With pleasure and confidence I often survey my behavior in all its bearings, being assured that I shall find nothing which humanity⁸ must needs repudiate. If this were all that I exacted of myself, I might long since have found inward peace, and awaited the end of my existence with perfect composure! For the certainty I have attained is unshakeable, and I should deem it a culpable piece of cowardice, such as is foreign to my nature, were I to look to a long life for fuller confirmation of my inner conviction, fearing that after all, something might yet happen that could plunge me from the height of reason into an abyss of sheer brutishness.⁹ And yet, I too am still troubled with doubts. For when I had reached my first goal, another and a higher appeared before me, and since it appears sometimes clearly and then again dimly, self-scrutiny does not always tell me by what path I can approach it, or where I stand with reference to it. On these points my judgment wavers. But it is confirmed and gains conviction the more often I return to examine myself. And however far I were from certainty, I should still search in silence and without complaint, for stronger than my doubt is my great joy in having found out what I should seek, and in escaping from the great illusion which deceives many of the best throughout their lives,⁷ and keeps them from soaring to the true summits of humanity.¹⁰ For a long time I too was content with the discovery of a universal reason; I worshipped the one essential being as the highest, and so believed that there is but a single right way of acting in every situation, that the conduct of all men should be alike, each differing from the other only by reason of his¹¹ place and station in the world. I thought humanity revealed itself as varied only in the manifold diversity of outward acts, that man¹² himself, the individual, was not a being uniquely fashioned, but of one substance and everywhere the same.¹³

Thus is it ever with mankind!¹⁴ When, turning with discontent from the unworthy particularity of a sensuous animal life, man wins a realization of humanity in its universal aspects and submits himself to duty,⁸ he is not straightway capable of rising to¹⁵ the still higher level of individuality in growth and in morality, nor to perceive and understand the unique nature which freedom chooses for herself¹⁶ in each individual.⁹ Most men rise but midway, expressing in fact¹⁷ only a raw elementary humanity, simply because they have not grasped the thought of their own higher being. As for me, it is this which has taken hold of me. The sense of freedom alone did not content me; it gave no meaning to my personality, nor to the peculiar unity of the transient stream of consciousness flowing within me, which urged me to seek something of higher ethical value of which it was the sign. I was not satisfied to view humanity in rough unshapen masses, inwardly altogether alike, and taking transient shape externally only by reason of mutual contact and friction.¹⁸

Thus there dawned upon me what is now my highest intuition. I saw clearly that each man is meant to represent humanity in his own way, combining its elements uniquely, so that it may reveal itself in every mode, and all¹⁹ that can issue from its womb be made actual in the fullness of unending space and time.¹⁰ This thought alone²⁰ has uplifted me, and set me apart from everything common and untransformed in my surroundings; it has made of me an elect creation of the godhead, rejoicing in a unique form and character. The act of freedom,¹¹ which accompanied this inspiration has assembled and integrated the elements of human nature to make a unique existence. Had I from that time on surveyed the unique in my activity as constantly as I have always looked upon the universally human aspect of it, had I taken conscious possession of every action and limitation which were the consequence of that initial act of free determination, and had I given undisturbed attention to the further development of my unique nature and to each expression thereof, I could have no further doubt which province of humanity is mine, nor where to seek for the common principle which governs both the extension and the limitations of my growth. I should then have measured accurately the whole content of my being, ascertained my boundaries at every point, and should have known prophetically what I might yet be and might become. But tardily and only with great difficulty, does man reach the full knowledge of his individuality. He does not always dare to look toward it as his ideal, but prefers to turn his eyes upon the good which he possesses in common with humanity in general. Clinging to this common good with love and gratitude, he often doubts whether he should again separate his individual self from it.²¹ Confusing the sensuous with the spiritual, he fears lest he sink back into that culpably limited kind of external personality which preceded his new insight, and not until late does he learn to value and rightly use his highest privilege. Thus interrupted the consciousness of individuality must for a long time remain vacillating. The most characteristic efforts of one’s nature often go unobserved, and when its limitations are most clearly apparent, the eye too readily skims over them, and fastens on something universal, where it might have found the unique by reason of its very limitations. However, I may be content with the way my will has conquered inertia, and practice trained my eye so that little now escapes it. Whenever I now act in keeping with my own spirit and disposition, my imagination gives me the clearest proof that I do so by free, individual choice, in suggesting to me a thousand other ways of acting in a different spirit, yet all also consistent with the universal laws of humanity. I project myself into a thousand different likenesses in order to behold my own more clearly.

