne!er to go to be before fi!e o@clock in the morning" 9n the e$ths of winter their ser!ants s$ent the night in the street waiting for them, an with great ifficulty ke$t themsel!es from freeFing" 6ne night,

or rather one morning, some one entere the room where these merry $eo$le s$ent their hours without knowing how time $asse " 8e foun them quite aloneA each of them was aslee$ in her arm-chair"3 Ri icule, which $ublic o$inion rea s more than anything, is e!er at han to tyrannise, an $unish" 9t is only ceremony that makes us ri iculousA if we can !ary our $lace an our $leasures, to- ay@s im$ressions can efface those of yester ayA in the min of men they are as if they ha ne!er beenA but we enjoy oursel!es for we throw oursel!es into e!ery hour an e!erything" >y only set rule woul be this& where!er 9 was 9 woul $ay no hee to anything else" 9 woul take each ay as it came, as if there were neither yester ay nor to-morrow" 's 9 shoul be a man of the $eo$le, with the $o$ulace, 9 shoul be a countryman in the fiel sA an if 9 s$oke of farming, the $easant shoul not laugh at my e?$ense" 9 woul not go an buil a town in the country nor erect the Tuileries at the oor of my lo gings" 6n some $leasant sha y hill-si e 9 woul ha!e a little cottage, a white house with green shutters, an though a thatche roof is the best all the year roun , 9 woul be gran enough to ha!e, not those gloomy slates, but tiles, because they look brighter an more cheerful than thatch, an the houses in my own country are always roofe with them, an so they woul recall to me something of the ha$$y ays of my youth" 7or my courtyar 9 woul ha!e a $oultry-yar , an for my stables a cowshe for the sake of the milk which 9 lo!e" >y gar en shoul be a kitchen-gar en, an my $ark an orchar , like the one escribe further on" The fruit woul be free to those who walke in the orchar , my gar ener shoul neither count it nor gather itA 9 woul not, with gree y show, is$lay before your eyes su$erb es$aliers which one scarcely are touch" But this small e?tra!agance woul not be costly, for 9 woul choose my abo e in some remote $ro!ince where sil!er is scarce an foo $lentiful, where $lenty an $o!erty ha!e their seat" There 9 woul gather roun me a com$any, select rather than numerous, a ban of frien s who know what $leasure is, an how to enjoy it, women who can lea!e their arm-chairs an betake themsel!es to out oor s$orts, women who can e?change the shuttle or the car s for the fishing line or the bir -tra$, the gleaner@s rake or gra$e-gatherer@s basket" There all the $retensions of the town will be forgotten, an we shall be !illagers in a !illageA we shall fin all sorts of ifferent s$orts an we shall har ly know how to choose the morrow@s occu$ation" E?ercise an an acti!e life will im$ro!e our igestion an mo ify our tastes" E!ery meal will be a feast, where $lenty will be more $leasing than any elicacies" There are no such cooks in the worl as mirth, rural $ursuits, an merry gamesA an the finest ma e ishes are quite ri iculous in the eyes of $eo$le who ha!e been on foot since early awn" 6ur meals will be ser!e without regar to or er or eleganceA we shall make our ining-room anywhere, in the gar en, on a boat, beneath a treeA sometimes at a istance from the house on the banks of a running stream, on the fresh green grass, among the clum$s of willow an haFelA a long $rocession of guests will carry the material for the feast with laughter an singingA the turf will be our chairs an table, the banks of the stream our si e-boar , an our essert is hanging on the treesA the ishes will be ser!e in any or er, a$$etite nee s no ceremonyA each one of us, o$enly $utting himself first, woul gla ly see e!ery one else o the sameA from this warm-hearte an

tem$erate familiarity there woul arise, without coarseness, $retence, or constraint, a laughing conflict a hun re fol more elightful than $oliteness, an more likely to cement our frien shi$" <o te ious flunkeys to listen to our wor s, to whis$er criticisms on our beha!iour, to count e!ery mouthful with gree y eyes, to amuse themsel!es by kee$ing us waiting for our wine, to com$lain of the length of our inner" Ce will be our own ser!ants, in or er to be our own masters" Time will fly unhee e , our meal will be an inter!al of rest uring the heat of the ay" 9f some $easant comes our way, returning from his work with his tools o!er his shoul er, 9 will cheer his heart with kin ly wor s, an a glass or two of goo wine, which will hel$ him to bear his $o!erty more cheerfullyA an 9 too shall ha!e the joy of feeling my heart stirre within me, an 9 shoul say to myselfB9 too am a man" 9f the inhabitants of the istrict assemble for some rustic feast, 9 an my frien s woul be there among the firstA if there were marriages, more blesse than those of towns, celebrate near my home, e!ery one woul know how 9 lo!e to see $eo$le ha$$y, an 9 shoul be in!ite " 9 woul take these goo folks some gift as sim$le as themsel!es, a gift which woul be my share of the feastA an in e?change 9 shoul obtain gifts beyon $rice, gifts so little known among my equals, the gifts of free om an true $leasure" 9 shoul su$ gaily at the hea of their long tableA 9 shoul join in the chorus of some rustic song an 9 shoul ance in the barn more merrily than at a ball in the 6$era 8ouse" DThis is all !ery well so far,D you will say, Dbut what about the shootingH 6ne must ha!e some s$ort in the country"D Just soA 9 only wante a farm, but 9 was wrong" 9 assume 9 am rich, 9 must kee$ my $leasures to myself, 9 must be free to kill somethingA this is quite another matter" 9 must ha!e estates, woo s, kee$ers, rents, seignorial rights, $articularly incense an holy water" Cell an goo " But 9 shall ha!e neighbours about my estate who are jealous of their rights an an?ious to encroach on those of othersA our kee$ers will quarrel, an $ossibly their masters will quarrel tooA this means altercations, is$utes, ill-will, or law-suits at the leastA this in itself is not !ery $leasant" >y tenants will not enjoy fin ing my hares at work u$on their corn, or my wil boars among their beans" 's they are not kill the enemy, e!ery one of them will try to ri!e him from their fiel sA when the ay has been s$ent in culti!ating the groun , they will be com$elle to sit u$ at night to watch itA they will ha!e watch- ogs, rums, horns, an bellsA my slee$ will be isturbe by their racket" (o what 9 will, 9 cannot hel$ thinking of the misery of these $oor $eo$le, an 9 cannot hel$ blaming myself for it" 9f 9 ha the honour of being a $rince, this woul make little im$ression on meA but as 9 am a self-ma e man who has only just come into his $ro$erty, 9 am still rather !ulgar at heart"

That is not allA abun ance of game attracts tres$assersA 9 shall soon ha!e $oachers to $unishA 9 shall require $risons, gaolers, guar s, an galleysA all this strikes me as cruel" The wi!es of those miserable creatures will besiege my oor an isturb me with their cryingA they must either be ri!en away or roughly han le " The $oor $eo$le who are not $oachers, whose har!est has been estroye by my game, will come ne?t with their com$laints" )ome $eo$le will be $ut to eath for killing the game, the rest will be $unishe for ha!ing s$are itA what a choice of e!ilsH 6n e!ery si e 9 shall fin nothing but misery an hear nothing but groans" )o far as 9 can see this must greatly isturb the $leasure of slaying at one@s ease hea$s of $artri ges an hares which are tame enough to run about one@s feet" 9f you woul ha!e $leasure without $ain let there be no mono$olyA the more you lea!e it free to e!erybo y, the $urer will be your own enjoyment" Therefore 9 shoul not o what 9 ha!e just escribe , but without change of tastes 9 woul follow those which seem likely to cause me least $ain" 9 woul fi? my rustic abo e in a istrict where game is not $reser!e , an where 9 can ha!e my s$ort without hin rance" Game will be less $lentiful, but there will be more skill in fin ing it, an more $leasure in securing it" 9 remember the start of elight with which my father watche the rise of his first $artri ge an the ra$ture with which he foun the hare he ha sought all ay long" #es, 9 eclare, that alone with his og, carrying his own gun, cartri ges, an game bag together with his hare, he came home at nightfall, worn out with fatigue an torn to $ieces by brambles, but better $lease with his ay@s s$ort than all your or inary s$ortsmen, who on a goo horse, with twenty guns rea y for them, merely take one gun after another, an shoot an kill e!erything that comes their way, without skill, without glory, an almost without e?ercise" The $leasure is none the less, an the ifficulties are remo!e A there is no estate to be $reser!e , no $oacher to be $unishe , an no wretches to be tormente A here are soli groun s for $reference" Chate!er you o, you cannot torment men for e!er without e?$eriencing some amount of iscomfortA an sooner or later the muttere curses of the $eo$le will s$oil the fla!our of your game" 'gain, mono$oly estroys $leasure" Real $leasures are those which we share with the crow A we lose what we try to kee$ to oursel!es alone" 9f the walls 9 buil roun my $ark transform it into a gloomy $rison, 9 ha!e only e$ri!e myself, at great e?$ense, of the $leasure of a walkA 9 must now seek that $leasure at a istance" The emon of $ro$erty s$oils e!erything he lays han s u$on" ' rich man wants to be master e!erywhere, an he is ne!er ha$$y where he isA he is continually ri!en to flee from himself" 9 shall therefore continue to o in my $ros$erity what 9 i in my $o!erty" 8enceforwar , richer in the wealth of others than 9 e!er shall be in my own wealth, 9 will take $ossession of e!erything in my neighbourhoo that takes my fancyA no conqueror is so etermine as 9A 9 e!en usur$ the rights of $rincesA 9 take $ossession of e!ery o$en $lace that $leases me, 9 gi!e them namesA this is my $ark, chat is my terrace, an 9 am their ownerA henceforwar 9 wan er among them at

willA 9 often return to maintain my $ro$rietary rightsA 9 make what use 9 choose of the groun to walk u$on, an you will ne!er con!ince me that the nominal owner of the $ro$erty which 9 ha!e a$$ro$riate gets better !alue out of the money it yiel s him than 9 o out of his lan " <o matter if 9 am interru$te by he ges an itches, 9 take my $ark on my back, an 9 carry it elsewhereA there will be s$ace enough for it near at han , an 9 may $lun er my neighbours long enough before 9 outstay my welcome" This is an attem$t to show what is meant by goo taste in the choice of $leasant occu$ations for our leisure hoursA this is the s$irit of enjoymentA all else is illusion, fancy, an foolish $ri e" 8e who isobeys these rules, howe!er rich he may be, will e!our his gol on a ung-hill, an will ne!er know what it is to li!e" #ou will say, no oubt, that such amusements lie within the reach of all, that we nee not be rich to enjoy them" That is the !ery $oint 9 was coming to" Pleasure is ours when we want itA it is only social $reju ice which makes e!erything har to obtain, an ri!es $leasure before us" To be ha$$y is a hun re fol easier than it seems" 9f he really esires to enjoy himself the man of taste has no nee of richesA all he wants is to be free an to be his own master" Cith health an aily brea we are rich enough, if we will but get ri of our $reju icesA this is the DGol en >eanD of 8orace" #ou folks with your strong-bo?es may fin some other use for your wealth, for it cannot buy you $leasure" Emile knows this as well as 9, but his heart is $urer an more healthy, so he will feel it more strongly, an all that he has behel in society will only ser!e to confirm him in this o$inion" Chile our time is thus em$loye , we are e!er on the look-out for )o$hy, an we ha!e not yet foun her" 9t was not esirable that she shoul be foun too easily, an 9 ha!e taken care to look for her where 9 knew we shoul not fin her" The time is comeA we must now seek her in earnest, lest Emile shoul mistake some one else for )o$hy, an only isco!er his error when it is too late" Then farewell Paris, far-fame Paris, with all your noise an smoke an irt, where the women ha!e cease to belie!e in honour an the men in !irtue" Ce are in search of lo!e, ha$$iness, innocenceA the further we go from Paris the better"

BOOK V
Ce ha!e reache the last act of youth@s ramsA we are a$$roaching its closing scene" 9t is not goo that man shoul be alone" Emile is now a man, an we must gi!e him his $romise hel$meet" That hel$meet is )o$hy" Chere is her welling-$lace, where shall she be foun E Ce must know beforehan what she is, an then we can eci e where to look for her" 'n when she is foun , our task is not en e " D)ince our young gentleman,D says %ocke, Dis about to marry, it is time to lea!e him with his mistress"D 'n with these wor s he en s his book" 's 9 ha!e not the honour of e ucating D' young gentleman,D 9 shall take care not to follow his e?am$le"

SOPHY, OR WOMAN

)o$hy shoul be as truly a woman as Emile is a man, i"e", she must $ossess all those characters of her se? which are require to enable her to $lay her $art in the $hysical an moral or er" %et us inquire to begin with in what res$ects her se? iffers from our own" But for her se?, a woman is a manA she has the same organs, the same nee s, the same faculties" The machine is the same in its constructionA its $arts, its working, an its a$$earance are similar" Regar it as you will the ifference is only in egree" #et where se? is concerne man an woman are unlikeA each is the com$lement of the otherA the ifficulty in com$aring them lies in our inability to eci e, in either case, what is a matter of se?, an what is not" General ifferences $resent themsel!es to the com$arati!e anatomist an e!en to the su$erficial obser!erA they seem not to be a matter of se?A yet they are really se? ifferences, though the connection elu es our obser!ation" 8ow far such ifferences may e?ten we cannot tellA all we know for certain is that where man an woman are alike we ha!e to o with the characteristics of the s$eciesA where they are unlike, we ha!e to o with the characteristics of se?" :onsi ere from these two stan $oints, we fin so many instances of likeness an unlikeness that it is $erha$s one of the greatest of mar!els how nature has contri!e to make two beings so like an yet so ifferent" These resemblances an ifferences must ha!e an influence on the moral natureA this inference is ob!ious, an it is confirme by e?$erienceA it shows the !anity of the is$utes as to the su$eriority or the equality of the se?esA as if each se?, $ursuing the $ath marke out for it by nature, were not more $erfect in that !ery i!ergence than if it more closely resemble the other" ' $erfect man an a $erfect woman shoul no more be alike in min than in face, an $erfection a mits of neither less nor more" 9n the union of the se?es each alike contributes to the common en , but in ifferent ways" 7rom this i!ersity s$rings the first ifference which may be obser!e between man an woman in their moral relations" The man shoul be strong an acti!eA the woman shoul be weak an $assi!eA the one must ha!e both the $ower an the willA it is enough that the other shoul offer little resistance" Chen this $rinci$le is a mitte , it follows that woman is s$ecially ma e for man@s elight" 9f man in his turn ought to be $leasing in her eyes, the necessity is less urgent, his !irtue is in his strength, he $leases because he is strong" 9 grant you this is not the law of lo!e, but it is the law of nature, which is ol er than lo!e itself" 9f woman is ma e to $lease an to be in subjection to man, she ought to make herself $leasing in his eyes an not $ro!oke him to angerA her strength is in her charms, by their means she shoul com$el him to isco!er an use his strength" The surest way of arousing this strength is to make it necessary by resistance" Thus $ri e comes to the hel$ of esire an each e?ults in the other@s !ictory" This is the origin of attack

an efence, of the bol ness of one se? an the timi ity of the other, an e!en of the shame an mo esty with which nature has arme the weak for the conquest of the strong" Cho can $ossibly su$$ose that nature has $rescribe the same a !ances to the one se? as to the other, or that the first to feel esire shoul be the first to show itE Chat strange e$ra!ity of ju gmentH The consequences of the act being so ifferent for the two se?es, is it natural that they shoul enter u$on it with equal bol nessE 8ow can any one fail to see that when the share of each is so unequal, if the one were not controlle by mo esty as the other is controlle by nature, the result woul be the estruction of both, an the human race woul $erish through the !ery means or aine for its continuanceE Comen so easily stir a man@s senses an fan the ashes of a ying $assion, that if $hiloso$hy e!er succee e in intro ucing this custom into any unlucky country, es$ecially if it were a warm country where more women are born than men, the men, tyrannise o!er by the women, woul at last become their !ictims, an woul be ragge to their eath without the least chance of esca$e" 7emale animals are without this sense of shame, but what of thatE 're their esires as boun less as those of women, which are curbe by this shameE The esires of the animals are the result of necessity, an when the nee is satisfie , the esire ceasesA they no longer make a feint of re$ulsing the male, they o it in earnest" Their seasons of com$laisance are short an soon o!er" 9m$ulse an restraint are alike the work of nature" But what woul take the $lace of this negati!e instinct in women if you rob them of their mo estyE The >ost 8igh has eigne to o honour to mankin A he has en owe man with boun less $assions, together with a law to gui e them, so that man may be alike free an self-controlle A though swaye by these $assions man is en owe with reason by which to control them" Coman is also en owe with boun less $assionsA Go has gi!en her mo esty to restrain them" >oreo!er, he has gi!en to both a $resent rewar for the right use of their $owers, in the elight which s$rings from that right use of them, i"e", the taste for right con uct establishe as the law of our beha!iour" To my min this is far higher than the instinct of the beasts" Chether the woman shares the man@s $assion or not, whether she is willing or unwilling to satisfy it, she always re$ulses him an efen s herself, though not always with the same !igour, an therefore not always with the same success" 9f the siege is to be successful, the besiege must $ermit or irect the attack" 8ow skilfully can she stimulate the efforts of the aggressor" The freest an most elightful of acti!ities oes not $ermit of any real !iolenceA reason an nature are alike against itA nature, in that she has gi!en the weaker $arty strength enough to resist if she choosesA reason, in that actual !iolence is not only most brutal in itself, but it efeats its own en s, not only because the man thus eclares war against his com$anion an thus gi!es her a right to efen her $erson an her liberty e!en at the cost of the enemy@s life, but also

because the woman alone is the ju ge of her con ition, an a chil woul ha!e no father if any man might usur$ a father@s rights" Thus the ifferent constitution of the two se?es lea s us to a thir conclusion, that the stronger $arty seems to be master, but is as a matter of fact e$en ent on the weaker, an that, not by any foolish custom of gallantry, nor yet by the magnanimity of the $rotector, but by an ine?orable law of nature" 7or nature has en owe woman with a $ower of stimulating man@s $assions in e?cess of man@s $ower of satisfying those $assions, an has thus ma e him e$en ent on her goo will, an com$elle him in his turn to en ea!our to $lease her, so that she may be willing to yiel to his su$erior strength" 9s it weakness which yiel s to force, or is it !oluntary self-surren erE This uncertainty constitutes the chief charm of the man@s !ictory, an the woman is usually cunning enough to lea!e him in oubt" 9n this res$ect the woman@s min e?actly resembles her bo yA far from being ashame of her weakness, she is $rou of itA her soft muscles offer no resistance, she $rofesses that she cannot lift the lightest weightA she woul be ashame to be strong" 'n whyE <ot only to gain an a$$earance of refinementA she is too cle!er for thatA she is $ro!i ing herself beforehan with e?cuses, with the right to be weak if she chooses" The e?$erience we ha!e gaine through our !ices has consi erably mo ifie the !iews hel in ol er timesA we rarely hear of !iolence for which there is so little occasion that it woul har ly be cre ite " #et such stories are common enough among the Jews an ancient GreeksA for such !iews belong to the sim$licity of nature, an ha!e only been u$roote by our $rofligacy" 9f fewer ee s of !iolence are quote in our ays, it is not that men are more tem$erate, but because they are less cre ulous, an a com$laint which woul ha!e been belie!e among a sim$le $eo$le woul only e?cite laughter among oursel!esA therefore silence is the better course" There is a law in (euteronomy, un er which the outrage mai en was $unishe , along with her assailant, if the crime were committe in a townA but if in the country or in a lonely $lace, the latter alone was $unishe " D7or,D says the law, Dthe mai en crie for hel$, an there was none to hear"D 7rom this merciful inter$retation of the law, girls learnt not to let themsel!es be sur$rise in lonely $laces" This change in $ublic o$inion has ha a $erce$tible effect on our morals" 9t has $ro uce our mo ern gallantry" >en ha!e foun that their $leasures e$en , more than they e?$ecte , on the goo will of the fair se?, an ha!e secure this goo will by attentions which ha!e ha their rewar " )ee how we fin oursel!es le unconsciously from the $hysical to the moral constitution, how from the grosser union of the se?es s$ring the sweet laws of lo!e" Coman reigns, not by the will of man, but by the ecrees of nature herselfA she ha the $ower long before she showe it" That same 8ercules who $ro$ose to !iolate all the fifty aughters of Thes$is was com$elle to s$in at the feet of 6m$hale, an )amson, the strong man, was less strong than (elilah" This $ower cannot be taken from womanA it is hers by rightA she woul ha!e lost it long ago, were it $ossible"

The consequences of se? are wholly unlike for man an woman" The male is only a male now an again, the female is always a female, or at least all her youthA e!erything remin s her of her se?A the $erformance of her functions requires a s$ecial constitution" )he nee s care uring $regnancy an free om from work when her chil is bornA she must ha!e a quiet, easy life while she nurses her chil renA their e ucation calls for $atience an gentleness, for a Feal an lo!e which nothing can ismayA she forms a bon between father an chil , she alone can win the father@s lo!e for his chil ren an con!ince him that they are in ee his own" Chat lo!ing care is require to $reser!e a unite familyH 'n there shoul be no question of !irtue in all this, it must be a labour of lo!e, without which the human race woul be oome to e?tinction" The mutual uties of the two se?es are not, an cannot be, equally bin ing on both" Comen o wrong to com$lain of the inequality of manma e lawsA this inequality is not of man@s making, or at any rate it is not the result of mere $reju ice, but of reason" )he to whom nature has entruste the care of the chil ren must hol herself res$onsible for them to their father" <o oubt e!ery breach of faith is wrong, an e!ery faithless husban , who robs his wife of the sole rewar of the stern uties of her se?, is cruel an unjustA but the faithless wife is worseA she estroys the family an breaks the bon s of natureA when she gi!es her husban chil ren who are not his own, she is false both to him an them, her crime is not infi elity but treason" To my min , it is the source of issension an of crime of e!ery kin " :an any $osition be more wretche than that of the unha$$y father who, when he clas$s his chil to his breast, is haunte by the sus$icion that this is the chil of another, the ba ge of his own ishonour, a thief who is robbing his own chil ren of their inheritance" ;n er such circumstances the family is little more than a grou$ of secret enemies, arme against each other by a guilty woman, who com$els them to $reten to lo!e one another" Thus it is not enough that a wife shoul be faithfulA her husban , along with his frien s an neighbours, must belie!e in her fi elityA she must be mo est, e!ote , retiringA she shoul ha!e the witness not only of a goo conscience, but of a goo re$utation" 9n a wor , if a father must lo!e his chil ren, he must be able to res$ect their mother" 7or these reasons it is not enough that the woman shoul be chaste, she must $reser!e her re$utation an her goo name" 7rom these $rinci$les there arises not only a moral ifference between the se?es, but also a fresh moti!e for uty an $ro$riety, which $rescribes to women in $articular the most scru$ulous attention to their con uct, their manners, their beha!iour" Gague assertions as to the equality of the se?es an the similarity of their uties are only em$ty wor sA they are no answer to my argument" 9t is a $oor sort of logic to quote isolate e?ce$tions against laws so firmly establishe " Comen, you say, are not always bearing chil ren" Grante A yet that is their $ro$er business" Because there are a hun re or so of large towns in the worl where women li!e licentiously an ha!e few chil ren, will you maintain that it is their business to ha!e few chil renE 'n what woul become of your towns if the remote country istricts, with their sim$ler an $urer women, i not make u$ for the

barrenness of your fine la iesE There are $lenty of country $laces where women with only four or fi!e chil ren are reckone unfruitful" 9n conclusion, although here an there a woman may ha!e few chil ren, what ifference oes it makeE .7ootnote& Cithout this the race woul necessarily iminishA all things consi ere , for its $reser!ation each woman ought to ha!e about four chil ren, for about half the chil ren born ie before they can become $arents, an two must sur!i!e to re$lace the father an mother" )ee whether the towns will su$$ly themE3 9s it any the less a woman@s business to be a motherE 'n to not the general laws of nature an morality make $ro!ision for this state of thingsE E!en if there were these long inter!als, which you assume, between the $erio s of $regnancy, can a woman su enly change her way of life without angerE :an she be a nursing mother to- ay an a sol ier tomorrowE Cill she change her tastes an her feelings as a chameleon changes his colourE Cill she $ass at once from the $ri!acy of househol uties an in oor occu$ations to the buffeting of the win s, the toils, the labours, the $erils of warE Cill she be now timi , .7ootnote& Comen@s timi ity is yet another instinct of nature against the ouble risk she runs uring $regnancy"3 now bra!e, now fragile, now robustE 9f the young men of Paris fin a sol ier@s life too har for them, how woul a woman $ut u$ with it, a woman who has har ly !enture out of oors without a $arasol an who has scarcely $ut a foot to the groun E Cill she make a goo sol ier at an age when e!en men are retiring from this ar uous businessE There are countries, 9 grant you, where women bear an rear chil ren with little or no ifficulty, but in those lan s the men go half-nake in all weathers, they strike own the wil beasts, they carry a canoe as easily as a kna$sack, they $ursue the chase for 2,, or 4,, leagues, they slee$ in the o$en on the bare groun , they bear incre ible fatigues an go many ays without foo " Chen women become strong, men become still strongerA when men become soft, women become softerA change both the terms an the ratio remains unaltere " 9 am quite aware that Plato, in the Re$ublic, assigns the same gymnastics to women an men" 8a!ing got ri of the family there is no $lace for women in his system of go!ernment, so he is force to turn them into men" That great genius has worke out his $lans in etail an has $ro!i e for e!ery contingencyA he has e!en $ro!i e against a ifficulty which in all likelihoo no one woul e!er ha!e raise A but he has not succee e in meeting the real ifficulty" 9 am not s$eaking of the allege community of wi!es which has often been lai to his chargeA this assertion only shows that his etractors ha!e ne!er rea his works" 9 refer to that $olitical $romiscuity un er which the same occu$ations are assigne to both se?es alike, a scheme which coul only lea to intolerable e!ilsA 9 refer to that sub!ersion of all the ten erest of our natural feelings, which he sacrifice to an artificial sentiment which can only e?ist by their ai " Cill the bon s of con!ention hol firm without some foun ation in natureE :an e!otion to the state e?ist a$art from the lo!e of those near an ear to usE :an $atriotism thri!e e?ce$t in the

soil of that miniature fatherlan , the homeE 9s it not the goo son, the goo husban , the goo father, who makes the goo citiFenE Chen once it is $ro!e that men an women are an ought to be unlike in constitution an in tem$erament, it follows that their e ucation must be ifferent" <ature teaches us that they shoul work together, but that each has its own share of the workA the en is the same, but the means are ifferent, as are also the feelings which irect them" Ce ha!e attem$te to $aint a natural man, let us try to $aint a hel$meet for him" #ou must follow nature@s gui ance if you woul walk aright" The nati!e characters of se? shoul be res$ecte as nature@s han iwork" #ou are always saying, DComen ha!e such an such faults, from which we are free"D #ou are misle by your !anityA what woul be faults in you are !irtues in themA an things woul go worse, if they were without these so-calle faults" Take care that they o not egenerate into e!il, but beware of estroying them" 6n the other han , women are always e?claiming that we e ucate them for nothing but !anity an coquetry, that we kee$ them amuse with trifles that we may be their mastersA we are res$onsible, so they say, for the faults we attribute to them" 8ow sillyH Chat ha!e men to o with the e ucation of girlsE Chat is there to hin er their mothers e ucating them as they $leaseE There are no colleges for girlsA so much the better for themH Coul Go there were none for the boys, their e ucation woul be more sensible an more wholesome" Cho is it that com$els a girl to waste her time on foolish triflesE 're they force , against their will, to s$en half their time o!er their toilet, following the e?am$le set them by youE Cho $re!ents you teaching them, or ha!ing them taught, whate!er seems goo in your eyesE 9s it our fault that we are charme by their beauty an elighte by their airs an graces, if we are attracte an flattere by the arts they learn from you, if we lo!e to see them $rettily resse , if we let them is$lay at leisure the wea$ons by which we are subjugate E Cell then, e ucate them like men" The more women are like men, the less influence they will ha!e o!er men, an then men will be masters in ee " 'll the faculties common to both se?es are not equally share between them, but taken as a whole they are fairly i!i e " Coman is worth more as a woman an less as a manA when she makes a goo use of her own rights, she has the best of itA when she tries to usur$ our rights, she is our inferior" 9t is im$ossible to contro!ert this, e?ce$t by quoting e?ce$tions after the usual fashion of the $artisans of the fair se?" To culti!ate the masculine !irtues in women an to neglect their own is e!i ently to o them an injury" Comen are too clear-sighte to be thus ecei!e A when they try to usur$ our $ri!ileges they o not aban on their ownA with this result& they are unable to make use of two incom$atible things, so they fall below their own le!el as women, instea of rising to the le!el of men" 9f you are a sensible mother you will take my a !ice" (o not try to make your aughter a goo man in efiance of nature" >ake her a goo woman, an be sure it will be better both for her an us"

(oes this mean that she must be brought u$ in ignorance an ke$t to housework onlyE 9s she to be man@s han mai or his hel$-meetE Cill he is$ense with her greatest charm, her com$anionshi$E To kee$ her a sla!e will he $re!ent her knowing an feelingE Cill he make an automaton of herE <o, in ee , that is not the teaching of nature, who has gi!en women such a $leasant easy wit" 6n the contrary, nature means them to think, to will, to lo!e, to culti!ate their min s as well as their $ersonsA she $uts these wea$ons in their han s to make u$ for their lack of strength an to enable them to irect the strength of men" They shoul learn many things, but only such things as are suitable" Chen 9 consi er the s$ecial $ur$ose of woman, when 9 obser!e her inclinations or reckon u$ her uties, e!erything combines to in icate the mo e of e ucation she requires" >en an women are ma e for each other, but their mutual e$en ence iffers in egreeA man is e$en ent on woman through his esiresA woman is e$en ent on man through her esires an also through her nee sA he coul o without her better than she can o without him" )he cannot fulfil her $ur$ose in life without his ai , without his goo will, without his res$ectA she is e$en ent on our feelings, on the $rice we $ut u$on her !irtue, an the o$inion we ha!e of her charms an her eserts" <ature herself has ecree that woman, both for herself an her chil ren, shoul be at the mercy of man@s ju gment" Corth alone will not suffice, a woman must be thought worthyA nor beauty, she must be a mire A nor !irtue, she must be res$ecte " ' woman@s honour oes not e$en on her con uct alone, but on her re$utation, an no woman who $ermits herself to be consi ere !ile is really !irtuous" ' man has no one but himself to consi er, an so long as he oes right he may efy $ublic o$inionA but when a woman oes right her task is only half finishe , an what $eo$le think of her matters as much as what she really is" 8ence her e ucation must, in this res$ect, be ifferent from man@s e ucation" DChat will $eo$le thinkD is the gra!e of a man@s !irtue an the throne of a woman@s" The chil ren@s health e$en s in the first $lace on the mother@s, an the early e ucation of man is also in a woman@s han sA his morals, his $assions, his tastes, his $leasures, his ha$$iness itself, e$en on her" ' woman@s e ucation must therefore be $lanne in relation to man" To be $leasing in his sight, to win his res$ect an lo!e, to train him in chil hoo , to ten him in manhoo , to counsel an console, to make his life $leasant an ha$$y, these are the uties of woman for all time, an this is what she shoul be taught while she is young" The further we e$art from this $rinci$le, the further we shall be from our goal, an all our $rece$ts will fail to secure her ha$$iness or our own" E!ery woman esires to be $leasing in men@s eyes, an this is rightA but there is a great ifference between wishing to $lease a man of worth, a really lo!able man, an seeking to $lease those fo$$ish manikins who are a isgrace to their own se? an to the se? which they imitate" <either nature nor reason can in uce a woman to lo!e an effeminate $erson, nor will she win lo!e by imitating such a $erson"

9f a woman iscar s the quiet mo est bearing of her se?, an a o$ts the airs of such foolish creatures, she is not following her !ocation, she is forsaking itA she is robbing herself of the rights to which she lays claim" D9f we were ifferent,D she says, Dthe men woul not like us"D )he is mistaken" 6nly a fool likes follyA to wish to attract such men only shows her own foolishness" 9f there were no fri!olous men, women woul soon make them, an women are more res$onsible for men@s follies than men are for theirs" The woman who lo!es true manhoo an seeks to fin fa!our in its sight will a o$t means a a$te to her en s" Coman is a coquette by $rofession, but her coquetry !aries with her aimsA let these aims be in accor ance with those of nature, an a woman will recei!e a fitting e ucation" E!en the tiniest little girls lo!e fineryA they are not content to be $retty, they must be a mire A their little airs an graces show that their hea s are full of this i ea, an as soon as they can un erstan they are controlle by DChat will $eo$le think of youED 9f you are foolish enough to try this way with little boys, it will not ha!e the same effectA gi!e them their free om an their s$orts, an they care !ery little what $eo$le thinkA it is a work of time to bring them un er the control of this law" 8owe!er acquire , this early e ucation of little girls is an e?cellent thing in itself" 's the birth of the bo y must $rece e the birth of the min , so the training of the bo y must $rece e the culti!ation of the min " This is true of both se?esA but the aim of $hysical training for boys an girls is not the sameA in the one case it is the e!elo$ment of strength, in the other of graceA not that these qualities shoul be $eculiar to either se?, but that their relati!e !alues shoul be ifferent" Comen shoul be strong enough to o anything gracefullyA men shoul be skilful enough to o anything easily" The e?aggeration of feminine elicacy lea s to effeminacy in men" Comen shoul not be strong like men but for them, so that their sons may be strong" :on!ents an boar ing-schools, with their $lain foo an am$le o$$ortunities for amusements, races, an games in the o$en air an in the gar en, are better in this res$ect than the home, where the little girl is fe on elicacies, continually encourage or re$ro!e , where she is ke$t sitting in a stuffy room, always un er her mother@s eye, afrai to stan or walk or s$eak or breathe, without a moment@s free om to $lay or jum$ or run or shout, or to be her natural, li!ely, little selfA there is either harmful in ulgence or misgui e se!erity, an no trace of reason" 9n this fashion heart an bo y are alike estroye " 9n )$arta the girls use to take $art in military s$orts just like the boys, not that they might go to war, but that they might bear sons who coul en ure har shi$" That is not what 9 esire" To $ro!i e the state with sol iers it is not necessary that the mother shoul carry a musket an master the Prussian rill" #et, on the whole, 9 think the Greeks were !ery wise in this matter of $hysical training" #oung girls frequently a$$eare in $ublic, not with the boys, but in grou$s a$art" There was scarcely a festi!al, a sacrifice, or a $rocession without its ban s of mai ens, the aughters of the chief citiFens" :rowne with flowers, chanting hymns, forming the chorus of the ance, bearing baskets, !ases, offerings, they

$resente a charming s$ectacle to the e$ra!e senses of the Greeks, a s$ectacle well fitte to efface the e!il effects of their unseemly gymnastics" Chate!er this custom may ha!e one for the Greek men, it was well fitte to e!elo$ in the Greek women a soun constitution by means of $leasant, mo erate, an healthy e?erciseA while the esire to $lease woul e!elo$ a keen an culti!ate taste without risk to character" Chen the Greek women marrie , they isa$$eare from $ublic lifeA within the four walls of their home they e!ote themsel!es to the care of their househol an family" This is the mo e of life $rescribe for women alike by nature an reason" These women ga!e birth to the healthiest, strongest, an best $ro$ortione men who e!er li!e , an e?ce$t in certain islan s of ill re$ute, no women in the whole worl , not e!en the Roman matrons, were e!er at once so wise an so charming, so beautiful an so !irtuous, as the women of ancient Greece" 9t is a mitte that their flowing garments, which i not cram$ the figure, $reser!e in men an women alike the fine $ro$ortions which are seen in their statues" These are still the mo els of art, although nature is so isfigure that they are no longer to be foun among us" The Gothic trammels, the innumerable ban s which confine our limbs as in a $ress, were quite unknown" The Greek women were wholly unacquainte with those frames of whalebone in which our women istort rather than is$lay their figures" 9t seems to me that this abuse, which is carrie to an incre ible egree of folly in Englan , must sooner or later lea to the $ro uction of a egenerate race" >oreo!er, 9 maintain that the charm which these corsets are su$$ose to $ro uce is in the worst $ossible tasteA it is not a $leasant thing to see a woman cut in two like a was$Bit offen s both the eye an the imagination" ' slen er waist has its limits, like e!erything else, in $ro$ortion an suitability, an beyon these limits it becomes a efect" This efect woul be a glaring one in the nu eA why shoul it be beautiful un er the costumeE 9 will not !enture u$on the reasons which in uce women to incase themsel!es in these coats of mail" ' clumsy figure, a large waist, are no oubt !ery ugly at twenty, but at thirty they cease to offen the eye, an as we are boun to be what nature has ma e us at any gi!en age, an as there is no ecei!ing the eye of man, such efects are less offensi!e at any age than the foolish affectations of a young thing of forty" E!erything which cram$s an confines nature is in ba tasteA this is as true of the a ornments of the $erson as of the ornaments of the min " %ife, health, common-sense, an comfort must come firstA there is no grace in iscomfort, languor is not refinement, there is no charm in illhealthA suffering may e?cite $ity, but $leasure an elight eman the freshness of health" Boys an girls ha!e many games in common, an this is as it shoul beA o they not $lay together when they are grown u$E They ha!e also s$ecial tastes of their own" Boys want mo!ement an noise, rums, to$s, toy-cartsA girls $refer things which a$$eal to the eye, an can be use for ressing-u$Bmirrors, jewellery, finery, an s$ecially olls" The oll is the

girl@s s$ecial $laythingA this shows her instincti!e bent towar s her life@s work" The art of $leasing fin s its $hysical basis in $ersonal a ornment, an this $hysical si e of the art is the only one which the chil can culti!ate" 8ere is a little girl busy all ay with her ollA she is always changing its clothes, ressing an un ressing it, trying new combinations of trimmings well or ill matche A her fingers are clumsy, her taste is cru e, but there is no mistaking her bentA in this en less occu$ation time flies unhee e , the hours sli$ away unnotice , e!en meals are forgotten" )he is more eager for a ornment than for foo " DBut she is ressing her oll, not herself,D you will say" Just soA she sees her oll, she cannot see herselfA she cannot o anything for herself, she has neither the training, nor the talent, nor the strengthA as yet she herself is nothing, she is engrosse in her oll an all her coquetry is e!ote to it" This will not always be soA in ue time she will be her own oll" Ce ha!e here a !ery early an clearly-marke bentA you ha!e only to follow it an train it" Chat the little girl most clearly esires is to ress her oll, to make its bows, its ti$$ets, its sashes, an its tuckersA she is e$en ent on other $eo$le@s kin ness in all this, an it woul be much $leasanter to be able to o it herself" 8ere is a moti!e for her earliest lessons, they are not tasks $rescribe , but fa!ours bestowe " %ittle girls always islike learning to rea an write, but they are always rea y to learn to sew" They think they are grown u$, an in imagination they are using their knowle ge for their own a ornment" The way is o$en an it is easy to follow itA cutting out, embroi ery, lacemaking follow naturally" Ta$estry is not $o$ularA furniture is too remote from the chil @s interests, it has nothing to o with the $erson, it e$en s on con!entional tastes" Ta$estry is a woman@s amusementA young girls ne!er care for it" This !oluntary course is easily e?ten e to inclu e rawing, an art which is closely connecte with taste in ressA but 9 woul not ha!e them taught lan sca$e an still less figure $ainting" %ea!es, fruit, flowers, ra$eries, anything that will make an elegant trimming for the accessories of the toilet, an enable the girl to esign her own embroi ery if she cannot fin a $attern to her tasteA that will be quite enough" )$eaking generally, if it is esirable to restrict a man@s stu ies to what is useful, this is e!en more necessary for women, whose life, though less laborious, shoul be e!en more in ustrious an more uniformly em$loye in a !ariety of uties, so that one talent shoul not be encourage at the e?$ense of others" Chate!er may be sai by the scornful, goo sense belongs to both se?es alike" Girls are usually more ocile than boys, an they shoul be subjecte to more authority, as 9 shall show later on, but that is no reason why they shoul be require to o things in which they can see neither rhyme nor reason" The mother@s art consists in showing the use of e!erything they are set to o, an this is all the easier as the girl@s intelligence is more $recocious than the boy@s" This $rinci$le banishes, both for boys an girls, not only those $ursuits which ne!er lea to any

a$$reciable results, not e!en increasing the charms of those who ha!e $ursue them, but also those stu ies whose utility is beyon the scholar@s $resent age an can only be a$$reciate in later years" 9f 9 object to little boys being ma e to learn to rea , still more o 9 object to it for little girls until they are able to see the use of rea ingA we generally think more of our own i eas than theirs in our attem$ts to con!ince them of the utility of this art" 'fter all, why shoul a little girl know how to rea an writeH 8as she a house to manageE >ost of them make a ba use of this fatal knowle ge, an girls are so full of curiosity that few of them will fail to learn without com$ulsion" Possibly cy$hering shoul come firstA there is nothing so ob!iously useful, nothing which nee s so much $ractice or gi!es so much o$$ortunity for error as reckoning" 9f the little girl oes not get the cherries for her lunch without an arithmetical e?ercise, she will soon learn to count" 9 once knew a little girl who learnt to write before she coul rea , an she began to write with her nee le" To begin with, she woul write nothing but 6@sA she was always making 6@s, large an small, of all kin s an one within another, but always rawn backwar s" ;nluckily one ay she caught a glim$se of herself in the glass while she was at this useful work, an thinking that the cram$e attitu e was not $retty, like another >iner!a she flung away her $en an ecline to make any more 6@s" 8er brother was no fon er of writing, but what he islike was the constraint, not the look of the thing" )he was in uce to go on with her writing in this way" The chil was fasti ious an !ainA she coul not bear her sisters to wear her clothes" 8er things ha been marke , they ecline to mark them any more, she must learn to mark them herselfA there is no nee to continue the story" )how the sense of the tasks you set your little girls, but kee$ them busy" 9 leness an insubor ination are two !ery angerous faults, an !ery har to cure when once establishe " Girls shoul be attenti!e an in ustrious, but this is not enough by itselfA they shoul early be accustome to restraint" This misfortune, if such it be, is inherent in their se?, an they will ne!er esca$e from it, unless to en ure more cruel sufferings" 'll their life long, they will ha!e to submit to the strictest an most en uring restraints, those of $ro$riety" They must be traine to bear the yoke from the first, so that they may not feel it, to master their own ca$rices an to submit themsel!es to the will of others" 9f they were always eager to be at work, they shoul sometimes be com$elle to o nothing" Their chil ish faults, unchecke an unhee e , may easily lea to issi$ation, fri!olity, an inconstancy" To guar against this, teach them abo!e all things self-control" ;n er our senseless con itions, the life of a goo woman is a $er$etual struggle against selfA it is only fair that woman shoul bear her share of the ills she has brought u$on man" Beware lest your girls become weary of their tasks an infatuate with their amusementsA this often ha$$ens un er our or inary metho s of e ucation, where, as 7enelon says, all the te ium is on one si e an all the $leasure on the other" 9f the rules alrea y lai own are followe , the first of these angers will be a!oi e , unless the chil islikes those about her" ' little girl who is fon of her mother or her frien will work by

her si e all ay without getting tire A the chatter alone will make u$ for any loss of liberty" But if her com$anion is istasteful to her, e!erything one un er her irection will be istasteful too" :hil ren who take no elight in their mother@s com$any are not likely to turn out wellA but to ju ge of their real feelings you must watch them an not trust to their wor s alone, for they are flatterers an eceitful an soon learn to conceal their thoughts" <either shoul they be tol that they ought to lo!e their mother" 'ffection is not the result of uty, an in this res$ect constraint is out of $lace" :ontinual intercourse, constant care, habit itself, all these will lea a chil to lo!e her mother, if the mother oes nothing to eser!e the chil @s ill-will" The !ery control she e?ercises o!er the chil , if well irecte , will increase rather than iminish the affection, for women being ma e for e$en ence, girls feel themsel!es ma e to obey" Just because they ha!e, or ought to ha!e, little free om, they are a$t to in ulge themsel!es too fully with regar to such free om as they ha!eA they carry e!erything to e?tremes, an they e!ote themsel!es to their games with an enthusiasm e!en greater than that of boys" This is the secon ifficulty to which 9 referre " This enthusiasm must be ke$t in check, for it is the source of se!eral !ices commonly foun among women, ca$rice an that e?tra!agant a miration which lea s a woman to regar a thing with ra$ture to- ay an to be quite in ifferent to it tomorrow" This fickleness of taste is as angerous as e?aggerationA an both s$ring from the same cause" (o not e$ri!e them of mirth, laughter, noise, an rom$ing games, but o not let them tire of one game an go off to anotherA o not lea!e them for a moment without restraint" Train them to break off their games an return to their other occu$ations without a murmur" 8abit is all that is nee e , as you ha!e nature on your si e" This habitual restraint $ro uces a ocility which woman requires all her life long, for she will always be in subjection to a man, or to man@s ju gment, an she will ne!er be free to set her own o$inion abo!e his" Chat is most wante in a woman is gentlenessA forme to obey a creature so im$erfect as man, a creature often !icious an always faulty, she shoul early learn to submit to injustice an to suffer the wrongs inflicte on her by her husban without com$laintA she must be gentle for her own sake, not his" Bitterness an obstinacy only multi$ly the sufferings of the wife an the mis ee s of the husban A the man feels that these are not the wea$ons to be use against him" 8ea!en i not make women attracti!e an $ersuasi!e that they might egenerate into bitterness, or meek that they shoul esire the masteryA their soft !oice was not meant for har wor s, nor their elicate features for the frowns of anger" Chen they lose their tem$er they forget themsel!esA often enough they ha!e just cause of com$laintA but when they scol they always $ut themsel!es in the wrong" Ce shoul each a o$t the tone which befits our se?A a soft-hearte husban may make an o!erbearing wife, but a man, unless he is a $erfect monster, will sooner or later yiel to his wife@s gentleness, an the !ictory will be hers"

