Good sense is, of all things
among men, the most equally distributed;
for every one thinks himself
so abundantly provided with it,
that those even who are the most
difficult to satisfy in everything
else, do not usually desire a
larger measure of this quality
than they already possess. And
in this it is not likely that
all are mistaken the conviction
is rather to be held as testifying
that the power of judging aright
and of distinguishing truth from
error, which is properly what
is called good sense or reason,
is by nature equal in all men;
and that the diversity of our
opinions, consequently, does
not arise from some being endowed
with a larger share of reason
than others, but solely from
this, that we conduct our thoughts
along different ways, and do
not fix our attention on the
same objects. For to be possessed
of a vigorous mind is not enough;
the prime requisite is rightly
to apply it. The greatest minds,
as they are capable of the highest
excellences, are open likewise
to the greatest aberrations;
and those who travel very slowly
may yet make far greater progress,
provided they keep always to
the straight road, than those
who, while they run, forsake
it.
For myself, I have never fancied
my mind to be in any respect
more perfect than those of the
generality; on the contrary,
I have often wished that I were
equal to some others in promptitude
of thought, or in clearness and
distinctness of imagination,
or in fullness and readiness
of memory. And besides these,
I know of no other qualities
that contribute to the perfection
of the mind; for as to the reason
or sense, inasmuch as it is that
alone which constitutes us men,
and distinguishes us from the
brutes, I am disposed to believe
that it is to be found complete
in each individual; and on this
point to adopt the common opinion
of philosophers, who say that
the difference of greater and
less holds only among the accidents,
and not among the forms or natures
of individuals of the same species.
I will not hesitate, however,
to avow my belief that it has
been my singular good fortune
to have very early in life fallen
in with certain tracks which
have conducted me to considerations
and maxims, of which I have formed
a method that gives me the means,
as I think, of gradually augmenting
my knowledge, and of raising
it by little and little to the
highest point which the mediocrity
of my talents and the brief duration
of my life will permit me to
reach. For I have already reaped
from it such fruits that, although
I have been accustomed to think
lowly enough of myself, and although
when I look with the eye of a
philosopher at the varied courses
and pursuits of mankind at large,
I find scarcely one which does
not appear in vain and useless,
I nevertheless derive the highest
satisfaction from the progress
I conceive myself to have already
made in the search after truth,
and cannot help entertaining
such expectations of the future
as to believe that if, among
the occupations of men as men,
there is any one really excellent
and important, it is that which
I have chosen.
After all, it is possible I
may be mistaken; and it is but
a little copper and glass, perhaps,
that I take for gold and diamonds.
I know how very liable we are
to delusion in what relates to
ourselves, and also how much
the judgments of our friends
are to be suspected when given
in our favor. But I shall endeavor
in this discourse to describe
the paths I have followed, and
to delineate my life as in a
picture, in order that each one
may also be able to judge of
them for himself, and that in
the general opinion entertained
of them, as gathered from current
report, I myself may have a new
help towards instruction to be
added to those I have been in
the habit of employing.
My present design, then, is
not to teach the method which
each ought to follow for the
right conduct of his reason,
but solely to describe the way
in which I have endeavored to
conduct my own. They who set
themselves to give precepts must
of course regard themselves as
possessed of greater skill than
those to whom they prescribe;
and if they err in the slightest
particular, they subject themselves
to censure. But as this tract
is put forth merely as a history,
or, if you will, as a tale, in
which, amid some examples worthy
of imitation, there will be found,
perhaps, as many more which it
were advisable not to follow,
I hope it will prove useful to
some without being hurtful to
any, and that my openness will
find some favor with all.
From my childhood, I have been
familiar with letters; and as
I was given to believe that by
their help a clear and certain
knowledge of all that is useful
in life might be acquired, I
was ardently desirous of instruction.