But since the picture of my individuality does not yet present itself to me complete in all its features, and is not yet certified by an unbroken continuity of clear self-consciousness,¹² I am not yet able to maintain an attitude of unvarying, tranquil assurance in my self-contemplation. Often I must deliberately review all my efforts and actions, recall my history; nor must I disregard the opinions of my friends, whom I have gladly suffered to look into the depths of my inner life, if they differ from my own judgment. It is true that in my own eyes I still seem to be the same man I was when my higher life began, only more firm and more defined. And, indeed, how should a man, having once attained an independent and unique character, suddenly take on another nature in the very midst of his development and cultivation? How could he appropriate another side of human nature without having brought the first to its perfection? How could he wish to do it? And how could it occur without his knowing it?²² Either I have never understood myself, or I am still the person I believed myself to be, and every seeming contradiction, when solved by self-scrutiny, must reveal more clearly where and how the various strands of my own being are concealed²³ and intertwined.

I am convinced that there is a two-fold vocation of men on earth, and it still seems to me to mark a great dichotomy in human nature.²⁴ To develop one’s inner humanity into distinctness, expressing it in manifold acts, is one thing, to project it into works of art which clearly convey to everyone who looks at them whatever their creator intended to show, is a totally different thing.¹³ He who is still on the lowest level, in the vestibule of uniqueness, fearing to limit himself by further decision, may seek to combine both courses with the result that he will not go far in either direction. Whosoever would really attain the one must let the other go. Not till the very end of life’s development is there a bridge from one to the other, and it is open only to perfection such as man seldom reaches.¹⁴ How could I ever be in doubt as to my own choice? I have so emphatically eschewed everything that makes the artist;¹⁵ I have so eagerly made my own whatever serves the culture of the self, whatever hastens and confirms its development. The artist is on the alert for whatsoever may serve as sign and symbol of humanity; he ransacks the treasury of language, and builds a world of music from a chaos of sound; he searches for a hidden meaning and a harmony in nature’s lovely play of colors. In any work which he conceives he first investigates the effect of every part, and searches out the law and structure of the whole, rejoicing more in the artistic vessel than in its costly content. Thereafter, ideas rise in his mind and shape themselves into new artistic creations; secretly he cherishes them in his soul; they grow in hidden silence. His productive energy knows no rest; he passes from project to execution and from execution to project; through constant practice his skill improves steadily; his riper judgment gives rein and check unto his fancy. This is the way that a creative nature advances toward the goal of perfection.

