Meditation and contemplation are without profit for him who does not know¹⁰ the inner life of spirit. Let him not struggle to escape from temporal things, who recognizes nothing timeless in himself. For whither should he mount from the stream of time, and what could he win save useless suffering and a feeling of annihilation? One man balances the joys and sorrows of the past, seeking to focus upon a single image, under the lens of memory, the faint light that still glimmers out of the distance which he has traversed. Another reviews his achievements; it pleases him to recall his arduous struggle against the world and fate; and happy that matters have not turned out worse, he notes here and there some monument to his effort, fashioned out of the stuff of a reality indifferent to his aims, though, of course, it falls far short of his intentions. Still a third takes stock of his learning, and struts with pride because of his much increased and well-appointed store of knowledge, delighted in his power to contain it all. What puerile attempts of an idle conceit are these! The first no longer thinks of the cares which his imagination raised for him, and which his memory blushes to preserve; the second turns his back upon the world and fate, refusing altogether to acknowledge the support they gave him; the third does not take into account the old knowledge that was crowded out by the new, the thoughts that thinking excluded, and the impressions that were sacrificed to learning. Thus the reckoning is never right. And if it were, how deeply pained I am to think that men can imagine this to be self-contemplation, or call this knowledge of oneself! How miserably their much glorified business of self-examination ends! Imagination fixes on a faithful portrait of the past, projects it with lavish embellishments upon the empty canvass of the immediate future, and yet looks back with many a sigh toward the original. The ultimate gain of such introspection reduces itself to the idle hope of a better future, and the vain lament that bygone pleasures are no more, and that life’s substance as it wanes from day to day gives warning that its bright flame will soon expire. With such idle wishes and vain complaints Time grievously brands her slaves who would escape; the best are like unto the worst for she will just as surely overtake the best eventually. Whoever sees and recognizes only the outward spectacle of life instead of the spiritual activity that secretly stirs his inmost being, who merely constructs a picture of life and its vicissitudes from impressions gathered far and near instead of facing his essential self, will always remain a slave of Time and Necessity. All his thoughts and feelings bear their stamp, are still in their possession, and he may never set foot within the sacred precincts of Freedom, even though he thinks he has attained self-consciousness. For in the image which he constructs of himself, this very self becomes something external, like all else, and everything in such an image is determined by external circumstances. What he sees in it, the thoughts and feelings that it arouses, depend alike on the content of the moment and on his particular condition of life. If he has looked for nought but the gratification of animal sense, he will judge life rich or poor according to the number of agreeable moments it contains, and the immediate satisfaction which he takes in such a retrospect will depend on whether the greatest pleasures¹¹ came first or last. If he wanted to create and to enjoy beauty,¹² he will court the judgment passed upon him, and is dependent furthermore upon the conditions and materials that fate has provided for his work. In like dependence is he who sought to signalize his life with benefactions. They all must bow beneath the sceptre of Necessity, and bear the curse of transiency, which permits nothing to endure.

Their sense of life is like my mood when some artfully constructed harmony of many notes has struck my ear¹³ but is now silent; the imagination plagues itself with a meagre echo, and the soul yearns for that which will not return. Life indeed is but a fleeting harmony rising from the contact of the temporal and the eternal, but man is a permanent creation,¹⁴ an undying object of contemplation. Only¹⁵ his innermost activity, wherein his true nature abides, is free,¹⁶ and in contemplating it, I feel myself to be upon the holy ground of Freedom, far from every debasing limitation. I must fix my eyes upon my true self, if each moment is not to slip away as merely so much time, instead of being grasped as an element of Eternity, and transmuted into a higher and freer life.¹⁷