(aughters must always be obe ient, but mothers nee not always be harsh" To make a girl ocile you nee not make her miserableA to make her mo est you nee not terrify herA on the contrary, 9 shoul not be sorry to see her allowe occasionally to e?ercise a little ingenuity, not to esca$e $unishment for her isobe ience, but to e!a e the necessity for obe ience" 8er e$en ence nee not be ma e un$leasant, it is enough that she shoul realise that she is e$en ent" :unning is a natural gift of woman, an so con!ince am 9 that all our natural inclinations are right, that 9 woul culti!ate this among others, only guar ing against its abuse" 7or the truth of this 9 a$$eal to e!ery honest obser!er" 9 o not ask you to question women themsel!es, our cram$ing institutions may com$el them to shar$en their witsA 9 woul ha!e you e?amine girls, little girls, newlyborn so to s$eakA com$are them with boys of the same age, an 9 am greatly mistaken if you o not fin the little boys hea!y, silly, an foolish, in com$arison" %et me gi!e one illustration in all its chil ish sim$licity" :hil ren are commonly forbi en to ask for anything at table, for $eo$le think they can o nothing better in the way of e ucation than to bur en them with useless $rece$tsA as if a little bit of this or that were not rea ily gi!en or refuse without lea!ing a $oor chil ying of gree iness intensifie by ho$e" E!ery one knows how cunningly a little boy brought u$ in this way aske for salt when he ha been o!erlooke at table" 9 o not su$$ose any one will blame him for asking irectly for salt an in irectly for meatA the neglect was so cruel that 9 har ly think he woul ha!e been $unishe ha he broken the rule an sai $lainly that he was hungry" But this is what 9 saw one by a little girl of si?A the circumstances were much more ifficult, for not only was she strictly forbi en to ask for anything irectly or in irectly, but isobe ience woul ha!e been un$ar onable, for she ha eaten of e!ery ishA one only ha been o!erlooke , an on this she ha set her heart" This is what she i to re$air the omission without laying herself o$en to the charge of isobe ienceA she $ointe to e!ery ish in turn, saying, D9@!e ha some of thisA 9@!e ha some of thisAD howe!er she omitte the one ish so marke ly that some one notice it an sai , D8a!e not you ha some of thisED D6h, no,D re$lie the gree y little girl with soft !oice an owncast eyes" These instances are ty$ical of the cunning of the little boy an girl" Chat is, is goo , an no general law can be ba " This s$ecial skill with which the female se? is en owe is a fair equi!alent for its lack of strengthA without it woman woul be man@s sla!e, not his hel$meet" By her su$eriority in this res$ect she maintains her equality with man, an rules in obe ience" )he has e!erything against her, our faults an her own weakness an timi ityA her beauty an her wiles are all that she has" )houl she not culti!ate bothE #et beauty is not uni!ersalA it may be estroye by all sorts of acci ents, it will isa$$ear with years, an habit will estroy its influence" ' woman@s real resource is her witA not that foolish wit which is so greatly a mire in society, a wit which oes nothing to make life ha$$ierA but that wit which is a a$te to her con ition, the art of taking a !antage of our $osition an controlling us through our own strength" Cor s cannot tell how beneficial this is to man, what a charm it gi!es to the society of men an women, how it

checks the $etulant chil an restrains the brutal husban A without it the home woul be a scene of strifeA with it, it is the abo e of ha$$iness" 9 know that this $ower is abuse by the sly an the s$itefulA but what is there that is not liable to abuseE (o not estroy the means of ha$$iness because the wicke use them to our hurt" The toilet may attract notice, but it is the $erson that wins our hearts" 6ur finery is not usA its !ery artificiality often offen s, an that which is least noticeable in itself often wins the most attention" The e ucation of our girls is, in this res$ect, absolutely to$sy-tur!y" 6rnaments are $romise them as rewar s, an they are taught to elight in elaborate finery" D8ow lo!ely she isHD $eo$le say when she is most resse u$" 6n the contrary, they shoul be taught that so much finery is only require to hi e their efects, an that beauty@s real trium$h is to shine alone" The lo!e of fashion is contrary to goo taste, for faces o not change with the fashion, an while the $erson remains unchange , what suits it at one time will suit it always" 9f 9 saw a young girl ecke out like a little $eacock, 9 shoul show myself an?ious about her figure so isguise , an an?ious what $eo$le woul think of herA 9 shoul say, D)he is o!er- resse with all those ornamentsA what a $ityH (o you think she coul o with something sim$lerE 9s she $retty enough to o without this or thatED Possibly she herself woul be the first to ask that her finery might be taken off an that we shoul see how she looke without it" 9n that case her beauty shoul recei!e such $raise as it eser!es" 9 shoul ne!er $raise her unless sim$ly resse " 9f she only regar s fine clothes as an ai to $ersonal beauty, an as a tacit confession that she nee s their ai , she will not be $rou of her finery, she will be humble by itA an if she hears some one say, D8ow $retty she is,D when she is smarter than usual, she will blush for shame" >oreo!er, though there are figures that require a ornment there are none that require e?$ensi!e clothes" E?tra!agance in ress is the folly of the class rather than the in i!i ual, it is merely con!entional" Genuine coquetry is sometimes carefully thought out, but ne!er sum$tuous, an Juno resse herself more magnificently than Genus" D's you cannot make her beautiful you are making her fine,D sai '$elles to an unskilful artist who was $ainting 8elen loa e with jewellery" 9 ha!e also notice that the smartest clothes $roclaim the $lainest womenA no folly coul be more misgui e " 9f a young girl has goo taste an a contem$t for fashion, gi!e her a few yar s of ribbon, muslin, an gauFe, an a han ful of flowers, without any iamon s, fringes, or lace, an she will make herself a ress a hun re fol more becoming than all the smart clothes of %a (ucha$t" Goo is always goo , an as you shoul always look your best, the women who know what they are about select a goo style an kee$ to it, an as they are not always changing their style they think less about ress than those who can ne!er settle to any one style" ' genuine esire to ress becomingly oes not require an elaborate toilet" #oung girls rarely gi!e much time to ressA nee lework an lessons are the business of the ayA yet, e?ce$t for the rouge, they are generally as carefully resse as ol er women an often in better taste" :ontrary to the usual

o$inion, the real cause of the abuse of the toilet is not !anity but lack of occu$ation" The woman who e!otes si? hours to her toilet is well aware that she is no better resse than the woman who took half an hour, but she has got ri of so many of the te ious hours an it is better to amuse oneself with one@s clothes than to be sick of e!erything" Cithout the toilet how woul she s$en the time between inner an su$$er" Cith a crow of women about her, she can at least cause them annoyance, which is amusement of a kin A better still she a!oi s a tete-a-tete with the husban whom she ne!er sees at any other timeA then there are the tra es$eo$le, the ealers in bric-a-brac, the fine gentlemen, the minor $oets with their songs, their !erses, an their $am$hletsA how coul you get them together but for the toilet" 9ts only real a !antage is the chance of a little more is$lay than is $ermitte by full ress, an $erha$s this is less than it seems an a woman gains less than she thinks" (o not be afrai to e ucate your women as womenA teach them a woman@s business, that they be mo est, that they may know how to manage their house an look after their familyA the gran toilet will soon isa$$ear, an they will be more tastefully resse " Growing girls $ercei!e at once that all this outsi e a ornment is not enough unless they ha!e charms of their own" They cannot make themsel!es beautiful, they are too young for coquetry, but they are not too young to acquire graceful gestures, a $leasing !oice, a self-$ossesse manner, a light ste$, a graceful bearing, to choose whate!er a !antages are within their reach" The !oice e?ten s its range, it grows stronger an more resonant, the arms become $lum$er, the bearing more assure , an they $ercei!e that it is easy to attract attention howe!er resse " <ee lework an in ustry suffice no longer, fresh gifts are e!elo$ing an their usefulness is alrea y recognise " 9 know that stern teachers woul ha!e us refuse to teach little girls to sing or ance, or to acquire any of the $leasing arts" This strikes me as absur " Cho shoul learn these artsBour boysE 're these to be the fa!ourite accom$lishments of men or womenE 6f neither, say theyA $rofane songs are sim$ly so many crimes, ancing is an in!ention of the E!il 6neA her tasks an her $rayers we all the amusement a young girl shoul ha!e" Chat strange amusements for a chil of tenH 9 fear that these little saints who ha!e been force to s$en their chil hoo in $rayers to Go will $ass their youth in another fashionA when they are marrie they will try to make u$ for lost time" 9 think we must consi er age as well as se?A a young girl shoul not li!e like her gran motherA she shoul be li!ely, merry, an eagerA she shoul sing an ance to her heart@s content, an enjoy all the innocent $leasures of youthA the time will come, all too soon, when she must settle own an a o$t a more serious tone" But is this change in itself really necessaryE 9s it not merely another result of our own $reju icesE By making goo women the sla!es of ismal uties, we ha!e e$ri!e marriage of its charm for men" :an we won er that the gloomy silence they fin at home ri!es them elsewhere, or ins$ires little esire to enter a state which offers so few attractionsE :hristianity, by e?aggerating e!ery uty, has ma e our

uties im$racticable an uselessA by forbi ing singing, ancing, an amusements of e!ery kin , it ren ers women sulky, fault-fin ing, an intolerable at home" There is no religion which im$oses such strict uties u$on marrie life, an none in which such a sacre engagement is so often $rofane " )uch $ains has been taken to $re!ent wi!es being amiable, that their husban s ha!e become in ifferent to them" This shoul not be, 9 grant you, but it will be, since husban s are but men" 9 woul ha!e an English mai en culti!ate the talents which will elight her husban as Fealously as the :ircassian culti!ates the accom$lishments of an Eastern harem" 8usban s, you say, care little for such accom$lishments" )o 9 shoul su$$ose, when they are em$loye , not for the husban , but to attract the young rakes who ishonour the home" But imagine a !irtuous an charming wife, a orne with such accom$lishments an e!oting them to her husban @s amusementA will she not a to his ha$$inessE Chen he lea!es his office worn out with the ay@s work, will she not $re!ent him seeking recreation elsewhereE 8a!e we not all behel ha$$y families gathere together, each contributing to the general amusementE 're not the confi ence an familiarity thus establishe , the innocence an the charm of the $leasures thus enjoye , more than enough to make u$ for the more riotous $leasures of $ublic entertainmentsE Pleasant accom$lishments ha!e been ma e too formal an affair of rules an $rece$ts, so that young $eo$le fin them !ery te ious instea of a mere amusement or a merry game as they ought to be" <othing can be more absur than an el erly singing or ancing master frowning u$on young $eo$le, whose one esire is to laugh, an a o$ting a more $e antic an magisterial manner in teaching his fri!olous art than if he were teaching the catechism" Take the case of singingA oes this art e$en on rea ing musicA cannot the !oice be ma e true an fle?ible, can we not learn to sing with taste an e!en to $lay an accom$animent without knowing a noteE (oes the same kin of singing suit all !oices alikeE 9s the same metho a a$te to e!ery min E #ou will ne!er $ersua e me that the same attitu es, the same ste$s, the same mo!ements, the same gestures, the same ances will suit a li!ely little brunette an a tall fair mai en with languishing eyes" )o when 9 fin a master gi!ing the same lessons to all his $u$ils 9 say, D8e has his own routine, but he knows nothing of his artHD )houl young girls ha!e masters or mistressesE 9 cannot sayA 9 wish they coul is$ense with bothA 9 wish they coul learn of their own accor what they are alrea y so willing to learn" 9 wish there were fewer of these resse -u$ ol ballet masters $romena ing our streets" 9 fear our young $eo$le will get more harm from intercourse with such $eo$le than $rofit from their instruction, an that their jargon, their tone, their airs an graces, will instil a $recocious taste for the fri!olities which the teacher thinks so im$ortant, an to which the scholars are only too likely to e!ote themsel!es" Chere $leasure is the only en in !iew, any one may ser!e as teacherB father, mother, brother, sister, frien , go!erness, the girl@s mirror, an abo!e all her own taste" (o not offer to teach, let her askA o not make a

task of what shoul be a rewar , an in these stu ies abo!e all remember that the wish to succee is the first ste$" 9f formal instruction is require 9 lea!e it to you to choose between a master an a mistress" 8ow can 9 tell whether a ancing master shoul take a young $u$il by her soft white han , make her lift her skirt an raise her eyes, o$en her arms an a !ance her throbbing bosomE but this 9 know, nothing on earth woul in uce me to be that master" Taste is forme $artly by in ustry an $artly by talent, an by its means the min is unconsciously o$ene to the i ea of beauty of e!ery kin , till at length it attains to those moral i eas which are so closely relate to beauty" Perha$s this is one reason why i eas of $ro$riety an mo esty are acquire earlier by girls than by boys, for to su$$ose that this early feeling is ue to the teaching of the go!ernesses woul show little knowle ge of their style of teaching an of the natural e!elo$ment of the human min " The art of s$eaking stan s first among the $leasing artsA it alone can a fresh charms to those which ha!e been blunte by habit" 9t is the min which not only gi!es life to the bo y, but renews, so to s$eak, its youthA the flow of feelings an i eas gi!e life an !ariety to the countenance, an the con!ersation to which it gi!es rise arouses an sustains attention, an fi?es it continuously on one object" 9 su$$ose this is why little girls so soon learn to $rattle $rettily, an why men enjoy listening to them e!en before the chil can un erstan themA they are watching for the first gleam of intelligence an sentiment" Comen ha!e rea y tonguesA they talk earlier, more easily, an more $leasantly than men" They are also sai to talk moreA this may be true, but 9 am $re$are to reckon it to their cre itA eyes an mouth are equally busy an for the same cause" ' man says what he knows, a woman says what will $leaseA the one nee s knowle ge, the other tasteA utility shoul be the man@s objectA the woman s$eaks to gi!e $leasure" There shoul be nothing in common but truth" #ou shoul not check a girl@s $rattle like a boy@s by the harsh question, DChat is the use of thatED but by another question at least as ifficult to answer, DChat effect will that ha!eED 't this early age when they know neither goo nor e!il, an are inca$able of ju ging others, they shoul make this their rule an ne!er say anything which is un$leasant to those about themA this rule is all the more ifficult to a$$ly because it must always be subor inate to our first rule, D<e!er tell a lie"D 9 can see many other ifficulties, but they belong to a later stage" 7or the $resent it is enough for your little girls to s$eak the truth without grossness, an as they are naturally a!erse to what is gross, e ucation easily teaches them to a!oi it" 9n social intercourse 9 obser!e that a man@s $oliteness is usually more hel$ful an a woman@s more caressing" This istinction is natural, not artificial" ' man seeks to ser!e, a woman seeks to $lease" 8ence a woman@s $oliteness is less insincere than ours, whate!er we may think of her characterA for she is only acting u$on a fun amental instinctA but when a man $rofesses to $ut my interests before his own, 9 etect the falsehoo , howe!er isguise " 8ence it is easy for women to be $olite, an easy to teach little girls $oliteness" The first lessons come by natureA art only su$$lements them an etermines

the con!entional form which $oliteness shall take" The courtesy of woman to woman is another matterA their manner is so constraine , their attentions so chilly, they fin each other so wearisome, that they take little $ains to conceal the fact, an seem sincere e!en in their falsehoo , since they take so little $ains to conceal it" )till young girls o sometimes become sincerely attache to one another" 't their age goo s$irits take the $lace of a goo is$osition, an they are so $lease with themsel!es that they are $lease with e!ery one else" >oreo!er, it is certain that they kiss each other more affectionately an caress each other more gracefully in the $resence of men, for they are $rou to be able to arouse their en!y without anger to themsel!es by the sight of fa!ours which they know will arouse that en!y" 9f young boys must not be allowe to ask unsuitable questions, much more must they be forbi en to little girlsA if their curiosity is satisfie or unskilfully e!a e it is a much more serious matter, for they are so keen to guess the mysteries conceale from them an so skilful to isco!er them" But while 9 woul not $ermit them to ask questions, 9 woul ha!e them questione frequently, an $ains shoul be taken to make them talkA let them be tease to make them s$eak freely, to make them answer rea ily, to loosen min an tongue while it can be one without anger" )uch con!ersation always lea ing to merriment, yet skilfully controlle an irecte , woul form a elightful amusement at this age an might instil into these youthful hearts the first an $erha$s the most hel$ful lessons in morals which they will e!er recei!e, by teaching them in the guise of $leasure an fun what qualities are esteeme by men an what is the true glory an ha$$iness of a goo woman" 9f boys are inca$able of forming any true i ea of religion, much more is it beyon the gras$ of girlsA an for this reason 9 woul s$eak of it all the sooner to little girls, for if we wait till they are rea y for a serious iscussion of these ee$ subjects we shoul be in anger of ne!er s$eaking of religion at all" ' woman@s reason is $ractical, an therefore she soon arri!es at a gi!en conclusion, but she fails to isco!er it for herself" The social relation of the se?es is a won erful thing" This relation $ro uces a moral $erson of which woman is the eye an man the han , but the two are so e$en ent on one another that the man teaches the woman what to see, while she teaches him what to o" 9f women coul isco!er $rinci$les an if men ha as goo hea s for etail, they woul be mutually in e$en ent, they woul li!e in $er$etual strife, an there woul be an en to all society" But in their mutual harmony each contributes to a common $ur$oseA each follows the other@s lea , each comman s an each obeys" 's a woman@s con uct is controlle by $ublic o$inion, so is her religion rule by authority" The aughter shoul follow her mother@s religion, the wife her husban @s" Cere that religion false, the ocility which lea s mother an aughter to submit to nature@s laws woul blot out the sin of error in the sight of Go " ;nable to ju ge for themsel!es they shoul acce$t the ju gment of father an husban as that of the church" Chile women unai e cannot e uce the rules of their faith, neither can they assign limits to that faith by the e!i ence of reasonA they allow

themsel!es to be ri!en hither an thither by all sorts of e?ternal influences, they are e!er abo!e or below the truth" E?treme in e!erything, they are either altogether reckless or altogether $iousA you ne!er fin them able to combine !irtue an $iety" Their natural e?aggeration is not wholly to blameA the ill-regulate control e?ercise o!er them by men is $artly res$onsible" %oose morals bring religion into contem$tA the terrors of remorse make it a tyrantA this is why women ha!e always too much or too little religion" 's a woman@s religion is controlle by authority it is more im$ortant to show her $lainly what to belie!e than to e?$lain the reasons for beliefA for faith attache to i eas half-un erstoo is the main source of fanaticism, an faith eman e on behalf of what is absur lea s to ma ness or unbelief" Chether our catechisms ten to $ro uce im$iety rather than fanaticism 9 cannot say, but 9 o know that they lea to one or other" 9n the first $lace, when you teach religion to little girls ne!er make it gloomy or tiresome, ne!er make it a task or a uty, an therefore ne!er gi!e them anything to learn by heart, not e!en their $rayers" Be content to say your own $rayers regularly in their $resence, but o not com$el them to join you" %et their $rayers be short, as :hrist himself has taught us" %et them always be sai with becoming re!erence an res$ectA remember that if we ask the 'lmighty to gi!e hee to our wor s, we shoul at least gi!e hee to what we mean to say" 9t oes not much matter that a girl shoul learn her religion young, but it oes matter that she shoul learn it thoroughly, an still more that she shoul learn to lo!e it" 9f you make religion a bur en to her, if you always s$eak of Go @s anger, if in the name of religion you im$ose all sorts of isagreeable uties, uties which she ne!er sees you $erform, what can she su$$ose but that to learn one@s catechism an to say one@s $rayers is only the uty of a little girl, an she will long to be grown-u$ to esca$e, like you, from these uties" E?am$leH E?am$leH Cithout it you will ne!er succee in teaching chil ren anything" Chen you e?$lain the 'rticles of 7aith let it be by irect teaching, not by question an answer" :hil ren shoul only answer what they think, not what has been rille into them" 'll the answers in the catechism are the wrong way aboutA it is the scholar who instructs the teacherA in the chil @s mouth they are a ownright lie, since they e?$lain what he oes not un erstan , an affirm what he cannot belie!e" 7in me, if you can, an intelligent man who coul honestly say his catechism" The first question 9 fin in our catechism is as follows& DCho create you an brought you into the worl ED To which the girl, who thinks it was her mother, re$lies without hesitation, D9t was Go "D 'll she knows is that she is aske a question which she only half un erstan s an she gi!es an answer she oes not un erstan at all" 9 wish some one who really un erstan s the e!elo$ment of chil ren@s min s woul write a catechism for them" 9t might be the most useful book e!er written, an , in my o$inion, it woul o its author no little honour" This at least is certainBif it were a goo book it woul be !ery unlike our catechisms"

)uch a catechism will not be satisfactory unless the chil can answer the questions of its own accor without ha!ing to learn the answersA in ee the chil will often ask the questions itself" 'n e?am$le is require to make my meaning $lain an 9 feel how ill equi$$e 9 am to furnish such an e?am$le" 9 will try to gi!e some sort of outline of my meaning" To get to the first question in our catechism 9 su$$ose we must begin somewhat after the following fashion" <;R)E& (o you remember when your mother was a little girlE :89%(& <o, nurse" <;R)E& Chy not, when you ha!e such a goo memoryE :89%(& 9 was not ali!e" <;R)E& Then you were not always ali!eH :89%(& <o" <;R)E& Cill you li!e for e!erH :89%(& #es" <;R)E& 're you young or ol E :89%(& 9 am young" <;R)E& 9s your gran mamma ol or youngE :89%(& )he is ol " <;R)E& Cas she e!er youngE :89%(& #es" <;R)E& Chy is she not young nowE :89%(& )he has grown ol " <;R)E& Cill you grow ol tooE :89%(& 9 on@t know" <;R)E& Chere are your last year@s frocksE :89%(& They ha!e been un$icke " <;R)E& ChyH :89%(& Because they were too small for me" <;R)E& Chy were they too smallE :89%(& 9 ha!e grown bigger" <;R)E& Cill you grow any moreH

:89%(& 6h, yes" <;R)E& 'n what becomes of big girlsE :89%(& They grow into women" <;R)E& 'n what becomes of womenH :89%(& They are mothers" <;R)E& 'n what becomes of mothersE :89%(& They grow ol " <;R)E& Cill you grow ol E :89%(& Chen 9 am a mother" <;R)E& 'n what becomes of ol $eo$leE :89%(& 9 on@t know" <;R)E& Chat became of your gran fatherE :89%(& 8e ie " .7ootnote& The chil will say this because she has hear it sai A but you must make sure she knows what eath is, for the i ea is not so sim$le an within the chil @s gras$ as $eo$le think" 9n that little $oem D'belD you will fin an e?am$le of the way to teach them" This charming work breathes a elightful sim$licity with which one shoul fee one@s own min so as to talk with chil ren"3 <;R)E& Chy i he ieE :89%(& Because he was so ol " <;R)E& Chat becomes of ol $eo$leH :89%(& They ie" <;R)E& 'n when you are ol BBE :89%(& 6h nurseH 9 on@t want to ieH <;R)E& >y ear, no one wants to ie, an e!erybo y ies" :89%(& Chy, will mamma ie tooH <;R)E& #es, like e!erybo y else" Comen grow ol as well as men, an ol age en s in eath" :89%(& Chat must 9 o to grow ol !ery, !ery slowlyE <;R)E& Be goo while you are little" :89%(& 9 will always be goo , nurse" <;R)E& )o much the better" But o you su$$ose you will li!e for e!erE :89%(& Chen 9 am !ery, !ery ol BB

<;R)E& CellE :89%(& Chen we are so !ery ol you say we must ieE <;R)E& #ou must ie some ay" :89%(& 6h earH 9 su$$ose 9 must" <;R)E& Cho li!e before youE :89%(& >y father an mother" <;R)E& 'n before themE :89%(& Their father an mother" <;R)E& Cho will li!e after youE :89%(& >y chil ren" <;R)E& Cho will li!e after themE :89%(& Their chil ren"

9n this way, by concrete e?am$les, you will fin a beginning an en for the human race like e!erything elseBthat is to say, a father an mother who ne!er ha a father an mother, an chil ren who will ne!er ha!e chil ren of their own" 9t is only after a long course of similar questions that we are rea y for the first question in the catechismA then alone can we $ut the question an the chil may be able to un erstan it" But what a ga$ there is between the first an the secon question which is concerne with the efinitions of the i!ine nature" Chen will this chasm be bri ge E DGo is a s$irit"D D'n what is a s$iritED )hall 9 start the chil u$on this ifficult question of meta$hysics which grown men fin so har to un erstan E These are no questions for a little girl to answerA if she asks them, it is as much or more than we can e?$ect" 9n that case 9 shoul tell her quite sim$ly, D#ou ask me what Go isA it is not easy to sayA we can neither hear nor see nor han le Go A we can only know 8im by 8is works" To learn what 8e is, you must wait till you know what 8e has one"D 9f our ogmas are all equally true, they are not equally im$ortant" 9t makes little ifference to the glory of Go that we shoul $ercei!e it e!erywhere, but it oes make a ifference to human society, an to e!ery member of that society, that a man shoul know an o the uties which are lai u$on him by the law of Go , his uty to his neighbour an to himself" This is what we shoul always be teaching one another, an it is this which fathers an mothers are s$ecially boun to teach their little ones" Chether a !irgin became the mother of her :reator, whether she ga!e birth to Go , or merely to a man into whom Go has entere , whether the 7ather an the )on are of the same substance or of like substance only, whether the )$irit $rocee e from one or both of these who are but one, or from both together, howe!er im$ortant these questions may seem, 9 cannot see that it is any more necessary for the human race to come to a ecision with regar to them than to know what ay to kee$ Easter, or whether we shoul tell our bea s, fast, an refuse to eat meat, s$eak %atin or 7rench in church, a orn the walls with statues, hear or say mass, an ha!e no wife of our own" %et each think as he $leasesA 9 cannot see that it matters to any one but himselfA for my own $art it is no concern of mine" But what oes concern my fellowcreatures an myself alike is to know that there is in ee a ju ge of human fate, that we are all 8is chil ren, that 8e bi s us all be just, 8e bi s us lo!e one another, 8e bi s us be kin ly an merciful, 8e bi s us kee$ our wor with all men, e!en with our own enemies an 8isA we must know that the a$$arent ha$$iness of this worl is naughtA that there is another life to come, in which this )u$reme Being will be the rewar er of the just an the ju ge of the unjust" :hil ren nee to be taught these octrines an others like them an all citiFens require to be $ersua e of their truth" Choe!er sets his face against these octrines is in ee guiltyA he is the isturber of the $eace, the enemy of society" Choe!er goes beyon these octrines an seeks to make us the sla!es of his $ri!ate o$inions, reaches the same goal by another wayA to establish his own kin of or er he isturbs the $eaceA in his rash $ri e he makes himself

the inter$reter of the (i!ine, an in 8is name eman s the homage an the re!erence of mankin A so far as may be, he sets himself in Go @s $laceA he shoul recei!e the $unishment of sacrilege if he is not $unishe for his intolerance" Gi!e no hee , therefore, to all those mysterious octrines which are wor s without i eas for us, all those strange teachings, the stu y of which is too often offere as a substitute for !irtue, a stu y which more often makes men ma rather than goo " =ee$ your chil ren e!er within the little circle of ogmas which are relate to morality" :on!ince them that the only useful learning is that which teaches us to act rightly" (o not make your aughters theologians an casuistsA only teach them such things of hea!en as con uce to human goo nessA train them to feel that they are always in the $resence of Go , who sees their thoughts an ee s, their !irtue an their $leasuresA teach them to o goo without ostentation an because they lo!e it, to suffer e!il without a murmur, because Go will rewar themA in a wor to be all their life long what they will be gla to ha!e been when they a$$ear in 8is $resence" This is true religionA this alone is inca$able of abuse, im$iety, or fanaticism" %et those who will, teach a religion more sublime, but this is the only religion 9 know" >oreo!er, it is as well to obser!e that, until the age when the reason becomes enlightene , when growing emotion gi!es a !oice to conscience, what is wrong for young $eo$le is what those about ha!e eci e to be wrong" Chat they are tol to o is goo A what they are forbi en to o is ba A that is all they ought to know& this shows how im$ortant it is for girls, e!en more than for boys, that the right $eo$le shoul be chosen to be with them an to ha!e authority o!er them" 't last there comes a time when they begin to ju ge things for themsel!es, an that is the time to change your metho of e ucation" Perha$s 9 ha!e sai too much alrea y" To what shall we re uce the e ucation of our women if we gi!e them no law but that of con!entional $reju iceE %et us not egra e so far the set which rules o!er us, an which oes us honour when we ha!e not ma e it !ile" 7or all mankin there is a law anterior to that of $ublic o$inion" 'll other laws shoul ben before the infle?ible control of this lawA it is the ju ge of $ublic o$inion, an only in so far as the esteem of men is in accor ance with this law has it any claim on our obe ience" This law is our in i!i ual conscience" 9 will not re$eat what has been sai alrea yA it is enough to $oint out that if these two laws clash, the e ucation of women will always be im$erfect" Right feeling without res$ect for $ublic o$inion will not gi!e them that elicacy of soul which len s to right con uct the charm of social a$$ro!alA while res$ect for $ublic o$inion without right feeling will only make false an wicke women who $ut a$$earances in the $lace of !irtue" 9t is, therefore, im$ortant to culti!ate a faculty which ser!es as ju ge between the two gui es, which oes not $ermit conscience to go astray an corrects the errors of $reju ice" That faculty is reason" But what a crow of questions arise at this wor " 're women ca$able of soli reasonA

shoul they culti!ate it, can they culti!ate it successfullyE 9s this culture useful in relation to the functions lai u$on themE 9s it com$atible with becoming sim$licityE The ifferent ways of en!isaging an answering these questions lea to two e?tremesA some woul ha!e us kee$ women in oors sewing an s$inning with their mai sA thus they make them nothing more than the chief ser!ant of their master" 6thers, not content to secure their rights, lea them to usur$ oursA for to make woman our su$erior in all the qualities $ro$er to her se?, an to make her our equal in all the rest, what is this but to transfer to the woman the su$eriority which nature has gi!en to her husban E The reason which teaches a man his uties is not !ery com$le?A the reason which teaches a woman hers is e!en sim$ler" The obe ience an fi elity which she owes to her husban , the ten erness an care ue to her chil ren, are such natural an selfe!i ent consequences of her $osition that she cannot honestly refuse her consent to the inner !oice which is her gui e, nor fail to iscern her uty in her natural inclination" 9 woul not altogether blame those who woul restrict a woman to the labours of her se? an woul lea!e her in $rofoun ignorance of e!erything elseA but that woul require a stan ar of morality at once !ery sim$le an !ery healthy, or a life with rawn from the worl " 9n great towns, among immoral men, such a woman woul be too easily le astrayA her !irtue woul too often be at the mercy of circumstancesA in this age of $hiloso$hy, !irtue must be able to resist tem$tationA she must know beforehan what she may hear an what she shoul think of it" >oreo!er, in submission to man@s ju gment she shoul eser!e his esteemA abo!e all she shoul obtain the esteem of her husban A she shoul not only make him lo!e her $erson, she shoul make him a$$ro!e her con uctA she shoul justify his choice before the worl , an o honour to her husban through the honour gi!en to the wife" But how can she set about this task if she is ignorant of our institutions, our customs, our notions of $ro$riety, if she knows nothing of the source of man@s ju gment, nor the $assions by which it is swaye H )ince she e$en s both on her own conscience an on $ublic o$inion, she must learn to know an reconcile these two laws, an to $ut her own conscience first only when the two are o$$ose to each other" )he becomes the ju ge of her own ju ges, she eci es when she shoul obey an when she shoul refuse her obe ience" )he weighs their $reju ices before she acce$ts or rejects themA she learns to trace them to their source, to foresee what they will be, an to turn them in her own fa!ourA she is careful ne!er to gi!e cause for blame if uty allows her to a!oi it" This cannot be $ro$erly one without culti!ating her min an reason" 9 always come back to my first $rinci$le an it su$$lies the solution of all my ifficulties" 9 stu y what is, 9 seek its cause, an 9 isco!er in the en that what is, is goo " 9 go to houses where the master an mistress o the honours together" They are equally well e ucate , equally $olite, equally well equi$$e with wit an goo taste, both of them are ins$ire with the same esire to gi!e their guests a goo rece$tion an to sen e!ery one away satisfie " The husban omits no $ains to be attenti!e to

e!ery oneA he comes an goes an sees to e!ery one an takes all sorts of troubleA he is attention itself" The wife remains in her $laceA a little circle gathers roun her an a$$arently conceals the rest of the com$any from herA yet she sees e!erything that goes on, no one goes without a wor with herA she has omitte nothing which might interest anybo y, she has sai nothing un$leasant to any one, an without any fuss the least is no more o!erlooke than the greatest" (inner is announce , they take their $lacesA the man knowing the assemble guests will $lace them accor ing to his knowle geA the wife, without $re!ious acquaintance, ne!er makes a mistakeA their looks an bearing ha!e alrea y shown her what is wante an e!ery one will fin himself where he wishes to be" 9 o not assert that the ser!ants forget no one" The master of the house may ha!e omitte no one, but the mistress $ercei!es what you like an sees that you get itA while she is talking to her neighbour she has one eye on the other en of the tableA she sees who is not eating because he is not hungry an who is afrai to hel$ himself because he is clumsy an timi " Chen the guests lea!e the table e!ery one thinks she has ha no thought but for him, e!erybo y thinks she has ha no time to eat anything, but she has really eaten more than anybo y" Chen the guests are gone, husban an wife tails o!er the e!ents of the e!ening" 8e relates what was sai to him, what was sai an one by those with whom he con!erse " 9f the la y is not always quite e?act in this res$ect, yet on the other han she $ercei!e what was whis$ere at the other en of the roomA she knows what so-an -so thought, an what was the meaning of this s$eech or that gestureA there is scarcely a change of e?$ression for which she has not an e?$lanation in rea iness, an she is almost always right" The same turn of min which makes a woman of the worl such an e?cellent hostess, enables a flirt to e?cel in the art of amusing a number of suitors" :oquetry, cle!erly carrie out, eman s an e!en finer iscernment than courtesyA $ro!i e a $olite la y is ci!il to e!erybo y, she has one fairly well in any caseA but the flirt woul soon lose her hol by such clumsy uniformityA if she tries to be $leasant to all her lo!ers alike, she will isgust them all" 9n or inary social intercourse the manners a o$te towar s e!erybo y are goo enough for allA no question is aske as to $ri!ate likes or islikes $ro!i e all are alike well recei!e " But in lo!e, a fa!our share with others is an insult" ' man of feeling woul rather be single out for ill-treatment than be caresse with the crow , an the worst that can befall him is to be treate like e!ery one else" )o a woman who wants to kee$ se!eral lo!ers at her feet must $ersua e e!ery one of them that she $refers him, an she must contri!e to o this in the sight of all the rest, each of whom is equally con!ince that he is her fa!ourite" 9f you want to see a man in a quan ary, $lace him between two women with each of whom he has a secret un erstan ing, an see what a fool he looks" But $ut a woman in similar circumstances between two men, an the results will be e!en more remarkableA you will be astonishe at the skill with which she cheats them both, an makes them laugh at each other" <ow if that woman were to show the same confi ence in both, if

she were to be equally familiar with both, how coul they be ecei!e for a momentE 9f she treate them alike, woul she not show that they both ha the same claims u$on herE 6h, she is far too cle!er for thatA so far from treating them just alike, she makes a marke ifference between them, an she oes it so skilfully that the man she flatters thinks it is affection, an the man she ill uses think it is s$ite" )o that each of them belie!es she is thinking of him, when she is thinking of no one but herself" ' general esire to $lease suggests similar measuresA $eo$le woul be isguste with a woman@s whims if they were not skilfully manage , an when they are artistically istribute her ser!ants are more than e!er ensla!e " D;sa ogn@arte la onna, on e sia colto <ella sua rete alcun no!ello amanteA <e con tutti, ne sem$re un stesso !olto )erbaA ma cangia a tem$o atto e sembiante"D Tasso, Jerus" (el", c" i!", !" 42" Chat is the secret of this artE 9s it not the result of a elicate an continuous obser!ation which shows her what is taking $lace in a man@s heart, so that she is able to encourage or to check e!ery hi en im$ulseE :an this art be acquire E <oA it is born with womenA it is common to them all, an men ne!er show it to the same egree" 9t is one of the istincti!e characters of the se?" )elf-$ossession, $enetration, elicate obser!ation, this is a woman@s scienceA the skill to make use of it is her chief accom$lishment" This is what is, an we ha!e seen why it is so" 9t is sai that women are false" They become false" They are really en owe with skill not u$licityA in the genuine inclinations of their se? they are not false e!en when they tell a lie" Chy o you consult their wor s when it is not their mouths that s$eakE :onsult their eyes, their colour, their breathing, their timi manner, their slight resistance, that is the language nature ga!e them for your answer" The li$s always say D<o,D an rightly soA but the tone is not always the same, an that cannot lie" 8as not a woman the same nee s as a man, but without the same right to make them knownE 8er fate woul be too cruel if she ha no language in which to e?$ress her legitimate esires e?ce$t the wor s which she are not utter" >ust her mo esty con emn her to miseryE (oes she not require a means of in icating her inclinations without o$en e?$ressionE Chat skill is nee e to hi e from her lo!er what she woul fain re!ealH 9s it not of !ital im$ortance that she shoul learn to touch his heart without showing that she cares for himE 9t is a $retty story that tale of Galatea with her a$$le an her clumsy flight" Chat more is nee e E Cill she tell the she$her who $ursues her among the willows that she only flees that he may followE 9f she i , it woul be a lieA for she woul no longer attract him" The more mo est a woman is, the more art she nee s, e!en with her husban " #es, 9 maintain that coquetry, ke$t within boun s, becomes mo est an true, an out of it s$rings a law of right con uct"