But all this I learned by observation,²⁵¹⁶ for it is alien to my thought.²⁶ The humanity represented in a work of art stands out much more luminous and clear to me than the artist’s artistry. The latter I get only with effort and later study, and then only enough to understand it a little. I like²⁷ nature’s free artistry just as it is; her lovely and meaningful signs awaken impressions and ideas in me without the impulse to force them into a more constricted form of my own creation. I do not insist upon a perfect treatment of the material in which my thought is expressed.²⁸ And therefore I refrain from acquiring the utmost skill by practice, and when I have once put forth in action what is within me, I care not whether the act be often renewed in fairer and clearer fashion. Leisure is my dear divinity;¹⁷ by her favor man learns²⁹ to understand and to determine himself. It is in leisure that ideas ripen unto power which easily governs all when the world calls for action. It follows also that I can not work in isolation like the artist; in solitude the juices of my spirit are dried up, my thought stands still. I must go forth and enter into manifold association with others in order³⁰ to behold what types of humanity there are, which of them are still alien to me, which I can assimilate, ever determining³¹ my own being more decidedly by mutual give and take. My unquenched thirst for ever continuing self-development does not permit me to give the expression of my inner life an external finish. I simply launch my word and deed upon the world, nothing mindful whether observers have the sense to penetrate a crude exterior and happily to find the inner meaning, the unique spirit even in its less perfect manifestations. I have neither time nor inclination for this; I must be up and doing, moving on beyond my last position, bringing my own being to its completion, if³² that be possible in this short life, through new activity and thought. I hate even to try the same thing twice, so little is there of the artist in me. Hence, everything I do, I like to do in the company of others; even while engaged in meditation, in contemplation, or in the assimilation of anything new, I need the presence of some loved one, so that the inner event may immediately be communicated, and I may forthwith make my account with the world through the sweet and easy mediation of friendship. So was it, so is it now, and I am still so distant from my goal that I should be mistaken in thinking it will ever be otherwise.³³ Surely I am right, whatever friends may say, in excluding myself from the territory sacred to artists. Gladly do I renounce everything with which they have credited me, provided only that I find myself less imperfect than they imagine in the field where I have taken up my stand.

Reveal thyself to me once more, oh fair vision of that wide realm of humanity, where dwell all those who seek only to realize themselves,³⁴ and to express themselves in manifold activities, without creating any permanent monument of their labor! Reveal thyself once more, and let me see whether a place of my own belongs to me in thy realm. Let me behold whether there is coherence within me, or whether some intrinsic contrarieties prevent the image of myself from closing into unity, so that my own being like some miscarried sketch instead of attaining its perfection dissolves into emptiness and unreality. O no, I need not fear, no sad presentiment of failure possesses my soul! I recognize that all within me articulates to form a genuine whole, no foreign element in my nature oppresses me, no organ is missing, nor any member eligible for my unique life.¹⁸ Whoever would make of himself a distinctive individual must be keen to perceive what he is not. For here, too, even in the realm of morality at its highest, that intimate connection between action and the perception of truth obtains.¹⁹ Only if man is conscious of his individuality in his present conduct can he be sure of not violating it in his next act,³⁵ and only if he requires himself constantly to survey the whole of humanity, opposing his own expression of it to every other possible one, can he maintain the consciousness of his unique selfhood. For contrast is indispensable to set the individuality in relief. The highest³⁶ condition of individual perfection in a limited field is a general sensitiveness.²⁰ And how can this subsist apart from love? Without love, the very first attempt at self-formation would prove shattering because of the frightful disproportion between giving and receiving; the mind would be forced to some extreme one-sidedness, and he who made the attempt in this fashion would either be wholly broken or else sink to the vulgar level. Love, thou force of gravitation in the spiritual world, no individual life and no development is possible without thee!²¹ Without thee all things would flow together in a crude and homogeneous mass! Those who do not care to rise above this condition have little need of you; law and duty suffice for them, uniformity in conduct, and justice.²² For such as these the sacred sense of love would be a useless treasure, and this is why they let the little of it that they have grow wild, uncultivated. Not recognizing its sacredness, they cast it carelessly into the common pool of human goods, that should be governed according to a universal law. But for us, O love, thou art the alpha and omega.²³ No development without love, and without individual development no perfection in love; each supplements the other, both increase indivisibly. I feel both of the highest conditions of morality united within me! I have made both sensitiveness and love my own, and both are ever waxing, a sure sign that my life is fresh and healthy, and that my individuality will develop more. Is there anything that lies beyond the range of my sensitiveness? Those³⁷ who would have every one become a virtuoso and expert in some field of knowledge are wont to complain of me, that I will not suffer myself to be pinned down, that it is useless to hope I should ever seriously devote myself to some one thing. They say that when I have succeeded in gaining a certain view of things, my mind hastens on in its usual, restless, superficial fashion to other objects. Would that they leave me in peace, understanding that this is my destiny, that I must not devote myself to science,³⁸ because I am set upon the development of myself! Would that they allowed me to keep my mind open toward all their busy endeavors, considering what I fashion within me as I contemplate their activities worth while their trouble! And yet their very complaints witness in my behalf. For there are others who are likewise dissatisfied with me, but for the opposite reason. These while unlike me in nature are nevertheless like me seeking to penetrate into the very center of humanity. They say my appreciation is fundamentally limited, that I can pass by indifferent to many sacred things, and spoil my deep innocent insight by vain contentiousness.²⁴ Yes, I do still pass by much, but not with indifference. I dispute, but only to maintain my vision clear and open. Whenever I feel conscious of some expression of humanity that I have not mastered, my first concern is to dispute, not indeed whether it exists, but whether it is of such a nature, and only such, as is shown me by him in whom I first encounter it. My late awakened spirit, remembering how long it bore an alien yoke,²⁵ fears ever lest it be subjected again to the domination of some alien opinion, and whenever a strange object discloses a new aspect of life, my first step is to rise in arms against it, in order to fight for freedom and not to fall back at every new experience into the slavery in which my education began.³⁹ As soon, however, as I have won my distinctive point of view, the time for strife is over, and I gladly suffer each other view to take its place beside my own; my mind in peace completes the work of penetrating and interpreting each other standpoint.

