ing merely for the sake of exciting it, and that so I may be enabled to make a momentary use of it to aid my purpose, as the orator does; but, on the contrary, that this feeling may be excited in you with your own clear and distinct consciousness and concurrence, not exerting a mere passive influence on you, but to the end that its existence may be clearly recognised by you, and that it may thus be more fully and completely understood.
The philosopher is compelled, by the rules of his art, to deal with perfect openness and honesty; and in return he acquires a power which lies far beyond the sophistries of mere eloquence;—he is able to declare to his hearers beforehand the emotion which he desires to excite within them, and, provided they rightly understand him, to attain his object notwithstanding the disclosure.
This free and open announcement of the purpose which we have in view, lays me under an obligation to describe more particularly the nature of the effect which I shall attempt to produce within you; and in order to maintain the clear, intelligible position which we have now attained, I shall at once proceed to this description. I have only to ask you to fix in your mind a few expressions and phrases which may not as yet be entirely distinct to you, but which shall be made perfectly clear in the sequel.
The Life according to Reason must necessarily love itself; for every form of life, as its own perfect result and fulfilment, is enjoyment of itself. As surely as Reason can never be entirely extinguished among men, so surely can this love of Reason for itself never be utterly destroyed; nay, this love, as the deepest root of all rational existence, and as the sole remaining tie which keeps men within the circle of rational existence, is precisely that whereby we may most surely recognise and attain the Life according to Reason, if we will only be honest and unprejudiced.
Now the Life opposed to Reason,—that of mere Individuality,—likewise loves itself; since it too is life, and all