But as soon as I had finished
the entire course of study, at
the close of which it is customary
to be admitted into the order
of the learned, I completely
changed my opinion. For I found
myself involved in so many doubts
and errors, that I was convinced
I had advanced no farther in
all my attempts at learning,
than the discovery at every turn
of my own ignorance. And yet
I was studying in one of the
most celebrated schools in Europe,
in which I thought there must
be learned men, if such were
anywhere to be found. I had been
taught all that others learned
there; and not contented with
the sciences actually taught
us, I had, in addition, read
all the books that had fallen
into my hands, treating of such
branches as are esteemed the
most curious and rare. I knew
the judgment which others had
formed of me; and I did not find
that I was considered inferior
to my fellows, although there
were among them some who were
already marked out to fill the
places of our instructors. And,
in fine, our age appeared to
me as flourishing, and as fertile
in powerful minds as any preceding
one. I was thus led to take the
liberty of judging of all other
men by myself, and of concluding
that there was no science in
existence that was of such a
nature as I had previously been
given to believe.
I still continued, however,
to hold in esteem the studies
of the schools. I was aware that
the languages taught in them
are necessary to the understanding
of the writings of the ancients;
that the grace of fable stirs
the mind; that the memorable
deeds of history elevate it;
and, if read with discretion,
aid in forming the judgment;
that the perusal of all excellent
books is, as it were, to interview
with the noblest men of past
ages, who have written them,
and even a studied interview,
in which are discovered to us
only their choicest thoughts;
that eloquence has incomparable
force and beauty; that poesy
has its ravishing graces and
delights; that in the mathematics
there are many refined discoveries
eminently suited to gratify the
inquisitive, as well as further
all the arts an lessen the labour
of man; that numerous highly
useful precepts and exhortations
to virtue are contained in treatises
on morals; that theology points
out the path to heaven; that
philosophy affords the means
of discoursing with an appearance
of truth on all matters, and
commands the admiration of the
more simple; that jurisprudence,
medicine, and the other sciences,
secure for their cultivators
honors and riches; and, in fine,
that it is useful to bestow some
attention upon all, even upon
those abounding the most in superstition
and error, that we may be in
a position to determine their
real value, and guard against
being deceived.
But I believed that I had already
given sufficient time to languages,
and likewise to the reading of
the writings of the ancients,
to their histories and fables.
For to hold converse with those
of other ages and to travel,
are almost the same thing. It
is useful to know something of
the manners of different nations,
that we may be enabled to form
a more correct judgment regarding
our own, and be prevented from
thinking that everything contrary
to our customs is ridiculous
and irrational, a conclusion
usually come to by those whose
experience has been limited to
their own country. On the other
hand, when too much time is occupied
in traveling, we become strangers
to our native country; and the
over curious in the customs of
the past are generally ignorant
of those of the present. Besides,
fictitious narratives lead us
to imagine the possibility of
many events that are impossible;
and even the most faithful histories,
if they do not wholly misrepresent
matters, or exaggerate their
importance to render the account
of them more worthy of perusal,
omit, at least, almost always
the meanest and least striking
of the attendant circumstances;
hence it happens that the remainder
does not represent the truth,
and that such as regulate their
conduct by examples drawn from
this source, are apt to fall
into the extravagances of the
knight-errants of romance, and
to entertain projects that exceed
their powers.
I esteemed eloquence highly,
and was in raptures with poesy;
but I thought that both were
gifts of nature rather than fruits
of study. Those in whom the faculty
of reason is predominant, and
who most skillfully dispose their
thoughts with a view to render
them clear and intelligible,
are always the best able to persuade
others of the truth of what they
lay down, though they should
speak only in the language of
Lower Brittany, and be wholly
ignorant of the rules of rhetoric;
and those whose minds are stored
with the most agreeable fancies,
and who can give expression to
them with the greatest embellishment
and harmony, are still the best
poets, though unacquainted with
the art of poetry.