Thus it is, that what may often seem a limitation of my sensitiveness is really but the first stir of appreciation within me. To be sure, I have very often had to assert myself positively, during this beautiful time of my life,²⁶ when I came into contact with so much that was new to me, when so much became broad daylight to me which I had but darkly sensed before, and for which I had no preparation! Often I was obliged to appear antagonistic to those who were a source of new insight for me. Unperturbed I have suffered their misapprehension, trusting that they would understand, as soon as they had entered more deeply into my nature. Even my friends have frequently misunderstood me in this way, especially when I passed by unsympathetically, though not with enmity, things which ardently appealed to them and excited their zeal. The mind cannot apprehend all things at once: it is useless for it to try to finish its task by a single effort; its process must be continuous in two directions, and each man has his own way of combining both in order to make up the whole.²⁷ For me it is impossible, when anything new presents itself, to penetrate at once into its core with burning intensity and get to know it perfectly. Such an attempt would ill beseem that equanimity which is the keynote of my being’s harmony. To seize upon some such particular would upset the balance of my life, and while I became absorbed in that one thing I should lose contact with the rest, without even making the first truly my own. I must first store up every new acquisition in my mind, and then let the usual forces of my life play upon it and about it, so that the new shall be mingled with the old, and come into touch with everything that I already harbor within me. Only by such activity as this do I succeed in preparing the way for a deeper and more intimate perception; contemplation and practice must often alternate before I am satisfied that I have fathomed anything. Thus and thus alone can I go about my business, if I am not to violate my inner being, for in me self-development and activity turned beyond the self must balance at every moment. Therefore my progress is slow, and I shall have to live long before I have embraced all things equally, but whatever I do embrace will bear my impress.²⁸ Whatever part of humanity’s infinite realm I have apprehended will be in equal measure uniquely transformed and taken up into my being.⁴⁰