He alone enjoys freedom and eternity who knows¹⁸ what man is and what the world is,¹⁹ who has reached clarity in solving the great enigma of their differentiation and their interaction, a riddle in whose dark and ancient mazes thousands still are caught, and needs must follow servilely the most deceptive illusions, because their own light has failed them. What the multitude calls the world, I call man, and what they call man, I call the world.⁷ To them the world is every primary,²⁰ and the spirit but a humble guest upon it, uncertain of his place and powers. To me the spirit is the first and only being.²¹ for what I take to be the world, is the fairest creation of spirit, a mirror in which it is reflected. In awe and fear the multitude cower before the infinitely vast and ponderous masses of the material world, amid which man appears so small and insignificant. To me all this is but the giant body common to Humanity, belonging to us even as an individual’s body does to him, made possible through Humanity alone, to which it is given in order that the human spirit may master it and be revealed therein. The creative freedom of Humanity is exercized upon this body, to sense all its pulsations, to mold and transmute all its features into organs of human life, and to delineate all its parts with the spirit’s regal presence.⁸ Is there indeed a body without a spirit? Does not the body exist only because and insofar as the spirit requires it and is conscious thereof?²² All those feelings that seem to be forced upon me by the material world are in reality my own free doing;²³ nothing is a mere effect of that world upon me, every real influence is exerted by me upon it;²⁴ that world is not, in fact, distinct from me, nor antithetic to me. For this very reason I do not choose to dignify it with the name of world, a great word implying omnipresence and omnipotence. The only reality that I deem worthy to be called a world is the eternal community of spiritual beings, their influence upon each other, their mutual development, the sublime harmony of freedom. This infinite totality of spiritual beings is the only reality that I recognize over against my finite and individual self. This reality alone I suffer to transform and shape the surface of my being; this heaven alone shall mold me. Here, and here only is the province of necessity. My activity itself is free, not so my function in the world,²⁵ for that obeys eternal laws. Freedom finds its limit in another freedom, and whatever happens freely bears marks of limitation and community. Yes, holy Freedom, in all reality thou art first! It is thou that dwellest within me and in everyone. Outside us is Necessity, a chord determined by the harmonious clash of various inner liberties that thus reveal themselves. Within me I can behold nought but Freedom, necessity reigns not in my doing, but in the reflection thereof, in the perceptions I have²⁶ of the world which I help to create in holy²⁷ association with all other beings. To this realm of necessity belongs whatever I have produced in working on a common foundation with others; such productions are my share in the joint creation that expresses our inner thought. To necessity belong also the rising and falling tides of emotion, the train of images that passes before us, and everything that changes in our souls with time. Such images and feelings are a token that the spirit and the world have met in harmony, ever renewing the kiss of friendship between them in a different manner. The Dance of Hours thus proceeds, melodious and harmonious, according to a necessary rhythm. But Freedom plays the melody,²⁸ selects the key, and all the subtle modulations are her work. For these proceed from an inner determination and from the individual’s unique disposition.

And so, Freedom, you are for me the soul and principle of all things. When I withdraw into myself to contemplate you, my eyes are lifted from the realm of time, and my vision free from every restriction of Necessity. Every oppressive feeling of bondage disappears, my spirit discovers its creative nature, the light of God begins to shine upon me, banishing far hence the mists in which enslaved humanity strays in error. The self revealed in my meditations is no longer a creature of fate or fortune; the hours of happiness I have deserved, the results achieved by my efforts, and whatever I have actually put into execution, all these are of the world; they are not myself. If my activity is designed to bring humanity into possession of its massive body, the material world, giving this body life and organic fitness, or by artful imitation fashioning it in the image of reason and mind,⁹ the extent to which I find the earth already suited to my purpose, the ease with which its crude mass can be molded and brought under the control of spirit, is but²⁹ a sign of the dominion which Freedom has already exercised over it in the person of others. It indicates what still remains to be done, but furnishes no measure of what I do.³⁰ My view of my conduct and picture of my whole being is unchanged; I am no better or no worse in my own eyes, whether external circumstances are propitious or unfavorable to my activity.³¹ I do not discover in myself the slave, for whom the world or iron-bound necessity decides what he may become. And just as pain does not easily deprive a strong and healthy soul of control over the physical body, so too I sense my free dominion over the material world, regardless of whether the consequences be pleasurable or painful. The inner life reveals itself alike in either case, and its creation is an act of spiritual freedom. If the purpose of my actions is to shape what is human in me,¹⁰ giving it a particular form and definite characteristics, thus contributing to the world by my own self-development and offering to the community of free spiritual beings the unique expression of my own freedom, then I see no difference whether or not my efforts are at once combined with those of others and some objective result³² immediately appears to greet me as part of the world-order. My efforts have not been vain, if only I myself acquire greater individuality and independence, for through such self-development I also contribute to the world, no matter how soon or late the actions of others combine with my own to produce some new, visible result. Unlike those who have not discovered the inner life, and who think to find themselves in particulars of the outward life, I am never depressed by self-contemplation, nor need I ever lament a broken will or a defeated purpose.