6ne of my o$$onents has !ery truly asserte that !irtue is oneA you cannot isintegrate it an choose this an reject the other" 9f you lo!e !irtue, you lo!e it in its entirety, an you close your heart when you can, an you always close your li$s to the feelings which you ought not to allow" >oral truth is not only what is, but what is goo A what is ba ought not to be, an ought not to be confesse , es$ecially when that confession $ro uces results which might ha!e been a!oi e " 9f 9 were tem$te to steal, an in confessing it 9 tem$te another to become my accom$lice, the !ery confession of my tem$tation woul amount to a yiel ing to that tem$tation" Chy o you say that mo esty makes women falseE 're those who lose their mo esty more sincere than the restE <ot so, they are a thousan fol more eceitful" This egree of e$ra!ity is ue to many !ices, none of which is rejecte , !ices which owe their $ower to intrigue an falsehoo " .7ootnote& 9 know that women who ha!e o$enly eci e on a certain course of con uct $rofess that their lack of concealment is a !irtue in itself, an swear that, with one e?ce$tion, they are $ossesse of all the !irtuesA but 9 am sure they ne!er $ersua e any but fools to belie!e them" Chen the natural curb is remo!e from their se?, what is there left to restrain themE Chat honour will they $riFe when they ha!e rejecte the honour of their se?E 8a!ing once gi!en the rein to $assion they ha!e no longer any reason for self-control" D<ec femina, amissa $u icitia, alia abnuerit"D <o author e!er un erstoo more thoroughly the heart of both se?es than Tacitus when he wrote those wor s"3 6n the other han , those who are not utterly shameless, who take no $ri e in their faults, who are able to conceal their esires e!en from those who ins$ire them, those who confess their $assion most reluctantly, these are the truest an most sincere, these are they on whose fi elity you may generally rely" The only e?am$le 9 know which might be quote as a recognise e?ce$tion to these remarks is >lle" e %@EnclosA an she was consi ere a $ro igy" 9n her scorn for the !irtues of women, she $ractise , so they say, the !irtues of a man" )he is $raise for her frankness an u$rightnessA she was a trustworthy acquaintance an a faithful frien " To com$lete the $icture of her glory it is sai that she became a man" That may be, but in s$ite of her high re$utation 9 shoul no more esire that man as my frien than as my mistress" This is not so irrele!ant as it seems" 9 am aware of the ten encies of our mo ern $hiloso$hy which make a jest of female mo esty an its socalle insincerityA 9 also $ercei!e that the most certain result of this $hiloso$hy will be to e$ri!e the women of this century of such shre s of honour as they still $ossess" 6n these groun s 9 think we may eci e in general terms what sort of e ucation is suite to the female min , an the objects to which we shoul turn its attention in early youth" 's 9 ha!e alrea y sai , the uties of their se? are more easily recognise than $erforme " They must learn in the first $lace to lo!e those uties by consi ering the a !antages to be eri!e from themBthat is the only way to make uty easy" E!ery age an con ition has its own uties" Ce

are quick to see our uty if we lo!e it" 8onour your $osition as a woman, an in whate!er station of life to which it shall $lease hea!en to call you, you will be well off" The essential thing is to be what nature has ma e youA women are only too rea y to be what men woul ha!e them" The search for abstract an s$eculati!e truths, for $rinci$les an a?ioms in science, for all that ten s to wi e generalisation, is beyon a woman@s gras$A their stu ies shoul be thoroughly $ractical" 9t is their business to a$$ly the $rinci$les isco!ere by men, it is their $lace to make the obser!ations which lea men to isco!er those $rinci$les" ' woman@s thoughts, beyon the range of her imme iate uties, shoul be irecte to the stu y of men, or the acquirement of that agreeable learning whose sole en is the formation of tasteA for the works of genius are beyon her reach, an she has neither the accuracy nor the attention for success in the e?act sciencesA as for the $hysical sciences, to eci e the relations between li!ing creatures an the laws of nature is the task of that se? which is more acti!e an enter$rising, which sees more things, that se? which is $ossesse of greater strength an is more accustome to the e?ercise of that strength" Coman, weak as she is an limite in her range of obser!ation, $ercei!es an ju ges the forces at her is$osal to su$$lement her weakness, an those forces are the $assions of man" 8er own mechanism is more $owerful than oursA she has many le!ers which may set the human heart in motion" )he must fin a way to make us esire what she cannot achie!e unai e an what she consi ers necessary or $leasingA therefore she must ha!e a thorough knowle ge of man@s min A not an abstract knowle ge of the min of man in general, but the min of those men who are about her, the min of those men who ha!e authority o!er her, either by law or custom" )he must learn to i!ine their feelings from s$eech an action, look an gesture" By her own s$eech an action, look an gesture, she must be able to ins$ire them with the feelings she esires, without seeming to ha!e any such $ur$ose" The men will ha!e a better $hiloso$hy of the human heart, but she will rea more accurately in the heart of men" Coman shoul isco!er, so to s$eak, an e?$erimental morality, man shoul re uce it to a system" Coman has more wit, man more geniusA woman obser!es, man reasonsA together they $ro!i e the clearest light an the $rofoun est knowle ge which is $ossible to the unai e human min A in a wor , the surest knowle ge of self an of others of which the human race is ca$able" 9n this way art may constantly ten to the $erfection of the instrument which nature has gi!en us" The worl is woman@s bookA if she rea s it ill, it is either her own fault or she is blin e by $assion" #et the genuine mother of a family is no woman of the worl , she is almost as much of a recluse as the nun in her con!ent" Those who ha!e marriageable aughters shoul o what is or ought to be one for those who are entering the cloisters& they shoul show them the $leasures they forsake before they are allowe to renounce them, lest the eceitful $icture of unknown $leasures shoul cree$ in to isturb the ha$$iness of their retreat" 9n 7rance it is the girls who li!e in con!ents an the wi!es who flaunt in society" 'mong the ancients it was quite otherwiseA girls enjoye , as 9 ha!e sai alrea y, many games an $ublic festi!alsA the marrie women li!e in retirement"

This was a more reasonable custom an more con uci!e to morality" ' girl may be allowe a certain amount of coquetry, an she may be mainly occu$ie at amusement" ' wife has other res$onsibilities at home, an she is no longer on the look-out for a husban A but women woul not a$$reciate the change, an unluckily it is they who set the fashion" >others, let your aughters be your com$anions" Gi!e them goo sense an an honest heart, an then conceal from them nothing that a $ure eye may behol " Balls, assemblies, s$orts, the theatre itselfA e!erything which !iewe amiss elights im$ru ent youth may be safely is$laye to a healthy min " The more they know of these noisy $leasures, the sooner they will cease to esire them" 9 can fancy the outcry with which this will be recei!e " Chat girl will resist such an e?am$leE Their hea s are turne by the first glim$se of the worl A not one of them is rea y to gi!e it u$" That may beA but before you showe them this eceitful $ros$ect, i you $re$are them to behol it without emotionE (i you tell them $lainly what it was they woul seeE (i you show it in its true lightE (i you arm them against the illusions of !anityE (i you ins$ire their young hearts with a taste for the true $leasures which are not to be met with in this tumultE Chat $recautions, what ste$s, i you take to $reser!e them from the false taste which lea s them astrayE <ot only ha!e you one nothing to $reser!e their min s from the tyranny of $reju ice, you ha!e fostere that $reju iceA you ha!e taught them to esire e!ery foolish amusement they can get" #our own e?am$le is their teacher" #oung $eo$le on their entrance into society ha!e no gui e but their mother, who is often just as silly as they are themsel!es, an quite unable to show them things e?ce$t as she sees them herself" 8er e?am$le is stronger than reasonA it justifies them in their own eyes, an the mother@s authority is an unanswerable e?cuse for the aughter" 9f 9 ask a mother to bring her aughter into society, 9 assume that she will show it in its true light" The e!il begins still earlierA the con!ents are regular schools of coquetryA not that honest coquetry which 9 ha!e escribe , but a coquetry the source of e!ery kin of miscon uct, a coquetry which turns out girls who are the most ri iculous little ma ams" Chen they lea!e the con!ent to take their $lace in smart society, young women fin themsel!es quite at home" They ha!e been e ucate for such a lifeA is it strange that they like itE 9 am afrai what 9 am going to say may be base on $reju ice rather than obser!ation, but so far as 9 can see, one fin s more family affection, more goo wi!es an lo!ing mothers in Protestant than in :atholic countriesA if that is so, we cannot fail to sus$ect that the ifference is $artly ue to the con!ent schools" The charms of a $eaceful family life must be known to be enjoye A their elights shoul be taste in chil hoo " 9t is only in our father@s home that we learn to lo!e our own, an a woman whose mother i not e ucate her herself will not be willing to e ucate her own chil ren" ;nfortunately, there is no such thing as home e ucation in our large towns" )ociety is so general an so mi?e there is no $lace left for retirement, an e!en in the home we li!e in $ublic" Ce li!e in com$any till we ha!e no family, an we scarcely know our own relations, we see them as strangersA an

the sim$licity of home life isa$$ears together with the sweet familiarity which was its charm" 9n this wise o we raw with our mother@s milk a taste for the $leasures of the age an the ma?ims by which it is controlle " Girls are com$elle to assume an air of $ro$riety so that men may be ecei!e into marrying them by their a$$earance" But watch these young $eo$le for a momentA un er a $retence of coyness they barely conceal the $assion which e!ours them, an alrea y you may rea in their eager eyes their esire to imitate their mothers" 9t is not a husban they want, but the licence of a marrie woman" Chat nee of a husban when there are so many other resourcesA but a husban there must be to act as a screen" .7ootnote& The way of a man in his youth was one of the four things that the sage coul not un erstan A the fifth was the shamelessness of an a ulteress" DKuae come it, et tergens os suum icitA non sum o$erata malum"D Pro!" ???" *,"3 There is mo esty on the brow, but !ice in the heartA this sham mo esty is one of its outwar signsA they affect it that they may be ri of it once for all" Comen of Paris an %on on, forgi!e meH There may be miracles e!erywhere, but 9 am not aware of themA an if there is e!en one among you who is really $ure in heart, 9 know nothing of our institutions" 'll these ifferent metho s of e ucation lea alike to a taste for the $leasures of the great worl , an to the $assions which this taste so soon kin les" 9n our great towns e$ra!ity begins at birthA in the smaller towns it begins with reason" #oung women brought u$ in the country are soon taught to es$ise the ha$$y sim$licity of their li!es, an hasten to Paris to share the corru$tion of ours" Gices, cloake un er the fair name of accom$lishments, are the sole object of their journeyA ashame to fin themsel!es so much behin the noble licence of the Parisian la ies, they hasten to become worthy of the name of Parisian" Chich is res$onsible for the e!ilBthe $lace where it begins, or the $lace where it is accom$lishe E 9 woul not ha!e a sensible mother bring her girl to Paris to show her these sights so harmful to othersA but 9 assert that if she i so, either the girl has been ba ly brought u$, or such sights ha!e little anger for her" Cith goo taste, goo sense, an a lo!e of what is right, these things are less attracti!e than to those who aban on themsel!es to their charm" 9n Paris you may see gi y young things hastening to a o$t the tone an fashions of the town for some si? months, so that they may s$en the rest of their life in isgraceA but who gi!es any hee to those who, isguste with the rout, return to their istant home an are contente with their lot when they ha!e com$are it with that which others esire" 8ow many young wi!es ha!e 9 seen whose goo -nature husban s ha!e taken them to Paris where they might li!e if they $lease A but they ha!e shrunk from it an returne home more willingly than they went, saying ten erly, D'h, let us go back to our cottage, life is ha$$ier there than in these $alaces"D Ce o not know how many there are who ha!e not bowe the knee to Baal, who scorn his senseless worshi$" 7ools make a stirA goo women $ass unnotice "

9f so many women $reser!e a ju gment which is $roof against tem$tation, in s$ite of uni!ersal $reju ice, in s$ite of the ba e ucation of girls, what woul their ju gment ha!e been, ha it been strengthene by suitable instruction, or rather left unaffecte by e!il teaching, for to $reser!e or restore the natural feelings is our main businessE #ou can o this without $reaching en less sermons to your aughters, without cre iting them with your harsh morality" The only effect of such teaching is to ins$ire a islike for the teacher an the lessons" 9n talking to a young girl you nee not make her afrai of her uties, nor nee you increase the bur en lai u$on her by nature" Chen you e?$lain her uties s$eak $lainly an $leasantlyA o not let her su$$ose that the $erformance of these uties is a ismal thingBaway with e!ery affectation of isgust or $ri e" E!ery thought which we esire to arouse shoul fin its e?$ression in our $u$ils, their catechism of con uct shoul be as brief an $lain as their catechism of religion, but it nee not be so serious" )how them that these same uties are the source of their $leasures an the basis of their rights" 9s it so har to win lo!e by lo!e, ha$$iness by an amiable is$osition, obe ience by worth, an honour by self-res$ectE 8ow fair are these woman@s rights, how worthy of re!erence, how ear to the heart of man when a woman is able to show their worthH These rights are no $ri!ilege of yearsA a woman@s em$ire begins with her !irtuesA her charms are only in the bu , yet she reigns alrea y by the gentleness of her character an the ignity of her mo esty" 9s there any man so har -hearte an unci!ilise that he oes not abate his $ri e an take hee to his manners with a sweet an !irtuous girl of si?teen, who listens but says littleA her bearing is mo est, her con!ersation honest, her beauty oes not lea her to forget her se? an her youth, her !ery timi ity arouses interest, while she wins for herself the res$ect which she shows to othersE These e?ternal signs are not e!oi of meaningA they o not rest entirely u$on the charms of senseA they arise from that con!iction that we all feel that women are the natural ju ges of a man@s worth" Cho woul be scorne by womenE not e!en he who has cease to esire their lo!e" 'n o you su$$ose that 9, who tell them such harsh truths, am in ifferent to their !er ictE Rea er, 9 care more for their a$$ro!al than for yoursA you are often more effeminate than they" Chile 9 scorn their morals, 9 will re!ere their justiceA 9 care not though they hate me, if 9 can com$el their esteem" Chat great things might be accom$lishe by their influence if only we coul bring it to bearH 'las for the age whose women lose their ascen ancy, an fail to make men res$ect their ju gmentH This is the last stage of egra ation" E!ery !irtuous nation has shown res$ect to women" :onsi er )$arta, Germany, an RomeA Rome the throne of glory an !irtue, if e!er they were enthrone on earth" The Roman women awar e honour to the ee s of great generals, they mourne in $ublic for the fathers of the country, their awar s an their tears were alike hel sacre as the most solemn utterance of the Re$ublic" E!ery great re!olution began with the women" Through a woman Rome gaine her liberty, through a woman the $lebeians won the consulate, through a woman the tyranny of the ecem!irs was o!erthrownA it was the women who sa!e

Rome when besiege by :oriolanus" Chat woul you ha!e sai at the sight of this $rocession, you 7renchmen who $ri e yoursel!es on your gallantry, woul you not ha!e followe it with shouts of laughterE #ou an 9 see things with such ifferent eyes, an $erha$s we are both right" )uch a $rocession forme of the fairest beauties of 7rance woul be an in ecent s$ectacleA but let it consist of Roman la ies, you will all gaFe with the eyes of the Golscians an feel with the heart of :oriolanus" 9 will go further an maintain that !irtue is no less fa!ourable to lo!e than to other rights of nature, an that it a s as much to the $ower of the belo!e as to that of the wife or mother" There is no real lo!e without enthusiasm, an no enthusiasm without an object of $erfection real or su$$ose , but always $resent in the imagination" Chat is there to kin le the hearts of lo!ers for whom this $erfection is nothing, for whom the lo!e one is merely the means to sensual $leasureE <ay, not thus is the heart kin le , not thus oes it aban on itself to those sublime trans$orts which form the ra$ture of lo!ers an the charm of lo!e" %o!e is an illusion, 9 grant you, but its reality consists in the feelings it awakes, in the lo!e of true beauty which it ins$ires" That beauty is not to be foun in the object of our affections, it is the creation of our illusions" Chat matterH o we not still sacrifice all those baser feelings to the imaginary mo elE an we still fee our hearts on the !irtues we attribute to the belo!e , we still with raw oursel!es from the baseness of human nature" Chat lo!er is there who woul not gi!e his life for his mistressE Chat gross an sensual $assion is there in a man who is willing to ieE Ce scoff at the knights of ol A they knew the meaning of lo!eA we know nothing but ebauchery" Chen the teachings of romance began to seem ri iculous, it was not so much the work of reason as of immorality" <atural relations remain the same throughout the centuries, their goo or e!il effects are unchange A $reju ices, masquera ing as reason, can but change their outwar seemingA self-mastery, e!en at the behest of fantastic o$inions, will not cease to be great an goo " 'n the true moti!es of honour will not fail to a$$eal to the heart of e!ery woman who is able to seek ha$$iness in life in her woman@s uties" To a high-soule woman chastity abo!e all must be a elightful !irtue" )he sees all the king oms of the worl before her an she trium$hs o!er herself an themA she sits enthrone in her own soul an all men o her homageA a few $assing struggles are crowne with $er$etual gloryA she secures the affection, or it may be the en!y, she secures in any case the esteem of both se?es an the uni!ersal res$ect of her own" The loss is fleeting, the gain is $ermanent" Chat a joy for a noble heartBthe $ri e of !irtue combine with beauty" %et her be a heroine of romanceA she will taste elights more e?quisite than those of %ais an :leo$atraA an when her beauty is fle , her glory an her joys remainA she alone can enjoy the $ast" The har er an more im$ortant the uties, the stronger an clearer must be the reasons on which they are base " There is a sort of $ious talk about the most serious subjects which is inne in !ain into the ears of young $eo$le" This talk, quite unsuite to their i eas an the small im$ortance they attach to it in secret, inclines them to yiel rea ily to

their inclinations, for lack of any reasons for resistance rawn from the facts themsel!es" <o oubt a girl brought u$ to goo ness an $iety has strong wea$ons against tem$tationA but one whose heart, or rather her ears, are merely fille with the jargon of $iety, will certainly fall a $rey to the first skilful se ucer who attacks her" ' young an beautiful girl will ne!er es$ise her bo y, she will ne!er really e$lore sins which her beauty lea s men to commit, she will ne!er lament earnestly in the sight of Go that she is an object of esire, she will ne!er be con!ince that the ten erest feeling is an in!ention of the E!il 6ne" Gi!e her other an more $ertinent reasons for her own sake, for these will ha!e no effect" 9t will be worse to instil, as is often one, i eas which contra ict each other, an after ha!ing humble an egra e her $erson an her charms as the stain of sin, to bi her re!erence that same !ile bo y as the tem$le of Jesus :hrist" 9 eas too sublime an too humble are equally ineffecti!e an they cannot both be true" ' reason a a$te to her age an se? is what is nee e " :onsi erations of uty are of no effect unless they are combine with some moti!e for the $erformance of our uty" DKuae quia non liceat non facit, illa facit"D 6G9(, 'mor" 9" iii" eleg" i!" 6ne woul not sus$ect 6!i of such a harsh ju gment" 9f you woul ins$ire young $eo$le with a lo!e of goo con uct a!oi saying, DBe goo AD make it their interest to be goo A make them feel the !alue of goo ness an they will lo!e it" 9t is not enough to show this effect in the istant future, show it now, in the relations of the $resent, in the character of their lo!ers" (escribe a goo man, a man of worth, teach them to recognise him when they see him, to lo!e him for their own sakeA con!ince them that such a man alone can make them ha$$y as frien , wife, or mistress" %et reason lea the way to !irtueA make them feel that the em$ire of their se? an all the a !antages eri!e from it e$en not merely on the right con uct, the morality, of women, but also on that of menA that they ha!e little hol o!er the !ile an base, an that the lo!er is inca$able of ser!ing his mistress unless he can o homage to !irtue" #ou may then be sure that when you escribe the manners of our age you will ins$ire them with a genuine isgustA when you show them men of fashion they will es$ise themA you will gi!e them a istaste for their ma?ims, an a!ersion to their sentiments, an a scorn for their em$ty gallantryA you will arouse a nobler ambition, to reign o!er great an strong souls, the ambition of the )$artan women to rule o!er men" ' bol , shameless, intriguing woman, who can only attract her lo!ers by coquetry an retain them by her fa!ours, wins a ser!ile obe ience in common thingsA in weighty an im$ortant matters she has no influence o!er them" But the woman who is both !irtuous, wise, an charming, she who, in a wor , combines lo!e an esteem, can sen them at her bi ing to the en of the worl , to war, to glory, an to eath at her behest" This is a fine king om an worth the winning" This is the s$irit in which )o$hy has been e ucate , she has been traine carefully rather than strictly, an her taste has been followe rather than thwarte " %et us say just a wor about her $erson, accor ing to the

escri$tion 9 ha!e gi!en to Emile an the $icture he himself has forme of the wife in whom he ho$es to fin ha$$iness" 9 cannot re$eat too often that 9 am not ealing with $ro igies" Emile is no $ro igy, neither is )o$hy" 8e is a man an she is a womanA this is all they ha!e to boast of" 9n the $resent confusion between the se?es it is almost a miracle to belong to one@s own se?" )o$hy is well born an she has a goo is$ositionA she is !ery warm-hearte , an this warmth of heart sometimes makes her imagination run away with her" 8er min is keen rather than accurate, her tem$er is $leasant but !ariable, her $erson $leasing though nothing out of the common, her countenance bes$eaks a soul an it s$eaks trueA you may meet her with in ifference, but you will not lea!e her without emotion" 6thers $ossess goo qualities which she lacksA others $ossess her goo qualities in a higher egree, but in no one are these qualities better blen e to form a ha$$y is$osition" )he knows how to make the best of her !ery faults, an if she were more $erfect she woul be less $leasing" )o$hy is not beautifulA but in her $resence men forget the fairer women, an the latter are issatisfie with themsel!es" 't first sight she is har ly $rettyA but the more we see her the $rettier she isA she wins where so many lose, an what she wins she kee$s" 8er eyes might be finer, her mouth more beautiful, her stature more im$osingA but no one coul ha!e a more graceful figure, a finer com$le?ion, a whiter han , a aintier foot, a sweeter look, an a more e?$ressi!e countenance" )he oes not aFFleA she arouses interestA she elights us, we know not why" )o$hy is fon of ress, an she knows how to ressA her mother has no other mai A she has taste enough to ress herself wellA but she hates rich clothesA her own are always sim$le but elegant" )he oes not like showy but becoming things" )he oes not know what colours are fashionable, but she makes no mistake about those that suit her" <o girl seems more sim$ly resse , but no one coul take more $ains o!er her toiletA no article is selecte at ran om, an yet there is no trace of artificiality" 8er ress is !ery mo est in a$$earance an !ery coquettish in realityA she oes not is$lay her charms, she conceals them, but in such a way as to enhance them" Chen you see her you say, DThat is a goo mo est girl,D but while you are with her, you cannot take your eyes or your thoughts off her an one might say that this !ery sim$le a ornment is only $ut on to be remo!e bit by bit by the imagination" )o$hy has natural giftsA she is aware of them, an they ha!e not been neglecte A but ne!er ha!ing ha a chance of much training she is content to use her $retty !oice to sing tastefully an trulyA her little feet ste$ lightly, easily, an gracefully, she can always make an easy graceful courtesy" )he has ha no singing master but her father, no ancing mistress but her motherA a neighbouring organist has gi!en her a few lessons in $laying accom$animents on the s$inet, an she has im$ro!e herself by $ractice" 't first she only wishe to show off her han on the ark keysA then she isco!ere that the thin clear tone of the s$inet ma e her !oice soun sweeterA little by little she recognise the charms of harmonyA as she grew ol er she at last began to enjoy the charms of

e?$ression, to lo!e music for its own sake" But she has taste rather than talentA she cannot rea a sim$le air from notes" <ee lework is what )o$hy likes bestA an the feminine arts ha!e been taught her most carefully, e!en those you woul not e?$ect, such as cutting out an ressmaking" There is nothing she cannot o with her nee le, an nothing that she oes not take a elight in oingA but lacemaking is her fa!ourite occu$ation, because there is nothing which requires such a $leasing attitu e, nothing which calls for such grace an e?terity of finger" )he has also stu ie all the etails of housekee$ingA she un erstan s cooking an cleaningA she knows the $rices of foo , an also how to choose itA she can kee$ accounts accurately, she is her mother@s housekee$er" )ome ay she will be the mother of a familyA by managing her father@s house she is $re$aring to manage her ownA she can take the $lace of any of the ser!ants an she is always rea y to o so" #ou cannot gi!e or ers unless you can o the work yourselfA that is why her mother sets her to o it" )o$hy oes not think of thatA her first uty is to be a goo aughter, an that is all she thinks about for the $resent" 8er one i ea is to hel$ her mother an relie!e her of some of her an?ieties" 8owe!er, she oes not like them all equally well" 7or instance, she likes ainty foo , but she oes not like cookingA the etails of cookery offen her, an things are ne!er clean enough for her" )he is e?tremely sensiti!e in this res$ect an carries her sensiti!eness to a faultA she woul let the whole inner boil o!er into the fire rather than soil her cuffs" )he has always islike ins$ecting the kitchen-gar en for the same reason" The soil is irty, an as soon as she sees the manure hea$ she fancies there is a isagreeable smell" This efect is the result of her mother@s teaching" 'ccor ing to her, cleanliness is one of the most necessary of a woman@s uties, a s$ecial uty, of the highest im$ortance an a uty im$ose by nature" <othing coul be more re!olting than a irty woman, an a husban who tires of her is not to blame" )he insiste so strongly on this uty when )o$hy was little, she require such absolute cleanliness in her $erson, clothing, room, work, an toilet, that use has become habit, till it absorbs one half of her time an controls the otherA so that she thinks less of how to o a thing than of how to o it without getting irty" #et this has not egenerate into mere affectation an softnessA there is none of the o!er refinement of lu?ury" <othing but clean water enters her roomA she knows no $erfumes but the scent of flowers, an her husban will ne!er fin anything sweeter than her breath" 9n conclusion, the attention she $ays to the outsi e oes not blin her to the fact that time an strength are meant for greater tasksA either she oes not know or she es$ises that e?aggerate cleanliness of bo y which egra es the soul" )o$hy is more than clean, she is $ure" 9 sai that )o$hy was fon of goo things" )he was so by natureA but she became tem$erate by habit an now she is tem$erate by !irtue" %ittle girls are not to be controlle , as little boys are, to some e?tent, through their gree iness" This ten ency may ha!e ill effects on women an it is too angerous to be left unchecke " Chen )o$hy was little, she i not always return em$ty han e if she was sent to her mother@s cu$boar ,

an she was not quite to be truste with sweets an sugar-almon s" 8er mother caught her, took them from her, $unishe her, an ma e her go without her inner" 't last she manage to $ersua e her that sweets were ba for the teeth, an that o!er-eating s$oile the figure" Thus )o$hy o!ercame her faultsA an when she grew ol er other tastes istracte her from this low kin of self-in ulgence" Cith awakening feeling gree iness ceases to be the ruling $assion, both with men an women" )o$hy has $reser!e her feminine tastesA she likes milk an sweetsA she likes $astry an ma e- ishes, but not much meat" )he has ne!er taste wine or s$iritsA moreo!er, she eats s$aringlyA women, who o not work so har as men, ha!e less waste to re$air" 9n all things she likes what is goo , an knows how to a$$reciate itA but she can also $ut u$ with what is not so goo , or can go without it" )o$hy@s min is $leasing but not brilliant, an thorough but not ee$A it is the sort of min which calls for no remark, as she ne!er seems cle!erer or stu$i er than oneself" Chen $eo$le talk to her they always fin what she says attracti!e, though it may not be highly ornamental accor ing to mo ern i eas of an e ucate womanA her min has been forme not only by rea ing, but by con!ersation with her father an mother, by her own reflections, an by her own obser!ations in the little worl in which she has li!e " )o$hy is naturally merryA as a chil she was e!en gi yA but her mother cure her of her silly ways, little by little, lest too su en a change shoul make her self-conscious" Thus she became mo est an retiring while still a chil , an now that she is a chil no longer, she fin s it easier to continue this con uct than it woul ha!e been to acquire it without knowing why" 9t is amusing to see her occasionally return to her ol ways an in ulge in chil ish mirth an then su enly check herself, with silent li$s, owncast eyes, an rosy blushesA neither chil nor woman, she may well $artake of both" )o$hy is too sensiti!e to be always goo humoure , but too gentle to let this be really isagreeable to other $eo$leA it is only herself who suffers" 9f you say anything that hurts her she oes not sulk, but her heart swellsA she tries to run away an cry" 9n the mi st of her tears, at a wor from her father or mother she returns at once laughing an $laying, secretly wi$ing her eyes an trying to stifle her sobs" #et she has her whimsA if her tem$er is too much in ulge it egenerates into rebellion, an then she forgets herself" But gi!e her time to come roun an her way of making you forget her wrong- oing is almost a !irtue" 9f you $unish her she is gentle an submissi!e, an you see that she is more ashame of the fault than the $unishment" 9f you say nothing, she ne!er fails to make amen s, an she oes it so frankly an so rea ily that you cannot be angry with her" )he woul kiss the groun before the lowest ser!ant an woul make no fuss about itA an as soon as she is forgi!en, you can see by her elight an her caresses that a loa is taken off her heart" 9n a wor , she en ures $atiently the wrongoing of others, an she is eager to atone for her own" This amiability is natural to her se? when uns$oile " Coman is ma e to submit to man an to en ure e!en injustice at his han s" #ou will ne!er bring young la s to

thisA their feelings rise in re!olt against injusticeA nature has not fitte them to $ut u$ with it" DGra!em Peli ae stomachum ce ere nescii"D 86R':E, lib" i" o e !i" )o$hy@s religion is reasonable an sim$le, with few octrines an fewer obser!ancesA or rather as she knows no course of con uct but the right her whole life is e!ote to the ser!ice of Go an to oing goo " 9n all her $arents@ teaching of religion she has been traine to a re!erent submissionA they ha!e often sai , D>y little girl, this is too har for youA your husban will teach you when you are grown u$"D 9nstea of long sermons about $iety, they ha!e been content to $reach by their e?am$le, an this e?am$le is engra!e on her heart" )o$hy lo!es !irtueA this lo!e has come to be her ruling $assionA she lo!es !irtue because there is nothing fairer in itself, she lo!es it because it is a woman@s glory an because a !irtuous woman is little lower than the angelsA she lo!es !irtue as the only roa to real ha$$iness, because she sees nothing but $o!erty, neglect, unha$$iness, shame, an isgrace in the life of a ba womanA she lo!es !irtue because it is ear to her re!ere father an to her ten er an worthy motherA they are not content to be ha$$y in their own !irtue, they esire hersA an she fin s her chief ha$$iness in the ho$e of making them ha$$y" 'll these feelings ins$ire an enthusiasm which stirs her heart an kee$s all its bu ing $assions in subjection to this noble enthusiasm" )o$hy will be chaste an goo till her ying ayA she has !owe it in her secret heart, an not before she knew how har it woul be to kee$ her !owA she ma e this !ow at a time when she woul ha!e re!oke it ha she been the sla!e of her senses" )o$hy is not so fortunate as to be a charming 7rench woman, col hearte an !ain, who woul rather attract attention than gi!e $leasure, who seeks amusement rather than elight" )he suffers from a consuming esire for lo!eA it e!en isturbs an troubles her heart in the mi st of festi!itiesA she has lost her former li!eliness, an her taste for merry gamesA far from being afrai of the te ium of solitu e she esires it" 8er thoughts go out to him who will make solitu e sweet to her" )he fin s strangers te ious, she wants a lo!er, not a circle of a mirers" )he woul rather gi!e $leasure to one goo man than be a general fa!ourite, or win that a$$lause of society which lasts but a ay an to-morrow is turne to scorn" ' woman@s ju gment e!elo$s sooner than a man@sA being on the efensi!e from her chil hoo u$, an intruste with a treasure so har to kee$, she is earlier acquainte with goo an e!il" )o$hy is $recocious by tem$erament in e!erything, an her ju gment is more forme than that of most girls of her age" There is nothing strange in that, maturity is not always reache at the same age" )o$hy has been taught the uties an rights of her own se? an of ours" )he knows men@s faults an women@s !icesA she also knows their

corres$on ing goo qualities an !irtues, an has them by heart" <o one can ha!e a higher i eal of a !irtuous woman, but she woul rather think of a !irtuous man, a man of true worthA she knows that she is ma e for such a man, that she is worthy of him, that she can make him as ha$$y as he will make herA she is sure she will know him when she sees himA the ifficulty is to fin him" Comen are by nature ju ges of a man@s worth, as he is of theirsA this right is reci$rocal, an it is recognise as such both by men an women" )o$hy recognises this right an e?ercises it, but with the mo esty becoming her youth, her ine?$erience, an her $ositionA she confines her ju gment to what she knows, an she only forms an o$inion when it may hel$ to illustrate some useful $rece$t" )he is e?tremely careful what she says about those who are absent, $articularly if they are women" )he thinks that talking about each other makes women s$iteful an satiricalA so long as they only talk about men they are merely just" )o )o$hy sto$s there" 's to women she ne!er says anything at all about them, e?ce$t to tell the goo she knowsA she thinks this is only fair to her se?A an if she knows no goo of any woman, she says nothing, an that is enough" )o$hy has little knowle ge of society, but she is obser!ant an obliging, an all that she oes is full of grace" ' ha$$y is$osition oes more for her than much art" )he has a certain courtesy of her own, which is not e$en ent on fashion, an oes not change with its changesA it is not a matter of custom, but it arises from a feminine esire to $lease" )he is unacquainte with the language of em$ty com$liment, nor oes she in!ent more elaborate com$liments of her ownA she oes not say that she is greatly oblige , that you o her too much honour, that you shoul not take so much trouble, etc" )till less oes she try to make $hrases of her own" )he res$on s to an attention or a customary $iece of $oliteness by a courtesy or a mere DThank youAD but this $hrase in her mouth is quite enough" 9f you o her a real ser!ice, she lets her heart s$eak, an its wor s are no em$ty com$liment" )he has ne!er allowe 7rench manners to make her a sla!e to a$$earancesA when she goes from one room to another she oes not take the arm of an ol gentleman, whom she woul much rather hel$" Chen a scente fo$ offers her this em$ty attention, she lea!es him on the staircase an rushes into the room saying that she is not lame" 9n ee , she will ne!er wear high heels though she is not tallA her feet are small enough to is$ense with them" <ot only oes she a o$t a silent an res$ectful attitu e towar s women, but also towar s marrie men, or those who are much ol er than herselfA she will ne!er take her $lace abo!e them, unless com$elle to o soA an she will return to her own lower $lace as soon as she canA for she knows that the rights of age take $rece ence of those of se?, as age is $resumably wiser than youth, an wis om shoul be hel in the greatest honour" Cith young folks of her own age it is another matterA she requires a ifferent manner to gain their res$ect, an she knows how to a o$t it without ro$$ing the mo est ways which become her" 9f they themsel!es are shy an mo est, she will gla ly $reser!e the frien ly familiarity of youthA their innocent con!ersation will be merry but suitableA if they

become serious they must say something usefulA if they become silly, she soon $uts a sto$ to it, for she has an utter contem$t for the jargon of gallantry, which she consi ers an insult to her se?" )he feels sure that the man she seeks oes not s$eak that jargon, an she will ne!er $ermit in another what woul be is$leasing to her in him whose character is engra!e on her heart" 8er high o$inion of the rights of women, her $ri e in the $urity of her feelings, that acti!e !irtue which is the basis of her self-res$ect, make her in ignant at the sentimental s$eeches inten e for her amusement" )he oes not recei!e them with o$en anger, but with a isconcerting irony or an une?$ecte iciness" 9f a fair '$ollo is$lays his charms, an makes use of his wit in the $raise of her wit, her beauty, an her graceA at the risk of offen ing him she is quite ca$able of saying $olitely, D)ir, 9 am afrai 9 know that better than youA if we ha!e nothing more interesting to talk about, 9 think we may $ut an en to this con!ersation"D To say this with a ee$ courtesy, an then to with raw to a consi erable istance, is the work of a moment" 'sk your la y-killers if it is easy to continue to babble to such, an unsym$athetic ear" 9t is not that she is not fon of $raise if it is really sincere, an if she thinks you belie!e what you say" #ou must show that you a$$reciate her merit if you woul ha!e her belie!e you" 8er $rou s$irit may take $leasure in homage which is base u$on esteem, but em$ty com$liments are always rejecte A )o$hy was not meant to $ractise the small arts of the ancing-girl" Cith a ju gment so mature, an a min like that of a woman of twenty, )o$hy, at fifteen, is no longer treate as a chil by her $arents" <o sooner o they $ercei!e the first signs of youthful isquiet than they hasten to antici$ate its e!elo$ment, their con!ersations with her are wise an ten er" These wise an ten er con!ersations are in kee$ing with her age an is$osition" 9f her is$osition is what 9 fancy why shoul not her father s$eak to her somewhat after this fashionE D#ou are a big girl now, )o$hy, you will soon be a woman" Ce want you to be ha$$y, for our own sakes as well as yours, for our ha$$iness e$en s on yours" ' goo girl fin s her own ha$$iness in the ha$$iness of a goo man, so we must consi er your marriageA we must think of it in goo time, for marriage makes or mars our whole life, an we cannot ha!e too much time to consi er it" DThere is nothing so har to choose as a goo husban , unless it is a goo wife" #ou will be that rare creature, )o$hy, you will be the crown of our life an the blessing of our eclining yearsA but howe!er worthy you are, there are worthier $eo$le u$on earth" There is no one who woul not o himself honour by marriage with youA there are many who woul o you e!en greater honour than themsel!es" 'mong these we must try to fin one who suits you, we must get to know him an intro uce you to him" DThe greatest $ossible ha$$iness in marriage e$en s on so many $oints of agreement that it is folly to e?$ect to secure them all" Ce must first consi er the more im$ortant mattersA if others are to be foun along with them, so much the betterA if not we must o without them" Perfect

ha$$iness is not to be foun in this worl , but we can, at least, a!oi the worst form of unha$$iness, that for which oursel!es are to blame" DThere is a natural suitability, there is a suitability of establishe usage, an a suitability which is merely con!entional" Parents shoul eci e as to the two latters, an the chil ren themsel!es shoul eci e as to the former" >arriages arrange by $arents only e$en on a suitability of custom an con!entionA it is not two $eo$le who are unite , but two $ositions an two $ro$ertiesA but these things may change, the $eo$le remain, they are always thereA an in s$ite of fortune it is the $ersonal relation that makes a ha$$y or an unha$$y marriage" D#our mother ha rank, 9 ha wealthA this was all that our $arents consi ere in arranging our marriage" 9 lost my money, she lost her $ositionA forgotten by her family, what goo i it o her to be a la y bornE 9n the mi st of our misfortunes, the union of our hearts has outweighe them allA the similarity of our tastes le us to choose this retreatA we li!e ha$$ily in our $o!erty, we are all in all to each other" )o$hy is a treasure we hol in common, an we thank 8ea!en which has bestowe this treasure an e$ri!e us of all others" #ou see, my chil , whither we ha!e been le by Pro!i enceA the con!entional moti!es which brought about our marriage no longer e?ist, our ha$$iness consists in that natural suitability which was hel of no account" D8usban an wife shoul choose each other" ' mutual liking shoul be the first bon between them" They shoul follow the gui ance of their own eyes an heartsA when they are marrie their first uty will be to lo!e one another, an as lo!e an hatre o not e$en on oursel!es, this uty brings another with it, an they must begin to lo!e each other before marriage" That is the law of nature, an no $ower can abrogate itA those who ha!e fettere it by so many legal restrictions ha!e gi!en hee rather to the outwar show of or er than to the ha$$iness of marriage or the morals of the citiFen" #ou see, my ear )o$hy, we o not $reach a harsh morality" 9t ten s to make you your own mistress an to make us lea!e the choice of your husban to yourself" DChen we ha!e tol you our reasons for gi!ing you full liberty, it is only fair to s$eak of your reasons for making a wise use of that liberty" >y chil , you are goo an sensible, u$right an $ious, you ha!e the accom$lishments of a goo woman an you are not altogether without charmsA but you are $oorA you ha!e the gifts most worthy of esteem, but not those which are most esteeme " (o not seek what is beyon your reach, an let your ambition be controlle , not by your i eas or ours, but by the o$inion of others" 9f it were merely a question of equal merits, 9 know not what limits to im$ose on your ho$esA but o not let your ambitions outrun your fortune, an remember it is !ery small" 'lthough a man worthy of you woul not consi er this inequality an obstacle, you must o what he woul not oA )o$hy must follow her mother@s e?am$le an only enter a family which counts it an honour to recei!e her" #ou ne!er saw our wealth, you were born in our $o!ertyA you make it sweet for us, an you share it without har shi$" Belie!e me, )o$hy, o not seek those goo things we in ee thank hea!en for ha!ing taken from usA we i not know what ha$$iness was till we lost our money"