Oh how much richer my life has become! What sweet awareness of inner⁴¹ worth, what enhanced assurance of individuality rewards me when I survey the profit of so many happy and prosperous days! My silent effort, though it appear like mere idleness from without,²⁹ was not in vain; it has well served my inward task of self-development. Mistaken outward activity ill-suited to my nature would not have carried this so far, and restricting the range of my appreciation would have impeded it still more.³⁰ Alas that a man’s inner character should be so misjudged, even by those who might understand and who deserve to recognize it everywhere! Alas that so many, even of these, confuse outward behavior and inner activity, deeming it possible to construe the latter like the former from fragmentary appearances, and suspecting contradiction where everything fits to perfection! Is then my real character so hard to recognize? Am I ever to forego my heart’s dearest desire to show myself as I am to all my worthy fellow men? For even now, as I look deeply into my nature, I am confirmed anew in the conviction that this is the strongest motive in my being. This is the truth, no matter how often I am told that I am shut up in myself, and that I often coldly repel the hallowed advances of love and friendship. To be sure, I never deem it necessary to talk of what I have done or what has happened to me. In my view, the worldly part of me is too insignificant that I should weary by dwelling on it, those whom I would gladly wish to have know me inwardly. Nor do I care to speak of that which is still dark and unformed within me lacking that clarity which makes it mine. How should I offer to my friend what does not yet belong to me? Why thereby hide from him what I already am? How could I hope to communicate, without raising up misunderstanding, that which I do not yet understand myself? Such an attitude on my part does not argue reticence and lack of love.

Rather is it the evidence of a holy reverence without which there is no real love; it is the instinct of delicacy that would not profane the highest, nor needlessly obscure it. As soon as I have genuinely appropriated anything new in respect to culture and individuality, from whatever source, do I not run to my friend in word and deed to let him know of it, that he may share my joy, and himself profit as he perceives understandingly my inner growth? My friend I cherish as my own self; whatever I come to recognize as my own, I place straightaway at his disposal. It is true I sometimes take less interest than do those who call themselves his friends in what he does and in that which happens to him.

His outward behavior neither affects nor concerns me, if I already understand the inner being whence it flows, and know that it must of necessity be thus, because my friend is such as he is. This outward side of him neither feeds nor excites my love for him, has no relation to it.⁴² It belongs to the world and with all its consequences must conform to the laws of necessity.³¹ But whatever the consequences, whatever happens to my friend, he will surely know how to act with a freedom worthy of himself. And nothing else concerns me. I contemplate his fate with calmness even as I do my own. Who will regard this as cold indifference? A clear appreciation of the contrast between world and man is the ground on which all self-respect and sense of freedom rest. Should I grant this less unto my friend than unto myself?

This is the very thing of which I chiefly boast, that my love and friendship always have so high a source,⁴³ that they have never been blended with any vulgar sentiment, have never been the offspring of habit or tender feeling, but ever an act of purest freedom, orientated towards the individuality of other human beings. I have ever kept the more common sentiment at a distance from myself. A benefit has never bribed me into friendship, nor has beauty stolen my love. Pity has never so enmeshed my judgment that it ascribed a merit to misfortune and represented suffering human beings as otherwise and better than they are.⁴⁴ And so a place was cleared in my soul for genuine love and friendship, and my longing to fill this space with ever larger and more manifold content never abates. Wherever I notice an aptitude for individuality, inasmuch as love and sensitiveness, its highest guarantees, are present, there I also find an object for my love. I would have my love embrace every unique self, from the unsophisticated youth, in whom freedom is but beginning to germinate, to the ripest and most finished type of man. Whenever I see such a one, I give him the salutation of the love within me, even if our brief meeting and parting permit no more than this gesture of spiritual greeting. Neither do I measure my friendship for anyone by any worldly standard of external appearances. My vision soars beyond the worldly and temporal, seeking inner greatness. Whether he to whom I would be a friend is already sensitive to much or little, whether he is or is not far advanced in his development, whether he has many achievements to his credit or not, all these things may not determine my attitude toward him, and whatever is missing in this respect I can easily dispense with. His unique being and its relation to humanity is the object of my quest. I love him in the measure that I find and understand this individuality, but I can give him proof thereof only in proportion to his understanding of my own true self. Alas, often did this love of mine return to me uncomprehended, the language of the heart was not heard, as if I had remained dumb, and those to whom I would have shown my love actually believed I had.