Having clearly differentiated between the inner and the outer, I know who I am, and I find myself only in the inner life,¹¹ in external things I see only the world. My spirit knows how to distinguish both, and does not fluctuate between the two, as is common, in unenlightened confusion. Hence I also know where Freedom is to be sought and the sacred sense of its presence, that ever refuses to bless him whose vision rests solely upon the outward life and work of man. However deeply such a one may involve himself in endless mazes of speculation, turning the problem over and over, and however effective he may be in action, the conception of Freedom is beyond the reach of his thought. He follows not only the actual indications of necessity, but in slavish and superstitious submission to his false philosophy he must look for them and believe them to be present, even where he does not see them. Freedom seems to him nothing but an illusion, spread like a veil over a hidden and uncomprehended necessity.³³ Moreover, such an empiricist, whose action and whose thought look outward, sees everything as finite and particular. He cannot imagine himself as other than a sum of fleeting appearances, each of which supplants and cancels the other, so that it is impossible to conceive them as a whole. A complete picture of his being thus eludes him in a thousand contradictions. Indeed, in the realm of outward behavior particulars are often contradictory; action destroys passivity, thought supplants sensation, and contemplation forces the will to be at rest. But within the spirit all is one, each action is but supplementary to another, in each the other also is preserved.¹² Thus self-contemplation lifts me far above the finite, which may be seen entire as a determined series with definite limits. No action transpires within me, that I can truly regard as isolated, and none of which I could say that it constitutes a whole by itself. Each of my acts reveals the whole of my being,³⁴ undivided, each of its manifestations goes with the rest; there are no limits at which introspection can halt, it must ever remain unfinished, if it is to remain true to life. Nor can I divine my own being in its entirety without contemplating Humanity, and determining my rank and place in its domain. And who can think of Humanity without being lost in thought of the pure spirit’s infinite realm and nature?³⁵¹³

It is this higher order of self-contemplation, and this alone that makes me capable of meeting the sublime summons that man live not only as a mortal in the realm of time, but also as immortal in the domain of eternity, that his life be not only earthly but also divine. The stream of time bears with it in its course my mortal deeds; ideas and feelings change, I can not hold fast a single one. The scene of life, as I picture it, hurries by; upon the next inevitable wave the stream will carry me on toward something new. But as often as I turn my gaze inward upon my inmost self, I am at once within the domain of eternity. I behold the spirit’s action,³⁶ which no world can change, and no time can destroy, but which itself creates both world and time.¹⁴ Nor do I require the challenge of that special hour, in which one year gives way to another, to arouse me to this appreciation of the eternal, and to open the eyes of the spirit, closed perhaps³⁷ in slumber though the heart beats and the limbs are active. Who once has tasted it will want to lead the divine life continually; every act should be accompanied by an insight into spiritual mysteries, and in every moment man can dwell beyond the moment, in the higher world.

Of course, wise-men say:¹⁵ to live is one thing, and to lose oneself in the ultimate sources and highest reaches of thought³⁸ is another. Content yourself modestly with one of them, for while the passage of time keeps you busy with the affairs of the world, you can not also contemplate the inmost depths of your being without distraction. Artists say that, when you are creating a picture or composing a poem, the mind must lose itself completely in its work, and must not reflect upon its own behavior. Nevertheless, dare to try, my soul, in spite of these reasonable warnings! Press forward toward your own goal, which may be different from that of artists and sages.¹⁶ Man can do more than he supposes; yet even when he strives toward the highest, he can but achieve in part. If a sage’s thought, even in its most intimate³⁹ and profound reaches, can be an external force of influence and guidance in the world, then why should not an outward act, of whatever nature, at the same time imply its own inward consideration?⁴⁰ If the divine source of all art and poetry is spiritual introspection, and if the spirit finds within its own being all that it can express in its immortal creations, why should not every creative act of artist or poet, being but the expression of what is within him involve self-contemplation? Divide not your being, my soul, it is a permanent whole that cannot forego its activity nor the knowledge thereof without self-destruction!¹⁷ Let your influence be everywhere felt, and accomplish all that you can; follow the lead of your natural limitations and cultivate every means of spiritual association. Bring out what is individual in you, and place the impress of your spirit on all that is about you; collaborate in the consecrated tasks of mankind, attracting to yourself such spirits as are congenial. But throughout all be ever mindful of your inner self, know what you are about, and in what character you are acting.⁴¹ The idea, by which men imagine they have intellectually grasped the Deity, a thing they never can do,¹⁸ has at least the truth of a poetic symbol of what humanity should be. The spirit sustains its world by the mere fact of its being, and the eternal, unchanging activity which produces its diverse acts issues from its own free will.¹⁹ Itself unmoved, it contemplates its own activity, ever new and ever yet the same; this contemplation is immortality and eternal life, for therein the spirit requires nothing but itself,⁴² and contemplation never lacks its object, nor does the object lack the contemplating mind. In such terms men have also tried to imagine immortality, but all too content with the earthly life they aspire to it only after death.²⁰ Their mythology is more profound than they. In truth, to the sensuous mind an inner process can seem but the shadow of an outward act, and in such a realm of shadows men have placed the soul forever, lamenting⁴³ that the grey existence there below affords them but a meagre suggestion of their present life. But this spiritual life, which scant imagination exiles into subterranean darkness, is truly of Olympian clarity, and the realm of shadows may serve me here on earth as archetype of reality. God is thought to be outside the world of time, and after death man is to be freed forever from temporal limitations in order to behold and praise the Deity. But even now the spirit spans the world of time, Eternity is in the sight thereof, and the celestial rapture of immortal choirs. Wherefore begin at once your life eternal in the constant contemplation of your own true being. Be not troubled for the future, nor weep for things which pass, but take heed lest you lose yourself, and weep if you are swept along in the stream of time, without carrying heaven within you.