D#ou are so amiable that you will win affection, an you are not go $oor as to be a bur en" #ou will be sought in marriage, it may be by those who are unworthy of you" 9f they showe themsel!es in their true colours, you woul rate them at their real !alueA all their outwar show woul not long ecei!e youA but though your ju gment is goo an you know what merit is when you see it, you are ine?$erience an you o not know how $eo$le can conceal their real sel!es" ' skilful kna!e might stu y your tastes in or er to se uce you, an make a $retence of those !irtues which he oes not $ossess" #ou woul be ruine , )o$hy, before you knew what you were oing, an you woul only $ercei!e your error when you ha cause to lament it" The most angerous snare, the only snare which reason cannot a!oi , is that of the sensesA if e!er you ha!e the misfortune to fall into its toils, you will $ercei!e nothing but fancies an illusionsA your eyes will be fascinate , your ju gment trouble , your will corru$te , your !ery error will be ear to you, an e!en if you were able to $ercei!e it you woul not be willing to esca$e from it" >y chil , 9 trust you to )o$hy@s own reasonA 9 o not trust you to the fancies of your own heart" Ju ge for yourself so long as your heart is untouche , but when you lo!e betake yourself to your mother@s care" D9 $ro$ose a treaty between us which shows our esteem for you, an restores the or er of nature between us" Parents choose a husban for their aughter an she is only consulte as a matter of formA that is the custom" Ce shall o just the o$$ositeA you will choose, an we shall be consulte " ;se your right, )o$hy, use it freely an wisely" The husban suitable for you shoul be chosen by you not us" But it is for us to ju ge whether he is really suitable, or whether, without knowing it, you are only following your own wishes" Birth, wealth, $osition, con!entional o$inions will count for nothing with us" :hoose a goo man whose $erson an character suit youA whate!er he may be in other res$ects, we will acce$t him as our son-in-law" 8e will be rich enough if he has bo ily strength, a goo character, an family affection" 8is $osition will be goo enough if it is ennoble by !irtue" 9f e!erybo y blames us, we o not care" Ce o not seek the a$$robation of men, but your ha$$iness"D 9 cannot tell my rea ers what effect such wor s woul ha!e u$on girls brought u$ in their fashion" 's for )o$hy, she will ha!e no wor s to re$lyA shame an emotion will not $ermit her to e?$ress herself easilyA but 9 am sure that what was sai will remain engra!e u$on her heart as long as she li!es, an that if any human resolution may be truste , we may rely on her etermination to eser!e her $arent@s esteem" 't worst let us su$$ose her en owe with an ar ent is$osition which will make her im$atient of long elaysA 9 maintain that her ju gment, her knowle ge, her taste, her refinement, an , abo!e all, the sentiments in which she has been brought u$ from chil hoo , will outweigh the im$etuosity of the senses, an enable her to offer a $rolonge resistance, if not to o!ercome them altogether" )he woul rather ie a !irgin martyr than istress her $arents by marrying a worthless man an e?$osing herself to the unha$$iness of an ill-assorte marriage" 'r ent as an 9talian an sentimental as an Englishwoman, she has a curb u$on

heart an sense in the $ri e of a )$aniar , who e!en when she seeks a lo!er oes not easily isco!er one worthy of her" <ot e!ery one can realise the moti!e $ower to be foun in a lo!e of what is right, nor the inner strength which results from a genuine lo!e of !irtue" There are men who think that all greatness is a figment of the brain, men who with their !ile an egra e reason will ne!er recognise the $ower o!er human $assions which is wiel e by the !ery ma ness of !irtue" #ou can only teach such men by e?am$lesA if they $ersist in enying their e?istence, so much the worse for them" 9f 9 tol them that )o$hy is no imaginary $erson, that her name alone is my in!ention, that her e ucation, her con uct, her character, her !ery features, really e?iste , an that her loss is still mourne by a !ery worthy family, they woul , no oubt, refuse to belie!e meA but in ee why shoul 9 not !enture to relate wor for wor the story of a girl so like )o$hy that this story might be hers without sur$rising any one" Belie!e it or no, it is all the same to meA call my history fiction if you willA in any case 9 ha!e e?$laine my metho an furthere my $ur$ose" This young girl with the tem$erament which 9 ha!e attribute to )o$hy was so like her in other res$ects that she was worthy of the name, an so we will continue to use it" 'fter the con!ersation relate abo!e, her father an mother thought that suitable husban s woul not be likely to offer themsel!es in the hamlet where they li!e A so they eci e to sen her to s$en the winter in town, un er the care of an aunt who was $ri!ately acquainte with the object of the journeyA for )o$hy@s heart throbbe with noble $ri e at the thought of her self-controlA an howe!er much she might want to marry, she woul rather ha!e ie a mai than ha!e brought herself to go in search of a husban " 9n res$onse to her $arents@ wishes her aunt intro uce her to her frien s, took her into com$any, both $ri!ate an $ublic, showe her society, or rather showe her in society, for )o$hy $ai little hee to its bustle" #et it was $lain that she i not shrink from young men of $leasing a$$earance an mo est seemly beha!iour" 8er !ery shyness ha a charm of its own, which was !ery much like coquetryA but after talking to them once or twice she re$ulse them" )he soon e?change that air of authority which seems to acce$t men@s homage for a humbler bearing an a still more chilling $oliteness" 'lways watchful o!er her con uct, she ga!e them no chance of oing her the least ser!iceA it was $erfectly $lain that she was etermine not to acce$t any one of them" <e!er i sensiti!e heart take $leasure in noisy amusements, the em$ty an barren elights of those who ha!e no feelings, those who think that a merry life is a ha$$y life" )o$hy i not fin what she sought, an she felt sure she ne!er woul , so she got tire of the town" )he lo!e her $arents early an nothing ma e u$ for their absence, nothing coul make her forget themA she went home long before the time fi?e for the en of her !isit" )carcely ha she resume her home uties when they $ercei!e that her tem$er ha change though her con uct was unaltere , she was forgetful, im$atient, sa , an reamyA she we$t in secret" 't first they

thought she was in lo!e an was ashame to own itA they s$oke to her, but she re$u iate the i ea" )he $roteste she ha seen no one who coul touch her heart, an )o$hy always s$oke the truth" #et her languor stea ily increase , an her health began to gi!e way" 8er mother was an?ious about her, an etermine to know the reason for this change" )he took her asi e, an with the winning s$eech an the irresistible caresses which only a mother can em$loy, she sai , D>y chil , whom 9 ha!e borne beneath my heart, whom 9 bear e!er in my affection, confi e your secret to your mother@s bosom" Chat secrets are these which a mother may not knowE Cho $ities your sufferings, who shares them, who woul gla ly relie!e them, if not your father an myselfE 'h, my chil H woul you ha!e me ie of grief for your sorrow without letting me share itED 7ar from hi ing her griefs from her mother, the young girl aske nothing better than to ha!e her as frien an comforterA but she coul not s$eak for shame, her mo esty coul fin no wor s to escribe a con ition so unworthy of her, as the emotion which isturbe her senses in s$ite of all her efforts" 't length her !ery shame ga!e her mother a clue to her ifficulty, an she rew from her the humiliating confession" 7ar from istressing her with re$roaches or unjust blame, she console her, $itie her, we$t o!er herA she was too wise to make a crime of an e!il which !irtue alone ma e so cruel" But why $ut u$ with such an e!il when there was no necessity to o so, when the reme y was so easy an so legitimateE Chy i she not use the free om they ha grante herE Chy i she not take a husban E Chy i she not make her choiceE (i she not know that she was $erfectly in e$en ent in this matter, that whate!er her choice, it woul be a$$ro!e , for it was sure to be goo E They ha sent her to town, but she woul not stayA many suitors ha offere themsel!es, but she woul ha!e none of them" Chat i she e?$ectE Chat i she wantE Chat an ine?$licable contra ictionE The re$ly was sim$le" 9f it were only a question of the $artner of her youth, her choice woul soon be ma eA but a master for life is not so easily chosenA an since the two cannot be se$arate , $eo$le must often wait an sacrifice their youth before they fin the man with whom they coul s$en their life" )uch was )o$hy@s caseA she wante a lo!er, but this lo!er must be her husban A an to isco!er a heart such as she require , a lo!er an husban were equally ifficult to fin " 'll these ashing young men were only her equals in age, in e!erything else they were foun lackingA their em$ty wit, their !anity, their affectations of s$eech, their ill-regulate con uct, their fri!olous imitations alike isguste her" )he sought a man an she foun monkeysA she sought a soul an there was none to be foun " D8ow unha$$y 9 amHD sai she to her motherA D9 am com$elle to lo!e an yet 9 am issatisfie with e!ery one" >y heart rejects e!ery one who a$$eals to my senses" E!ery one of them stirs my $assions an all alike re!olt themA a liking unaccom$anie by res$ect cannot last" That is not the sort of man for your )o$hyA the elightful image of her i eal is too ee$ly gra!en in her heart" )he can lo!e no otherA she can make no one ha$$y but him, an she cannot be ha$$y without him" )he woul rather

consume herself in ceaseless conflicts, she woul rather ie free an wretche , than ri!en es$erate by the com$any of a man she i not lo!e, a man she woul make as unha$$y as herselfA she woul rather ie than li!e to suffer"D 'maFe at these strange i eas, her mother foun them so $eculiar that she coul not fail to sus$ect some mystery" )o$hy was neither affecte nor absur " 8ow coul such e?aggerate elicacy e?ist in one who ha been so carefully taught from her chil hoo to a a$t herself to those with whom she must li!e, an to make a !irtue of necessityE This i eal of the elightful man with which she was so enchante , who a$$eare so often in her con!ersation, ma e her mother sus$ect that there was some foun ation for her ca$rices which was still unknown to her, an that )o$hy ha not tol her all" The unha$$y girl, o!erwhelme with her secret grief, was only too eager to confi e it to another" 8er mother urge her to s$eakA she hesitate , she yiel e , an lea!ing the room without a wor , she $resently returne with a book in her han " D8a!e $ity on your unha$$y aughter, there is no reme y for her grief, her tears cannot be rie " #ou woul know the cause& well, here it is,D sai she, flinging the book on the table" 8er mother took the book an o$ene itA it was The ' !entures of Telemachus" 't first she coul make nothing of this ri leA by int of questions an !ague re$lies, she isco!ere to her great sur$rise that her aughter was the ri!al of Eucharis" )o$hy was in lo!e with Telemachus, an lo!e him with a $assion which nothing coul cure" Chen her father an mother became aware of her infatuation, they laughe at it an trie to cure her by reasoning with her" They were mistaken, reason was not altogether on their si eA )o$hy ha her own reason an knew how to use it" >any a time i she re uce them to silence by turning their own arguments against them, by showing them that it was all their own fault for not ha!ing traine her to suit the men of that centuryA that she woul be com$elle to a o$t her husban @s way of thinking or he must a o$t hers, that they ha ma e the former course im$ossible by the way she ha been brought u$, an that the latter was just what she wante " DGi!e me,D sai she, Da man who hol s the same o$inions as 9 o, or one who will be willing to learn them from me, an 9 will marry himA but until then, why o you scol meE Pity meA 9 am miserable, but not ma " 9s the heart controlle by the willE (i my father not ask that !ery questionE 9s it my fault if 9 lo!e what has no e?istenceE 9 am no !isionaryA 9 esire no $rince, 9 seek no Telemachus, 9 know he is only an imaginary $ersonA 9 seek some one like him" 'n why shoul there be no such $erson, since there is such a $erson as 9, 9 who feel that my heart is like hisE <o, let us not wrong humanity so greatly, let us not think that an amiable an !irtuous man is a figment of the imagination" 8e e?ists, he li!es, $erha$s he is seeking meA he is seeking a soul which is ca$able of lo!e for him" But who is he, where is heE 9 know notA he is not among those 9 ha!e seenA an no oubt 9 shall ne!er see him" 6hH mother, why i you make !irtue too attracti!eE 9f 9 can lo!e nothing less, you are more to blame than 9"D

>ust 9 continue this sa story to its closeE >ust 9 escribe the long struggles which $rece e itE >ust 9 show an im$atient mother e?changing her former caresses for se!erityE >ust 9 $aint an angry father forgetting his former $romises, an treating the most !irtuous of aughters as a ma womanE >ust 9 $ortray the unha$$y girl, more than e!er e!ote to her imaginary hero, because of the $ersecution brought u$on her by that e!otion, rawing nearer ste$ by ste$ to her eath, an escen ing into the gra!e when they were about to force her to the altarE <oA 9 will not well u$on these gloomy scenesA 9 ha!e no nee to go so far to show, by what 9 consi er a sufficiently striking e?am$le, that in s$ite of the $reju ices arising from the manners of our age, the enthusiasm for the goo an the beautiful is no more foreign to women than to men, an that there is nothing which, un er nature@s gui ance, cannot be obtaine from them as well as from us" #ou sto$ me here to inquire whether it is nature which teaches us to take such $ains to re$ress our immo erate esires" <o, 9 re$ly, but neither is it nature who gi!es us these immo erate esires" <ow, all that is not from nature is contrary to nature, as 9 ha!e $ro!e again an again" %et us gi!e Emile his )o$hyA let us restore this sweet girl to life an $ro!i e her with a less !i!i imagination an a ha$$ier fate" 9 esire to $aint an or inary woman, but by en owing her with a great soul, 9 ha!e isturbe her reason" 9 ha!e gone astray" %et us retrace our ste$s" )o$hy has only a goo is$osition an an or inary heartA her e ucation is res$onsible for e!erything in which she e?cels other women" 9n this book 9 inten e to escribe all that might be one an to lea!e e!ery one free to choose what he coul out of all the goo things 9 escribe " 9 meant to train a hel$meet for Emile, from the !ery first, an to e ucate them for each other an with each other" But on consi eration 9 thought all these $remature arrangements un esirable, for it was absur to $lan the marriage of two chil ren before 9 coul tell whether this union was in accor ance with nature an whether they were really suite to each other" Ce must not confuse what is suitable in a state of sa!agery with what is suitable in ci!ilise life" 9n the former, any woman will suit any man, for both are still in their $rimiti!e an un ifferentiate con itionA in the latter, all their characteristics ha!e been e!elo$e by social institutions, an each min , ha!ing taken its own settle form, not from e ucation alone, but by the co-o$eration, more or less wellregulate , of natural is$osition an e ucation, we can only make a match by intro ucing them to each other to see if they suit each other in e!ery res$ect, or at least we can let them make that choice which gi!es the most $romise of mutual suitability" The ifficulty is this& while social life e!elo$s character it ifferentiates classes, an these two classifications o not corres$on , so that the greater the social istinctions, the greater the ifficulty of fin ing the corres$on ing character" 8ence we ha!e ill-assorte marriages an all their accom$anying e!ilsA an we fin that it follows logically that the further we get from equality, the greater the change in our natural

feelingsA the wi er the istance between great an small, the looser the marriage tieA the ee$er the gulf between rich an $oor the fewer husban s an fathers" <either master nor sla!e belongs to a family, but only to a class" 9f you woul guar against these abuses, an secure ha$$y marriages, you must stifle your $reju ices, forget human institutions, an consult nature" (o not join together those who are only alike in one gi!en con ition, those who will not suit one another if that con ition is change A but those who are a a$te to one another in e!ery situation, in e!ery country, an in e!ery rank in which they may be $lace " 9 o not say that con!entional consi erations are of no im$ortance in marriage, but 9 o say that the influence of natural relations is so much more im$ortant, that our fate in life is eci e by them alone, an that there is such an agreement of taste, tem$er, feeling, an is$osition as shoul in uce a wise father, though he were a $rince, to marry his son, without a moment@s hesitation, to the woman so a a$te to him, were she born in a ba home, were she e!en the hangman@s aughter" 9 maintain in ee that e!ery $ossible misfortune may o!ertake husban an wife if they are thus unite , yet they will enjoy more real ha$$iness while they mingle their tears, than if they $ossesse all the riches of the worl , $oisone by i!i e hearts" 9nstea of $ro!i ing a wife for Emile in chil hoo , 9 ha!e waite till 9 knew what woul suit him" 9t is not for me to eci e, but for natureA my task is to isco!er the choice she has ma e" >y business, mine 9 re$eat, not his father@sA for when he entruste his son to my care, he ga!e u$ his $lace to me" 8e ga!e me his rightsA it is 9 who am really Emile@s fatherA it is 9 who ha!e ma e a man of him" 9 woul ha!e refuse to e ucate him if 9 were not free to marry him accor ing to his own choice, which is mine" <othing but the $leasure of bestowing ha$$iness on a man can re$ay me for the cost of making him ca$able of ha$$iness" (o not su$$ose, howe!er, that 9 ha!e elaye to fin a wife for Emile till 9 sent him in search of her" This search is only a $rete?t for acquainting him with women, so that he may $ercei!e the !alue of a suitable wife" )o$hy was isco!ere long sinceA Emile may e!en ha!e seen her alrea y, but he will not recognise her till the time is come" 'lthough equality of rank is not essential in marriage, yet this equality along with other kin s of suitability increases their !alueA it is not to be weighe against any one of them, but, other things being equal, it turns the scale" ' man, unless he is a king, cannot seek a wife in any an e!ery classA if he himself is free from $reju ices, he will fin them in othersA an this girl or that might $erha$s suit him an yet she woul be beyon his reach" ' wise father will therefore restrict his inquiries within the boun s of $ru ence" 8e shoul not wish to marry his $u$il into a family abo!e his own, for that is not within his $ower" 9f he coul o so he ought not esire itA for what ifference oes rank make to a young man, at least to my $u$ilE #et, if he rises he is e?$ose to all sorts of real e!ils which he will feel all his life long" 9 e!en say that he shoul not try to a just the

balance between ifferent gifts, such as rank an moneyA for each of these a s less to the !alue of the other than the amount e ucte from its own !alue in the $rocess of a justmentA moreo!er, we can ne!er agree as to a common enominatorA an finally the $reference, which each feels for his own surroun ings, $a!es the way for iscor between the two families an often to ifficulties between husban an wife" 9t makes a consi erable ifference as to the suitability of a marriage whether a man marries abo!e or beneath him" The former case is quite contrary to reason, the latter is more in conformity with reason" 's the family is only connecte with society through its hea , it is the rank of that hea which eci es that of the family as a whole" Chen he marries into a lower rank, a man oes not lower himself, he raises his wifeA if, on the other han , he marries abo!e his $osition, he lowers his wife an oes not raise himself" Thus there is in the first case goo unmi?e with e!il, in the other e!il unmi?e with goo " >oreo!er, the law of nature bi s the woman obey the man" 9f he takes a wife from a lower class, natural an ci!il law are in accor ance an all goes well" Chen he marries a woman of higher rank it is just the o$$osite caseA the man must choose between iminishe rights or im$erfect gratitu eA he must be ungrateful or es$ise " Then the wife, laying claim to authority, makes herself a tyrant o!er her lawful hea A an the master, who has become a sla!e, is the most ri iculous an miserable of creatures" )uch are the unha$$y fa!ourites whom the so!ereigns of 'sia honour an torment with their allianceA $eo$le tell us that if they esire to slee$ with their wife they must enter by the foot of the be " 9 e?$ect that many of my rea ers will remember that 9 think women ha!e a natural gift for managing men, an will accuse me of contra icting myselfA yet they are mistaken" There is a !ast ifference between claiming the right to comman , an managing him who comman s" Coman@s reign is a reign of gentleness, tact, an kin nessA her comman s are caresses, her threats are tears" )he shoul reign in the home as a minister reigns in the state, by contri!ing to be or ere to o what she wants" 9n this sense, 9 grant you, that the best manage homes are those where the wife has most $ower" But when she es$ises the !oice of her hea , when she esires to usur$ his rights an take the comman u$on herself, this in!ersion of the $ro$er or er of things lea s only to misery, scan al, an ishonour" There remains the choice between our equals an our inferiorsA an 9 think we ought also to make certain restrictions with regar to the latterA for it is har to fin in the lowest stratum of society a woman who is able to make a goo man ha$$yA not that the lower classes are more !icious than the higher, but because they ha!e so little i ea of what is goo an beautiful, an because the injustice of other classes makes its !ery !ices seem right in the eyes of this class" By nature man thinks but sel om" 8e learns to think as he acquires the other arts, but with e!en greater ifficulty" 9n both se?es alike 9 am only aware of two really istinct classes, those who think an those who o notA an this ifference is almost entirely one of e ucation" ' man who thinks shoul not ally himself with a woman who oes not think, for he

loses the chief elight of social life if he has a wife who cannot share his thoughts" Peo$le who s$en their whole life in working for a li!ing ha!e no i eas beyon their work an their own interests, an their min seems to resi e in their arms" This ignorance is not necessarily unfa!ourable either to their honesty or their moralsA it is often fa!ourableA we often content oursel!es with thinking about our uties, an in the en we substitute wor s for things" :onscience is the most enlightene $hiloso$herA to be an honest man we nee not rea :icero@s (e 6fficiis, an the most !irtuous woman in the worl is $robably she who knows least about !irtue" But it is none the less true that a culti!ate min alone makes intercourse $leasant, an it is a sa thing for a father of a family, who elights in his home, to be force to shut himself u$ in himself an to be unable to make himself un erstoo " >oreo!er, if a woman is quite unaccustome to think, how can she bring u$ her chil renE 8ow will she know what is goo for themE 8ow can she incline them to !irtues of which she is ignorant, to merit of which she has no conce$tionE )he can only flatter or threaten, she can only make them insolent or timi A she will make them $erforming monkeys or noisy little rascalsA she will ne!er make them intelligent or $leasing chil ren" Therefore it is not fitting that a man of e ucation shoul choose a wife who has none, or take her from a class where she cannot be e?$ecte to ha!e any e ucation" But 9 woul a thousan times rather ha!e a homely girl, sim$ly brought u$, than a learne la y an a wit who woul make a literary circle of my house an install herself as its $resi ent" ' female wit is a scourge to her husban , her chil ren, her frien s, her ser!ants, to e!erybo y" 7rom the lofty height of her genius she scorns e!ery womanly uty, an she is always trying to make a man of herself after the fashion of >lle" e %@Enclos" 6utsi e her home she always makes herself ri iculous an she is !ery rightly a butt for criticism, as we always are when we try to esca$e from our own $osition into one for which we are unfitte " These highly talente women only get a hol o!er fools" Ce can always tell what artist or frien hol s the $en or $encil when they are at workA we know what iscreet man of letters ictates their oracles in $ri!ate" This trickery is unworthy of a ecent woman" 9f she really ha talents, her $retentiousness woul egra e them" 8er honour is to be unknownA her glory is the res$ect of her husban A her joys the ha$$iness of her family" 9 a$$eal to my rea ers to gi!e me an honest answerA when you enter a woman@s room what makes you think more highly of her, what makes you a ress her with more res$ectBto see her busy with feminine occu$ations, with her househol uties, with her chil ren@s clothes about her, or to fin her writing !erses at her toilet table surroun e with $am$hlets of e!ery kin an with notes on tinte $a$erE 9f there were none but wise men u$on earth such a woman woul ie an ol mai " DKuaeris cur nolim te ucere, gallaE iserta es"D >artial ?i" *," %ooks must ne?t be consi ere A they are the first thing that strikes us an they ought to be the last, still they shoul not count for nothing" 9

think that great beauty is rather to be shunne than sought after in marriage" Possession soon e?hausts our a$$reciation of beautyA in si? weeks@ time we think no more about it, but its angers en ure as long as life itself" ;nless a beautiful woman is an angel, her husban is the most miserable of menA an e!en if she were an angel he woul still be the centre of a hostile crow an she coul not $re!ent it" 9f e?treme ugliness were not re$ulsi!e 9 shoul $refer it to e?treme beautyA for before !ery long the husban woul cease to notice either, but beauty woul still ha!e its isa !antages an ugliness its a !antages" But ugliness which is actually re$ulsi!e is the worst misfortuneA re$ulsion increases rather than iminishes, an it turns to hatre " )uch a union is a hell u$on earthA better eath than such a marriage" (esire me iocrity in all things, e!en in beauty" ' $leasant attracti!e countenance, which ins$ires kin ly feelings rather than lo!e, is what we shoul $referA the husban runs no risk, an the a !antages are common to husban an wifeA charm is less $erishable than beautyA it is a li!ing thing, which constantly renews itself, an after thirty years of marrie life, the charms of a goo woman elight her husban e!en as they i on the we ing- ay" )uch are the consi erations which eci e my choice of )o$hy" Brought u$, like Emile, by <ature, she is better suite to him than any otherA she will be his true mate" )he is his equal in birth an character, his inferior in fortune" )he makes no great im$ression at first sight, but ay by ay re!eals fresh charms" 8er chief influence only takes effect gra ually, it is only isco!ere in frien ly intercourseA an her husban will feel it more than any one" 8er e ucation is neither showy nor neglecte A she has taste without ee$ stu y, talent without art, ju gment without learning" 8er min knows little, but it is traine to learnA it is well-tille soil rea y for the sower" )he has rea no book but Bareme an Telemachus which ha$$ene to fall into her han sA but no girl who can feel so $assionately towar s Telemachus can ha!e a heart without feeling or a min without iscernment" Chat charming ignoranceH 8a$$y is he who is estine to be her tutor" )he will not be her husban @s teacher but his scholarA far from seeking to control his tastes, she will share them" )he will suit him far better than a blue-stocking an he will ha!e the $leasure of teaching her e!erything" 9t is time they ma e acquaintanceA let us try to $lan a meeting" Chen we left Paris we were sorrowful an wra$$e in thought" This Babel is not our home" Emile casts a scornful glance towar s the great city, saying angrily, DChat a time we ha!e waste A the bri e of my heart is not there" >y frien , you knew it, but you think nothing of my time, an you $ay no hee to my sufferings"D Cith stea y look an firm !oice 9 re$ly, DEmile, o you mean what you sayED 't once he flings his arms roun my neck an clas$s me to his breast without s$eaking" That is his answer when he knows he is in the wrong" 'n now we are wan ering through the country like true knights-errantA yet we are not seeking a !entures when we lea!e ParisA we are esca$ing from themA now fast now slow, we wan er through the country like knights-errants" By following my usual $ractice the taste for it has

become establishe A an 9 o not su$$ose any of my rea ers are such sla!es of custom as to $icture us oFing in a $ost-chaise with close win ows, tra!elling, yet seeing nothing, obser!ing nothing, making the time between our start an our arri!al a mere blank, an losing in the s$ee of our journey, the time we meant to sa!e" >en say life is short, an 9 see them oing their best to shorten it" 's they o not know how to s$en their time they lament the swiftness of its flight, an 9 $ercei!e that for them it goes only too slowly" 9ntent merely on the object of their $ursuit, they behol unwillingly the s$ace between them an itA one esires to-morrow, another looks a month ahea , another ten years beyon that" <o one wants to li!e to- ay, no one contents himself with the $resent hour, all com$lain that it $asses slowly" Chen they com$lain that time flies, they lieA they woul gla ly $urchase the $ower to hasten itA they woul gla ly s$en their fortune to get ri of their whole lifeA an there is $robably not a single one who woul not ha!e re uce his life to a few hours if he ha been free to get ri of those hours he foun te ious, an those which se$arate him from the esire moment" ' man s$en s his whole life rushing from Paris to Gersailles, from Gersailles to Paris, from town to country, from country to town, from one istrict of the town to anotherA but he woul not know what to o with his time if he ha not isco!ere this way of wasting it, by lea!ing his business on $ur$ose to fin something to o in coming back to itA he thinks he is sa!ing the time he s$en s, which woul otherwise be unoccu$ie A or maybe he rushes for the sake of rushing, an tra!els $ost in or er to return in the same fashion" Chen will mankin cease to slan er natureE Chy o you com$lain that life is short when it is ne!er short enough for youE 9f there were but one of you, able to mo erate his esires, so that he i not esire the flight of time, he woul ne!er fin life too shortA for him life an the joy of life woul be one an the sameA shoul he ie young, he woul still ie full of ays" 9f this were the only a !antage of my way of tra!elling it woul be enough" 9 ha!e brought Emile u$ neither to esire nor to wait, but to enjoyA an when his esires are bent u$on the future, their ar our is not so great as to make time seem te ious" 8e will not only enjoy the elights of longing, but the elights of a$$roaching the object of his esiresA an his $assions are un er such restraint that he li!es to a great e?tent in the $resent" )o we o not tra!el like couriers but like e?$lorers" Ce o not merely consi er the beginning an the en , but the s$ace between" The journey itself is a elight" Ce o not tra!el sitting, ismally im$risone , so to s$eak, in a tightly close cage" Ce o not tra!el with the ease an comfort of la ies" Ce o not e$ri!e oursel!es of the fresh air, nor the sight of the things about us, nor the o$$ortunity of e?amining them at our $leasure" Emile will ne!er enter a $ost-chaise, nor will he ri e $ost unless in a great hurry" But what cause has Emile for hasteE <one but the joy of life" )hall 9 a to this the esire to o goo when he canE <o, for that is itself one of the joys of life" 9 can only think of one way of tra!elling $leasanter than tra!elling on horseback, an that is to tra!el on foot" #ou start at your own time, you

sto$ when you will, you o as much or as little as you choose" #ou see the country, you turn off to the right or leftA you e?amine anything which interests you, you sto$ to a mire e!ery !iew" (o 9 see a stream, 9 wan er by its banksA a leafy woo , 9 seek its sha eA a ca!e, 9 enter itA a quarry, 9 stu y its geology" 9f 9 like a $lace, 9 sto$ there" 's soon as 9 am weary of it, 9 go on" 9 am in e$en ent of horses an $ostillionsA 9 nee not stick to regular routes or goo roa sA 9 go anywhere where a man can goA 9 see all that a man can seeA an as 9 am quite in e$en ent of e!erybo y, 9 enjoy all the free om man can enjoy" 9f 9 am sto$$e by ba weather an 9 fin myself getting bore , then 9 take horses" 9f 9 am tire Bbut Emile is har ly e!er tire A he is strongA why shoul he get tire E There is no hurryE 9f he sto$s, why shoul he be bore E 8e always fin s some amusement" 8e works at a tra eA he uses his arms to rest his feet" To tra!el on foot is to tra!el in the fashion of Thales, Plato, an Pythagoras" 9 fin it har to un erstan how a $hiloso$her can bring himself to tra!el in any other wayA how he can tear himself from the stu y of the wealth which lies before his eyes an beneath his feet" 9s there any one with an interest in agriculture, who oes not want to know the s$ecial $ro ucts of the istrict through which he is $assing, an their metho of culti!ationE 9s there any one with a taste for natural history, who can $ass a $iece of groun without e?amining it, a rock without breaking off a $iece of it, hills without looking for $lants, an stones without seeking for fossilsE #our town-bre scientists stu y natural history in cabinetsA they ha!e small s$ecimensA they know their names but nothing of their nature" Emile@s museum is richer than that of kingsA it is the whole worl " E!erything is in its right $laceA the <aturalist who is its curator has taken care to arrange it in the fairest or erA (auberton coul o no better" Chat !arie $leasures we enjoy in this elightful way of tra!elling, not to s$eak of increasing health an a cheerful s$irit" 9 notice that those who ri e in nice, well-$a e carriages are always wra$$e in thought, gloomy, fault-fin ing, or sickA while those who go on foot are always merry, light-hearte , an elighte with e!erything" 8ow cheerful we are when we get near our lo ging for the nightH 8ow sa!oury is the coarse foo H 8ow we linger at table enjoying our restH 8ow soun ly we slee$ on a har be H 9f you only want to get to a $lace you may ri e in a $ostchaiseA if you want to tra!el you must go on foot" 9f )o$hy is not forgotten before we ha!e gone fifty leagues in the way 9 $ro$ose, either 9 am a bungler or Emile lacks curiosityA for with an elementary knowle ge of so many things, it is har ly to be su$$ose that he will not be tem$te to e?ten his knowle ge" 9t is knowle ge that makes us curiousA an Emile knows just enough to want to know more" 6ne thing lea s on to another, an we make our way forwar " 9f 9 chose a istant object for the en of our first journey, it is not ifficult to fin an e?cuse for itA when we lea!e Paris we must seek a wife at a istance" ' few ays later we ha wan ere further than usual among hills an !alleys where no roa was to be seen an we lost our way com$letely" <o

matter, all roa s are alike if they bring you to your journey@s en , but if you are hungry they must lea somewhere" %uckily we came across a $easant who took u$ to his cottageA we enjoye his $oor inner with a hearty a$$etite" Chen he saw how hungry an tire we were he sai , D9f the %or ha le you to the other si e of the hill you woul ha!e ha a better welcome, you woul ha!e foun a goo resting $lace, such goo , kin ly $eo$leH They coul not wish to o more for you than 9, but they are richer, though folks say they use to be much better off" )till they are not re uce to $o!erty, an the whole country-si e is the better for what they ha!e"D Chen Emile hear of these goo $eo$le his heart warme to them" D>y frien ,D sai he, looking at me, Dlet us !isit this house, whose owners are a blessing to the istrictA 9 shall be !ery gla to see themA $erha$s they will be $lease to see us tooA 9 am sure we shall be welcomeA we shall just suit each other"D 6ur host tol us how to fin our way to the house an we set off, but lost our way in the woo s" Ce were caught in a hea!y rainstorm, which elaye us further" 't last we foun the right $ath an in the e!ening we reache the house, which ha been escribe to us" 9t was the only house among the cottages of the little hamlet, an though $lain it ha an air of ignity" Ce went u$ to the oor an aske for hos$itality" Ce were taken to the owner of the house, who questione us courteouslyA without telling him the object of our journey, we tol him why we ha left our $ath" 8is former wealth enable him to ju ge a man@s $osition by his mannersA those who ha!e li!e in society are rarely mistakenA with this $ass$ort we were a mitte " The room we were shown into was !ery small, but clean an comfortableA a fire was lighte , an we foun linen, clothes, an e!erything we nee e " DChy,D sai Emile, in astonishment, Done woul think they were e?$ecting us" The $easant was quite rightA how kin an attenti!e, how consi erate, an for strangers tooH 9 shall think 9 am li!ing in the times of 8omer"D D9 am gla you feel this,D sai 9, Dbut you nee not be sur$rise A where strangers are scarce, they are welcomeA nothing makes $eo$le more hos$itable than the fact that calls u$on their hos$itality are rareA when guests are frequent there is an en to hos$itality" 9n 8omer@s time, $eo$le rarely tra!elle , an tra!ellers were e!erywhere welcome" Gery likely we are the only $eo$le who ha!e $asse this way this year"D D<e!er min ,D sai he, Dto know how to o without guests an yet to gi!e them a kin welcome, is its own $raise"D 8a!ing rie oursel!es an change our clothes, we rejoine the master of the house, who intro uce us to his wifeA she recei!e us not merely with courtesy but with kin ness" 8er glance reste on Emile" ' mother, in her $osition, rarely recei!es a young man into her house without some an?iety or some curiosity at least" )u$$er was hurrie forwar on our account" Chen we went into the ining-room there were fi!e $laces lai A we took our seats an the fifth chair remaine em$ty" Presently a young girl entere , ma e a ee$ courtesy, an mo estly took her $lace without a wor " Emile was busy

with his su$$er or consi ering how to re$ly to what was sai to himA he bowe to her an continue talking an eating" The main object of his journey was as far from his thoughts as he belie!e himself to be from the en of his journey" The con!ersation turne u$on our losing our way" D)ir,D sai the master of the house to Emile, Dyou seem to be a $leasant well-beha!e young gentleman, an that remin s me that your tutor an you arri!e wet an weary like Telemachus an >entor in the islan of :aly$so"D D9n ee ,D sai Emile, Dwe ha!e foun the hos$itality of :aly$so"D 8is >entor a e , D'n the charms of Eucharis"D But Emile knew the 6 yssey an he ha not rea Telemachus, so he knew nothing of Eucharis" 's for the young girl, 9 saw she blushe u$ to her eyebrows, fi?e her eyes on her $late, an har ly are to breathe" 8er mother, noticing her confusion, ma e a sign to her father to turn the con!ersation" Chen he talke of his lonely life, he unconsciously began to relate the circumstances which brought him into itA his misfortunes, his wife@s fi elity, the consolations they foun in their marriage, their quiet, $eaceful life in their retirement, an all this without a wor of the young girlA it is a $leasing an a touching story, which cannot fail to interest" Emile, intereste an sym$athetic, lea!es off eating an listens" Chen finally this best of men iscourses with elight of the affection of the best of women, the young tra!eller, carrie away by his feelings, stretches one han to the husban , an taking the wife@s han with the other, he kisses it ra$turously an bathes it with his tears" E!erybo y is charme with the sim$le enthusiasm of the young manA but the aughter, more ee$ly touche than the rest by this e!i ence of his kin ly heart, is remin e of Telemachus wee$ing for the woes of Philoctetus" )he looks at him shyly, the better to stu y his countenanceA there is nothing in it to gi!e the lie to her com$arison" 8is easy bearing shows free om without $ri eA his manners are li!ely but not boisterousA sym$athy makes his glance softer an his e?$ression more $leasingA the young girl, seeing him wee$, is rea y to mingle her tears with his" Cith so goo an e?cuse for tears, she is restraine by a secret shameA she blames herself alrea y for the tears which tremble on her eyeli s, as though it were wrong to wee$ for one@s family" 8er mother, who has been watching her e!er since she sat own to su$$er, sees her istress, an to relie!e it she sen s her on some erran " The aughter returns irectly, but so little reco!ere that her istress is a$$arent to all" 8er mother says gently, D)o$hy, control yourselfA will you ne!er cease to wee$ for the misfortunes of your $arentsE Chy shoul you, who are their chief comfort, be more sensiti!e than they are themsel!esED 't the name of )o$hy you woul ha!e seen Emile gi!e a start" 8is attention is arreste by this ear name, an he awakes all at once an looks eagerly at one who ares to bear it" )o$hyH 're you the )o$hy whom my heart is seekingE 9s it you that 9 lo!eE 8e looks at herA he watches her with a sort of fear an self- istrust" The face is not quite what he $icture A he cannot tell whether he likes it more or less" 8e stu ies e!ery feature, he watches e!ery mo!ement, e!ery gestureA he has a hun re fleeting inter$retations for them allA he woul gi!e half his

life if she woul but s$eak" 8e looks at me an?iously an uneasilyA his eyes are full of questions an re$roaches" 8is e!ery glance seems to say, DGui e me while there is yet timeA if my heart yiel s itself an is ecei!e , 9 shall ne!er get o!er it"D There is no one in the worl less able to conceal his feelings than Emile" 8ow shoul he conceal them, in the mi st of the greatest isturbance he has e!er e?$erience , an un er the eyes of four s$ectators who are all watching him, while she who seems to hee him least is really most occu$ie with him" 8is uneasiness oes not esca$e the keen eyes of )o$hyA his own eyes tell her that she is its causeA she sees that this uneasiness is not yet lo!eA what matterE 8e is thinking of her, an that is enoughA she will be !ery unlucky if he thinks of her with im$unity" >others, like aughters, ha!e eyesA an they ha!e e?$erience too" )o$hy@s mother smiles at the success of our schemes" )he rea s the hearts of the young $eo$leA she sees that the time has come to secure the heart of this new TelemachusA she makes her aughter s$eak" 8er aughter, with her nati!e sweetness, re$lies in a timi tone which makes all the more im$ression" 't the first soun of her !oice, Emile surren ersA it is )o$hy herselfA there can be no oubt about it" 9f it were not so, it woul be too late to eny it" The charms of this mai en enchantress rush like torrents through his heart, an he begins to rain the raughts of $oison with which he is into?icate " 8e says nothingA questions $ass unhee e A he sees only )o$hy, he hears only )o$hyA if she says a wor , he o$ens his mouthA if her eyes are cast own, so are hisA if he sees her sigh, he sighs tooA it is )o$hy@s heart which seems to s$eak in his" Chat a change ha!e these few moments wrought in her heartH 9t is no longer her turn to tremble, it is Emile@s" 7arewell liberty, sim$licity, frankness" :onfuse , embarrasse , fearful, he are not look about him for fear he shoul see that we are watching him" 'shame that we shoul rea his secret, he woul fain become in!isible to e!ery one, that he might fee in secret on the sight of )o$hy" )o$hy, on the other han , regains her confi ence at the sight of Emile@s fearA she sees her trium$h an rejoices in it" D<o@l mostra gia, ben che in suo cor ne ri a"D Tasso, Jerus" (el", c" i!" !" JJ" 8er e?$ression remains unchange A but in s$ite of her mo est look an owncast eyes, her ten er heart is throbbing with joy, an it tells her that she has foun Telemachus" 9f 9 relate the $lain an sim$le tale of their innocent affections you will accuse me of fri!olity, but you will be mistaken" )ufficient attention is not gi!en to the effect which the first connection between man an woman is boun to $ro uce on the future life of both" Peo$le o not see that a first im$ression so !i!i as that of lo!e, or the liking which takes the $lace of lo!e, $ro uces lasting effects whose influence continues till eath" Corks on e ucation are cramme with wor y an unnecessary accounts of the imaginary uties of chil renA but there is not a wor about the most

im$ortant an most ifficult $art of their e ucation, the crisis which forms the bri ge between the chil an the man" 9f any $art of this work is really useful, it will be because 9 ha!e welt at great length on this matter, so essential in itself an so neglecte by other authors, an because 9 ha!e not allowe myself to be iscourage either by false elicacy or by the ifficulties of e?$ression" The story of human nature is a fair romance" 'm 9 to blame if it is not foun elsewhereE 9 am trying to write the history of mankin " 9f my book is a romance, the fault lies with those who e$ra!e mankin " This is su$$orte by another reasonA we are not ealing with a youth gi!en o!er from chil hoo to fear, gree , en!y, $ri e, an all those $assions which are the common tools of the schoolmasterA we ha!e to o with a youth who is not only in lo!e for the first time, but with one who is also e?$eriencing his first $assion of any kin A !ery likely it will be the only strong $assion he will e!er know, an u$on it e$en s the final formation of his character" 8is mo e of thought, his feelings, his tastes, etermine by a lasting $assion, are about to become so fi?e that they will be inca$able of further change" #ou will easily un erstan that Emile an 9 o not s$en the whole of the night which follows after such an e!ening in slee$" ChyH (o you mean to tell me that a wise man shoul be so much affecte by a mere coinci ence of nameH 9s there only one )o$hy in the worl E 're they all alike in heart an in nameE 9s e!ery )o$hy he meets his )o$hyE 9s he ma to fall in lo!e with a $erson of whom he knows so little, with whom he has scarcely e?change a cou$le of wor sE Cait, young manA e?amine, obser!e" #ou o not e!en know who our hosts may be, an to hear you talk one woul think the house was your own" This is no time for teaching, an what 9 say will recei!e scant attention" 9t only ser!es to stimulate Emile to further interest in )o$hy, through his esire to fin reasons for his fancy" The une?$ecte coinci ence in the name, the meeting which, so far as he knows, was quite acci ental, my !ery caution itself, only ser!e as fuel to the fire" 8e is so con!ince alrea y of )o$hy@s e?cellence, that he feels sure he can make me fon of her" <e?t morning 9 ha!e no oubt Emile will make himself as smart as his ol tra!elling suit $ermits" 9 am not mistakenA but 9 am amuse to see how eager he is to wear the clean linen $ut out for us" 9 know his thoughts, an 9 am elighte to see that he is trying to establish a means of intercourse, through the return an e?change of the linenA so that he may ha!e a right to return it an so $ay another !isit to the house" 9 e?$ecte to fin )o$hy rather more carefully resse tooA but 9 was mistaken" )uch common coquetry is all !ery well for those who merely esire to $lease" The coquetry of true lo!e is a more elicate matterA it has quite another en in !iew" )o$hy is resse , if $ossible, more sim$ly than last night, though as usual her frock is e?quisitely clean" The only sign of coquetry is her self-consciousness" )he knows that an elaborate toilet is a sign of lo!e, but she oes not know that a careless toilet is another of its signsA it shows a esire to be like not merely for one@s

clothes but for oneself" Chat oes a lo!er care for her clothes if he knows she is thinking of himE )o$hy is alrea y sure of her $ower o!er Emile, an she is not content to elight his eyes if his heart is not hers alsoA he must not only $ercei!e her charms, he must i!ine themA has he not seen enough to guess the restE Ce may take it for grante that while Emile an 9 were talking last night, )o$hy an her mother were not silentA a confession was ma e an instructions gi!en" The morning@s meeting is not un$re$are " Twel!e hours ago our young $eo$le ha ne!er metA they ha!e ne!er sai a wor to each otherA but it is clear that there is alrea y an un erstan ing between them" Their greeting is formal, confuse , timi A they say nothing, their owncast eyes seem to a!oi each other, but that is in itself a sign that they un erstan , they a!oi each other with one consentA they alrea y feel the nee of concealment, though not a wor has been uttere " Chen we e$art we ask lea!e to come again to return the borrowe clothes in $erson, Emile@s wor s are a resse to the father an mother, but his eyes seek )o$hy@s, an his looks are more eloquent than his wor s" )o$hy says nothing by wor or gestureA she seems eaf an blin , but she blushes, an that blush is an answer e!en $lainer than that of her $arents" Ce recei!e $ermission to come again, though we are not in!ite to stay" This is only fittingA you offer shelter to benighte tra!ellers, but a lo!er oes not slee$ in the house of his mistress" Ce ha!e har ly left the belo!e abo e before Emile is thinking of taking rooms in the neighbourhoo A the nearest cottage seems too farA he woul like to slee$ in the ne?t itch" D#ou young foolHD 9 sai in a tone of $ity, Dare you alrea y blin e by $assionE 8a!e you no regar for manners or for reasonE Cretche youth, you call yourself a lo!er an you woul bring isgrace u$on her you lo!eH Chat woul $eo$le say of her if they knew that a young man who has been staying at her house was slee$ing close byE #ou say you lo!e herH Coul you ruin her re$utationE 9s that the $rice you offer for her $arents@ hos$italityE Coul you bring isgrace on her who will one ay make you the ha$$iest of menED DChy shoul we trouble oursel!es about the em$ty wor s an unjust sus$icions of other $eo$leED sai he eagerly" D8a!e you not taught me yourself to make light of themE Cho knows better than 9 how greatly 9 honour )o$hy, what res$ect 9 esire to show herE >y attachment will not cause her shame, it will be her glory, it shall be worthy of her" 9f my heart an my actions continually gi!e her the homage she eser!es, what harm can 9 o herED D(ear Emile,D 9 sai , as 9 clas$e him to my heart, Dyou are thinking of yourself aloneA learn to think for her too" (o not com$are the honour of one se? with that of the other, they rest on ifferent foun ations" These foun ations are equally firm an right, because they are both lai by nature, an that same !irtue which makes you scorn what men say about yourself, bin s you to res$ect what they say of her you lo!e" #our honour is in your own kee$ing, her honour e$en s on others" To neglect it is to woun your own honour, an you fail in what is ue to yourself if you o not gi!e her the res$ect she eser!es"D