Men often travel in neighboring ways, and yet are not near each other. The one divines a friendly presence and is inclined toward friendly greeting. He calls but calls in vain; the other does not hear him. Frequently opposites approach each other,⁴⁵ and henceforth there is to be no more separation. But their encounter is for a moment only, and movements in opposite directions sweep them from each other’s ken, neither knowing whither the other has disappeared. This has often befallen me in my longing for love. Would it not be shameful, if I had not at last been disciplined, if my all too easy optimism had not fled, and experienced wisdom taken its place? “Here is one who will understand you in part, there another who will understand a different side of you; a certain kind of love is possible toward the one, but beware how you offer it to the other.” Thus am I often vainly warned to be discreet. For the urge of my heart leaves little room for prudence;³² much less can I presume to assign limits to other men, and to say how far they should respond to me and to my love. I always take too much for granted, I always try again, and am forthwith punished for my avarice by losing what I had already gained. But no other fortune is possible for one who is engaged in forming himself, and that I suffer thus is the surest proof that I am so engaged. A person so occupied, uniquely combines in himself various elements of humanity.⁴⁶ He belongs to more than one world. How could he move in an orbit exactly parallel to that of another, who is also a distinctive individual, how continue in his neighborhood?³³ Like a comet the cultured individual traverses many systems and encircles many a sun.³⁴ Now he passes a certain star which sees him gladly, and seeks to know him; he on his part bends his course with friendly intent in that star’s direction. Then lo! he has moved away into far-off spaces, his very shape seems changed; there is a doubt whether he is still the same. But anon he returns in swift revolution and there takes place anew a passing interchange of love and friendship. But where find the fair ideal of complete and permanent union, of friendship perfect on both sides? Only where on both sides love and sensitiveness have increased in equal measure as it were beyond all measure. But then, in such a perfect love the individuals themselves are also made perfect.³⁵ The hour is at hand—ah! for all of us it strikes much sooner—to yield up finite existence, and to return out of the world to the bosom of the infinite.

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Footnotes

1. Cf. pp. 13-16. ↩

2. Three views of conscience are contrasted in what follows: (1) the popular view of conscience as “a little portion of self-consciousness degraded to the role of a disciplinarian.” (2) Fichte’s view: conscience is “consciousness of true humanity,” the universal self in the individual self, and (3) Schleiermacher’s own view: conscience is consciousness of one’s unique place in true humanity. Cf. reference in Schiele, p. 99. ↩

3. I. E., knowledge of the ideal self is the necessary tie between theory and practice. For other statements of Schleiermacher’s as to their connection, see pp. 24, 42. ↩

4. “Fools … . dull sensibility.” Cf. Luke, XXIV, 25, “the foolish and slow of heart.” ↩

5. Cf. pp. 73-74. In the autobiographical passages which follow Schleiermacher uses the language of religious awakening, particularly the language of German pietism, to describe his development. The Introduction (pp. xvii, xxxiii-xxxv) should be consulted for some of the facts referred to. ↩

6. Seven years earlier in an essay on The Value of Life (see Appendix, pp. 118-119, and Schiele, pp. 166-198), Schleiermacher had been less confident and self-possessed. ↩

7. He means, for instance, Kant and Fichte, and those who think with them that the universal reason is the highest. ↩

8. Kantian ethics. See note on p. 27, and cf. pp. xxxviii-xl. ↩

9. This “choice of a nature by freedom” is better described in B and C, and also below on page 31-32. BC on p. 106. ↩

10. Cf. On Religion, pp. 72ff. ↩

11. “The act of freedom”: cf. above p. 28, and note on same page. ↩

12. Cf. this “still broken continuity of self-consciousness” with the “unbroken consciousness of universal humanity” mentioned above, p. 29. For the autobiographical significance, consult pp. xxxi-xli (Introduction) and of course Dilthey. ↩

13. Cf. pp. 19-20. ↩

14. At one point in his diary (see Dilthey, Appendix, p. 113). Schleiermacher says only God reaches it. (Cf. Schiele, p. 102.) ↩