I was especially delighted
with the mathematics, on account
of the certitude and evidence
of their reasonings; but I had
not as yet a precise knowledge
of their true use; and thinking
that they but contributed to
the advancement of the mechanical
arts, I was astonished that foundations,
so strong and solid, should have
had no loftier superstructure
reared on them. On the other
hand, I compared the disquisitions
of the ancient moralists to very
towering and magnificent palaces
with no better foundation than
sand and mud: they laud the virtues
very highly, and exhibit them
as estimable far above anything
on earth; but they give us no
adequate criterion of virtue,
and frequently that which they
designate with so fine a name
is but apathy, or pride, or despair,
or parricide.
I revered our theology, and
aspired as much as any one to
reach heaven: but being given
assuredly to understand that
the way is not less open to the
most ignorant than to the most
learned, and that the revealed
truths which lead to heaven are
above our comprehension, I did
not presume to subject them to
the impotency of my reason; and
I thought that in order competently
to undertake their examination,
there was need of some special
help from heaven, and of being
more than man.
Of philosophy I will say nothing,
except that when I saw that it
had been cultivated for many
ages by the most distinguished
men, and that yet there is not
a single matter within its sphere
which is not still in dispute,
and nothing, therefore, which
is above doubt, I did not presume
to anticipate that my success
would be greater in it than that
of others; and further, when
I considered the number of conflicting
opinions touching a single matter
that may be upheld by learned
men, while there can be but one
true, I reckoned as well-nigh
false all that was only probable.
As to the other sciences, inasmuch
as these borrow their principles
from philosophy, I judged that
no solid superstructures could
be reared on foundations so infirm;
and neither the honor nor the
gain held out by them was sufficient
to determine me to their cultivation:
for I was not, thank Heaven,
in a condition which compelled
me to make merchandise of science
for the bettering of my fortune;
and though I might not profess
to scorn glory as a cynic, I
yet made very slight account
of that honor which I hoped to
acquire only through fictitious
titles. And, in fine, of false
sciences I thought I knew the
worth sufficiently to escape
being deceived by the professions
of an alchemist, the predictions
of an astrologer, the impostures
of a magician, or by the artifices
and boasting of any of those
who profess to know things of
which they are ignorant.
For these reasons, as soon
as my age permitted me to pass
from under the control of my
instructors, I entirey abandoned
the study of letters, and resolved
no longer to seek any other science
than the knowledge of myself,
or of the great book of the world.
I spent the remainder of my youth
in traveling, in visiting courts
and armies, in holding intercourse
with men of different dispositions
and ranks, in collecting varied
experience, in proving myself
in the different situations into
which fortune threw me, and,
above all, in making such reflection
on the matter of my experience
as to secure my improvement.
For it occurred to me that I
should find much more truth in
the reasonings of each individual
with reference to the affairs
in which he is personally interested,
and the issue of which must presently
punish him if he has judged amiss,
than in those conducted by a
man of letters in his study,
regarding speculative matters
that are of no practical moment,
and followed by no consequences
to himself, farther, perhaps,
than that they foster his vanity
the better the more remote they
are from common sense; requiring,
as they must in this case, the
exercise of greater ingenuity
and art to render them probable.
In addition, I had always a most
earnest desire to know how to
distinguish the true from the
false, in order that I might
be able clearly to discriminate
the right path in life, and proceed
in it with confidence.
It is true that, while busied
only in considering the manners
of other men, I found here, too,
scarce any ground for settled
conviction, and remarked hardly
less contradiction among them
than in the opinions of the philosophers.
So that the greatest advantage
I derived from the study consisted
in this, that, observing many
things which, however extravagant
and ridiculous to our apprehension,
are yet by common consent received
and approved by other great nations,
I learned to entertain too decided
a belief in regard to nothing
of the truth of which I had been
persuaded merely by example and
custom; and thus I gradually
extricated myself from many errors
powerful enough to darken our
natural intelligence, and incapacitate
us in great measure from listening
to reason. But after I had been
occupied several years in thus
studying the book of the world,
and in essaying to gather some
experience, I at length resolved
to make myself an object of study,
and to employ all the powers
of my mind in choosing the paths
I ought to follow, an undertaking
which was accompanied with greater
success than it would have been
had I never quitted my country
or my books. |