Then while 9 e?$lain the reasons for this ifference, 9 make him realise how wrong it woul be to $ay no attention to it" Cho can say if he will really be )o$hy@s husban E 8e oes not know how she feels towar s himA her own heart or her $arents@ will may alrea y ha!e forme other engagementsA he knows nothing of her, $erha$s there are none of those groun s of suitability which make a ha$$y marriage" 9s he not aware that the least breath of scan al with regar to a young girl is an in elible stain, which not e!en marriage with him who has cause the scan al can effaceE Chat man of feeling woul ruin the woman he lo!esE Chat man of honour woul esire that a miserable woman shoul for e!er lament the misfortune of ha!ing foun fa!our in his eyesE 'lways $rone to e?tremes, the youth takes alarm at the consequences which 9 ha!e com$elle him to consi er, an now he thinks that he cannot be too far from )o$hy@s homeA he hastens his ste$s to get further from itA he glances roun to make sure that no one is listeningA he woul sacrifice his own ha$$iness a thousan times to the honour of her whom he lo!esA he woul rather ne!er see her again than cause her the least un$leasantness" This is the first result of the $ains 9 ha!e taken e!er since he was a chil to make him ca$able of affection" Ce must therefore seek a lo ging at a istance, but not too far" Ce look about us, we make inquiriesA we fin that there is a town at least two leagues away" Ce try an fin lo gings in this town, rather than in the nearer !illages, where our $resence might gi!e rise to sus$icion" 9t is there that the new lo!er takes u$ his abo e, full of lo!e, ho$e, joy, abo!e all full of right feeling" 9n this way, 9 gui e his rising $assion towar s all that is honourable an goo , so that his inclinations unconsciously follow the same bent" >y course is rawing to a closeA the en is in !iew" 'll the chief ifficulties are !anquishe , the chief obstacles o!ercomeA the har est thing left to o is to refrain from s$oiling my work by un ue haste to com$lete it" 'mi the uncertainty of human life, let us shun that false $ru ence which seeks to sacrifice the $resent to the futureA what is, is too often sacrifice to what will ne!er be" %et us make man ha$$y at e!ery age lest in s$ite of our care he shoul ie without knowing the meaning of ha$$iness" <ow if there is a time to enjoy life, it is un oubte ly the close of a olescence, when the $owers of min an bo y ha!e reache their greatest strength, an when man in the mi st of his course is furthest from those two e?tremes which tell him D%ife is short"D 9f the im$ru ence of youth ecei!es itself it is not in its esire for enjoyment, but because it seeks enjoyment where it is not to be foun , an lays u$ misery for the future, while unable to enjoy the $resent" :onsi er my Emile o!er twenty years of age, well forme , well e!elo$e in min an bo y, strong, healthy, acti!e, skilful, robust, full of sense, reason, kin ness, humanity, $ossesse of goo morals an goo taste, lo!ing what is beautiful, oing what is goo , free from the sway of fierce $assions, release from the tyranny of $o$ular $reju ices, but subject to the law of wis om, an easily gui e by the !oice of a frien A gifte with so many useful an $leasant accom$lishments, caring little for wealth, able to earn a li!ing with his own han s, an not afrai of want, whate!er

may come" Behol him in the into?ication of a growing $assionA his heart o$ens to the first beams of lo!eA its $leasant fancies re!eal to him a whole worl of new elights an enjoymentsA he lo!es a sweet woman, whose character is e!en more elightful than her $ersonA he ho$es, he e?$ects the rewar which he eser!es" Their first attachment took its rise in mutual affection, in community of honourable feelingsA therefore this affection is lasting" 9t aban ons itself, with confi ence, with reason, to the most elightful ma ness, without fear, regret, remorse, or any other isturbing thought, but that which is inse$arable from all ha$$iness" Chat lacks there yetE Behol , inquire, imagine what still is lacking, that can be combine with $resent joys" E!ery ha$$iness which can e?ist in combination is alrea y $resentA nothing coul be a e without taking away from what there isA he is as ha$$y as man can be" )hall 9 choose this time to cut short so sweet a $erio E )hall 9 isturb such $ure enjoymentE The ha$$iness he enjoys is my life@s rewar " Chat coul 9 gi!e that coul outweigh what 9 shoul take awayE E!en if 9 set the crown to his ha$$iness 9 shoul estroy its greatest charm" That su$reme joy is a hun re fol greater in antici$ation than in $ossessionA its sa!our is greater while we wait for it than when it is ours" 6 worthy EmileH lo!e an be lo!e H $rolong your enjoyment before it is yoursA rejoice in your lo!e an in your innocence, fin your $ara ise u$on earth, while you await your hea!en" 9 shall not cut short this ha$$y $erio of life" 9 will raw out its enchantments, 9 will $rolong them as far as $ossible" 'lasH it must come to an en an that soonA but it shall at least linger in your memory, an you will ne!er re$ent of its joys" Emile has not forgotten that we ha!e something to return" 's soon as the things are rea y, we take horse an set off at a great $ace, for on this occasion he is an?ious to get there" Chen the heart o$ens the oor to $assion, it becomes conscious of the slow flight of time" 9f my time has not been waste he will not s$en his life like this" ;nluckily the roa is intricate an the country ifficult" Ce lose our wayA he is the first to notice it, an without losing his tem$er, an without grumbling, he e!otes his whole attention to isco!ering the $athA he wan ers for a long time before he knows where he is an always with the same self-control" #ou think nothing of thatA but 9 think it a matter of great im$ortance, for 9 know how eager he isA 9 see the results of the care 9 ha!e taken from his infancy to har en him to en ure the blows of necessity" Ce are there at lastH 6ur rece$tion is much sim$ler an more frien ly than on the $re!ious occasionA we are alrea y ol acquaintances" Emile an )o$hy bow shyly an say nothingA what can they say in our $resenceE Chat they wish to say requires no s$ectators" Ce walk in the gar enA a well-ke$t kitchen-gar en takes the $lace of flower-be s, the $ark is an orchar full of fine tall fruit trees of e!ery kin , i!i e by $retty streams an bor ers full of flowers" DChat a lo!ely $laceHD e?claims Emile, still thinking of his 8omer, an still full of enthusiasm, D9 coul fancy myself in the gar en of 'lcinous"D The aughter wishes she knew who 'lcinous wasA her mother asks" D'lcinous,D 9 tell them, Dwas a

king of :oreyra" 8omer escribes his gar en an the critics think it too sim$le an una orne " .7ootnote& D@Chen you lea!e the $alace you enter a !ast gar en, four acres in e?tent, walle in on e!ery si e, $lante with tall trees in blossom, an yiel ing $ears, $omegranates, an other goo ly fruits, fig-trees with their luscious bur en an green oli!es" 'll the year roun these fair trees are hea!y with fruitA summer an winter the soft breath of the west win sways the trees an ri$ens the fruit" Pears an a$$les wither on the branches, the fig on the fig-tree, an the clusters of gra$es on the !ine" The ine?haustible stock bears fresh gra$es, some are bake , some are s$rea out on the threshing floor to ry, others are ma e into wine, while flowers, sour gra$es, an those which are beginning to wither are left u$on the tree" 't either en is a square gar en fille with flowers which bloom throughout the year, these gar ens are a orne by two fountains, one of these streams waters the gar en, the other $asses through the $alace an is then taken to a lofty tower in the town to $ro!i e rinking water for its citiFens"@ )uch is the escri$tion of the royal gar en of 'lcinous in the 2th book of the 6 yssey, a gar en in which, to the lasting isgrace of that ol reamer 8omer an the $rinces of his ay, there were neither trellises, statues, casca es, nor bowling-greens"D3 This 'lcinous ha a charming aughter who reame the night before her father recei!e a stranger at his boar that she woul soon ha!e a husban "D )o$hy, taken unawares, blushe , hung her hea , an bit her li$sA no one coul be more confuse " 8er father, who was enjoying her confusion, a e that the young $rincess bent herself to wash the linen in the ri!er" D(o you think,D sai he, Dshe woul ha!e scorne to touch the irty clothes, saying, that they smelt of greaseED )o$hy, touche to the quick, forgot her natural timi ity an efen e herself eagerly" 8er $a$a knew !ery well all the smaller things woul ha!e ha no other laun ress if she ha been allowe to wash them, an she woul gla ly ha!e one more ha she been set to o it" .7ootnote& 9 own 9 feel grateful to )o$hy@s mother for not letting her s$oil such $retty han s with soa$, han s which Emile will kiss so often"3 >eanwhile she watche me secretly with such an?iety that 9 coul not su$$ress a smile, while 9 rea the terrors of her sim$le heart which urge her to s$eak" 8er father was cruel enough to continue this foolish s$ort, by asking her, in jest, why she s$oke on her own behalf an what ha she in common with the aughter of 'lcinous" Trembling an ashame she are har ly breathe or look at us" :harming girlH This is no time for feigning, you ha!e shown your true feelings in s$ite of yourself" To all a$$earance this little scene is soon forgottenA luckily for )o$hy, Emile, at least, is unaware of it" Ce continue our walk, the young $eo$le at first kee$ing close besi e usA but they fin it har to a a$t themsel!es to our slower $ace, an $resently they are a little in front of us, they are walking si e by si e, they begin to talk, an before long they are a goo way ahea " )o$hy seems to be listening quietly, Emile is talking an gesticulating !igorouslyA they seem to fin their con!ersation interesting" Chen we turn homewar s a full hour later, we call them to us an they return slowly enough now, an we can see they are making goo use of their time" Their con!ersation ceases su enly before they come within earshot, an they hurry u$ to us" Emile meets us with a frank affectionate e?$ressionA his eyes are s$arkling with joyA yet he looks

an?iously at )o$hy@s mother to see how she takes it" )o$hy is not nearly so much at her easeA as she a$$roaches us she seems co!ere with confusion at fin ing herself tete-a-tete with a young man, though she has met so many other young men frankly enough, an without being foun fault with for it" )he runs u$ to her mother, somewhat out of breath, an makes some tri!ial remark, as if to $reten she ha been with her for some time" 7rom the ha$$y e?$ression of these ear chil ren we see that this con!ersation has taken a loa off their hearts" They are no less reticent in their intercourse, but their reticence is less embarrassing, it is only ue to Emile@s re!erence an )o$hy@s mo esty, to the goo ness of both" Emile !entures to say a few wor s to her, she !entures to re$ly, but she always looks at her mother before she ares to answer" The most remarkable change is in her attitu e towar s me" )he shows me the greatest res$ect, she watches me with interest, she takes $ains to $lease meA 9 see that 9 am honoure with her esteem, an that she is not in ifferent to mine" 9 un erstan that Emile has been talking to her about meA you might say they ha!e been scheming to win me o!er to their si eA yet it is not so, an )o$hy herself is not so easily won" Perha$s Emile will ha!e more nee of my influence with her than of hers with me" Chat a charming $airH Chen 9 consi er that the ten er lo!e of my young frien has brought my name so $rominently into his first con!ersation with his la y-lo!e, 9 enjoy the rewar of all my troubleA his affection is a sufficient recom$ense" 6ur !isit is re$eate " There are frequent con!ersations between the young $eo$le" Emile is ma ly in lo!e an thinks that his ha$$iness is within his gras$" #et he oes not succee in winning any formal a!owal from )o$hyA she listens to what he says an answers nothing" Emile knows how mo est she is, an is not sur$rise at her reticenceA he feels sure that she likes himA he knows that $arents eci e whom their aughters shall marryA he su$$oses that )o$hy is awaiting her $arents@ comman sA he asks her $ermission to s$eak to them, an she makes no objection" 8e talks to me an 9 s$eak on his behalf an in his $resence" 8e is immensely sur$rise to hear that )o$hy is her own mistress, that his ha$$iness e$en s on her alone" 8e begins to be $uFFle by her con uct" 8e is less self-confi ent, he takes alarm, he sees that he has not ma e so much $rogress as he e?$ecte , an then it is that his lo!e a$$eals to her in the ten erest an most mo!ing language" Emile is not the sort of man to guess what is the matterA if no one tol him he woul ne!er isco!er it as long as he li!e , an )o$hy is too $rou to tell him" Chat she consi ers obstacles, others woul call a !antages" )he has not forgotten her $arents@ teaching" )he is $oorA Emile is richA so much she knows" 8e must win her esteemA his eserts must be great in ee to remo!e this inequality" But how shoul he $ercei!e these obstaclesE 9s Emile aware that he is richE 8as he e!er con escen e to inquireE Thank hea!en, he has no nee of riches, he can o goo without their ai " The goo he oes comes from his heart, not his $urse" 8e gi!es the wretche his time, his care, his affection,

himselfA an when he reckons u$ what he has one, he har ly ares to mention the money s$ent on the $oor" 's he oes not know what to make of his isgrace, he thinks it is his own faultA for who woul !enture to accuse the a ore one of ca$rice" The shame of humiliation a s to the $angs of isa$$ointe lo!e" 8e no longer a$$roaches )o$hy with that $leasant confi ence of his own worthA he is shy an timi in her $resence" 8e no longer ho$es to win her affections, but to gain her $ity" )ometimes he loses $atience an is almost angry with her" )o$hy seems to guess his angry feelings an she looks at him" 8er glance is enough to isarm an terrify himA he is more submissi!e than he use to be" (isturbe by this stubborn resistance, this in!incible silence, he $ours out his heart to his frien " 8e shares with him the $angs of a heart e!oure by sorrowA he im$lores his hel$ an counsel" D8ow mysterious it is, how har to un erstan H )he takes an interest in me, that 9 am sureA far from a!oi ing me she is $lease to see meA when 9 come she shows signs of $leasure, when 9 go she shows regretA she recei!es my attentions kin ly, my ser!ices seem to gi!e her $leasure, she con escen s to gi!e me her a !ice an e!en her comman s" #et she rejects my requests an my $rayers" Chen 9 !enture to s$eak of marriage, she bi s me be silentA if 9 say a wor , she lea!es me at once" Chy on earth shoul she wish me to be hers but refuse to be mineE )he res$ects an lo!es you, an she will not are to refuse to listen to you" )$eak to her, make her answer" :ome to your frien @s hel$, an $ut the co$ing stone to all you ha!e one for himA o not let him fall a !ictim to your careH 9f you fail to secure his ha$$iness, your own teaching will ha!e been the cause of his misery"D 9 s$eak to )o$hy, an ha!e no ifficulty in getting her to confi e her secret to me, a secret which was known to me alrea y" 9t is not so easy to get $ermission to tell EmileA but at last she gi!es me lea!e an 9 tell him what is the matter" 8e cannot get o!er his sur$rise at this e?$lanation" 8e cannot un erstan this elicacyA he cannot see how a few $oun s more or less can affect his character or his eserts" Chen 9 get him to see their effect on $eo$le@s $reju ices he begins to laughA he is so wil with elight that he wants to be off at once to tear u$ his title ee s an renounce his money, so as to ha!e the honour of being as $oor as )o$hy, an to return worthy to be her husban " DChy,D sai 9, trying to check him, an laughing in my turn at his im$etuosity, Dwill this young hea ne!er grow any ol erE 8a!ing abble all your life in $hiloso$hy, will you ne!er learn to reasonE (o not you see that your wil scheme woul only make things worse, an )o$hy more obstinateE 9t is a small su$eriority to be rather richer than she, but to gi!e u$ all for her woul be a !ery great su$eriorityA if her $ri e cannot bear to be un er the small obligation, how will she make u$ her min to the greaterE 9f she cannot bear to think that her husban might taunt her with the fact that he has enriche her, woul she $ermit him to blame her for ha!ing brought him to $o!ertyE Cretche boy, beware lest she sus$ects you of such a $lanH 6n the contrary, be careful an economical for her sake, lest she shoul accuse you of trying to gain her by cunning,

by sacrificing of your own free will what you are really wasting through carelessness" D(o you really think that she is afrai of wealth, an that she is o$$ose to great $ossessions in themsel!esE <o, ear EmileA there are more serious an substantial groun s for her o$inion, in the effect $ro uce by wealth on its $ossessor" )he knows that those who are $ossesse of fortune@s gifts are a$t to $lace them first" The rich always $ut wealth before merit" Chen ser!ices are reckone against sil!er, the latter always outweighs the former, an those who ha!e s$ent their life in their master@s ser!ice are consi ere his ebtors for the !ery brea they eat" Chat must you o, Emile, to calm her fearsE %et her get to know you betterA that is not one in a ay" )how her the treasures of your heart, to counterbalance the wealth which is unfortunately yours" Time an constancy will o!ercome her resistanceA let your great an noble feelings make her forget your wealth" %o!e her, ser!e her, ser!e her worthy $arents" :on!ince her that these attentions are not the result of a foolish fleeting $assion, but of settle $rinci$les engra!e u$on your heart" )how them the honour eser!e by worth when e?$ose to the buffets of 7ortuneA that is the only way to reconcile it with that worth which basks in her smiles"D The trans$orts of joy e?$erience by the young man at these wor s may easily be imagine A they restore confi ence an ho$e, his goo heart rejoices to o something to $lease )o$hy, which he woul ha!e one if there ha been no such $erson, or if he ha not been in lo!e with her" 8owe!er little his character has been un erstoo , anybo y can see how he woul beha!e un er such circumstances" 8ere am 9, the confi ant of these two young $eo$le an the me iator of their affection" Chat a fine task for a tutorH )o fine that ne!er in all my life ha!e 9 stoo so high in my own eyes, nor felt so $lease with myself" >oreo!er, this uty is not without its charms" 9 am not unwelcome in the homeA it is my business to see that the lo!ers beha!e themsel!esA Emile, e!er afrai of offen ing me, was ne!er so ocile" The little la y herself o!erwhelms me with a kin ness which oes not ecei!e me, an of which 9 only take my $ro$er share" This is her way of making u$ for her se!erity towar s Emile" 7or his sake she bestows on me a hun re ten er caresses, though she woul ie rather than bestow them on himA an he, knowing that 9 woul ne!er stan in his way, is elighte that 9 shoul get on so well with her" 9f she refuses his arm when we are out walking, he consoles himself with the thought that she has taken mine" 8e makes way for me without a murmur, he clas$s my han , an !oice an look alike whis$er, D>y frien , $lea for meHD an his eyes follow us with interestA he tries to rea our feelings in our faces, an to inter$ret our con!ersation by our gesturesA he knows that e!erything we are saying concerns him" (ear )o$hy, how frank an easy you are when you can talk to >entor without being o!erhear by Telemachus" 8ow freely an elightfully you $ermit him to rea what is $assing in your ten er little heartH 8ow elighte you are to show him how you esteem his $u$ilH 8ow cunningly an a$$ealingly you allow him to i!ine still ten erer sentiments" Cith what a $retence of anger you ismiss Emile when his

im$atience lea s him to interru$t youE Cith what $retty !e?ation you re$roach his in iscretion when he comes an $re!ents you saying something to his cre it, or listening to what 9 say about him, or fin ing in my wor s some new e?cuse to lo!e himH 8a!ing got so far as to be tolerate as an acknowle ge lo!er, Emile takes full a !antage of his $ositionA he s$eaks, he urges, he im$lores, he eman s" 8ar wor s or ill treatment make no ifference, $ro!i e he gets a hearing" 't length )o$hy is $ersua e , though with some ifficulty, to assume the authority of a betrothe , to eci e what he shall o, to comman instea of to ask, to acce$t instea of to thank, to control the frequency an the hours of his !isits, to forbi him to come till such a ay or to stay beyon such an hour" This is not one in $lay, but in earnest, an if it was har to in uce her to acce$t these rights, she uses them so sternly that Emile is often rea y to regret that he ga!e them to her" But whate!er her comman s, they are obeye without question, an often when at her bi ing he is about to lea!e her, he glances at me his eyes full of elight, as if to say, D#ou see she has taken $ossession of me"D #et unknown to him, )o$hy, with all her $ri e, is obser!ing him closely, an she is smiling to herself at the $ri e of her sla!e" 6h that 9 ha the brush of an 'lban or a Ra$hael to $aint their bliss, or the $en of the i!ine >ilton to escribe the $leasures of lo!e an innocenceH <ot soA let such hollow arts shrink back before the sacre truth of nature" 9n ten erness an $ureness of heart let your imagination freely trace the ra$tures of these young lo!ers, who un er the eyes of $arents an tutor, aban on themsel!es to their blissful illusionsA in the into?ication of $assion they are a !ancing ste$ by ste$ to its consummationA with flowers an garlan s they are wea!ing the bon s which are to bin them till eath o $art" 9 am carrie away by this succession of $ictures, 9 am so ha$$y that 9 cannot grou$ them in any sort of or er or schemeA any one with a heart in his breast can $aint the charming $icture for himself an realise the ifferent e?$eriences of father, mother, aughter, tutor, an $u$il, an the $art $laye by each an all in the union of the most elightful cou$le whom lo!e an !irtue ha!e e!er le to ha$$iness" <ow that he is really eager to $lease, Emile begins to feel the !alue of the accom$lishments he has acquire " )o$hy is fon of singing, he sings with herA he oes more, he teaches her music" )he is li!ely an light of foot, she lo!es ski$$ingA he ances with her, he $erfects an e!elo$s her untraine mo!ements into the ste$s of the ance" These lessons, enli!ene by the gayest mirth, are quite elightful, they melt the timi res$ect of lo!eA a lo!er may enjoy teaching his betrothe Bhe has a right to be her teacher" There is an ol s$inet quite out of or er" Emile men s an tunes itA he is a maker an men er of musical instruments as well as a car$enterA it has always been his rule to learn to o e!erything he can for himself" The house is $icturesquely situate an he makes se!eral sketches of it, in some of which )o$hy oes her share, an she hangs them in her father@s stu y" The frames are not gil e , nor o they require gil ing" Chen she sees Emile rawing, she raws too, an im$ro!es her own rawingA she

culti!ates all her talents, an her grace gi!es a charm to all she oes" 8er father an mother recall the ays of their wealth, when they fin themsel!es surroun e by the works of art which alone ga!e !alue to wealthA the whole house is a orne by lo!eA lo!e alone has enthrone among them, without cost or effort, the !ery same $leasures which were gathere together in former ays by int of toil an money" 's the i olater gi!es what he lo!es best to the shrine of the object of his worshi$, so the lo!er is not content to see $erfection in his mistress, he must be e!er trying to a to her a ornment" )he oes not nee it for his $leasure, it is he who nee s the $leasure of gi!ing, it is a fresh homage to be ren ere to her, a fresh $leasure in the joy of behol ing her" E!erything of beauty seems to fin its $lace only as an accessory to the su$reme beauty" 9t is both touching an amusing to see Emile eager to teach )o$hy e!erything he knows, without asking whether she wants to learn it or whether it is suitable for her" 8e talks about all sorts of things an e?$lains them to her with boyish eagernessA he thinks he has only to s$eak an she will un erstan A he looks forwar to arguing, an iscussing $hiloso$hy with herA e!erything he cannot is$lay before her is so much useless learningA he is quite ashame of knowing more than she" )o he gi!es her lessons in $hiloso$hy, $hysics, mathematics, history, an e!erything else" )o$hy is elighte to share his enthusiasm an to try an $rofit by it" 8ow $lease Emile is when he can get lea!e to gi!e these lessons on his knees before herH 8e thinks the hea!ens are o$en" #et this $osition, more trying to $u$il than to teacher, is har ly fa!ourable to stu y" 9t is not easy to know where to look, to a!oi meeting the eyes which follow our own, an if they meet so much the worse for the lesson" Comen are no strangers to the art of thinking, but they shoul only skim the surface of logic an meta$hysics" )o$hy un erstan s rea ily, but she soon forgets" )he makes most $rogress in the moral sciences an aestheticsA as to $hysical science she retains some !ague i ea of the general laws an or er of this worl " )ometimes in the course of their walks, the s$ectacle of the won ers of nature bi s them not fear to raise their $ure an innocent hearts to nature@s Go A they are not afrai of 8is $resence, an they $our out their hearts before him" ChatH Two young lo!ers s$en ing their time together talking of religionH 8a!e they nothing better to o than to say their catechismH Chat $rofit is there in the attem$t to egra e what is nobleE #es, no oubt they are saying their catechism in their elightful lan of romanceA they are $erfect in each other@s eyesA they lo!e one another, they talk eagerly of all that makes !irtue worth ha!ing" Their sacrifices to !irtue make her all the earer to them" Their struggles after self-control raw from them tears $urer than the ew of hea!en, an these sweet tears are the joy of lifeA no human heart has e!er e?$erience a sweeter into?ication" Their !ery renunciation a s to their ha$$iness, an their sacrifices increase their self-res$ect" )ensual men, bo ies without souls, some ay they will know your $leasures, an all their life long they will recall with regret the ha$$y ays when they refuse the cu$ of $leasure"

9n s$ite of this goo un erstan ing, ifferences an e!en quarrels occur from time to timeA the la y has her whims, the lo!er has a hot tem$erA but these $assing showers are soon o!er an only ser!e to strengthen their union" Emile learns by e?$erience not to attach too much im$ortance to them, he always gains more by the reconciliation than he lost by the quarrel" The results of the first ifference ma e him e?$ect a like result from allA he was mistaken, but e!en if he oes not make any a$$reciable ste$ forwar , he has always the satisfaction of fin ing )o$hy@s genuine concern for his affection more firmly establishe " DChat a !antage is this to himED you woul ask" 9 will gla ly tell youA all the more gla ly because it will gi!e me an o$$ortunity to establish clearly a !ery im$ortant $rinci$le, an to combat a !ery ea ly one" Emile is in lo!e, but he is not $resumingA an you will easily un erstan that the ignifie )o$hy is not the sort of girl to allow any kin of familiarity" #et !irtue has its boun s like e!erything else, an she is rather to be blame for her se!erity than for in ulgenceA e!en her father himself is sometimes afrai lest her lofty $ri e shoul egenerate into a haughty s$irit" Chen most alone, Emile are not ask for the slightest fa!our, he must not e!en seem to esire itA an if she is gracious enough to take his arm when they are out walking, a fa!our which she will ne!er $ermit him to claim as a right, it is only occasionally that he are !enture with a sigh to $ress her han to his heart" 8owe!er, after a long $erio of self-restraint, he !enture secretly to kiss the hem of her ress, an se!eral times he was lucky enough to fin her willing at least to $reten she was not aware of it" 6ne ay he attem$ts to take the same $ri!ilege rather more o$enly, an )o$hy takes it into her hea to be greatly offen e " 8e $ersists, she gets angry an s$eaks shar$ly to himA Emile will not $ut u$ with this without re$lyA the rest of the ay is gi!en o!er to sulks, an they $art in a !ery ill tem$er" )o$hy is ill at easeA her mother is her confi ant in all things, how can she kee$ this from herE 9t is their first misun erstan ing, an the misun erstan ing of an hour is such a serious business" )he is sorry for what she has one, she has her mother@s $ermission an her father@s comman s to make re$aration" The ne?t ay Emile returns somewhat earlier than usual an in a state of some an?iety" )o$hy is in her mother@s ressing-room an her father is also $resent" Emile enters res$ectfully but gloomily" )carcely ha!e her $arents greete him than )o$hy turns roun an hol ing out her han asks him in an affectionate tone how he is" That $retty han is clearly hel out to be kisse A he takes it but oes not kiss it" )o$hy, rather ashame of herself, with raws her han as best she may" Emile, who is not use to a woman@s whims, an oes not know how far ca$rice may be carrie , oes not forget so easily or make frien s again all at once" )o$hy@s father, seeing her confusion, com$letes her iscomfiture by his jokes" The $oor girl, confuse an ashame , oes not know what to o with herself an woul gla ly ha!e a goo cry" The more she tries to control herself the worse she feelsA at last a tear esca$es in s$ite of all she can o to $re!ent it" Emile, seeing this tear, rushes towar s her, falls on his knees, takes her han an kisses it again an again with the

greatest e!otion" D>y wor , you are too kin to her,D says her father, laughingA Dif 9 were you, 9 shoul eal more se!erely with these follies, 9 shoul $unish the mouth that wronge me"D Embol ene by these wor s, Emile turns a su$$liant eye towar s her mother, an thinking she is not unwilling, he tremblingly a$$roaches )o$hy@s faceA she turns away her hea , an to sa!e her mouth she e?$oses a blushing cheek" The aring young man is not content with thisA there is no great resistance" Chat a kiss, if it were not taken un er her mother@s eyes" 8a!e a care, )o$hy, in your se!erityA he will be rea y enough to try to kiss your ress if only you will sometimes say D<o"D 'fter this e?em$lary $unishment, )o$hy@s father goes about his business, an her mother makes some e?cuse for sen ing her out of the roomA then she s$eaks to Emile !ery seriously" D)ir,D she says, D9 think a young man so well born an well bre as yourself, a man of feeling an character, woul ne!er rewar with ishonour the confi ence re$ose in him by the frien shi$ of this family" 9 am neither $ru ish nor o!er strictA 9 know how to make e?cuses for youthful folly, an what 9 ha!e $ermitte in my own $resence is sufficient $roof of this" :onsult your frien as to your own uty, he will tell you there is all the ifference in the worl between the $layful kisses sanctione by the $resence of father an mother, an the same free om taken in their absence an in betrayal of their confi ence, a free om which makes a snare of the !ery fa!ours which in the $arents@ $resence were wholly innocent" 8e will tell you, sir, that my aughter is only to blame for not ha!ing $ercei!e from the first what she ought ne!er to ha!e $ermitte A he will tell you that e!ery fa!our, taken as such, is a fa!our, an that it is unworthy of a man of honour to take a !antage of a young girl@s innocence, to usur$ in $ri!ate the same free om which she may $ermit in the $resence of others" 7or goo manners teach us what is $ermitte in $ublicA but we o not know what a man will $ermit to himself in $ri!ate, if he makes himself the sole ju ge of his con uct"D 'fter this well- eser!e rebuke, a resse rather to me than to my $u$il, the goo mother lea!es us, an 9 am amaFe by her rare $ru ence, in thinking it a little thing that Emile shoul kiss her aughter@s li$s in her $resence, while fearing lest he shoul !enture to kiss her ress when they are alone" Chen 9 consi er the folly of worl ly ma?ims, whereby real $urity is continually sacrifice to a show of $ro$riety, 9 un erstan why s$eech becomes more refine while the heart becomes more corru$t, an why etiquette is stricter while those who conform to it are most immoral" Chile 9 am trying to con!ince Emile@s heart with regar to these uties which 9 ought to ha!e instille into him sooner, a new i ea occurs to me, an i ea which $erha$s oes )o$hy all the more cre it, though 9 shall take care not to tell her lo!erA this so-calle $ri e, for which she has been censure , is clearly only a !ery wise $recaution to $rotect her from herself" Being aware that, unfortunately, her own tem$erament is inflammable, she rea s the least s$ark, an kee$s out of reach so far as she can" 8er sternness is ue not to $ri e but to humility" )he assumes a control o!er Emile because she oubts her control of herselfA she turns

the one against the other" 9f she ha more confi ence in herself she woul be much less haughty" Cith this e?ce$tion is there anywhere on earth a gentler, sweeter girlE 9s there any who en ures an affront with greater $atience, any who is more afrai of annoying othersE 9s there any with less $retension, e?ce$t in the matter of !irtueE >oreo!er, she is not $rou of her !irtue, she is only $rou in or er to $reser!e her !irtue, an if she can follow the gui ance of her heart without anger, she caresses her lo!er himself" But her wise mother oes not confi e all this e!en to her fatherA men shoul not hear e!erything" 7ar from seeming $rou of her conquest, )o$hy has grown more frien ly an less e?acting towar s e!erybo y, e?ce$t $erha$s the one $erson who has wrought this change" 8er noble heart no longer swells with the feeling of in e$en ence" )he trium$hs mo estly o!er a !ictory gaine at the $rice of her free om" 8er bearing is more restraine , her s$eech more timi , since she has begun to blush at the wor Dlo!erDA but contentment may be seen beneath her outwar confusion an this !ery shame is not $ainful" This change is most noticeable in her beha!iour towar s the young men she meets" <ow that she has cease to be afrai of them, much of her e?treme reser!e has isa$$eare " <ow that her choice is ma e, she oes not hesitate to be gracious to those to whom she is quite in ifferentA taking no more interest in them, she is less ifficult to $lease, an she always fin s them $leasant enough for $eo$le who are of no im$ortance to her" 9f true lo!e were ca$able of coquetry, 9 shoul fancy 9 saw traces of it in the way )o$hy beha!es towar s other young men in her lo!er@s $resence" 6ne woul say that not content with the ar ent $assion she ins$ires by a mi?ture of shyness an caresses, she is not sorry to rouse this $assion by a little an?ietyA one woul say that when she is $ur$osely amusing her young guests she means to torment Emile by the charms of a free om she will not allow herself with himA but )o$hy is too consi erate, too kin ly, too wise to really torment him" %o!e an honour take the $lace of $ru ence an control the use of this angerous wea$on" )he can alarm an reassure him just as he nee s itA an if she sometimes makes him uneasy she ne!er really gi!es him $ain" The an?iety she causes to her belo!e may be forgi!en because of her fear that he is not sufficiently her own" But what effect will this little $erformance ha!e u$on EmileE Cill he be jealous or notE That is what we must isco!erA for such igressions form $art of the $ur$ose of my book, an they o not lea me far from my main subject" 9 ha!e alrea y shown how this $assion of jealousy in matters of con!ention fin s its way into the heart of man" 9n lo!e it is another matterA then jealousy is so near akin to nature, that it is har to belie!e that it is not her workA an the e?am$le of the !ery beasts, many of whom are ma ly jealous, seems to $ro!e this $oint beyon re$ly" 9s it man@s influence that has taught cooks to tear each other to $ieces or bulls to fight to the eathE

<o one can eny that the a!ersion to e!erything which may isturb or interfere with our $leasures is a natural im$ulse" ;$ to a certain $oint the esire for the e?clusi!e $ossession of that which ministers to our $leasure is in the same case" But when this esire has become a $assion, when it is transforme into ma ness, or into a bitter an sus$icious fancy known as jealousy, that is quite another matterA such a $assion may be natural or it may notA we must istinguish between these ifferent cases" 9 ha!e alrea y analyse the e?am$le of the animal worl in my (iscourse on 9nequality, an on further consi eration 9 think 9 may refer my rea ers to that analysis as sufficiently thorough" 9 will only a this further $oint to those alrea y ma e in that work, that the jealousy which s$rings from nature e$en s greatly on se?ual $ower, an that when se?ual $ower is or a$$ears to be boun less, that jealousy is at its heightA for then the male, measuring his rights by his nee s, can ne!er see another male e?ce$t as an unwelcome ri!al" 9n such s$ecies the females always submit to the first comer, they only belong to the male by right of conquest, an they are the cause of unen ing strife" 'mong the monogamous s$ecies, where intercourse seems to gi!e rise to some sort of moral bon , a kin of marriage, the female who belongs by choice to the male on whom she has bestowe herself usually enies herself to all othersA an the male, ha!ing this $reference of affection as a $le ge of her fi elity, is less uneasy at the sight of other males an li!es more $eaceably with them" 'mong these s$ecies the male shares the care of the little onesA an by one of those touching laws of nature it seems as if the female rewar s the father for his lo!e for his chil ren" <ow consi er the human s$ecies in its $rimiti!e sim$licityA it is easy to see, from the limite $owers of the male, an the mo eration of his esires, that nature meant him to be content with one femaleA this is confirme by the numerical equality of the two se?es, at any rate in our $art of the worl A an equality which oes not e?ist in anything like the same egree among those s$ecies in which se!eral females are collecte aroun one male" Though a man oes not broo like a $igeon, an though he has no milk to suckle the young, an must in this res$ect be classe with the qua ru$e s, his chil ren are feeble an hel$less for so long a time, that mother an chil ren coul ill is$ense with the father@s affection, an the care which results from it" 'll these obser!ations combine to $ro!e that the jealous fury of the males of certain animals $ro!es nothing with regar to manA an the e?ce$tional case of those southern regions were $olygamy is the establishe custom, only confirms the rule, since it is the $lurality of wi!es that gi!es rise to the tyrannical $recautions of the husban , an the consciousness of his own weakness makes the man resort to constraint to e!a e the laws of nature" 'mong oursel!es where these same laws are less frequently e!a e in this res$ect, but are more frequently e!a e in another an e!en more etestable manner, jealousy fin s its moti!es in the $assions of society

rather than in those of $rimiti!e instinct" 9n most irregular connections the hatre of the lo!er for his ri!als far e?cee s his lo!e for his mistressA if he fears a ri!al in her affections it is the effect of that self-lo!e whose origin 9 ha!e alrea y trace out, an he is mo!e by !anity rather than affection" >oreo!er, our clumsy systems of e ucation ha!e ma e women so eceitful, .7ootnote& The kin of eceit referre to here is just the o$$osite of that eceit becoming in a woman, an taught her by natureA the latter consists in concealing her real feelings, the former in feigning what she oes not feel" E!ery society la y s$en s her life in boasting of her su$$ose sensibility, when in reality she cares for no one but herself"3 an ha!e so o!er-stimulate their a$$etites, that you cannot rely e!en on the most clearly $ro!e affectionA they can no longer is$lay a $reference which secures you against the fear of a ri!al" True lo!e is another matter" 9 ha!e shown, in the work alrea y referre to, that this sentiment is not so natural as men think, an that there is a great ifference between the gentle habit which bin s a man with cor s of lo!e to his hel$meet, an the unbri le $assion which is into?icate by the fancie charms of an object which he no longer sees in its true light" This $assion which is full of e?clusions an $references, only iffers from !anity in this res$ect, that !anity eman s all an gi!es nothing, so that it is always harmful, while lo!e, bestowing as much as it eman s, is in itself a sentiment full of equity" >oreo!er, the more e?acting it is, the more cre ulousA that !ery illusion which ga!e rise to it, makes it easy to $ersua e" 9f lo!e is sus$icious, esteem is trustfulA an lo!e will ne!er e?ist in an honest heart without esteem, for e!ery one lo!es in another the qualities which he himself hol s in honour" Chen once this is clearly un erstoo , we can $re ict with confi ence the kin of jealousy which Emile will be ca$able of e?$eriencingA as there is only the smallest germ of this $assion in the human heart, the form it takes must e$en solely u$on e ucation& Emile, full of lo!e an jealousy, will not be angry, sullen, sus$icious, but elicate, sensiti!e, an timi A he will be more alarme than !e?e A he will think more of securing his la y-lo!e than of threatening his ri!alA he will treat him as an obstacle to be remo!e if $ossible from his $ath, rather than as a ri!al to be hate A if he hates him, it is not because he $resumes to com$ete with him for )o$hy@s affection, but because Emile feels that there is a real anger of losing that affectionA he will not be so unjust an foolish as to take offence at the ri!alry itselfA he un erstan s that the law of $reference rests u$on merit only, an that honour e$en s u$on successA he will re ouble his efforts to make himself acce$table, an he will $robably succee " 8is generous )o$hy, though she has gi!en alarm to his lo!e, is well able to allay that fear, to atone for itA an the ri!als who were only suffere to $ut him to the $roof are s$ee ily ismisse " But whither am 9 goingE 6 EmileH what art thou nowE 9s this my $u$ilE 8ow art thou fallenH Chere is that young man so sternly fashione , who bra!e all weathers, who e!ote his bo y to the har est tasks an his soul to the laws of wis omA untouche by $reju ice or $assion, a lo!er of truth, swaye by reason only, unhee ing all that was not hersE %i!ing in softness an i leness he now lets himself be rule by womenA their

amusements are the business of his life, their wishes are his lawsA a young girl is the arbiter of his fate, he cringes an gro!els before herA the earnest Emile is the $laything of a chil " )o shift the scenes of lifeA each age is swaye by its own moti!es, but the man is the same" 't ten his min was set u$on cakes, at twenty it is set u$on his mistressA at thirty it will be set u$on $leasureA at forty on ambition, at fifty on a!ariceA when will he seek after wis om onlyE 8a$$y is he who is com$elle to follow her against his willH Chat matter who is the gui e, if the en is attaine " 8eroes an sages ha!e themsel!es $ai tribute to this human weaknessA an those who han le the istaff with clumsy fingers were none the less great men" 9f you woul $rolong the influence of a goo e ucation through life itself, the goo habits acquire in chil hoo must be carrie forwar into a olescence, an when your $u$il is what he ought to be you must manage to kee$ him what he ought to be" This is the co$ing-stone of your work" This is why it is of the first im$ortance that the tutor shoul remain with young menA otherwise there is little oubt they will learn to make lo!e without him" The great mistake of tutors an still more of fathers is to think that one way of li!ing makes another im$ossible, an that as soon as the chil is grown u$, you must aban on e!erything you use to o when he was little" 9f that were so, why shoul we take such $ains in chil hoo , since the goo or ba use we make of it will !anish with chil hoo itselfA if another way of life were necessarily accom$anie by other ways of thinkingE The stream of memory is only interru$te by great illnesses, an the stream of con uct, by great $assions" 6ur tastes an inclinations may change, but this change, though it may be su en enough, is ren ere less abru$t by our habits" The skilful artist, in a goo colour scheme, contri!es so to mingle an blen his tints that the transitions are im$erce$tibleA an certain colour washes are s$rea o!er the whole $icture so that there may be no su en breaks" )o shoul it be with our likings" ;nbalance characters are always changing their affections, their tastes, their sentimentsA the only constant factor is the habit of changeA but the man of settle character always returns to his former habits an $reser!es to ol age the tastes an the $leasures of his chil hoo " 9f you contri!e that young $eo$le $assing from one stage of life to another o not es$ise what has gone before, that when they form new habits, they o not forsake the ol , an that they always lo!e to o what is right, in things new an ol A then only are the fruits of your toil secure, an you are sure of your scholars as long as they li!eA for the re!olution most to be rea e is that of the age o!er which you are now watching" 's men always look back to this $erio with regret so the tastes carrie forwar into it from chil hoo are not easily estroye A but if once interru$te they are ne!er resume " >ost of the habits you think you ha!e instille into chil ren an young $eo$le are not really habits at allA they ha!e only been acquire un er com$ulsion, an being followe reluctantly they will be cast off at the first o$$ortunity" 8owe!er long you remain in $rison you ne!er get a

taste for $rison lifeA so a!ersion is increase rather than iminishe by habit" <ot so with EmileA as a chil he only i what he coul o willingly an with $leasure, an as a man he will o the same, an the force of habit will only len its hel$ to the joys of free om" 'n acti!e life, bo ily labour, e?ercise, mo!ement, ha!e become so essential to him that he coul not relinquish them without suffering" Re uce him all at once to a soft an se entary life an you con emn him to chains an im$risonment, you kee$ him in a con ition of thral om an constraintA he woul suffer, no oubt, both in health an tem$er" 8e can scarcely breathe in a stuffy room, he requires o$en air, mo!ement, fatigue" E!en at )o$hy@s feet he cannot hel$ casting a glance at the country an longing to e?$lore it in her com$any" #et he remains if he mustA but he is an?ious an ill at easeA he seems to be struggling with himselfA he remains because he is a ca$ti!e" D#es,D you will say, Dthese are necessities to which you ha!e subjecte him, a yoke which you ha!e lai u$on him"D #ou s$eak truly, 9 ha!e subjecte him to the yoke of manhoo " Emile lo!es )o$hyA but what were the charms by which he was first attracte E )ensibility, !irtue, an lo!e for things $ure an honest" Chen he lo!es this lo!e in )o$hy, will he cease to feel it himselfE 'n what $rice i she $ut u$on herselfE )he require all her lo!er@s natural feelingsBesteem of what is really goo , frugality, sim$licity, generous unselfishness, a scorn of $om$ an riches" These !irtues were Emile@s before lo!e claime them of him" 9s he really change E 8e has all the more reason to be himselfA that is the only ifference" The careful rea er will not su$$ose that all the circumstances in which he is $lace are the work of chance" There were many charming girls in the townA is it chance that his choice is isco!ere in a istant retreatE 9s their meeting the work of chanceE 9s it chance that makes them so suite to each otherE 9s it chance that they cannot li!e in the same $lace, that he is com$elle to fin a lo ging so far from herE 9s it chance that he can see her so sel om an must $urchase the $leasure of seeing her at the $rice of such fatigueE #ou say he is becoming effeminate" <ot so, he is growing strongerA he must be fairly robust to stan the fatigue he en ures on )o$hy@s account" 8e li!es more than two leagues away" That istance ser!es to tem$er the shafts of lo!e" 9f they li!e ne?t oor to each other, or if he coul ri!e to see her in a comfortable carriage, he woul lo!e at his ease in the Paris fashion" Coul %ean er ha!e bra!e eath for the sake of 8ero if the sea ha not lain between themE <ee 9 say moreA if my rea er is able to take my meaning, he will be able to follow out my $rinci$les in etail" The first time we went to see )o$hy, we went on horseback, so as to get there more quickly" Ce continue this con!enient $lan until our fifth !isit" Ce were e?$ecte A an more than half a league from the house we see $eo$le on the roa " Emile watches them, his $ulse quickens as he gets nearer, he recognises )o$hy an ismounts quicklyA he hastens to join the charming family" Emile is fon of goo horsesA his horse is fresh, he feels he is free, an gallo$s off across the fiel sA 9 follow an with some ifficulty 9 succee in catching him an bringing him back" ;nluckily