15. I have tried to explain the motivation and significance of the ensuing passage (pp. 34-41) in the Introduction, pp. xxxviii-xli. Schleiermacher keenly felt the lack of creative, artistic power for two reasons especially: (1) because his closest friends in the “romantic group,” Schlegel et al, had something of it and exalted it as the supreme form of spirituality, and (2) because he himself believed that art was the true language of religion, which was for him the highest. (See Dilthey, p. 289, N. E. 323. See also On Religion, p. 139.) ↩

16. “By observation” of his artist friends in the romantic circle. See pp. xxxviii-xl. ↩

17. “Leisure” in contrast to the artist’s diligence just described. Cf. Letters, v. 1, pp. 170ff., and 268. ↩

18. “No sad presentiment, … I recognize … no organ is missing,” i. e., feeling, knowing, and acting testify to my being a complete whole. Cf. pp. 118, 141-142, for Schleiermacher’s treatment of this traditional three-fold division of the soul’s activity. ↩

19. That “intimate connection” which obtains also in the realm of elementary morality, the same for all. See above p. 28 and note on the same page. ↩

20. The ensuing passage (pp. 38-43) on “sensitiveness” and “love” as the cardinal conditions of moral perfection is central. “Sensitiveness” is receptive, the quality which at its deepest Schleiermacher describes in the “Speeches” (On Religion) as “sense and taste for the infinite,” the capacity for revelations. See pp. xlviiiff. Love is predominantly active and out-going, is the basis of true association, and must balance sensitiveness. See pp. xlviii-xlix, 87-88. ↩

21. Cf. the ensuing passage with the parallel one on love in the “Speeches,” On Religion, pp. 72-84. ↩

22. Another touch in the polemic against Kant and Fichte. Cf. pp. 30ff. ↩

23. “Us,” i. e., the “romanticists.” ↩

24. Schiele says: “Schleiermacher here defends himself against charges which Fr. Schlegel brought against him in his Lucinde in the person of Antonio. Lucinde, pp. 272ff. Dilthey, p. 459,” N. E. 503. (Schiele, p. 104.) ↩

25. Refers to his early education in the Moravian seminary. See Introduction, pp. xv-xviii. ↩

26. I. E., during his first residence in Berlin when he met Schlegel and his other associates. See Introduction, pp. xxxviiff. and, of course, Dilthey, pp. 182-296; N. E., 218-331. ↩

27. The direction of predominantly receptive “sensitiveness” and that of predominantly active “love.” Cf. Appendix, pp. 146ff., for Schleiermacher’s treatment of these two in his later systematic works as the “symbolizing” and “organizing” functions of spirit respectively. Cf. also with other passages of the Soliloquies, especially pp. 19-20. ↩

28. “Impress,” as result of the “symbolizing” function of spirit. See pp. 17, 64. ↩

29. It touched the romanticists closely to distinguish between good and bad idleness. Cf. Schlegel’s Lucinde, and a sermon of Schleiermacher’s on the subject, Werke, II, v. 1, pp. 109ff. ↩

30. I. E., neither art nor science was his proper vocation. Cf. above pp. 34-41. ↩

31. Cf. pp. 18ff. ↩

32. As to Schleiermacher’s prudence, cf. pp. xxxiv, 89, 100-103. ↩

33. Explanation of apparent waywardness and fleeting attachments that the non-romanticist fails to understand. The meaning is clearer in B and C; see pp. 108. ↩

34. He belongs to “more than one world,” … . “traverses many systems,” “many a sun.” Cf. Schleiermacher’s development of this theme in the fourth Soliloquy, pp. 76, 81-88 below. ↩

35. Cf. the fuller exposition of this idea at the end of the fourth Soliloquy, p. 87-88. Schleiermacher thought of the first Soliloquy as symmetrical with the third, the second with the fourth, both in respect to content and style. See Schiele, p. xxxiv. ↩