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Footnotes

1. Cf. pp. 16ff. for Schleiermacher’s view of the outer world in its relations to spirit. One of the recurring ideas is that the former mirrors (“symbolizes,” p. 16, 146) the latter. The play upon the word “Reflection” (title) is significant and characteristic. ↩

2. The parenthetical phrase has been supplied by the translator. See note * on p. 12. ↩

3. Cf. pp. 15-18. ↩

4. The Soliloquies are a “new year’s gift” (see title-page, p. 7). The romanticists heralded the turn of the century and the advent of 1800 as the dawn of a new era. Moreover, Schleiermacher originally developed some of the themes of the Soliloquies in a new year’s sermon of 1792 (republished in Schiele, p. 149). These circumstances help to explain the prominence given in the text above to the thought of the changing year and the reflections it arouses. In the interest of this thought, the parenthetical phrase above and another on p. 10, have been supplied by the translator. ↩

5. See pp. xxvii-xxviii in re Schleiermacher and mathematics! ↩

6. “Even for a day,” as in the case of the New Year’s Day, around which the whole paragraph is oriented. See note on p. 12. ↩

7. In this passage (pp. 16-17) Schleiermacher’s revisions of 1810 are more fundamental than elsewhere. The change is from an extreme to a more modified “idealistic” idiom. Cf. pp. 128-130 and see notes on pp. 104-105. ↩

8. This description of the spirit’s functions anticipates the distinction made in Schleiermacher’s later systematic works between “organizing” and “symbolizing” activity. See pp. 146-147. ↩

9. This passage (pp. 19-20) on the two possible aims of action is further elucidated by the theory of a fundamental dichotomy of human types explained on pp. 34-37 below. ↩

10. See note on p. 19. ↩

11. “I find myself only in the inner life.” The point of this emphasis on self-analysis as the key to the meaning of life (cf. pp. 118-119) lies in Schleiermacher’s repudiation of all attempts to find that meaning in some law, principle, or power outside of man’s own purposes. In his earliest philosophical essays he criticizes Kant’s theology and his conception of the categorical imperative from this standpoint. See pp. xxxii, 117, and Schiele, pp. 97-98. ↩

12. Cf. pp. 71-72. ↩

13. This is one of several passages in the Soliloquies, suggesting that contemplation of the individual self, which yields the guiding principle of ethics, leads naturally into meditation upon universal being, the essence of religion. Cf. pp. 24, 140. I have tried to explain Schleiermacher’s conception of the relation between individual and universe, ethics and religion on pp. xlix, 127, of the Introduction and Appendix. ↩

14. Cf. On Religion, pp. 70ff. ↩

15. “Wise-men.” This, too, is probably a thrust at Fichte, because of his contention that a certain antithesis ultimately remains between “life” and “philosophy.” (Schiele, p. 99.) ↩

16. Cf. pp. 34-37. ↩

17. Cf. pp. 28. ↩

18. See p. 137, 140, in re Schleiermacher’s opinion that the intellect can not know God. ↩

19. Cf. this passage with the description Schleiermacher gives of the God-idea in his systematic philosophical works. See below pp. 137, 140, 163. ↩

20. Cf. this whole passage with the often-quoted section in the “Speeches” (Reden, p. 10, ed. by R. Otto) where Schleiermacher says: “Religion remained with me when God and immortality vanished before my doubts.” See also pp. xv-xviii, above for the biographical background of these ideas. ↩