)o$hy is afrai of horses, an 9 are not a$$roach her" Emile has not seen what ha$$ene , but )o$hy whis$ers to him that he is gi!ing his frien a great eal of trouble" 8e hurries u$ quite ashame of himself, takes the horses, an follows after the $arty" 9t is only fair that each shoul take his turn an he ri es on to get ri of our mounts" 8e has to lea!e )o$hy behin him, an he no longer thinks ri ing a con!enient mo e of tra!elling" 8e returns out of breath an meets us half-way" The ne?t time, Emile will not hear of horses" DChy,D say 9, Dwe nee only take a ser!ant to look after them"D D)hall we $ut our worthy frien s to such e?$enseED he re$lies" D#ou see they woul insist on fee ing man an horse"D DThat is true,D 9 re$lyA Dtheirs is the generous hos$itality of the $oor" The rich man in his niggar ly $ri e only welcomes his frien s, but the $oor fin room for their frien s@ horses"D D%et us go on foot,D says heA Dwon@t you !enture on the walk, when you are always so rea y to share the toilsome $leasures of your chil ED D9 will gla ly go with you,D 9 re$ly at once, Dan it seems to me that lo!e oes not esire so much show"D 's we raw near, we meet the mother an aughter e!en further from home than on the last occasion" Ce ha!e come at a great $ace" Emile is !ery warmA his belo!e con escen s to $ass her han kerchief o!er his cheeks" 9t woul take a goo many horses to make us ri e there after this" But it is rather har ne!er to be able to s$en an e!ening together" >i summer is long $ast an the ays are growing shorter" Chate!er we say, we are not allowe to return home in the ark, an unless we make a !ery early start, we ha!e to go back almost as soon as we get there" The mother is sorry for us an uneasy on our account, an it occurs to her that, though it woul not be $ro$er for us to stay in the house, be s might be foun for us in the !illage, if we like to stay there occasionally" Emile cla$s his han s at this i ea an trembles with joyA )o$hy, unwittingly, kisses her mother rather oftener than usual on the ay this i ea occurs to her" %ittle by little the charm of frien shi$ an the familiarity of innocence take root an grow among us" 9 generally accom$any my young frien on the ays a$$ointe by )o$hy or her mother, but sometimes 9 let him go alone" The heart thri!es in the sunshine of confi ence, an a man must not be treate as a chil A an what ha!e 9 accom$lishe so far, if my $u$il is unworthy of my esteemE <ow an then 9 go without himA he is sorry, but he oes not com$lainA what use woul it beE 'n then he knows 9 shall not interfere with his interests" 8owe!er, whether we go together or se$arately you will un erstan that we are not sto$$e by the weatherA we are only too $rou to arri!e in a con ition which calls for $ity" ;nluckily )o$hy e$ri!es us of this honour an forbi s us to come in ba weather" This is the only occasion on which she rebels against the rules which 9 lai own for her in $ri!ate" 6ne ay Emile ha gone alone an 9 i not e?$ect him back till the following ay, but he returne the same e!ening" D>y ear Emile,D sai 9, Dha!e you come back to your ol frien alrea yED But instea of

res$on ing to my caresses he re$lie with some show of tem$er, D#ou nee not su$$ose 9 came back so soon of my own accor A she insiste on itA it is for her sake not yours that 9 am here"D Touche by his frankness 9 renewe my caresses, saying, DTruthful heart an faithful frien , o not conceal from me anything 9 ought to know" 9f you came back for her sake, you tol me so for my ownA your return is her oing, your frankness is mine" :ontinue to $reser!e the noble can our of great soulsA strangers may think what they will, but it is a crime to let our frien s think us better than we are"D 9 take care not to let him un errate the cost of his confession by assuming that there is more lo!e than generosity in it, an by telling him that he woul rather e$ri!e himself of the honour of this return, than gi!e it to )o$hy" But this is how he re!eale to me, all unconsciously, what were his real feelingsA if he ha returne slowly an comfortably, reaming of his sweetheart, 9 shoul know he was merely her lo!erA when he hurrie back, e!en if he was a little out of tem$er, he was the frien of his >entor" #ou see that the young man is !ery far from s$en ing his ays with )o$hy, an seeing as much of her as he wants" 6ne or two !isits a week are all that is $ermitte , an these !isits are often only for the afternoon an are rarely e?ten e to the ne?t ay" 8e s$en s much more of his time in longing to see her, or in rejoicing that he has seen her, than he actually s$en s in her $resence" E!en when he goes to see her, more time is s$ent in going an returning than by her si e" 8is $leasures, genuine, $ure, elicious, but more imaginary than real, ser!e to kin le his lo!e but not to make him effeminate" 6n the ays when he oes not see )o$hy he is not sitting i le at home" 8e is Emile himself an quite unchange " 8e usually scours the country roun in $ursuit of its natural historyA he obser!es an stu ies the soil, its $ro ucts, an their mo e of culti!ationA he com$ares the metho s he sees with those with which he is alrea y familiarA he tries to fin the reasons for any ifferencesA if he thinks other metho s better than those of the locality, he intro uces them to the farmers@ noticeA if he suggests a better kin of $lough, he has one ma e from his own rawingsA if he fin s a lime $it he teaches them how to use the lime on the lan , a $rocess new to themA he often len s a han himselfA they are sur$rise to fin him han ling all manner of tools more easily than they can themsel!esA his furrows are ee$er an straighter than theirs, he is a more skilful sower, an his be s for early $ro uce are more cle!erly $lanne " They o not scoff at him as a fine talker, they see he knows what he is talking about" 9n a wor , his Feal an attention are bestowe on e!erything that is really useful to e!erybo yA nor oes he sto$ there" 8e !isits the $easants in their homesA inquires into their circumstances, their families, the number of their chil ren, the e?tent of their hol ings, the nature of their $ro uce, their markets, their rights, their bur ens, their ebts, etc" 8e gi!es away !ery little money, for he knows it is usually ill s$entA but he himself irects the use of his money, an makes it hel$ful to them without istributing it among them" 8e su$$lies them with labourers, an often $ays them for work one by themsel!es, on tasks for their own

benefit" 7or one he has the falling thatch re$aire or renewe A for another he clears a $iece of lan which ha gone out of culti!ation for lack of meansA to another he gi!es a cow, a horse, or stock of any kin to re$lace a lossA two neighbours are rea y to go to law, he wins them o!er, an makes them frien s againA a $easant falls ill, he has him care for, he looks after him himselfA .7ootnote& To look after a sick $easant is not merely to gi!e him a $ill, or me icine, or to sen a surgeon to him" That is not what these $oor folk require in sicknessA what they want is more an better foo " Chen you ha!e fe!er, you will o well to fast, but when your $easants ha!e it, gi!e them meat an wineA illness, in their case, is nearly always ue to $o!erty an e?haustionA your cellar will su$$ly the best raught, your butchers will be the best a$othecary"3 another is harasse by a rich an $owerful neighbor, he $rotects him an s$eaks on his behalfA young $eo$le are fon of one another, he hel$s forwar their marriageA a goo woman has lost her belo!e chil , he goes to see her, he s$eaks wor s of comfort an sits a while with herA he oes not es$ise the $oor, he is in no hurry to a!oi the unfortunateA he often takes his inner with some $easant he is hel$ing, an he will e!en acce$t a meal from those who ha!e no nee of his hel$A though he is the benefactor of some an the frien of all, he is none the less their equal" 9n conclusion, he always oes as much goo by his $ersonal efforts as by his money" )ometimes his ste$s are turne in the irection of the ha$$y abo eA he may ho$e to see )o$hy without her knowing, to see her out walking without being seen" But Emile is always quite o$en in e!erything he oesA he neither can nor woul ecei!e" 8is elicacy is of that $leasing ty$e in which $ri e rests on the foun ation of a goo conscience" 8e kee$s strictly within boun s, an ne!er comes near enough to gain from chance what he only esires to win from )o$hy herself" 6n the other han , he elights to roam about the neighbourhoo , looking for the trace of )o$hy@s ste$s, feeling what $ains she has taken an what a istance she has walke to $lease him" The ay before his !isit, he will go to some neighbouring farm an or er a little feast for the morrow" Ce shall take our walk in that irection without any s$ecial object, we shall turn in a$$arently by chanceA fruit, cakes, an cream are waiting for us" )o$hy likes sweets, so is not insensible to these attentions, an she is quite rea y to o honour to what we ha!e $ro!i e A for 9 always ha!e my share of the cre it e!en if 9 ha!e ha no $art in the troubleA it is a girl@s way of returning thanks more easily" 8er father an 9 ha!e cakes an wineA Emile kee$s the la ies com$any an is always on the look-out to secure a ish of cream in which )o$hy has i$$e her s$oon" The cakes lea me to talk of the races Emile use to run" E!ery one wants to hear about themA 9 e?$lain ami much laughterA they ask him if he can run as well as e!er" DBetter,D says heA D9 shoul be sorry to forget how to run"D 6ne member of the com$any is ying to see him run, but she are not say soA some one else un ertakes to suggest itA he agrees an we sen for two or three young men of the neighbourhoo A a $riFe is offere , an in imitation of our earlier games a cake is $lace on the goal" E!ery one is rea y, )o$hy@s father gi!es the signal by cla$$ing his

han s" The nimble Emile flies like lightning an reaches the goal almost before the others ha!e starte " 8e recei!es his $riFe at )o$hy@s han s, an no less generous than 'eneas, he gi!es gifts to all the !anquishe " 9n the mi st of his trium$h, )o$hy ares to challenge the !ictor, an to assert that she can run as fast as he" 8e oes not refuse to enter the lists with her, an while she is getting rea y to start, while she is tucking u$ her skirt at each si e, more eager to show Emile a $retty ankle than to !anquish him in the race, while she is seeing if her $etticoats are short enough, he whis$ers a wor to her mother who smiles an no s a$$ro!al" Then he takes his $lace by his com$etitorA no sooner is the signal gi!en than she is off like a bir " Comen were not meant to runA they flee that they may be o!ertaken" Running is not the only thing they o ill, but it is the only thing they o awkwar lyA their elbows glue to their si es an $ointe backwar s look ri iculous, an the high heels on which they are $erche make them look like so many grassho$$ers trying to run instea of to jum$" Emile, su$$osing that )o$hy runs no better than other women, oes not eign to stir from his $lace an watches her start with a smile of mockery" But )o$hy is light of foot an she wears low heelsA she nee s no $retence to make her foot look smallerA she runs so quickly that he has only just time to o!ertake this new 'talanta when he sees her so far ahea " Then he starts like an eagle ashing u$on its $reyA he $ursues her, clutches her, gras$s her at last quite out of breath, an gently $lacing his left arm about her, he lifts her like a feather, an $ressing his sweet bur en to his heart, he finishes the race, makes her touch the goal first, an then e?claiming, D)o$hy winsHD he sinks on one knee before her an owns himself beaten" 'long with such occu$ations there is also the tra e we learnt" 6ne ay a week at least, an e!ery ay when the weather is too ba for country $ursuits, Emile an 9 go to work un er a master-joiner" Ce o not work for show, like $eo$le abo!e our tra eA we work in earnest like regular workmen" 6nce when )o$hy@s father came to see us, he foun us at work, an i not fail to re$ort his won er to his wife an aughter" DGo an see that young man in the worksho$,D sai he, Dan you will soon see if he es$ises the con ition of the $oor"D #ou may fancy how $lease )o$hy was at thisH They talk it o!er, an they eci e to sur$rise him at his work" They question me, a$$arently without any s$ecial object, an ha!ing ma e sure of the time, mother an aughter take a little carriage an come to town on that !ery ay" 6n her arri!al, )o$hy sees, at the other en of the sho$, a young man in his shirt slee!es, with his hair all unti y, so har at work that he oes not see herA she makes a sign to her mother" Emile, a chisel in one han an a hammer in the other, is just finishing a mortiseA then he saws a $iece of woo an $laces it in the !ice in or er to $olish it" The sight of this oes not set )o$hy laughingA it affects her greatlyA it wins her res$ect" Coman, honour your masterA he it is who works for you, he it is who gi!es you brea to eatA this is heH

Chile they are busy watching him, 9 $ercei!e them an $ull Emile by the slee!eA he turns roun , ro$s his tools, an hastens to them with an e?clamation of elight" 'fter he has gi!en way to his first ra$tures, he makes them take a seat an he goes back to his work" But )o$hy cannot kee$ quietA she gets u$ hastily, runs about the worksho$, looks at the tools, feels the $olish of the boar s, $icks u$ sha!ings, looks at our han s, an says she likes this tra e, it is so clean" The merry girl tries to co$y Emile" Cith her elicate white han she $asses a $lane o!er a bit of woo A the $lane sli$s an makes no im$ression" 9t seems to me that %o!e himself is ho!ering o!er us an beating his wingsA 9 think 9 can hear his joyous cries, D8ercules is a!enge "D #et )o$hy@s mother questions the master" D)ir, how much o you $ay these two men a ayED D9 gi!e them each ten$ence a ay an their foo A but if that young fellow wante he coul earn much more, for he is the best workman in the country"D DTen$ence a ay an their foo ,D sai she looking at us ten erly" DThat is so, ma am,D re$lie the master" 't these wor s she hurries u$ to Emile, kisses him, an clas$s him to her breast with tearsA unable to say more she re$eats again an again, D>y son, my sonHD Chen they ha s$ent some time chatting with us, but without interru$ting our work, DCe must be going now,D sai the mother to her aughter, Dit is getting late an we must not kee$ your father waiting"D Then a$$roaching Emile she ta$$e him $layfully on the cheek, saying, DCell, my goo workman, won@t you come with usED 8e re$lie sa ly, D9 am at work, ask the master"D The master is aske if he can s$are us" 8e re$lies that he cannot" D9 ha!e work on han ,D sai he, Dwhich is wante the ay after to-morrow, so there is not much time" :ounting on these gentlemen 9 refuse other workmen who cameA if they fail me 9 on@t know how to re$lace them an 9 shall not be able to sen the work home at the time $romise "D The mother sai nothing, she was waiting to hear what Emile woul say" Emile hung his hea in silence" D)ir,D she sai , somewhat sur$rise at this, Dha!e you nothing to say to thatED Emile looke ten erly at her aughter an merely sai , D#ou see 9 am boun to stay"D Then the la ies left us" Emile went with them to the oor, gaFe after them as long as they were in sight, an returne to his work without a wor " 6n the way home, the mother, somewhat !e?e at his con uct, s$oke to her aughter of the strange way in which he ha beha!e " DChy,D sai she, Dwas it so ifficult to arrange matters with the master without being oblige to stay" The young man is generous enough an rea y to s$en money when there is no nee for it, coul not he s$en a little on such a fitting occasionED D6h, mamma,D re$lie )o$hy, D9 trust Emile will ne!er rely so much on money as to use it to break an engagement, to fail to kee$ his own wor , an to make another break hisH 9 know he coul easily gi!e the master a trifle to make u$ for the slight incon!enience cause by his absenceA but his soul woul become the sla!e of riches, he woul become accustome to $lace wealth before uty, an he woul think that any uty might be neglecte $ro!i e he was rea y to $ay" That is not Emile@s way of thinking, an 9 ho$e he will ne!er change on

my account" (o you think it cost him nothing to stayE #ou are quite wrong, mammaA it was for my sake that he staye A 9 saw it in his eyes"D 9t is not that )o$hy is in ifferent to genuine $roofs of lo!eA on the contrary she is im$erious an e?actingA she woul rather not be lo!e at all than be lo!e half-hearte ly" 8ers is the noble $ri e of worth, conscious of its own !alue, self-res$ecting an claiming a like honour from others" )he woul scorn a heart that i not recognise the full worth of her ownA that i not lo!e her for her !irtues as much an more than for her charmsA a heart which i not $ut uty first, an $refer it to e!erything" )he i not esire a lo!er who knew no will but hers" )he wishe to reign o!er a man whom she ha not s$oilt" Thus :irce, ha!ing change into swine the comra es of ;lysses, bestowe herself on him o!er whom she ha no $ower" E?ce$t for this sacre an in!iolable right, )o$hy is !ery jealous of her own rightsA she obser!es how carefully Emile res$ects them, how Fealously he oes her willA how cle!erly he guesses her wishes, how e?actly he arri!es at the a$$ointe timeA she will ha!e him neither late nor earlyA he must arri!e to the moment" To come early is to think more of himself than of herA to come late is to neglect her" To neglect )o$hy, that coul not ha$$en twice" 'n unfoun e sus$icion on her $art nearly ruine e!erything, but )o$hy is really just an knows how to atone for her faults" They were e?$ecting us one e!eningA Emile ha recei!e his or ers" They came to meet us, but we were not there" Chat has become of usE Chat acci ent ha!e we met withE <o message from usH The e!ening is s$ent in e?$ectation of our arri!al" )o$hy thinks we are ea A she is miserable an in an agony of istressA she cries all the night through" 9n the course of the e!ening a messenger was es$atche to inquire after us an bring back news in the morning" The messenger returns together with another messenger sent by us, who makes our e?cuses !erbally an says we are quite well" Then the scene is change A )o$hy ries her tears, or if she still wee$s it is for anger" 9t is small consolation to her $rou s$irit to know that we are ali!eA Emile li!es an he has ke$t her waiting" Chen we arri!e she tries to esca$e to her own roomA her $arents esire her to remain, so she is oblige to o soA but eci ing at once what course she will take she assumes a calm an contente e?$ression which woul ecei!e most $eo$le" 8er father comes forwar to recei!e us saying, D#ou ha!e ma e your frien s !ery uneasyA there are $eo$le here who will not forgi!e you !ery rea ily"D DCho are they, $a$a,D sai )o$hy with the most gracious smile she coul assume" DChat business is that of yours,D sai her father, Dif it is not youED )o$hy bent o!er her work without re$ly" 8er mother recei!e us col ly an formally" Emile was so confuse he are not s$eak to )o$hy" )he s$oke first, inquire how he was, aske him to take a chair, an $reten e so cle!erly that the $oor young fellow, who as yet knew nothing of the language of angry $assions, was quite ecei!e by her a$$arent in ifference, an rea y to take offence on his own account"

To un ecei!e him 9 was going to take )o$hy@s han an raise it to my li$s as 9 sometimes i A she rew it back so hastily, with the wor , D)ir,D uttere in such a strange manner that Emile@s eyes were o$ene at once by this in!oluntary mo!ement" )o$hy herself, seeing that she ha betraye herself, e?ercise less control o!er herself" 8er a$$arent in ifference was succee e by scornful irony" )he re$lie to e!erything he sai in monosyllables uttere slowly an hesitatingly as if she were afrai her anger shoul show itself too $lainly" Emile half ea with terror stare at her full of sorrow, an trie to get her to look at him so that his eyes might rea in hers her real feelings" )o$hy, still more angry at his bol ness, ga!e him one look which remo!e all wish for another" %uckily for himself, Emile, trembling an umbfoun e , are neither look at her nor s$eak to her againA for ha he not been guilty, ha he been able to en ure her wrath, she woul ne!er ha!e forgi!en him" )eeing that it was my turn now, an that the time was ri$e for e?$lanation, 9 returne to )o$hy" 9 took her han an this time she i not snatch it awayA she was rea y to faint" 9 sai gently, D(ear )o$hy, we are the !ictims of misfortuneA but you are just an reasonableA you will not ju ge us unhear A listen to what we ha!e to say"D )he sai nothing an 9 $rocee e B DCe set out yester ay at four o@clockA we were tol to be here at se!en, an we always allow oursel!es rather more time than we nee , so as to rest a little before we get here" Ce were more than half way here when we hear lamentable groans, which came from a little !alley in the hillsi e, some istance off" Ce hurrie towar s the $lace an foun an unlucky $easant who ha taken rather more wine than was goo for himA on his way home he ha fallen hea!ily from his horse an broken his leg" Ce shoute an calle for hel$A there was no answerA we trie to lift the injure man on his horse, but without successA the least mo!ement cause intense agony" Ce eci e to tie u$ the horse in a quiet $art of the woo A then we ma e a chair of our crosse arms an carrie the man as gently as $ossible, following his irections till we got him home" The way was long, an we were constantly oblige to sto$ an rest" 't last we got there, but thoroughly e?hauste " Ce were sur$rise an sorry to fin that it was a house we knew alrea y an that the wretche creature we ha carrie with such ifficulty was the !ery man who recei!e us so kin ly when first we came" Ce ha all been so u$set that until that moment we ha not recognise each other" DThere were only two little chil ren" 8is wife was about to $resent him with another, an she was so o!erwhelme at the sight of him brought home in such a con ition, that she was taken ill an a few hours later ga!e birth to another little one" Chat was to be one un er such circumstances in a lonely cottage far from any hel$E Emile eci e to fetch the horse we ha left in the woo , to ri e as fast as he coul into the town an fetch a surgeon" 8e let the surgeon ha!e the horse, an not succee ing in fin ing a nurse all at once, he returne on foot with a ser!ant, after ha!ing sent a messenger to youA meanwhile 9 har ly knew what to o between a man with a broken leg an a woman in tra!ail, but

9 got rea y as well as 9 coul such things in the house as 9 thought woul be nee e for the relief of both" D9 will $ass o!er the rest of the etailsA they are not to the $oint" 9t was two o@clock in the morning before we got a moment@s rest" 't last we returne before aybreak to our lo ging close at han , where we waite till you were u$ to let you know what ha ha$$ene to us"D That was all 9 sai " But before any one coul s$eak Emile, a$$roaching )o$hy, raise his !oice an sai with greater firmness than 9 e?$ecte , D)o$hy, my fate is in your han s, as you !ery well know" #ou may con emn me to ie of griefA but o not ho$e to make me forget the rights of humanityA they are e!en more sacre in my eyes than your own rightsA 9 will ne!er renounce them for you"D 7or all answer, )o$hy rose, $ut her arm roun his neck, an kisse him on the cheekA then offering him her han with inimitable grace she sai to him, DEmile, take this han A it is yours" Chen you will, you shall be my husban an my masterA 9 will try to be worthy of that honour"D )carcely ha she kisse him, when her elighte father cla$$e his han s calling, DEncore, encore,D an )o$hy without further a o, kisse him twice on the other cheekA but afrai of what she ha one she took refuge at once in her mother@s arms an hi her blushing face on the maternal bosom" 9 will not escribe our ha$$inessA e!erybo y will feel with us" 'fter inner )o$hy aske if it were too far to go an see the $oor in!ali s" 9t was her wish an it was a work of mercy" Chen we got there we foun them both in be BEmile ha sent for a secon be stea A there were $eo$le there to look after themBEmile ha seen to it" But in s$ite of this e!erything was so unti y that they suffere almost as much from iscomfort as from their con ition" )o$hy aske for one of the goo wife@s a$rons an set to work to make her more comfortable in her be A then she i as much for the manA her soft an gentle han seeme to fin out what was hurting them an how to settle them into less $ainful $ositions" 8er !ery $resence seeme to make them more comfortableA she seeme to guess what was the matter" This fasti ious girl was not isguste by the irt or smells, an she manage to get ri of both without isturbing the sick $eo$le" )he who ha always a$$eare so mo est an sometimes so is ainful, she who woul not for all the worl ha!e touche a man@s be with her little finger, lifte the sick man an change his linen without any fuss, an $lace him to rest in a more comfortable $osition" The Feal of charity is of more !alue than mo esty" Chat she i was one so skilfully an with such a light touch that he felt better almost without knowing she ha touche him" 8usban an wife mingle their blessings u$on the kin ly girl who ten e , $itie , an console them" )he was an angel from hea!en come to !isit themA she was an angel in face an manner, in gentleness an goo ness" Emile was greatly touche by all this an he watche her without s$eaking" 6 man, lo!e thy hel$meet" Go ga!e her to relie!e thy sufferings, to comfort thee in thy troubles" This is sheH

The new-born baby was ba$tise " The two lo!ers were its go -$arents, an as they hel it at the font they were longing, at the bottom of their hearts, for the time when they shoul ha!e a chil of their own to be ba$tise " They longe for their we ing ayA they thought it was close at han A all )o$hy@s scru$les ha !anishe , but mine remaine " They ha not got so far as they e?$ecte A e!ery one must ha!e his turn" 6ne morning when they ha not seen each other for two whole ays, 9 entere Emile@s room with a letter in my han s, an looking fi?e ly at him 9 sai to him, DChat woul you o if some one tol you )o$hy were ea ED 8e uttere a lou cry, got u$ an struck his han s together, an without saying a single wor , he looke at me with eyes of es$eration" D'nswer me,D 9 continue with the same calmness" Ge?e at my com$osure, he then a$$roache me with eyes blaFing with angerA an checking himself in an almost threatening attitu e, DChat woul 9 oE 9 know notA but this 9 o know, 9 woul ne!er set eyes again u$on the $erson who brought me such news"D D:omfort yourself,D sai 9, smiling, Dshe li!es, she is well, an they are e?$ecting us this e!ening" But let us go for a short walk an we can talk things o!er"D The $assion which engrosses him will no longer $ermit him to e!ote himself as in former ays to iscussions of $ure reasonA this !ery $assion must be calle to our ai if his attention is to be gi!en to my teaching" That is why 9 ma e use of this terrible $refaceA 9 am quite sure he will listen to me now" DCe must be ha$$y, ear EmileA it is the en of e!ery feeling creatureA it is the first esire taught us by nature, an the only one which ne!er lea!es us" But where is ha$$inessE Cho knowsE E!ery one seeks it, an no one fin s it" Ce s$en our li!es in the search an we ie before the en is attaine " >y young frien , when 9 took you, a new-born infant, in my arms, an calle Go himself to witness to the !ow 9 are to make that 9 woul e!ote my life to the ha$$iness of your life, i 9 know myself what 9 was un ertakingE <oA 9 only knew that in making you ha$$y, 9 was sure of my own ha$$iness" By making this useful inquiry on your account, 9 ma e it for us both" D)o long as we o not know what to o, wis om consists in oing nothing" 6f all rules there is none so greatly nee e by man, an none which he is less able to obey" 9n seeking ha$$iness when we know not where it is, we are $erha$s getting further an further from it, we are running as many risks as there are roa s to choose from" But it is not e!ery one that can kee$ still" 6ur $assion for our own well-being makes us so uneasy, that we woul rather ecei!e oursel!es in the search for ha$$iness than sit still an o nothingA an when once we ha!e left the $lace where we might ha!e known ha$$iness, we can ne!er return" D9n ignorance like this 9 trie to a!oi a similar fault" Chen 9 took charge of you 9 eci e to take no useless ste$s an to $re!ent you from oing so too" 9 ke$t to the $ath of nature, until she shoul show me the $ath of ha$$iness" 'n loH their $aths were the same, an without knowing it this was the $ath 9 tro "

DBe at once my witness an my ju geA 9 will ne!er refuse to acce$t your ecision" #our early years ha!e not been sacrifice to those that were to follow, you ha!e enjoye all the goo gifts which nature bestowe u$on you" 6f the ills to which you were by nature subject, an from which 9 coul shelter you, you ha!e only e?$erience such as woul har en you to bear others" #ou ha!e ne!er suffere any e!il, e?ce$t to esca$e a greater" #ou ha!e known neither hatre nor ser!itu e" 7ree an ha$$y, you ha!e remaine just an kin lyA for suffering an !ice are inse$arable, an no man e!er became ba until he was unha$$y" >ay the memory of your chil hoo remain with you to ol ageH 9 am not afrai that your kin heart will e!er recall the han that traine it without a blessing u$on it" DChen you reache the age of reason, 9 secure you from the influence of human $reju iceA when your heart awoke 9 $reser!e you from the sway of $assion" 8a 9 been able to $rolong this inner tranquillity till your life@s en , my work woul ha!e been secure, an you woul ha!e been as ha$$y as man can beA but, my ear Emile, in !ain i 9 i$ you in the waters of )ty?, 9 coul not make you e!erywhere in!ulnerableA a fresh enemy has a$$eare , whom you ha!e not yet learnt to conquer, an from whom 9 cannot sa!e you" That enemy is yourself" <ature an fortune ha left you free" #ou coul face $o!erty, you coul bear bo ily $ainA the sufferings of the heart were unknown to youA you were then e$en ent on nothing but your $osition as a human beingA now you e$en on all the ties you ha!e forme for yourselfA you ha!e learnt to esire, an you are now the sla!e of your esires" Cithout any change in yourself, without any insult, any injury to yourself, what sorrows may attack your soul, what $ains may you suffer without sickness, how many eaths may you ie an yet li!eH ' lie, an error, a sus$icion, may $lunge you in es$air" D't the theatre you use to see heroes, aban one to e$ths of woe, making the stage re-echo with their wil cries, lamenting like women, wee$ing like chil ren, an thus securing the a$$lause of the au ience" (o you remember how shocke you were by those lamentations, cries, an groans, in men from whom one woul only e?$ect ee s of constancy an heroism" @Chy,@ sai you, @are those the $atterns we are to follow, the mo els set for our imitationH 're they afrai man will not be small enough, unha$$y enough, weak enough, if his weakness is not enshrine un er a false show of !irtue"@ >y young frien , henceforwar you must be more merciful to the stageA you ha!e become one of those heroes" D#ou know how to suffer an to ieA you know how to bear the hea!y yoke of necessity in ills of the bo y, but you ha!e not yet learnt to gi!e a law to the esires of your heartA an the ifficulties of life arise rather from our affections than from our nee s" 6ur esires are !ast, our strength is little better than nothing" 9n his wishes man is e$en ent on many thingsA in himself he is e$en ent on nothing, not e!en on his own lifeA the more his connections are multi$lie , the greater his sufferings" E!erything u$on earth has an en A sooner or later all that we lo!e esca$es from our fingers, an we beha!e as if it woul last for e!er" Chat was your terror at the mere sus$icion of )o$hy@s eathE (o you su$$ose

she will li!e for e!erE (o not young $eo$le of her age ieE )he must ie, my son, an $erha$s before you" Cho knows if she is ali!e at this momentE <ature meant you to ie but onceA you ha!e $re$are a secon eath for yourself" D' sla!e to your unbri le $assions, how greatly are you to be $itie H E!er $ri!ations, losses, alarmsA you will not e!en enjoy what is left" #ou will $ossess nothing because of the fear of losing itA you will ne!er be able to satisfy your $assions, because you esire to follow them continually" #ou will e!er be seeking that which will fly before youA you will be miserable an you will become wicke " 8ow can you be otherwise, ha!ing no care but your unbri le $assionsH 9f you cannot $ut u$ with in!oluntary $ri!ations how will you !oluntarily e$ri!e yourselfE 8ow can you sacrifice esire to uty, an resist your heart in or er to listen to your reasonE #ou woul ne!er see that man again who are to bring you wor of the eath of your mistressA how woul you behol him who woul e$ri!e you of her li!ing self, him who woul are to tell you, @)he is ea to you, !irtue $uts a gulf between you@E 9f you must li!e with her whate!er ha$$ens, whether )o$hy is marrie or single, whether you are free or not, whether she lo!es or hates you, whether she is gi!en or refuse to you, no matter, it is your will an you must ha!e her at any $rice" Tell me then what crime will sto$ a man who has no law but his heart@s esires, who knows not how to resist his own $assions" D>y son, there is no ha$$iness without courage, nor !irtue without a struggle" The wor !irtue is eri!e from a wor signifying strength, an strength is the foun ation of all !irtue" Girtue is the heritage of a creature weak by nature but strong by willA that is the whole merit of the righteous manA an though we call Go goo we o not call 8im !irtuous, because 8e oes goo without effort" 9 waite to e?$lain the meaning of this wor , so often $rofane , until you were rea y to un erstan me" 's long as !irtue is quite easy to $ractise, there is little nee to know it" This nee arises with the awakening of the $assionsA your time has come" DChen 9 brought you u$ in all the sim$licity of nature, instea of $reaching isagreeable uties, 9 secure for you immunity from the !ices which make such uties isagreeableA 9 ma e lying not so much hateful as unnecessary in your sightA 9 taught you not so much to gi!e others their ue, as to care little about your own rightsA 9 ma e you kin ly rather than !irtuous" But the kin ly man is only kin so long as he fin s it $leasantA kin ness falls to $ieces at the shook of human $assionsA the kin ly man is only kin to himself" DChat is meant by a !irtuous manE 8e who can conquer his affectionsA for then he follows his reason, his conscienceA he oes his utyA he is his own master an nothing can turn him from the right way" )o far you ha!e ha only the semblance of liberty, the $recarious liberty of the sla!e who has not recei!e his or ers" <ow is the time for real free omA learn to be your own masterA control your heart, my Emile, an you will be !irtuous" DThere is another a$$renticeshi$ before you, an a$$renticeshi$ more ifficult than the formerA for nature eli!ers us from the e!ils she lays u$on us, or else she teaches us to submit to themA but she has no

message for us with regar to our self-im$ose e!ilsA she lea!es us to oursel!esA she lea!es us, !ictims of our own $assions, to succumb to our !ain sorrows, to $ri e oursel!es on the tears of which we shoul be ashame " DThis is your first $assion" Perha$s it is the only $assion worthy of you" 9f you can control it like a man, it will be the lastA you will be master of all the rest, an you will obey nothing but the $assion for !irtue" DThere is nothing criminal in this $assionA 9 know itA it is as $ure as the hearts which e?$erience it" 9t was born of honour an nurse by innocence" 8a$$y lo!ersH for you the charms of !irtue o but a to those of lo!eA an the blesse union to which you are looking forwar is less the rewar of your goo ness than of your affection" But tell me, 6 truthful man, though this $assion is $ure, is it any the less your masterE 're you the less its sla!eE 'n if to-morrow it shoul cease to be innocent, woul you strangle it on the s$otE <ow is the time to try your strengthA there is no time for that in hours of anger" These $erilous efforts shoul be ma e when anger is still afar" Ce o not $ractise the use of our wea$ons when we are face to face with the enemy, we o that before the warA we come to the battle-fiel rea y $re$are " D9t is a mistake to classify the $assions as lawful an unlawful, so as to yiel to the one an refuse the other" 'll alike are goo if we are their mastersA all alike are ba if we aban on oursel!es to them" <ature forbi s us to e?ten our relations beyon the limits of our strengthA reason forbi s us to want what we cannot get, conscience forbi s us, not to be tem$te , but to yiel to tem$tation" To feel or not to feel a $assion is beyon our control, but we can control oursel!es" E!ery sentiment un er our own control is lawfulA those which control us are criminal" ' man is not guilty if he lo!es his neighbour@s wife, $ro!i e he kee$s this unha$$y $assion un er the control of the law of utyA he is guilty if he lo!es his own wife so greatly as to sacrifice e!erything to that lo!e" D(o not e?$ect me to su$$ly you with lengthy $rece$ts of morality, 9 ha!e only one rule to gi!e you which sums u$ all the rest" Be a manA restrain your heart within the limits of your manhoo " )tu y an know these limitsA howe!er narrow they may be, we are not unha$$y within themA it is only when we wish to go beyon them that we are unha$$y, only when, in our ma $assions, we try to attain the im$ossibleA we are unha$$y when we forget our manhoo to make an imaginary worl for oursel!es, from which we are always sli$$ing back into our own" The only goo things, whose loss really affects us, are those which we claim as our rights" 9f it is clear that we cannot obtain what we want, our min turns away from itA wishes without ho$e cease to torture us" ' beggar is not tormente by a esire to be a kingA a king only wishes to be a go when he thinks himself more than man" DThe illusions of $ri e are the source of our greatest illsA but the contem$lation of human suffering kee$s the wise humble" 8e kee$s to his $ro$er $lace an makes no attem$t to e$art from itA he oes not waste his strength in getting what he cannot kee$A an his whole strength being e!ote to the right em$loyment of what he has, he is in

reality richer an more $owerful in $ro$ortion as he esires less than we" ' man, subject to eath an change, shall 9 forge for myself lasting chains u$on this earth, where e!erything changes an isa$$ears, whence 9 myself shall shortly !anishH 6h, EmileH my sonH if 9 were to lose you, what woul be left of myselfE 'n yet 9 must learn to lose you, for who knows when you may be taken from meE DCoul you li!e in wis om an ha$$iness, fi? your heart on the beauty that is eternalA let your esires be limite by your $osition, let your uties take $rece ence of your wishesA e?ten the law of necessity into the region of moralsA learn to lose what may be taken from youA learn to forsake all things at the comman of !irtue, to set yourself abo!e the chances of life, to etach your heart before it is torn in $ieces, to be bra!e in a !ersity so that you may ne!er be wretche , to be stea fast in uty that you may ne!er be guilty of a crime" Then you will be ha$$y in s$ite of fortune, an goo in s$ite of your $assions" #ou will fin a $leasure that cannot be estroye , e!en in the $ossession of the most fragile thingsA you will $ossess them, they will not $ossess you, an you will realise that the man who loses e!erything, only enjoys what he knows how to resign" 9t is true you will not enjoy the illusions of imaginary $leasures, neither will you feel the sufferings which are their result" #ou will $rofit greatly by this e?change, for the sufferings are real an frequent, the $leasures are rare an em$ty" Gictor o!er so many eceitful i eas, you will also !anquish the i ea that attaches such an e?cessi!e !alue to life" #ou will s$en your life in $eace, an you will lea!e it without terrorA you will etach yourself from life as from other things" %et others, horror-struck, belie!e that when this life is en e they cease to beA conscious of the nothingness of life, you will think that you are but entering u$on the true life" To the wicke , eath is the close of lifeA to the just it is its awn"D Emile hear me with attention not unmi?e with an?iety" 'fter such a startling $reface he feare some gloomy conclusion" 8e foresaw that when 9 showe him how necessary it is to $ractise the strength of the soul, 9 esire to subject him to this stern isci$lineA he was like a woun e man who shrinks from the surgeon, an fancies he alrea y feels the $ainful but healing touch which will cure the ea ly woun " ;ncertain, an?ious, eager to know what 9 am ri!ing at, he oes not answer, he questions me but timi ly" DChat must 9 oED says he almost trembling, not aring to raise his eyes" DChat must you oED 9 re$ly firmly" D#ou must lea!e )o$hy"D DChat are you sayingED he e?claime angrily" D%ea!e )o$hy, lea!e )o$hy, ecei!e her, become a traitor, a !illain, a $erjurerHD DChyHD 9 continue, interru$ting himA D oes Emile su$$ose 9 shall teach him to eser!e such titlesED D<o,D he continue with the same !igour" D<either you nor any one elseA 9 am ca$able of $reser!ing your workA 9 shall not eser!e such re$roaches"D 9 was $re$are for this first outburstA 9 let it $ass unhee e " 9f 9 ha not the mo eration 9 $reach it woul not be much use $reaching itH Emile knows me too well to belie!e me ca$able of eman ing any wrong action from him, an he knows that it woul be wrong to lea!e )o$hy, in the

sense he attaches to the $hrase" )o he waits for an e?$lanation" Then 9 resume my s$eech" D>y ear Emile, o you think any man whatsoe!er can be ha$$ier than you ha!e been for the last three monthsE 9f you think so, un ecei!e yourself" Before tasting the $leasures of life you ha!e $lumbe the e$ths of its ha$$iness" There is nothing more than you ha!e alrea y e?$erience " The joys of sense are soon o!erA habit in!ariably estroys them" #ou ha!e taste greater joys through ho$e than you will e!er enjoy in reality" The imagination which a orns what we long for, eserts its $ossession" Cith the e?ce$tion of the one self-e?isting Being, there is nothing beautiful e?ce$t that which is not" 9f that state coul ha!e laste for e!er, you woul ha!e foun $erfect ha$$iness" But all that is relate to man shares his eclineA all is finite, all is fleeting in human life, an e!en if the con itions which make us ha$$y coul be $rolonge for e!er, habit woul e$ri!e us of all taste for that ha$$iness" 9f e?ternal circumstances remain unchange , the heart changesA either ha$$iness forsakes us, or we forsake her" D(uring your infatuation time has $asse unhee e " )ummer is o!er, winter is at han " E!en if our e?$e itions were $ossible, at such a time of year they woul not be $ermitte " Chether we wish it or no, we shall ha!e to change our way of lifeA it cannot continue" 9 rea in your eager eyes that this oes not isturb you greatlyA )o$hy@s confession an your own wishes suggest a sim$le $lan for a!oi ing the snow an esca$ing the journey" The $lan has its a !antages, no oubtA but when s$ring returns, the snow will melt an the marriage will remainA you must reckon for all seasons" D#ou wish to marry )o$hy an you ha!e only known her fi!e monthsH #ou wish to marry her, not because she is a fit wife for you, but because she $leases youA as if lo!e were ne!er mistaken as to fitness, as if those, who begin with lo!e, ne!er en e with hatre H 9 know she is !irtuousA but is that enoughE 9s fitness merely a matter of honourE 9t is not her !irtue 9 mis oubt, it is her is$osition" (oes a woman show her real character in a ayE (o you know how often you must ha!e seen her an un er what !arying con itions to really know her tem$erE 9s four months of liking a sufficient $le ge for the rest of your lifeE ' cou$le of months hence you may ha!e forgotten herA as soon as you are gone another may efface your image in her heartA on your return you may fin her as in ifferent as you ha!e hitherto foun her affectionate" )entiments are not a matter of $rinci$leA she may be $erfectly !irtuous an yet cease to lo!e you" 9 am incline to think she will be faithful an trueA but who will answer for her, an who will answer for you if you are not $ut to the $roofE Cill you $ost$one this trial till it is too late, will you wait to know your true sel!es till $arting is no longer $ossibleE D)o$hy is not eighteen, an you are barely twenty-twoA this is the age for lo!e, but not for marriage" Chat a father an mother for a familyH 9f you want to know how to bring u$ chil ren, you shoul at least wait till you yoursel!es are chil ren no longer" (o you not know that too early motherhoo has weakene the constitution, estroye the health, an shortene the life of many young womenE (o you not know that many

chil ren ha!e always been weak an sickly because their mother was little more than a chil herselfE Chen mother an chil are both growing, the strength require for their growth is i!i e , an neither gets all that nature inten e A are not both sure to sufferE Either 9 know !ery little of Emile, or he woul rather wait an ha!e a healthy wife an chil ren, than satisfy his im$atience at the $rice of their life an health" D%et us s$eak of yourself" #ou ho$e to be a husban an a fatherA ha!e you seriously consi ere your utiesE Chen you become the hea of a family you will become a citiFen of your country" 'n what is a citiFen of the stateE Chat o you know about itE #ou ha!e stu ie your uties as a man, but what o you know of the uties of a citiFenE (o you know the meaning of such terms as go!ernment, laws, countryE (o you know the $rice you must $ay for life, an for what you must be $re$are to ieE #ou think you know e!erything, when you really know nothing at all" Before you take your $lace in the ci!il or er, learn to $ercei!e an know what is your $ro$er $lace" DEmile, you must lea!e )o$hyA 9 o not bi you forsake herA if you were ca$able of such con uct, she woul be only too ha$$y not to ha!e marrie youA you must lea!e her in or er to return worthy of her" (o not be !ain enough to think yourself alrea y worthy" 8ow much remains to be oneH :ome an fulfil this s$len i taskA come an learn to submit to absenceA come an earn the $riFe of fi elity, so that when you return you may in ee eser!e some honour, an may ask her han not as a fa!our but as a rewar "D ;naccustome to struggle with himself, untraine to esire one thing an to will another, the young man will not gi!e wayA he resists, he argues" Chy shoul he refuse the ha$$iness which awaits himE Coul he not es$ise the han which is offere him if he hesitate to acce$t itE Chy nee he lea!e her to learn what he ought to knowE 'n if it were necessary to lea!e her why not lea!e her as his wife with a certain $le ge of his returnE %et him be her husban , an he is rea y to follow meA let them be marrie an he will lea!e her without fear" D>arry her in or er to lea!e her, ear EmileH what a contra ictionH ' lo!er who can lea!e his mistress shows himself ca$able of great thingsA a husban shoul ne!er lea!e his wife unless through necessity" To cure your scru$les, 9 see the elay must be in!oluntary on your $artA you must be able to tell )o$hy you lea!e her against your will" Gery well, be content, an since you will not follow the comman s of reason, you must submit to another master" #ou ha!e not forgotten your $romise" Emile, you must lea!e )o$hyA 9 will ha!e it"D 7or a moment or two he was owncast, silent, an thoughtful, then looking me full in the face he sai , DChen o we startED D9n a week@s time,D 9 re$lie A D)o$hy must be $re$are for our going" Comen are weaker than we are, an we must show consi eration for themA an this $arting is not a uty for her as it is for you, so she may be allowe to bear it less bra!ely"D The tem$tation to continue the aily history of their lo!e u$ to the time of their se$aration is !ery greatA but 9 ha!e alrea y $resume too much

u$on the goo nature of my rea ersA let us abri ge the story so as to bring it to an en " Cill Emile face the situation as bra!ely at his mistress@ feet as he has one in con!ersation with his frien E 9 think he willA his confi ence is roote in the sincerity of his lo!e" 8e woul be more at a loss with her, if it cost him less to lea!e herA he woul lea!e her feeling himself to blame, an that is a ifficult $art for a man of honour to $layA but the greater the sacrifice, the more cre it he eman s for it in the sight of her who makes it so ifficult" 8e has no fear that she will misun erstan his moti!es" E!ery look seems to say, D6h, )o$hy, rea my heart an be faithful to meA your lo!er is not without !irtue"D )o$hy tries to bear the unforeseen blow with her usual $ri e an ignity" )he tries to seem as if she i not care, but as the honours of war are not hers, but Emile@s, her strength is less equal to the task" )he wee$s, she sighs against her will, an the fear of being forgotten embitters the $ain of $arting" )he oes not wee$ in her lo!er@s sight, she oes not let him see her terrorA she woul ie rather than utter a sigh in his $resence" 9 am the reci$ient of her lamentations, 9 behol her tears, it is 9 who am su$$ose to be her confi ant" Comen are !ery cle!er an know how to conceal their cle!ernessA the more she frets in $ri!ate, the more $ains she takes to $lease meA she feels that her fate is in my han s" 9 console an comfort herA 9 make myself answerable for her lo!er, or rather for her husban A let her be as true to him as he to her an 9 $romise they shall be marrie in two years@ time" )he res$ects me enough to belie!e that 9 o not want to ecei!e her" 9 am guarantor to each for the other" Their hearts, their !irtue, my honesty, the confi ence of their $arents, all combine to reassure them" But what can reason a!ail against weaknessE They $art as if they were ne!er to meet again" Then it is that )o$hy recalls the regrets of Eucharis, an fancies herself in her $lace" (o not let us re!i!e that fantastic affection uring his absence D)o$hy,D say 9 one ay, De?change books with EmileA let him ha!e your Telemachus that he may learn to be like him, an let him gi!e you his )$ectator which you enjoy rea ing" )tu y the uties of goo wi!es in it, an remember that in two years@ time you will un ertake those uties"D The e?change ga!e $leasure to both an ins$ire them with confi ence" 't last the sa ay arri!e an they must $art" )o$hy@s worthy father, with whom 9 ha arrange the whole business, took affectionate lea!e of me, an taking me asi e, he s$oke seriously an somewhat em$hatically, saying, D9 ha!e one e!erything to $lease youA 9 knew 9 ha to o with a man of honourA 9 ha!e only one wor to say" Remembering your $u$il has signe his contract of marriage on my aughter@s li$s"D Chat a ifference in the beha!iour of the two lo!ersH Emile, im$etuous, eager, e?cite , almost besi e himself, cries alou an she s torrents of tears u$on the han s of father, mother, an aughterA with sobs he embraces e!ery one in the house an re$eats the same thing o!er an o!er again in a way that woul be lu icrous at any other time" )o$hy, $ale, sorrowful, oleful, an hea!y-eye , remains quiet without a wor or a tear, she sees no one, not e!en Emile" 9n !ain he takes her han , an

clas$s her in his armsA she remains motionless, unhee ing his tears, his caresses, an e!erything he oesA so far as she is concerne , he is gone alrea y" ' sight more mo!ing than the $rolonge lamentations an noisy regrets of her lo!erH 8e sees, he feels, he is heartbroken" 9 rag him reluctantly awayA if 9 left him another minute, he woul ne!er go" 9 am elighte that he shoul carry this touching $icture with him" 9f he shoul e!er be tem$te to forget what is ue to )o$hy, his heart must ha!e straye !ery far in ee if 9 cannot bring it back to her by recalling her as he saw her last"
OF TRAVEL

9s it goo for young $eo$le to tra!elE The question is often aske an as often hotly is$ute " 9f it were state otherwiseB're men the better for ha!ing tra!elle EB$erha$s there woul be less ifference of o$inion" The misuse of books is the eath of soun learning" Peo$le think they know what they ha!e rea , an take no $ains to learn" Too much rea ing only $ro uces a $retentious ignoramus" There was ne!er so much rea ing in any age as the $resent, an ne!er was there less learningA in no country of Euro$e are so many histories an books of tra!el $rinte as in 7rance, an nowhere is there less knowle ge of the min an manners of other nations" )o many books lea us to neglect the book of the worl A if we rea it at all, we kee$ each to our own $age" 9f the $hrase, D:an one become a Persian,D were unknown to me, 9 shoul sus$ect on hearing it that it came from the country where national $reju ice is most $re!alent an from the se? which oes most to increase it" ' Parisian thinks he has a knowle ge of men an he knows only 7renchmenA his town is always full of foreigners, but he consi ers e!ery foreigner as a strange $henomenon which has no equal in the uni!erse" #ou must ha!e a close acquaintance with the mi le classes of that great city, you must ha!e li!e among them, before you can belie!e that $eo$le coul be at once so witty an so stu$i " The strangest thing about it is that $robably e!ery one of them has rea a oFen times a escri$tion of the country whose inhabitants ins$ire him with such won er" To isco!er the truth ami st our own $reju ices an those of the authors is too har a task" 9 ha!e been rea ing books of tra!els all my life, but 9 ne!er foun two that ga!e me the same i ea of the same nation" 6n com$aring my own scanty obser!ations with what 9 ha!e rea , 9 ha!e eci e to aban on the tra!ellers an 9 regret the time waste in trying to learn from their booksA for 9 am quite con!ince that for that sort of stu y, seeing not rea ing is require " That woul be true enough if e!ery tra!eller were honest, if he only sai what he saw an belie!e , an if truth were not tinge with false colours from his own eyes" Chat must it be when we ha!e to isentangle the truth from the web of lies an illfaithE %et us lea!e the boaste resources of books to those who are content to use them" %ike the art of Raymon %ully they are able to set $eo$le chattering about things they o not know" They are able to set fifteen-

year-ol Platos iscussing $hiloso$hy in the clubs, an teaching $eo$le the customs of Egy$t an the 9n ies on the wor of Paul %ucas or Ta!ernier" 9 maintain that it is beyon is$ute that any one who has only seen one nation oes not know menA he only knows those men among whom he has li!e " 8ence there is another way of stating the question about tra!el& D9s it enough for a well-e ucate man to know his fellowcountrymen, or ought he to know mankin in generalED Then there is no $lace for argument or uncertainty" )ee how greatly the solution of a ifficult $roblem may e$en on the way in which it is state " But is it necessary to tra!el the whole globe to stu y mankin E <ee we go to Ja$an to stu y Euro$eansE <ee we know e!ery in i!i ual before we know the s$eciesE <o, there are men so much alike that it is not worth while to stu y them in i!i ually" Chen you ha!e seen a oFen 7renchmen you ha!e seen them all" Though one cannot say as much of the English an other nations, it is, howe!er, certain that e!ery nation has its own s$ecific character, which is eri!e by in uction from the stu y, not of one, but many of its members" 8e who has com$are a oFen nations knows men, just he who has com$are a oFen 7renchmen knows the 7rench" To acquire knowle ge it is not enough to tra!el hastily through a country" 6bser!ation eman s eyes, an the $ower of irecting them towar s the object we esire to know" There are $lenty of $eo$le who learn no more from their tra!els than from their books, because they o not know how to thinkA because in rea ing their min is at least un er the gui ance of the author, an in their tra!els they o not know how to see for themsel!es" 6thers learn nothing, because they ha!e no esire to learn" Their object is so entirely ifferent, that this ne!er occurs to themA it is !ery unlikely that you will see clearly what you take no trouble to look for" The 7rench tra!el more than any other nation, but they are so taken u$ with their own customs, that e!erything else is confuse together" There are 7renchmen in e!ery corner of the globe" 9n no country of the worl o you fin more $eo$le who ha!e tra!elle than in 7rance" 'n yet of all the nations of Euro$e, that which has seen most, knows least" The English are also tra!ellers, but they tra!el in another fashionA these two nations must always be at o$$osite e?tremes" The English nobility tra!els, the 7rench stays at homeA the 7rench $eo$le tra!el, the English stay at home" This ifference oes cre it, 9 think, to the English" The 7rench almost always tra!el for their own en sA the English o not seek their fortune in other lan s, unless in the way of commerce an with their han s fullA when they tra!el it is to s$en their money, not to li!e by their witsA they are too $rou to cringe before strangers" This is why they learn more abroa than the 7rench who ha!e other fish to fry" #et the English ha!e their national $reju icesA but these $reju ices are not so much the result of ignorance as of feeling" The Englishman@s $reju ices are the result of $ri e, the 7renchman@s are ue to !anity" Just as the least culti!ate nations are usually the best, so those tra!el best who tra!el leastA they ha!e ma e less $rogress than we in our fri!olous $ursuits, they are less concerne with the objects of our em$ty

curiosity, so that they gi!e their attention to what is really useful" 9 har ly know any but the )$aniar s who tra!el in this fashion" Chile the 7renchman is running after all the artists of the country, while the Englishman is getting a co$y of some antique, while the German is taking his album to e!ery man of science, the )$aniar is silently stu ying the go!ernment, the manners of the country, its $olice, an he is the only one of the four who from all that he has seen will carry home any obser!ation useful to his own country" The ancients tra!elle little, rea little, an wrote few booksA yet we see in those books that remain to us, that they obser!e each other more thoroughly than we obser!e our contem$oraries" Cithout going back to the ays of 8omer, the only $oet who trans$orts us to the country he escribes, we cannot eny to 8ero otus the glory of ha!ing $ainte manners in his history, though he oes it rather by narrati!e than by commentA still he oes it better than all our historians whose books are o!erla en with $ortraits an characters" Tacitus has escribe the Germans of his time better than any author has escribe the Germans of to- ay" There can be no oubt that those who ha!e e!ote themsel!es to ancient history know more about the Greeks, :arthaginians, Romans, Gauls, an Persians than any nation of to- ay knows about its neighbours" 9t must also be a mitte that the original characteristics of ifferent nations are changing ay by ay, an are therefore more ifficult to gras$" 's races blen an nations intermingle, those national ifferences which formerly struck the obser!er at first sight gra ually isa$$ear" Before our time e!ery nation remaine more or less cut off from the restA the means of communication were fewerA there was less tra!elling, less of mutual or conflicting interests, less $olitical an ci!il intercourse between nation an nationA those intricate schemes of royalty, miscalle i$lomacy, were less frequentA there were no $ermanent ambassa ors resi ent at foreign courtsA long !oyages were rare, there was little foreign tra e, an what little there was, was either the work of $rinces, who em$loye foreigners, or of $eo$le of no account who ha no influence on others an i nothing to bring the nations together" The relations between Euro$e an 'sia in the $resent century are a hun re fol more numerous than those between Gaul an )$ain in the $astA Euro$e alone was less accessible than the whole worl is now" >oreo!er, the $eo$les of antiquity usually consi ere themsel!es as the original inhabitants of their countryA they ha welt there so long that all recor was lost of the far-off times when their ancestors settle thereA they ha been there so long that the $lace ha ma e a lasting im$ression on themA but in mo ern Euro$e the in!asions of the barbarians, following u$on the Roman conquests, ha!e cause an e?traor inary confusion" The 7renchmen of to- ay are no longer the big fair men of ol A the Greeks are no longer beautiful enough to ser!e as a scul$tor@s mo elA the !ery face of the Romans has change as well as their characterA the Persians, originally from Tartary, are aily losing their nati!e ugliness through the intermi?ture of :ircassian bloo " Euro$eans are no longer Gauls, Germans, 9berians, 'llobrogesA they are all

)cythians, more or less egenerate in countenance, an still more so in con uct"

This is why the ancient istinctions of race, the effect of soil an climate, ma e a greater ifference between nation an nation in res$ect of tem$erament, looks, manners, an character than can be istinguishe in our own time, when the fickleness of Euro$e lea!es no time for natural causes to work, when the forests are cut own an the marshes raine , when the earth is more generally, though less thoroughly, tille , so that the same ifferences between country an country can no longer be etecte e!en in $urely $hysical features" 9f they consi ere these facts $erha$s $eo$le woul not be in such a hurry to ri icule 8ero otus, :tesias, Pliny for ha!ing escribe the inhabitants of ifferent countries each with its own $eculiarities an with striking ifferences which we no longer see" To recognise such ty$es of face we shoul nee to see the men themsel!esA no change must ha!e $asse o!er them, if they are to remain the same" 9f we coul behol all the $eo$le who ha!e e!er li!e , who can oubt that we shoul fin greater !ariations between one century an another, than are now foun between nation an nation" 't the same time, while obser!ation becomes more ifficult, it is more carelessly an ba ly oneA this is another reason for the small success of our researches into the natural history of the human race" The information acquire by tra!el e$en s u$on the object of the journey" 9f this object is a system of $hiloso$hy, the tra!eller only sees what he esires to seeA if it is self-interest, it engrosses the whole attention of those concerne " :ommerce an the arts which blen an mingle the nations at the same time $re!ent them from stu ying each other" 9f they know how to make a $rofit out of their neighbours, what more o they nee to knowE 9t is a goo thing to know all the $laces where we might li!e, so as to choose those where we can li!e most comfortably" 9f e!ery one li!e by his own efforts, all he woul nee to know woul be how much lan woul kee$ him in foo " The sa!age, who has nee of no one, an en!ies no one, neither knows nor seeks to know any other country but his own" 9f he requires more lan for his subsistence he shuns inhabite $lacesA he makes war u$on the wil beasts an fee s on them" But for us, to whom ci!ilise life has become a necessity, for us who must nee s e!our our fellow-creatures, self-interest $rom$ts each one of us to frequent those istricts where there are most $eo$le to be e!oure " This is why we all flock to Rome, Paris, an %on on" 8uman flesh an bloo are always chea$est in the ca$ital cities" Thus we only know the great nations, which are just like one another" They say that men of learning tra!el to obtain informationA not so, they tra!el like other $eo$le from intereste moti!es" Philoso$hers like Plato an Pythagoras are no longer to be foun , or if they are, it must be in faroff lan s" 6ur men of learning only tra!el at the king@s comman A they are sent out, their e?$enses are $ai , they recei!e a salary for seeing such an such things, an the object of that journey is certainly not the stu y of any question of morals" Their whole time is require for the

object of their journey, an they are too honest not to earn their $ay" 9f in any country whatsoe!er there are $eo$le tra!elling at their own e?$ense, you may be sure it is not to stu y men but to teach them" 9t is not knowle ge they esire but ostentation" 8ow shoul their tra!els teach them to shake off the yoke of $reju iceE 9t is $reju ice that sen s them on their tra!els" To tra!el to see foreign lan s or to see foreign nations are two !ery ifferent things" The former is the usual aim of the curious, the latter is merely subor inate to it" 9f you wish to tra!el as a $hiloso$her you shoul re!erse this or er" The chil obser!es things till he is ol enough to stu y men" >an shoul begin by stu ying his fellowsA he can stu y things later if time $ermits" 9t is therefore illogical to conclu e that tra!el is useless because we tra!el ill" But granting the usefulness of tra!el, oes it follow that it is goo for all of usE 7ar from itA there are !ery few $eo$le who are really fit to tra!elA it is only goo for those who are strong enough in themsel!es to listen to the !oice of error without being ecei!e , strong enough to see the e?am$le of !ice without being le away by it" Tra!elling accelerates the $rogress of nature, an com$letes the man for goo or e!il" Chen a man returns from tra!elling about the worl , he is what he will be all his lifeA there are more who return ba than goo , because there are more who start with an inclination towar s e!il" 9n the course of their tra!els, young $eo$le, ill-e ucate an ill-beha!e , $ick u$ all the !ices of the nations among whom they ha!e sojourne , an none of the !irtues with which those !ices are associate A but those who, ha$$ily for themsel!es, are well-born, those whose goo is$osition has been well culti!ate , those who tra!el with a real esire to learn, all such return better an wiser than they went" Emile will tra!el in this fashionA in this fashion there tra!elle another young man, worthy of a nobler ageA one whose worth was the a miration of Euro$e, one who ie for his country in the flower of his manhoo A he eser!e to li!e, an his tomb, ennoble by his !irtues only, recei!e no honour till a stranger@s han a orne it with flowers" E!erything that is one in reason shoul ha!e its rules" Tra!el, un ertaken as a $art of e ucation, shoul therefore ha!e its rules" To tra!el for tra!elling@s sake is to wan er, to be a !agabon A to tra!el to learn is still too !agueA learning without some efinite aim is worthless" 9 woul gi!e a young man a $ersonal interest in learning, an that interest, well-chosen, will also eci e the nature of the instruction" This is merely the continuation of the metho 9 ha!e hitherto $ractise " <ow after he has consi ere himself in his $hysical relations to other creatures, in his moral relations with other men, there remains to be consi ere his ci!il relations with his fellow-citiFens" To o this he must first stu y the nature of go!ernment in general, then the ifferent forms of go!ernment, an lastly the $articular go!ernment un er which he was born, to know if it suits him to li!e un er itA for by a right which nothing can abrogate, e!ery man, when he comes of age, becomes his own master, free to renounce the contract by which he forms $art of the community, by lea!ing the country in which that contract hol s goo " 9t is

only by sojourning in that country, after he has come to years of iscretion, that he is su$$ose to ha!e tacitly confirme the $le ge gi!en by his ancestors" 8e acquires the right to renounce his country, just as he has the right to renounce all claim to his father@s lan sA yet his $lace of birth was a gift of nature, an in renouncing it, he renounces what is his own" )trictly s$eaking, e!ery man remains in the lan of his birth at his own risk unless he !oluntarily submits to its laws in or er to acquire a right to their $rotection" 7or e?am$le, 9 shoul say to Emile, D8itherto you ha!e li!e un er my gui ance, you were unable to rule yourself" But now you are a$$roaching the age when the law, gi!ing you the control o!er your $ro$erty, makes you master of your $erson" #ou are about to fin yourself alone in society, e$en ent on e!erything, e!en on your $atrimony" #ou mean to marryA that is a $raiseworthy intention, it is one of the uties of manA but before you marry you must know what sort of man you want to be, how you wish to s$en your life, what ste$s you mean to take to secure a li!ing for your family an for yourselfA for although we shoul not make this our main business, it must be efinitely consi ere " (o you wish to be e$en ent on men whom you es$iseE (o you wish to establish your fortune an etermine your $osition by means of ci!il relations which will make you always e$en ent on the choice of others, which will com$el you, if you woul esca$e from kna!es, to become a kna!e yourselfED 9n the ne?t $lace 9 woul show him e!ery $ossible way of using his money in tra e, in the ci!il ser!ice, in finance, an 9 shall show him that in e!ery one of these there are risks to be taken, e!ery one of them $laces him in a $recarious an e$en ent $osition, an com$els him to a a$t his morals, his sentiments, his con uct to the e?am$le an the $reju ices of others" DThere is yet another way of s$en ing your time an moneyA you may join the armyA that is to say, you may hire yourself out at !ery high wages to go an kill men who ne!er i you any harm" This tra e is hel in great honour among men, an they cannot think too highly of those who are fit for nothing better" >oreo!er, this $rofession, far from making you in e$en ent of other resources, makes them all the more necessaryA for it is a $oint of honour in this $rofession to ruin those who ha!e a o$te it" 9t is true they are not all ruine A it is e!en becoming fashionable to grow rich in this as in other $rofessionsA but if 9 tol you how $eo$le manage to o it, 9 oubt whether you woul esire to follow their e?am$le" D>oreo!er, you must know that, e!en in this tra e, it is no longer a question of courage or !alour, unless with regar to the la iesA on the contrary, the more cringing, mean, an egra e you are, the more honour you obtainA if you ha!e eci e to take your $rofession seriously, you will be es$ise , you will be hate , you will !ery $ossibly be ri!en out of the ser!ice, or at least you will fall a !ictim to fa!ouritism an be su$$lante by your comra es, because you ha!e been oing your uty in the trenches, while they ha!e been atten ing to their toilet"D

Ce can har ly su$$ose that any of these occu$ations will be much to Emile@s taste" DChy,D he will e?claim, Dha!e 9 forgotten the amusements of my chil hoo E 8a!e 9 lost the use of my armsE 9s my strength failing meE (o 9 not know how to workE Chat o 9 care about all your fine $rofessions an all the silly $reju ices of othersE 9 know no other $ri e than to be kin ly an justA no other ha$$iness than to li!e in in e$en ence with her 9 lo!e, gaining health an a goo a$$etite by the ay@s work" 'll these ifficulties you s$eak of o not concern me" The only $ro$erty 9 esire is a little farm in some quiet corner" 9 will e!ote all my efforts after wealth to making it $ay, an 9 will li!e without a care" Gi!e me )o$hy an my lan , an 9 shall be rich"D D#es, my ear frien , that is all a wise man requires, a wife an lan of his ownA but these treasures are scarcer than you think" The rarest you ha!e foun alrea yA let us iscuss the other" D' fiel of your own, ear EmileH Chere will you fin it, in what remote corner of the earth can you say, @8ere am 9 master of myself an of this estate which belongs to meE@ Ce know where a man may grow richA who knows where he can o without richesE Cho knows where to li!e free an in e$en ent, without ill-treating others an without fear of being illtreate himselfH (o you think it is so easy to fin a $lace where you can always li!e like an honest manE 9f there is any safe an lawful way of li!ing without intrigues, without lawsuits, without e$en ence on others, it is, 9 a mit, to li!e by the labour of our han s, by the culti!ation of our own lan A but where is the state in which a man can say, @The earth which 9 ig is my ownE@ Before choosing this ha$$y s$ot, be sure that you will fin the $eace you esireA beware lest an unjust go!ernment, a $ersecuting religion, an e!il habits shoul isturb you in your home" )ecure yourself against the e?cessi!e ta?es which e!our the fruits of your labours, an the en less lawsuits which consume your ca$ital" Take care that you can li!e rightly without ha!ing to $ay court to inten ents, to their e$uties, to ju ges, to $riests, to $owerful neighbours, an to kna!es of e!ery kin , who are always rea y to annoy you if you neglect them" 'bo!e all, secure yourself from annoyance on the $art of the rich an greatA remember that their estates may anywhere a join your <aboth@s !ineyar " 9f unluckily for you some great man buys or buil s a house near your cottage, make sure that he will not fin a way, un er some $retence or other, to encroach on your lan s to roun off his estate, or that you o not fin him at once absorbing all your resources to make a wi e highroa " 9f you kee$ sufficient cre it to war off all these isagreeables, you might as well kee$ your money, for it will cost you no more to kee$ it" Riches an cre it lean u$on each other, the one can har ly stan without the other" D9 ha!e more e?$erience than you, ear EmileA 9 see more clearly the ifficulties in the way of your scheme" #et it is a fine scheme an honourableA it woul make you ha$$y in ee " %et us try to carry it out" 9 ha!e a suggestion to makeA let us e!ote the two years from now till the time of your return to choosing a $lace in Euro$e where you coul li!e ha$$ily with your family, secure from all the angers 9 ha!e just escribe " 9f we succee , you will ha!e isco!ere that true ha$$iness,

so often sought for in !ainA an you will not ha!e to regret the time s$ent in its search" 9f we fail, you will be cure of a mistaken i eaA you will console yourself for an ine!itable ill, an you will bow to the law of necessity"D 9 o not know whether all my rea ers will see whither this suggeste inquiry will lea usA but this 9 o know, if Emile returns from his tra!els, begun an continue with this en in !iew, without a full knowle ge of questions of go!ernment, $ublic morality, an $olitical $hiloso$hy of e!ery kin , we are greatly lacking, he in intelligence an 9 in ju gment" The science of $olitics is an $robably always will be unknown" Grotius, our lea er in this branch of learning, is only a chil , an what is worse an untruthful chil " Chen 9 hear Grotius $raise to the skies an 8obbes o!erwhelme with abuse, 9 $ercei!e how little sensible men ha!e rea or un erstoo these authors" 's a matter of fact, their $rinci$les are e?actly alike, they only iffer in their mo e of e?$ression" Their metho s are also ifferent& 8obbes relies on so$hismA Grotius relies on the $oetsA they are agree in e!erything else" 9n mo ern times the only man who coul ha!e create this !ast an useless science was the illustrious >ontesquieu" But he was not concerne with the $rinci$les of $olitical lawA he was content to eal with the $ositi!e laws of settle go!ernmentsA an nothing coul be more ifferent than these two branches of stu y" #et he who woul ju ge wisely in matters of actual go!ernment is force to combine the twoA he must know what ought to be in or er to ju ge what is" The chief ifficulty in the way of throwing light u$on this im$ortant matter is to in uce an in i!i ual to iscuss an to answer these two questions" D8ow oes it concern meA an what can 9 oED Emile is in a $osition to answer both" The ne?t ifficulty is ue to the $reju ices of chil hoo , the $rinci$les in which we were brought u$A it is ue abo!e all to the $artiality of authors, who are always talking about truth, though they care !ery little about itA it is only their own interests that they care for, an of these they say nothing" <ow the nation has neither $rofessorshi$s, nor $ensions, nor membershi$ of the aca emies to bestow" 8ow then shall its rights be establishe by men of that ty$eE The e ucation 9 ha!e gi!en him has remo!e this ifficulty also from Emile@s $ath" 8e scarcely knows what is meant by go!ernmentA his business is to fin the bestA he oes not want to write booksA if e!er he i so, it woul not be to $ay court to those in authority, but to establish the rights of humanity" There is a thir ifficulty, more s$ecious than realA a ifficulty which 9 neither esire to sol!e nor e!en to stateA enough that 9 am not afrai of itA sure 9 am that in inquiries of this kin , great talents are less necessary than a genuine lo!e of justice an a sincere re!erence for truth" 9f matters of go!ernment can e!er be fairly iscusse , now or ne!er is our chance" Before beginning our obser!ations we must lay own rules of $roce ureA we must fin a scale with which to com$are our measurements" 6ur

$rinci$les of $olitical law are our scale" 6ur actual measurements are the ci!il law of each country" 6ur elementary notions are $lain an sim$le, being taken irectly from the nature of things" They will take the form of $roblems iscusse between us, an they will not be formulate into $rinci$les, until we ha!e foun a satisfactory solution of our $roblems" 7or e?am$le, we shall begin with the state of nature, we shall see whether men are born sla!es or free, in a community or in e$en entA is their association the result of free will or of forceE :an the force which com$els them to unite action e!er form a $ermanent law, by which this original force becomes bin ing, e!en when another has been im$ose u$on it, so that since the $ower of =ing <imro , who is sai to ha!e been the first conqueror, e!ery other $ower which has o!erthrown the original $ower is unjust an usur$ing, so that there are no lawful kings but the escen ants of <imro or their re$resentati!esA or if this original $ower has cease , has the $ower which succee e it any right o!er us, an oes it estroy the bin ing force of the former $ower, so that we are not boun to obey e?ce$t un er com$ulsion, an we are free to rebel as soon as we are ca$able of resistanceE )uch a right is not !ery ifferent from mightA it is little more than a $lay u$on wor s" Ce shall inquire whether man might not say that all sickness comes from Go , an that it is therefore a crime to sen for the octor" 'gain, we shall inquire whether we are boun by our conscience to gi!e our $urse to a highwayman when we might conceal it from him, for the $istol in his han is also a $ower" (oes this wor $ower in this conte?t mean something ifferent from a $ower which is lawful an therefore subject to the laws to which it owes its beingE )u$$ose we reject this theory that might is right an a mit the right of nature, or the authority of the father, as the foun ation of societyA we shall inquire into the e?tent of this authorityA what is its foun ation in natureE 8as it any other groun s but that of its usefulness to the chil , his weakness, an the natural lo!e which his father feels towar s himE Chen the chil is no longer feeble, when he is grown-u$ in min as well as in bo y, oes not he become the sole ju ge of what is necessary for his $reser!ationE 9s he not therefore his own master, in e$en ent of all men, e!en of his father himselfE 7or is it not still more certain that the son lo!es himself, than that the father lo!es the sonE The father being ea , shoul the chil ren obey the el est brother, or some other $erson who has not the natural affection of a fatherE )houl there always be, from family to family, one single hea to whom all the family owe obe ienceE 9f so, how has $ower e!er come to be i!i e , an how is it that there is more than one hea to go!ern the human race throughout the worl E )u$$ose the nations to ha!e been forme each by its own choiceA we shall then istinguish between right an factA being thus subjecte to

their brothers, uncles, or other relations, not because they were oblige , but because they choose, we shall inquire whether this kin of society is not a sort of free an !oluntary associationE Taking ne?t the law of sla!ery, we shall inquire whether a man can make o!er to another his right to himself, without restriction, without reser!e, without any kin of con itionsA that is to say, can he renounce his $erson, his life, his reason, his !ery self, can he renounce all morality in his actionsA in a wor , can he cease to e?ist before his eath, in s$ite of nature who $laces him irectly in charge of his own $reser!ation, in s$ite of reason an conscience which tell him what to o an what to lea!e un oneE 9f there is any reser!ation or restriction in the ee of sla!ery, we shall iscuss whether this ee oes not then become a true contract, in which both the contracting $owers, ha!ing in this res$ect no common master, .7ootnote& 9f they ha such a common master, he woul be no other than the so!ereign, an then the right of sla!ery resting on the right of so!ereignty woul not be its origin"3 remain their own ju ge as to the con itions of the contract, an therefore free to this e?tent, an able to break the contract as soon as it becomes hurtful" 9f then a sla!e cannot con!ey himself altogether to his master, how can a nation con!ey itself altogether to its hea E 9f a sla!e is to ju ge whether his master is fulfilling his contract, is not the nation to ju ge whether its hea is fulfilling his contractE Thus we are com$elle to retrace our ste$s, an when we consi er the meaning of this collecti!e nation we shall inquire whether some contract, a tacit contract at the least, is not require to make a nation, a contract anterior to that which we are assuming" )ince the nation was a nation before it chose a king, what ma e it a nation, e?ce$t the social contractE Therefore the social contract is the foun ation of all ci!il society, an it is in the nature of this contract that we must seek the nature of the society forme by it" Ce will inquire into the meaning of this contractA may it not be fairly well e?$resse in this formulaE 's an in i!i ual e!ery one of us contributes his goo s, his $erson, his life, to the common stock, un er the su$reme irection of the general willA while as a bo y we recei!e each member as an in i!isible $art of the whole" 'ssuming this, in or er to efine the terms we require, we shall obser!e that, instea of the in i!i ual $erson of each contracting $arty, this ee of association $ro uces a moral an collecti!e bo y, consisting of as many members as there are !otes in the 'ssembly" This $ublic $ersonality is usually calle the bo y $olitic, which is calle by its members the )tate when it is $assi!e, an the )o!ereign when it is acti!e, an a Power when com$are with its equals" Cith regar to the members themsel!es, collecti!ely they are known as the nation, an in i!i ually as citiFens as members of the city or $artakers in the so!ereign $ower, an subjects as obe ient to the same authority"

Ce shall note that this contract of association inclu es a mutual $le ge on the $art of the $ublic an the in i!i ualA an that each in i!i ual, entering, so to s$eak, into a contract with himself, fin s himself in a twofol ca$acity, i"e", as a member of the so!ereign with regar to others, as member of the state with regar to the so!ereign" Ce shall also note that while no one is boun by any engagement to which he was not himself a $arty, the general eliberation which may be bin ing on all the subjects with regar to the so!ereign, because of the two ifferent relations un er which each of them is en!isage , cannot be bin ing on the state with regar to itself" 8ence we see that there is not, an cannot be, any other fun amental law, $ro$erly so calle , e?ce$t the social contract only" This oes not mean that the bo y $olitic cannot, in certain res$ects, $le ge itself to othersA for in regar to the foreigner, it then becomes a sim$le creature, an in i!i ual" Thus the two contracting $arties, i"e", each in i!i ual an the $ublic, ha!e no common su$erior to eci e their ifferencesA so we will inquire if each of them remains free to break the contract at will, that is to re$u iate it on his si e as soon as he consi ers it hurtful" To clear u$ this ifficulty, we shall obser!e that, accor ing to the social $act, the so!ereign $ower is only able to act through the common, general willA so its ecrees can only ha!e a general or common aimA hence it follows that a $ri!ate in i!i ual cannot be irectly injure by the so!ereign, unless all are injure , which is im$ossible, for that woul be to want to harm oneself" Thus the social contract has no nee of any warrant but the general $ower, for it can only be broken by in i!i uals, an they are not therefore free from their engagement, but $unishe for ha!ing broken it" To eci e all such questions rightly, we must always bear in min that the nature of the social $act is $ri!ate an $eculiar to itself, in that the nation only contracts with itself, i"e", the $eo$le as a whole as so!ereign, with the in i!i uals as subjectsA this con ition is essential to the construction an working of the $olitical machine, it alone makes $le ges lawful, reasonable, an secure, without which it woul be absur , tyrannical, an liable to the grossest abuse" 9n i!i uals ha!ing only submitte themsel!es to the so!ereign, an the so!ereign $ower being only the general will, we shall see that e!ery man in obeying the so!ereign only obeys himself, an how much freer are we un er the social $art than in the state of nature" 8a!ing com$are natural an ci!il liberty with regar to $ersons, we will com$are them as to $ro$erty, the rights of ownershi$ an the rights of so!ereignty, the $ri!ate an the common omain" 9f the so!ereign $ower rests u$on the right of ownershi$, there is no right more worthy of res$ectA it is in!iolable an sacre for the so!ereign $ower, so long as it remains a $ri!ate in i!i ual rightA as soon as it is !iewe as common to all the citiFens, it is subject to the common will, an this will may estroy it" Thus the so!ereign has no right to touch the $ro$erty of one or manyA but he may lawfully take $ossession of the $ro$erty of all, as was one in

)$arta in the time of %ycurgusA while the abolition of ebts by )olon was an unlawful ee " )ince nothing is bin ing on the subjects e?ce$t the general will, let us inquire how this will is ma e manifest, by what signs we may recognise it with certainty, what is a law, an what are the true characters of the lawE This is quite a fresh subjectA we ha!e still to efine the term law" 's soon as the nation consi ers one or more of its members, the nation is i!i e " ' relation is establishe between the whole an its $art which makes of them two se$arate entities, of which the $art is one, an the whole, minus that $art, is the other" But the whole minus the $art is not the wholeA as long as this relation e?ists, there is no longer a whole, but two unequal $arts" 6n the other han , if the whole nation makes a law for the whole nation, it is only consi ering itselfA an if a relation is set u$, it is between the whole community regar e from one $oint of !iew, an the whole community regar e from another $oint of !iew, without any i!ision of that whole" Then the object of the statute is general, an the will which makes that statute is general too" %et us see if there is any other kin of ecree which may bear the name of law" 9f the so!ereign can only s$eak through laws, an if the law can ne!er ha!e any but a general $ur$ose, concerning all the members of the state, it follows that the so!ereign ne!er has the $ower to make any law with regar to $articular casesA an yet it is necessary for the $reser!ation of the state that $articular oases shoul also be ealt withA let us see how this can be one" The ecrees of the so!ereign can only be ecrees of the general will, that is lawsA there must also be etermining ecrees, ecrees of $ower or go!ernment, for the e?ecution of those lawsA an these, on the other han , can only ha!e $articular aims" Thus the ecrees by which the so!ereign eci es that a chief shall be electe is a lawA the ecree by which that chief is electe , in $ursuance of the law, is only a ecree of go!ernment" This is a thir relation in which the assemble $eo$le may be consi ere , i"e", as magistrates or e?ecutors of the law which it has $asse in its ca$acity as so!ereign" .7ootnote& These $roblems an theorems are mostly taken from the Treatise on the )ocial :ontract, itself a summary of a larger work, un ertaken without ue consi eration of my own $owers, an long since aban one "3 Ce will now inquire whether it is $ossible for the nation to e$ri!e itself of its right of so!ereignty, to bestow it on one or more $ersonsA for the ecree of election not being a law, an the $eo$le in this ecree not being themsel!es so!ereign, we o not see how they can transfer a right which they o not $ossess" The essence of so!ereignty consisting in the general will, it is equally har to see how we can be certain that an in i!i ual will shall always be in agreement with the general will" Ce shoul rather assume that it will

often be o$$ose to itA for in i!i ual interest always ten s to $ri!ileges, while the common interest always ten s to equality, an if such an agreement were $ossible, no so!ereign right coul e?ist, unless the agreement were either necessary or in estructible" Ce will inquire if, without !iolating the social $act, the hea s of the nation, un er whate!er name they are chosen, can e!er be more than the officers of the $eo$le, entruste by them with the uty of carrying the law into e?ecution" 're not these chiefs themsel!es accountable for their a ministration, an are not they themsel!es subject to the laws which it is their business to see carrie outE 9f the nation cannot alienate its su$reme right, can it entrust it to others for a timeE :annot it gi!e itself a master, cannot it fin re$resentati!esE This is an im$ortant question an eser!es iscussion" 9f the nation can ha!e neither so!ereign nor re$resentati!es we will inquire how it can $ass its own lawsA must there be many lawsA must they be often altere A is it easy for a great nation to be its own lawgi!erE Cas not the Roman $eo$le a great nationE 9s it a goo thing that there shoul be great nationsE 9t follows from consi erations alrea y establishe that there is an interme iate bo y in the state between subjects an so!ereignA an this interme iate bo y, consisting of one or more members, is entruste with the $ublic a ministration, the carrying out of the laws, an the maintenance of ci!il an $olitical liberty" The members of this bo y are calle magistrates or kings, that is to say, rulers" This bo y, as a whole, consi ere in relation to its members, is calle the $rince, an consi ere in its actions it is calle the go!ernment" 9f we consi er the action of the whole bo y u$on itself, that is to say, the relation of the whole to the whole, of the so!ereign to the state, we can com$are this relation to that of the e?tremes in a $ro$ortion of which the go!ernment is the mi le term" The magistrate recei!es from the so!ereign the comman s which he gi!es to the nation, an when it is reckone u$ his $ro uct or his $ower is in the same egree as the $ro uct or $ower of the citiFens who are subjects on one si e of the $ro$ortion an so!ereigns on the other" <one of the three terms can be !arie without at once estroying this $ro$ortion" 9f the so!ereign tries to go!ern, an if the $rince wants to make the laws, or if the subject refuses to obey them, isor er takes the $lace of or er, an the state falls to $ieces un er es$otism or anarchy" %et us su$$ose that this state consists of ten thousan citiFens" The so!ereign can only be consi ere collecti!ely an as a bo y, but each in i!i ual, as a subject, has his $ri!ate an in e$en ent e?istence" Thus the so!ereign is as ten thousan to oneA that is to say, e!ery member of the state has, as his own share, only one ten-thousan th $art of the so!ereign $ower, although he is subject to the whole" %et the nation be

com$ose of one hun re thousan men, the $osition of the subjects is unchange , an each continues to bear the whole weight of the laws, while his !ote, re uce to the one hun re -thousan th $art, has ten times less influence in the making of the laws" Thus the subject being always one, the so!ereign is relati!ely greater as the number of the citiFens is increase " 8ence it follows that the larger the state the less liberty" <ow the greater the is$ro$ortion between $ri!ate wishes an the general will, i"e", between manners an laws, the greater must be the $ower of re$ression" 6n the other si e, the greatness of the state gi!es the e$ositaries of $ublic authority greater tem$tations an a itional means of abusing that authority, so that the more $ower is require by the go!ernment to control the $eo$le, the more $ower shoul there be in the so!ereign to control the go!ernment" 7rom this twofol relation it follows that the continue $ro$ortion between the so!ereign, the $rince, an the $eo$le is not an arbitrary i ea, but a consequence of the nature of the state" >oreo!er, it follows that one of the e?tremes, i"e", the nation, being constant, e!ery time the ouble ratio increases or ecreases, the sim$le ratio increases or iminishes in its turnA which cannot be unless the mi le term is as often change " 7rom this we may conclu e that there is no single absolute form of go!ernment, but there must be as many ifferent forms of go!ernment as there are states of ifferent siFe" 9f the greater the numbers of the nation the less the ratio between its manners an its laws, by a fairly clear analogy, we may also say, the more numerous the magistrates, the weaker the go!ernment" To make this $rinci$le clearer we will istinguish three essentially ifferent wills in the $erson of each magistrateA first, his own will as an in i!i ual, which looks to his own a !antage onlyA secon ly, the common will of the magistrates, which is concerne only with the a !antage of the $rince, a will which may be calle cor$orate, an one which is general in relation to the go!ernment an $articular in relation to the state of which the go!ernment forms $artA thir ly, the will of the $eo$le, or the so!ereign will, which is general, as much in relation to the state !iewe as the whole as in relation to the go!ernment !iewe as a $art of the whole" 9n a $erfect legislature the $ri!ate in i!i ual will shoul be almost nothingA the cor$orate will belonging to the go!ernment shoul be quite subor inate, an therefore the general an so!ereign will is the master of all the others" 6n the other han , in the natural or er, these ifferent wills become more an more acti!e in $ro$ortion as they become centralise A the general will is always weak, the cor$orate will takes the secon $lace, the in i!i ual will is $referre to allA so that e!ery one is himself first, then a magistrate, an then a citiFenA a series just the o$$osite of that require by the social or er" 8a!ing lai own this $rinci$le, let us assume that the go!ernment is in the han s of one man" 9n this case the in i!i ual an the cor$orate will are absolutely one, an therefore this will has reache the greatest $ossible egree of intensity" <ow the use of $ower e$en s on the

egree of this intensity, an as the absolute $ower of the go!ernment is always that of the $eo$le, an therefore in!ariable, it follows that the rule of one man is the most acti!e form of go!ernment" 9f, on the other han , we unite the go!ernment with the su$reme $ower, an make the $rince the so!ereign an the citiFens so many magistrates, then the cor$orate will is com$letely lost in the general will, an will ha!e no more acti!ity than the general will, an it will lea!e the in i!i ual will in full !igour" Thus the go!ernment, though its absolute force is constant, will ha!e the minimum of acti!ity" These rules are incontestable in themsel!es, an other consi erations only ser!e to confirm them" 7or e?am$le, we see the magistrates as a bo y far more acti!e than the citiFens as a bo y, so that the in i!i ual will always counts for more" 7or each magistrate usually has charge of some $articular uty of go!ernmentA while each citiFen, in himself, has no $articular uty of so!ereignty" >oreo!er, the greater the state the greater its real $ower, although its $ower oes not increase because of the increase in territoryA but the state remaining unchange , the magistrates are multi$lie in !ain, the go!ernment acquires no further real strength, because it is the e$ositary of that of the state, which 9 ha!e assume to be constant" Thus, this $lurality of magistrates ecreases the acti!ity of the go!ernment without increasing its $ower" 8a!ing foun that the $ower of the go!ernment is rela?e in $ro$ortion as the number of magistrates is multi$lie , an that the more numerous the $eo$le, the more the controlling $ower must be increase , we shall infer that the ratio between the magistrates an the go!ernment shoul be in!erse to that between subjects an so!ereign, that is to say, that the greater the state, the smaller the go!ernment, an that in like manner the number of chiefs shoul be iminishe because of the increase numbers of the $eo$le" 9n or er to make this i!ersity of forms clearer, an to assign them their ifferent names, we shall obser!e in the first $lace that the so!ereign may entrust the care of the go!ernment to the whole nation or to the greater $art of the nation, so that there are more citiFen magistrates than $ri!ate citiFens" This form of go!ernment is calle (emocracy" 6r the so!ereign may restrict the go!ernment in the han s of a lesser number, so that there are more $lain citiFens than magistratesA an this form of go!ernment is calle 'ristocracy" 7inally, the so!ereign may concentrate the whole go!ernment in the han s of one man" This is the thir an commonest form of go!ernment, an is calle >onarchy or royal go!ernment" Ce shall obser!e that all these forms, or the first an secon at least, may be less or more, an that within tolerably wi e limits" 7or the emocracy may inclu e the whole nation, or may be confine to one half of it" The aristocracy, in its turn, may shrink from the half of the nation to the smallest number" E!en royalty may be share , either between father an son, between two brothers, or in some other fashion" There were always two kings in )$arta, an in the Roman em$ire there were as many

as eight em$erors at once, an yet it cannot be sai that the em$ire was i!i e " There is a $oint where each form of go!ernment blen s with the ne?tA an un er the three s$ecific forms there may be really as many forms of go!ernment as there are citiFens in the state" <or is this all" 9n certain res$ects each of these go!ernments is ca$able of sub i!ision into ifferent $arts, each a ministere in one of these three ways" 7rom these forms in combination there may arise a multitu e of mi?e forms, since each may be multi$lie by all the sim$le forms" 9n all ages there ha!e been great is$utes as to which is the best form of go!ernment, an $eo$le ha!e faile to consi er that each is the best in some cases an the worst in others" 7or oursel!es, if the number of magistrates .7ootnote& #ou will remember that 9 mean, in this conte?t, the su$reme magistrates or hea s of the nation, the others being only their e$uties in this or that res$ect"3 in the !arious states is to be in in!erse ratio to the number of the citiFens, we infer that generally a emocratic go!ernment is a a$te to small states, an aristocratic go!ernment to those of mo erate siFe, an a monarchy to large states" These inquiries furnish us with a clue by which we may isco!er what are the uties an rights of citiFens, an whether they can be se$arate one from the otherA what is our country, in what oes it really consist, an how can each of us ascertain whether he has a country or noE 8a!ing thus consi ere e!ery kin of ci!il society in itself, we shall com$are them, so as to note their relations one with anotherA great an small, strong an weak, attacking one another, insulting one another, estroying one anotherA an in this $er$etual action an reaction causing more misery an loss of life than if men ha $reser!e their original free om" Ce shall inquire whether too much or too little has not been accom$lishe in the matter of social institutionsA whether in i!i uals who are subject to law an to men, while societies $reser!e the in e$en ence of nature, are not e?$ose to the ills of both con itions without the a !antages of either, an whether it woul not be better to ha!e no ci!il society in the worl rather than to ha!e many such societies" 9s it not that mi?e con ition which $artakes of both an secures neitherE DPer quem neutrum licet, nec tanquam in bello $aratum esse, nec tanquam in $ace securum"DB)eneca (e Trang& 'nimi, ca$" 9" 9s it not this $artial an im$erfect association which gi!es rise to tyranny an warE 'n are not tyranny an war the worst scourges of humanityE 7inally we will inquire how men seek to get ri of these ifficulties by means of leagues an confe erations, which lea!e each state its own master in internal affairs, while they arm it against any unjust aggression" Ce will inquire how a goo fe eral association may be establishe , what can make it lasting, an how far the rights of the fe eration may be stretche without estroying the right of so!ereignty" The 'bbe e )aint-Pierre suggeste an association of all the states of Euro$e to maintain $er$etual $eace among themsel!es" 9s this association $racticable, an su$$osing that it were establishe , woul it

be likely to lastE These inquiries lea us straight to all the questions of international law which may clear u$ the remaining ifficulties of $olitical law" 7inally we shall lay own the real $rinci$les of the laws of war, an we shall see why Grotius an others ha!e only state false $rinci$les" 9 shoul not be sur$rise if my $u$il, who is a sensible young man, shoul interru$t me saying, D6ne woul think we were buil ing our e ifice of woo an not of menA we are $utting e!erything so e?actly in its $laceHD That is trueA but remember that the law oes not bow to the $assions of men, an that we ha!e first to establish the true $rinci$les of $olitical law" <ow that our foun ations are lai , come an see what men ha!e built u$on themA an you will see some strange sightsH Then 9 set him to rea Telemachus, an we $ursue our journeyA we are seeking that ha$$y )alentum an the goo 9 omeneus ma e wise by misfortunes" By the way we fin many like Protesilas an no Philocles, neither can ' rastes, =ing of the (aunians, be foun " But let our rea ers $icture our tra!els for themsel!es, or take the same journeys with Telemachus in their han A an let us not suggest to them $ainful a$$lications which the author himself a!oi s or makes in s$ite of himself" >oreo!er, Emile is not a king, nor am 9 a go , so that we are not istresse that we cannot imitate Telemachus an >entor in the goo they i A none know better than we how to kee$ to our own $lace, none ha!e less esire to lea!e it" Ce know that the same task is allotte to allA that whoe!er lo!es what is right with all his heart, an oes the right so far as it is in his $ower, has fulfille that task" Ce know that Telemachus an >entor are creatures of the imagination" Emile oes not tra!el in i leness an he oes more goo than if he were a $rince" 9f we were kings we shoul be no greater benefactors" 9f we were kings an benefactors we shoul cause any number of real e!ils for e!ery a$$arent goo we su$$ose we were oing" 9f we were kings an sages, the first goo ee we shoul esire to $erform, for oursel!es an for others, woul be to ab icate our kingshi$ an return to our $resent $osition" 9 ha!e sai why tra!el oes so little for e!ery one" Chat makes it still more barren for the young is the way in which they are sent on their tra!els" Tutors, more concerne to amuse than to instruct, take them from town to town, from $alace to $alace, where if they are men of learning an letters, they make them s$en their time in libraries, or !isiting antiquaries, or rummaging among ol buil ings transcribing ancient inscri$tions" 9n e!ery country they are busy o!er some other century, as if they were li!ing in another countryA so that after they ha!e tra!elle all o!er Euro$e at great e?$ense, a $rey to fri!olity or te ium, they return, ha!ing seen nothing to interest them, an ha!ing learnt nothing that coul be of any $ossible use to them" 'll ca$itals are just alike, they are a mi?ture of all nations an all ways of li!ingA they are not the $lace in which to stu y the nations" Paris an %on on seem to me the same town" Their inhabitants ha!e a few $reju ices of their own, but each has as many as the other, an all their rules of con uct are the same" Ce know the kin of $eo$le who will throng the court" Ce know the way of li!ing which the crow s of $eo$le

an the unequal istribution of wealth will $ro uce" 's soon as any one tells me of a town with two hun re thousan $eo$le, 9 know its life alrea y" Chat 9 o not know about it is not worth going there to learn" To stu y the genius an character of a nation you shoul go to the more remote $ro!inces, where there is less stir, less commerce, where strangers sel om tra!el, where the inhabitants stay in one $lace, where there are fewer changes of wealth an $osition" Take a look at the ca$ital on your way, but go an stu y the country far away from that ca$ital" The 7rench are not in Paris, but in TouraineA the English are more English in >ercia than in %on on, an the )$aniar s more )$anish in Galicia than in >a ri " 9n these remoter $ro!inces a nation assumes its true character an shows what it really isA there the goo or ill effects of the go!ernment are best $ercei!e , just as you can measure the arc more e?actly at a greater ra ius" The necessary relations between character an go!ernment ha!e been so clearly $ointe out in the book of %@Es$rit es %ois, that one cannot o better than ha!e recourse to that work for the stu y of those relations" But s$eaking generally, there are two $lain an sim$le stan ar s by which to eci e whether go!ernments are goo or ba " 6ne is the $o$ulation" E!ery country in which the $o$ulation is ecreasing is on its way to ruinA an the countries in which the $o$ulation increases most ra$i ly, e!en were they the $oorest countries in the worl , are certainly the best go!erne " .7ootnote& 9 only know one e?ce$tion to this ruleBit is :hina"3 But this $o$ulation must be the natural result of the go!ernment an the national character, for if it is cause by colonisation or any other tem$orary an acci ental cause, then the reme y itself is e!i ence of the isease" Chen 'ugustus $asse laws against celibacy, those laws showe that the Roman em$ire was alrea y beginning to ecline" :itiFens must be in uce to marry by the goo ness of the go!ernment, not com$elle to marry by lawA you must not e?amine the effects of force, for the law which stri!es against the constitution has little or no effectA you shoul stu y what is one by the influence of $ublic morals an by the natural inclination of the go!ernment, for these alone $ro uce a lasting effect" 9t was the $olicy of the worthy 'bbe e )aint-Pierre always to look for a little reme y for e!ery in i!i ual ill, instea of tracing them to their common source an seeing if they coul not all be cure together" #ou o not nee to treat se$arately e!ery sore on a rich man@s bo yA you shoul $urify the bloo which $ro uces them" They say that in Englan there are $riFes for agricultureA that is enough for meA that is $roof enough that agriculture will not flourish there much longer" The secon sign of the goo ness or ba ness of the go!ernment an the laws is also to be foun in the $o$ulation, but it is to be foun not in its numbers but in its istribution" Two states equal in siFe an $o$ulation may be !ery unequal in strengthA an the more $owerful is always that in which the $eo$le are more e!enly istribute o!er its territoryA the country which has fewer large towns, an makes less show on this account, will always efeat the other" 9t is the great towns which e?haust the state an are the cause of its weaknessA the wealth which they $ro uce is a sham wealth, there is much money an few goo s" They say

the town of Paris is worth a whole $ro!ince to the =ing of 7ranceA for my own $art 9 belie!e it costs him more than se!eral $ro!inces" 9 belie!e that Paris is fe by the $ro!inces in more senses than one, an that the greater $art of their re!enues is $oure into that town an stays there, without e!er returning to the $eo$le or to the king" 9t is inconcei!able that in this age of calculators there is no one to see that 7rance woul be much more $owerful if Paris were estroye " <ot only is this illistribute $o$ulation not a !antageous to the state, it is more ruinous than e$o$ulation itself, because e$o$ulation only gi!es as $ro uce nought, an the ill-regulate a ition of still more $eo$le gi!es a negati!e result" Chen 9 hear an Englishman an a 7renchman so $rou of the siFe of their ca$itals, an is$uting whether %on on or Paris has more inhabitants, it seems to me that they are quarrelling as to which nation can claim the honour of being the worst go!erne " )tu y the nation outsi e its townsA thus only will you really get to know it" 9t is nothing to see the a$$arent form of a go!ernment, o!erla en with the machinery of a ministration an the jargon of the a ministrators, if you ha!e not also stu ie its nature as seen in the effects it has u$on the $eo$le, an in e!ery egree of a ministration" The ifference of form is really share by e!ery egree of the a ministration, an it is only by inclu ing e!ery egree that you really know the ifference" 9n one country you begin to feel the s$irit of the minister in the manoeu!res of his un erlingsA in another you must see the election of members of $arliament to see if the nation is really freeA in each an e!ery country, he who has only seen the towns cannot $ossibly know what the go!ernment is like, as its s$irit is ne!er the same in town an country" <ow it is the agricultural istricts which form the country, an the country $eo$le who make the nation" This stu y of ifferent nations in their remoter $ro!inces, an in the sim$licity of their nati!e genius, gi!es a general result which is !ery satisfactory, to my thinking, an !ery consoling to the human heartA it is this& 'll the nations, if you obser!e them in this fashion, seem much better worth obser!ingA the nearer they are to nature, the more oes kin ness hol sway in their characterA it is only when they are coo$e u$ in towns, it is only when they are change by culti!ation, that they become e$ra!e , that certain faults which were rather coarse than injurious are e?change for $leasant but $ernicious !ices" 7rom this obser!ation we see another a !antage in the mo e of tra!el 9 suggestA for young men, sojourning less in the big towns which are horribly corru$t, are less likely to catch the infection of !iceA among sim$ler $eo$le an less numerous com$any, they will $reser!e a surer ju gment, a healthier taste, an better morals" Besi es this contagion of !ice is har ly to be feare for EmileA he has e!erything to $rotect him from it" 'mong all the $recautions 9 ha!e taken, 9 reckon much on the lo!e he bears in his heart" Ce o not know the $ower of true lo!e o!er youthful esires, because we are oursel!es as ignorant of it as they are, an those who ha!e control o!er the young turn them from true lo!e" #et a young man must either lo!e or fall into ba ways" 9t is easy to be ecei!e by a$$earances" #ou

will quote any number of young men who are sai to li!e !ery chastely without lo!eA but show me one grown man, a real man, who can truly say that his youth was thus s$entE 9n all our !irtues, all our uties, $eo$le are content with a$$earancesA for my own $art 9 want the reality, an 9 am much mistaken if there is any other way of securing it beyon the means 9 ha!e suggeste " The i ea of letting Emile fall in lo!e before taking him on his tra!els is not my own" 9t was suggeste to me by the following inci ent" 9 was in Genice calling on the tutor of a young Englishman" 9t was winter an we were sitting roun the fire" The tutor@s letters were brought from the $ost office" 8e glance at them, an then rea them alou to his $u$il" They were in EnglishA 9 un erstoo not a wor , but while he was rea ing 9 saw the young man tear some fine $oint lace ruffles which he was wearing, an throw them in the fire one after another, as quietly as he coul , so that no one shoul see it" )ur$rise at this whim, 9 looke at his face an thought 9 $ercei!e some emotionA but the e?ternal signs of $assion, though much alike in all men, ha!e national ifferences which may easily lea one astray" <ations ha!e a ifferent language of facial e?$ression as well as of s$eech" 9 waite till the letters were finishe an then showing the tutor the bare wrists of his $u$il, which he i his best to hi e, 9 sai , D>ay 9 ask the meaning of thisED The tutor seeing what ha ha$$ene began to laughA he embrace his $u$il with an air of satisfaction an , with his consent, he ga!e me the esire e?$lanation" DThe ruffles,D sai he, Dwhich >r" John has just torn to $ieces, were a $resent from a la y in this town, who ma e them for him not long ago" <ow you must know that >r" John is engage to a young la y in his own country, with whom he is greatly in lo!e, an she well eser!es it" This letter is from the la y@s mother, an 9 will translate the $assage which cause the estruction you behel " D@%ucy is always at work u$on >r" John@s ruffles" #ester ay >iss Betty Rol ham came to s$en the afternoon an insiste on oing some of her work" 9 knew that %ucy was u$ !ery early this morning an 9 wante to see what she was oingA 9 foun her busy un$icking what >iss Betty ha one" )he woul not ha!e a single stitch in her $resent one by any han but her own"@D >r" John went to fetch another $air of ruffles, an 9 sai to his tutor& D#our $u$il has a !ery goo is$ositionA but tell me is not the letter from >iss %ucy@s mother a $ut u$ jobE 9s it not an e?$e ient of your esigning against the la y of the rufflesED D<o,D sai he, Dit is quite genuineA 9 am not so artful as thatA 9 ha!e ma e use of sim$licity an Feal, an Go has blesse my efforts"D This inci ent with regar to the young man stuck in my min A it was sure to set a reamer like me thinking" But it is time we finishe " %et us take >r" John back to >iss %ucy, or rather Emile to )o$hy" 8e brings her a heart as ten er as e!er, an a

more enlightene min , an he returns to his nati!e lan all the bettor for ha!ing ma e acquaintance with foreign go!ernments through their !ices an foreign nations through their !irtues" 9 ha!e e!en taken care that he shoul associate himself with some man of worth in e!ery nation, by means of a treaty of hos$itality after the fashion of the ancients, an 9 shall not be sorry if this acquaintance is ke$t u$ by means of letters" <ot only may this be useful, not only is it always $leasant to ha!e a corres$on ent in foreign lan s, it is also an e?cellent anti ote against the sway of $atriotic $reju ices, to which we are liable all through our life, an to which sooner or later we are more or less ensla!e " <othing is better calculate to lessen the hol of such $reju ices than a frien ly interchange of o$inions with sensible $eo$le whom we res$ectA they are free from our $reju ices an we fin oursel!es face to face with theirs, an so we can set the one set of $reju ices against the other an be safe from both" 9t is not the same thing to ha!e to o with strangers in our own country an in theirs" 9n the former case there is always a certain amount of $oliteness which either makes them conceal their real o$inions, or makes them think more fa!ourably of our country while they are with usA when they get home again this isa$$ears, an they merely o us justice" 9 shoul be !ery gla if the foreigner 9 consult has seen my country, but 9 shall not ask what he thinks of it till he is at home again" Chen we ha!e s$ent nearly two years tra!elling in a few of the great countries an many of the smaller countries of Euro$e, when we ha!e learnt two or three of the chief languages, when we ha!e seen what is really interesting in natural history, go!ernment, arts, or men, Emile, e!oure by im$atience, remin s me that our time is almost u$" Then 9 say, DCell, my frien , you remember the main object of our journeyA you ha!e seen an obser!e A what is the final result of your obser!ationsE Chat ecision ha!e you come toED Either my metho is wrong, or he will answer me somewhat after this fashionB DChat ecision ha!e 9 come toE 9 ha!e eci e to be what you ma e meA of my own free will 9 will a no fetters to those im$ose u$on me by nature an the laws" The more 9 stu y the works of men in their institutions, the more clearly 9 see that, in their efforts after in e$en ence, they become sla!es, an that their !ery free om is waste in !ain attem$ts to assure its continuance" That they may not be carrie away by the floo of things, they form all sorts of attachmentsA then as soon as they wish to mo!e forwar they are sur$rise to fin that e!erything rags them back" 9t seems to me that to set oneself free we nee o nothing, we nee only continue to esire free om" >y master, you ha!e ma e me free by teaching me to yiel to necessity" %et her come when she will, 9 follow her without com$ulsionA 9 lay hol of nothing to kee$ me back" 9n our tra!els 9 ha!e sought for some corner of the earth where 9 might be absolutely my ownA but where can one well among men without being e$en ent on their $assionsE 6n further consi eration 9 ha!e isco!ere that my esire contra icte itselfA for were 9 to hol to nothing else, 9 shoul at least hol to the s$ot on which 9 ha settle A my life woul be attache to that s$ot, as the rya s were attache to their trees" 9 ha!e isco!ere that the wor s liberty an

em$ire are incom$atibleA 9 can only be master of a cottage by ceasing to be master of myself" D@8oc erat in !otis, mo us agri non ita magnus"@ 8orace, lib" ii", sat" !i" D9 remember that my $ro$erty was the origin of our inquiries" #ou argue !ery forcibly that 9 coul not kee$ both my wealth an my libertyA but when you wishe me to be free an at the same time without nee s, you esire two incom$atible things, for 9 coul only be in e$en ent of men by returning to e$en ence on nature" Chat then shall 9 o with the fortune bequeathe to me by my $arentsE To begin with, 9 will not be e$en ent on itA 9 will cut myself loose from all the ties which bin me to itA if it is left in my han s, 9 shall kee$ itA if 9 am e$ri!e of it, 9 shall not be ragge away with it" 9 shall not trouble myself to kee$ it, but 9 shall kee$ stea fastly to my own $lace" Rich or $oor, 9 shall be free" 9 shall be free not merely in this country or in thatA 9 shall be free in any $art of the worl " 'll the chains of $reju ice are brokenA as far as 9 am concerne 9 know only the bon s of necessity" 9 ha!e been traine to en ure them from my chil hoo , an 9 shall en ure them until eath, for 9 am a manA an why shoul 9 not wear those chains as a free man, for 9 shoul ha!e to wear them e!en if 9 were a sla!e, together with the a itional fetters of sla!eryE DChat matters my $lace in the worl E Chat matters it where 9 amE Chere!er there are men, 9 am among my brethrenA where!er there are none, 9 am in my own home" )o long as 9 may be in e$en ent an rich, an ha!e wherewithal to li!e, an 9 shall li!e" 9f my wealth makes a sla!e of me, 9 shall fin it easy to renounce it" 9 ha!e han s to work, an 9 shall get a li!ing" 9f my han s fail me, 9 shall li!e if others will su$$ort meA if they forsake me 9 shall ieA 9 shall ie e!en if 9 am not forsaken, for eath is not the $enalty of $o!erty, it is a law of nature" Chensoe!er eath comes 9 efy itA it shall ne!er fin me making $re$arations for lifeA it shall ne!er $re!ent me ha!ing li!e " D>y father, this is my ecision" But for my $assions, 9 shoul be in my manhoo in e$en ent as Go himself, for 9 only esire what is an 9 shoul ne!er fight against fate" 't least, there is only one chain, a chain which 9 shall e!er wear, a chain of which 9 may be justly $rou " :ome then, gi!e me my )o$hy, an 9 am free"D D(ear Emile, 9 am gla in ee to hear you s$eak like a man, an to behol the feelings of your heart" 't your age this e?aggerate unselfishness is not un$leasing" 9t will ecrease when you ha!e chil ren of your own, an then you will be just what a goo father an a wise man ought to be" 9 knew what the result woul be before our tra!elsA 9 knew that when you saw our institutions you woul be far from re$osing a confi ence in them which they o not eser!e" 9n !ain o we seek free om un er the $ower of the laws" The lawsH Chere is there any lawE Chere is there any res$ect for lawE ;n er the name of law you ha!e e!erywhere seen the rule of self-interest an human $assion" But the eternal laws of nature an of or er e?ist" 7or the wise man they take the

$lace of $ositi!e lawA they are written in the e$ths of his heart by conscience an reasonA let him obey these laws an be freeA for there is no sla!e but the e!il- oer, for he always oes e!il against his will" %iberty is not to be foun in any form of go!ernment, she is in the heart of the free man, he bears her with him e!erywhere" The !ile man bears his sla!ery in himselfA the one woul be a sla!e in Gene!a, the other free in Paris" D9f 9 s$oke to you of the uties of a citiFen, you woul $erha$s ask me, @Chich is my countryE@ 'n you woul think you ha $ut me to confusion" #et you woul be mistaken, ear Emile, for he who has no country has, at least, the lan in which he li!es" There is always a go!ernment an certain so-calle laws un er which he has li!e in $eace" Chat matter though the social contract has not been obser!e , if he has been $rotecte by $ri!ate interest against the general will, if he has been secure by $ublic !iolence against $ri!ate aggressions, if the e!il he has behel has taught him to lo!e the goo , an if our institutions themsel!es ha!e ma e him $ercei!e an hate their own iniquitiesE 6h, Emile, where is the man who owes nothing to the lan in which he li!esE Chate!er that lan may be, he owes to it the most $recious thing $ossesse by man, the morality of his actions an the lo!e of !irtue" Born in the e$ths of a forest he woul ha!e li!e in greater ha$$iness an free omA but being able to follow his inclinations without a struggle there woul ha!e been no merit in his goo ness, he woul not ha!e been !irtuous, as he may be now, in s$ite of his $assions" The mere sight of or er teaches him to know an lo!e it" The $ublic goo , which to others is a mere $rete?t, is a real moti!e for him" 8e learns to fight against himself an to $re!ail, to sacrifice his own interest to the common weal" 9t is not true that he gains nothing from the lawsA they gi!e him courage to be just, e!en in the mi st of the wicke " 9t is not true that they ha!e faile to make him freeA they ha!e taught him to rule himself" D(o not say therefore, @Chat matter where 9 amE@ 9t oes matter that you shoul be where you can best o your utyA an one of these uties is to lo!e your nati!e lan " #our fellow-countrymen $rotecte you in chil hoo A you shoul lo!e them in your manhoo " #ou shoul li!e among them, or at least you shoul li!e where you can ser!e them to the best of your $ower, an where they know where to fin you if e!er they are in nee of you" There are circumstances in which a man may be of more use to his fellow-countrymen outsi e his country than within it" Then he shoul listen only to his own Feal an shoul bear his e?ile without a murmurA that e?ile is one of his uties" But you, ear Emile, you ha!e not un ertaken the $ainful task of telling men the truth, you must li!e in the mi st of your fellow-creatures, culti!ating their frien shi$ in $leasant intercourseA you must be their benefactor, their $atternA your e?am$le will o more than all our books, an the goo they see you o will touch them more ee$ly than all our em$ty wor s" D#et 9 o not e?hort you to li!e in a townA on the contrary, one of the e?am$les which the goo shoul gi!e to others is that of a $atriarchal, rural life, the earliest life of man, the most $eaceful, the most natural, an the most attracti!e to the uncorru$te heart" 8a$$y is the lan , my

young frien , where one nee not seek $eace in the wil ernessH But where is that countryE ' man of goo will fin s it har to satisfy his inclinations in the mi st of towns, where he can fin few but frau s an rogues to work for" The welcome gi!en by the towns to those i lers who flock to them to seek their fortunes only com$letes the ruin of the country, when the country ought really to be re$o$ulate at the cost of the towns" 'll the men who with raw from high society are useful just because of their with rawal, since its !ices are the result of its numbers" They are also useful when they can bring with them into the esert $laces life, culture, an the lo!e of their first con ition" 9 like to think what benefits Emile an )o$hy, in their sim$le home, may s$rea about them, what a stimulus they may gi!e to the country, how they may re!i!e the Feal of the unlucky !illagers" D9n fancy 9 see the $o$ulation increasing, the lan coming un er culti!ation, the earth clothe with fresh beauty" >any workers an $lenteous cro$s transform the labours of the fiel s into holi aysA 9 see the young cou$le in the mi st of the rustic s$orts which they ha!e re!i!e , an 9 hear the shouts of joy an the blessings of those about them" >en say the gol en age is a fableA it always will be for those whose feelings an taste are e$ra!e " Peo$le o not really regret the gol en age, for they o nothing to restore it" Chat is nee e for its restorationE 6ne thing only, an that is an im$ossibilityA we must lo!e the gol en age" D'lrea y it seems to be re!i!ing aroun )o$hy@s homeA together you will only com$lete what her worthy $arents ha!e begun" But, ear Emile, you must not let so $leasant a life gi!e you a istaste for sterner uties, if e!ery they are lai u$on youA remember that the Romans sometimes left the $lough to become consul" 9f the $rince or the state calls you to the ser!ice of your country, lea!e all to fulfil the honourable uties of a citiFen in the $ost assigne to you" 9f you fin that uty onerous, there is a sure an honourable means of esca$ing from itA o your uty so honestly that it will not long be left in your han s" >oreo!er, you nee not fear the ifficulties of such a testA while there are men of our own time, they will not summon you to ser!e the state"D Chy may 9 not $aint the return of Emile to )o$hy an the en of their lo!e, or rather the beginning of their we e lo!eH ' lo!e foun e on esteem which will last with life itself, on !irtues which will not fa e with fa ing beauty, on fitness of character which gi!es a charm to intercourse, an $rolongs to ol age the elights of early lo!e" But all such etails woul be $leasing but not useful, an so far 9 ha!e not $ermitte myself to gi!e attracti!e etails unless 9 thought they woul be useful" )hall 9 aban on this rule when my task is nearly en e E <o, 9 feel that my $en is weary" Too feeble for such $rolonge labours, 9 shoul aban on this if it were not so nearly com$lete A if it is not to be left im$erfect it is time it were finishe " 't last 9 see the ha$$y ay a$$roaching, the ha$$iest ay of Emile@s life an my ownA 9 see the crown of my labours, 9 begin to a$$reciate their results" The noble $air are unite till eath o $artA heart an li$s confirm no em$ty !owsA they are man an wife" Chen they return from the church, they follow where they are le A they know not where they are,

whither they are going, or what is ha$$ening aroun them" They hee nothing, they answer at ran omA their eyes are trouble an they see nothing" 6h, ra$tureH 6h, human weaknessH >an is o!erwhelme by the feeling of ha$$iness, he is not strong enough to bear it" There are few $eo$le who know how to talk to the newly-marrie cou$le" The gloomy $ro$riety of some an the light con!ersation of others seem to me equally out of $lace" 9 woul rather their young hearts were left to themsel!es, to aban on themsel!es to an agitation which is not without its charm, rather than that they shoul be so cruelly istresse by a false mo esty, or annoye by coarse witticisms which, e!en if they a$$eale to them at other times, are surely out of $lace on such a ay" 9 behol our young $eo$le, wra$$e in a $leasant languor, gi!ing no hee to what is sai " )hall 9, who esire that they shoul enjoy all the ays of their life, shall 9 let them lose this $recious ayE <o, 9 esire that they shall taste its $leasures an enjoy them" 9 rescue them from the foolish crow , an walk with them in some quiet $laceA 9 recall them to themsel!es by s$eaking of them 9 wish to s$eak, not merely to their ears, but to their hearts, an 9 know that there is only one subject of which they can think to- ay" D>y chil ren,D say 9, taking a han of each, Dit is three years since 9 behel the birth of the $ure an !igorous $assion which is your ha$$iness to- ay" 9t has gone on growingA your eyes tell me that it has reache its highest $ointA it must ine!itably ecline"D >y rea ers can fancy the ra$tures, the anger, the !ows of Emile, an the scornful air with which )o$hy with raws her han from mineA how their eyes $rotest that they will a ore each other till their latest breath" 9 let them ha!e their wayA then 9 continue& D9 ha!e often thought that if the ha$$iness of lo!e coul continue in marriage, we shoul fin a Para ise u$on earth" )o far this has ne!er been" But if it were not quite im$ossible, you two are quite worthy to set an e?am$le you ha!e not recei!e , an e?am$le which few marrie cou$les coul follow" >y chil ren, shall 9 tell you what 9 think is the way, an the only way, to o itED They look at one another an smile at my sim$licity" Emile thanks me curtly for my $rescri$tion, saying that he thinks )o$hy has a better, at any rate it is goo enough for him" )o$hy agrees with him an seems just as certain" #et in s$ite of her mockery, 9 think 9 see a trace of curiosity" 9 stu y EmileA his eager eyes are fi?e u$on his wife@s beautyA he has no curiosity for anything elseA an he $ays little hee to what 9 say" 9t is my turn to smile, an 9 say to myself, D9 will soon get your attention"D The almost im$erce$tible ifference between these two hi en im$ulses is characteristic of a real ifference between the two se?esA it is that men are generally less constant than women, an are sooner weary of success in lo!e" ' woman foresees man@s future inconstancy, an is an?iousA it is this which makes her more jealous" .7ootnote& 9n 7rance it is the wi!es who first emanci$ate themsel!esA an necessarily so, for ha!ing !ery little heart, an only esiring attention, when a husban

ceases to $ay them attention they care !ery little for himself" 9n other countries it is not soA it is the husban who first emanci$ates himselfA an necessarily so, for women, faithful, but foolish, im$ortune men with their esires an only isgust them" There may be $lenty of e?ce$tions to these general truthsA but 9 still think they are truths"3 Chen his $assion begins to cool she is com$elle to $ay him the attentions he use to bestow on her for her $leasureA she wee$s, it is her turn to humiliate herself, an she is rarely successful" 'ffection an kin ee s rarely win hearts, an they har ly e!er win them back" 9 return to my $rescri$tion against the cooling of lo!e in marriage" D9t is $lain an sim$le,D 9 continue" D9t consists in remaining lo!ers when you are husban an wife"D D9n ee ,D sai Emile, laughing at my secret, Dwe shall not fin that har "D DPerha$s you will fin it har er than you think" Pray gi!e me time to e?$lain" D:or s too tightly stretche are soon broken" This is what ha$$ens when the marriage bon is subjecte to too great a strain" The fi elity im$ose by it u$on husban an wife is the most sacre of all rightsA but it gi!es to each too great a $ower o!er the other" :onstraint an lo!e o not agree together, an $leasure is not to be ha for the asking" (o not blush, )o$hy, an o not try to run away" Go forbi that 9 shoul offen your mo estyH But your fate for life is at stake" 7or so great a cause, $ermit a con!ersation between your husban an your father which you woul not $ermit elsewhere" D9t is not so much $ossession as mastery of which $eo$le tire, an affection is often more $rolonge with regar to a mistress than a wife" 8ow can $eo$le make a uty of the ten erest caresses, an a right of the sweetest $le ges of lo!eE 9t is mutual esire which gi!es the right, an nature knows no other" The law may restrict this right, it cannot e?ten it" The $leasure is so sweet in itselfH )houl it owe to sa constraint the $ower which it cannot gain from its own charmsE <o, my chil ren, in marriage the hearts are boun , but the bo ies are not ensla!e " #ou owe one another fi elity, but not com$laisance" <either of you may gi!e yourself to another, but neither of you belongs to the other e?ce$t at your own will" D9f it is true, ear Emile, that you woul always be your wife@s lo!er, that she shoul always be your mistress an her own, be a ha$$y but res$ectful lo!erA obtain all from lo!e an nothing from uty, an let the slightest fa!ours ne!er be of right but of grace" 9 know that mo esty shuns formal confessions an requires to be o!ercomeA but with elicacy an true lo!e, will the lo!er e!er be mistaken as to the real willE Cill not he know when heart an eyes grant what the li$s refuseE %et both for e!er be master of their $erson an their caresses, let them ha!e the right to bestow them only at their own will" Remember that e!en in marriage this $leasure is only lawful when the esire is mutual" (o not be afrai , my chil ren, that this law will kee$ you a$artA on the contrary, it will

make both more eager to $lease, an will $re!ent satiety" True to one another, nature an lo!e will raw you to each other"D

Emile is angry an cries out against these an similar suggestions" )o$hy is ashame , she hi es her face behin her fan an says nothing" Perha$s while she is saying nothing, she is the most annoye " #et 9 insist, without mercyA 9 make Emile blush for his lack of elicacyA 9 un ertake to be surety for )o$hy that she will un ertake her share of the treaty" 9 incite her to s$eak, you may guess she will not are to say 9 am mistaken" Emile an?iously consults the eyes of his young wifeA he behol s them, through all her confusion, fille with a, !olu$tuous an?iety which reassures him against the angers of trusting her" 8e flings himself at her feet, kisses with ra$ture the han e?ten e to him, an swears that beyon the fi elity he has alrea y $romise , he will renounce all other rights o!er her" D>y ear wife,D sai he, Dbe the arbiter of my $leasures as you are alrea y the arbiter of my life an fate" )houl your cruelty cost me life itself 9 woul yiel to you my most cherishe rights" 9 will owe nothing to your com$laisance, but all to your heart"D (ear Emile, be comforte A )o$hy herself is too generous to let you fall a !ictim to your generosity" 9n the e!ening, when 9 am about to lea!e them, 9 say in the most solemn tone, DRemember both of you, that you are free, that there is no question of marital rightsA belie!e me, no false eference" Emile will you come home with meE )o$hy $ermits it"D Emile is rea y to strike me in his anger" D'n you, )o$hy, what o you sayE )hall 9 take him awayED The little liar, blushing, answers, D#es"D ' ten er an elightful falsehoo , better than truth itselfH The ne?t ay" O >en no longer elight in the $icture of blissA their taste is as much e$ra!e by the corru$tion of !ice as their hearts" They can no longer feel what is touching or $ercei!e what is truly elightful" #ou who, as a $icture of !olu$tuous joys, see only the ha$$y lo!ers immerse in $leasure, your $icture is !ery im$erfectA you ha!e only its grosser $art, the sweetest charms of $leasure are not there" Chich of you has seen a young cou$le, ha$$ily marrie , on the morrow of their marriageE their chaste yet langui looks betray the into?ication of the bliss they ha!e enjoye , the blesse security of innocence, an the elightful certainty that they will s$en the rest of their life together" The heart of man can behol no more ra$turous sightA this is the real $icture of ha$$inessA you ha!e behel it a hun re times without hee ing itA your hearts are so har that you cannot lo!e it" )o$hy, $eaceful an ha$$y, s$en s the ay in the arms of her ten er motherA a $leasant resting $lace, after a night s$ent in the arms of her husban " The ay after 9 am aware of a slight change" Emile tries to look somewhat !e?e A but through this $retence 9 notice such a ten er eagerness, an in ee so much submission, that 9 o not think there is much amiss" 's for )o$hy she is merrier than she was yester ayA her eyes are s$arkling an she looks !ery well $lease with herselfA she is charming to EmileA she !entures to tease him a little an !e?es him still more"

These changes are almost im$erce$tible, but they o not esca$e meA 9 am an?ious an 9 question Emile in $ri!ate, an 9 learn that, to his great regret, an in s$ite of all entreaties, he was not $ermitte last night to share )o$hy@s be " That haughty la y ha ma e haste to assert her right" 'n e?$lanation takes $lace" Emile com$lains bitterly, )o$hy laughsA but at last, seeing that Emile is really getting angry, she looks at him with eyes full of ten erness an lo!e, an $ressing my han , she only says these two wor s, but in a tone that goes to his heart, D;ngrateful manHD Emile is too stu$i to un erstan " But 9 un erstan , an 9 sen Emile away an s$eak to )o$hy $ri!ately in her turn" D9 see,D sai 9, Dthe reason for this whim" <o one coul be more elicate, an no one coul use that elicacy so ill" (ear )o$hy, o not be an?ious, 9 ha!e gi!en you a manA o not be afrai to treat him as such" #ou ha!e ha the first fruits of his youthA he has not squan ere his manhoo an it will en ure for you" >y ear chil , 9 must e?$lain to you why 9 sai what 9 i in our con!ersation of the ay before yester ay" Perha$s you only un erstoo it as a way of restraining your $leasures to secure their continuance" 6h, )o$hy, there was another object, more worthy of my care" Chen Emile became your husban , he became your hea , it is yours to obeyA this is the will of nature" Chen the wife is like )o$hy, it is, howe!er, goo for the man to be le by herA that is another of nature@s laws, an it is to gi!e you as much authority o!er his heart, as his se? gi!es him o!er your $erson, that 9 ha!e ma e you the arbiter of his $leasures" 9t will be har for you, but you will control him if you can control yourself, an what has alrea y ha$$ene shows me that this ifficult art is not beyon your courage" #ou will long rule him by lo!e if you make your fa!ours scarce an $recious, if you know how to use them aright" 9f you want to ha!e your husban always in your $ower, kee$ him at a istance" But let your sternness be the result of mo esty not ca$riceA let him fin you mo est not ca$riciousA beware lest in controlling his lo!e you make him oubt your own" Be all the earer for your fa!ours an all the more res$ecte when you refuse themA let him honour his wife@s chastity, without ha!ing to com$lain of her col ness" DThus, my chil , he will gi!e you his confi ence, he will listen to your o$inion, will consult you in his business, an will eci e nothing without you" Thus you may recall him to wis om, if he strays, an bring him back by a gentle $ersuasion, you may make yourself lo!able in or er to be useful, you may em$loy coquetry on behalf of !irtue, an lo!e on behalf of reason" D(o not think that with all this, your art will always ser!e your $ur$ose" 9n s$ite of e!ery $recaution $leasures are estroye by $ossession, an lo!e abo!e all others" But when lo!e has laste long enough, a gentle habit takes its $lace an the charm of confi ence succee s the ra$tures of $assion" :hil ren form a bon between their $arents, a bon no less ten er an a bon which is sometimes stronger than lo!e itself" Chen you cease to be Emile@s mistress you will be his frien an wifeA you will be the mother of his chil ren" Then instea of your first reticence let there be the fullest intimacy between youA no more se$arate be s, no more refusals, no more ca$rices" Become so truly his better half that he

can no longer o without you, an if he must lea!e you, let him feel that he is far from himself" #ou ha!e ma e the charms of home life so $owerful in your father@s home, let them $re!ail in your own" E!ery man who is ha$$y at home lo!es his wife" Remember that if your husban is ha$$y in his home, you will be a ha$$y wife" D7or the $resent, o not be too har on your lo!erA he eser!es more consi erationA he will be offen e by your fearsA o not care for his health at the cost of his ha$$iness, an enjoy your own ha$$iness" #ou must neither wait for isgust nor re$ulse esireA you must not refuse for the sake of refusing, but only to a to the !alue of your fa!ours"D Then, taking her back to Emile, 9 say to her young husban , D6ne must bear the yoke !oluntarily im$ose u$on oneself" %et your eserts be such that the yoke may be lightene " 'bo!e all, sacrifice to the graces, an o not think that sulkiness will make you more amiable"D Peace is soon ma e, an e!erybo y can guess its terms" The treaty is signe with a kiss, after which 9 say to my $u$il, D(ear Emile, all his life through a man nee s a gui e an counsellor" )o far 9 ha!e one my best to fulfil that utyA my lengthy task is now en e , an another will un ertake this uty" To- ay 9 ab icate the authority which you ga!e meA henceforwar )o$hy is your guar ian"D %ittle by little the first ra$tures subsi e an they can $eacefully enjoy the elights of their new con ition" 8a$$y lo!ers, worthy husban an wifeH To o honour to their !irtues, to $aint their felicity, woul require the history of their li!es" 8ow often oes my heart throb with ra$ture when 9 behol in them the crown of my life@s workH 8ow often o 9 take their han s in mine blessing Go with all my heartH 8ow often o 9 kiss their clas$e han sH 8ow often o their tears of joy fall u$on mineH They are touche by my joy an they share my ra$tures" Their worthy $arents see their own youth renewe in that of their chil renA they begin to li!e, as it were, afresh in themA or rather they $ercei!e, for the first time, the true !alue of lifeA they curse their former wealth, which $re!ente them from enjoying so elightful a lot when they were young" 9f there is such a thing as ha$$iness u$on earth, you must seek it in our abo e" 6ne morning a few months later Emile enters my room an embraces me, saying, D>y master, congratulate your sonA he ho$es soon to ha!e the honour of being a father" Chat a res$onsibility will be ours, how much we shall nee youH #et Go forbi that 9 shoul let you e ucate the son as you e ucate the father" Go forbi that so sweet an holy a task shoul be fulfille by any but myself, e!en though 9 shoul make as goo a choice for my chil as was ma e for meH But continue to be the teacher of the young teachers" ' !ise an control usA we shall be easily le A as long as 9 li!e 9 shall nee you" 9 nee you more than e!er now that 9 am taking u$ the uties of manhoo " #ou ha!e one your own utyA teach me to follow your e?am$le, while you enjoy your well-earne leisure"D
THE END