Schillers Philosophical Letters | Page 3

immortality. Woe
to me if I catch this, my only witness, in a contradiction! if my esteem
for its conclusions diminishes! if a broken vessel in my brain diverts its
action! My happiness is henceforth intrusted to the harmonious action
of my sensorium: woe to me if the strings of this instrument give a false
note in the critical moments of my life--if my convictions vary with my
pulsations!

LETTER II.
Julius to Raphael.
Your doctrine has flattered my pride. I was a prisoner: you have led me
out into the daylight; the golden shimmer and the measureless vault
have enraptured my eye. Formerly, I was satisfied with the modest
reputation of being a good son of my father's house, a friend of my
friends, a useful member of society. You have changed me into a
citizen of the universe. At that time my wishes had not aspired to
infringe on the rights of the great: I tolerated these fortunate people
because beggars tolerated me. I did not blush to envy a part of the
human race, because there was a still larger part of humanity that I was
obliged to pity. Meeting you, I learned for the first time that my claims
on enjoyment were as well founded as those of my brethren. Now, for
the first time, I learned that, raised one stratum above this atmosphere, I
weighed just as much and as little as the rulers of this world. Raphael
severed all bonds of agreement and of opinion. I felt myself quite free;
for reason, as Raphael declared, is the only monarchy in the world of
spirits, and I carried my imperial throne in my brain. All things in

heaven and earth have no value, no estimation, except that which my
reason grants them. The whole creation is mine, for I possess an
irresistible omnipotence, and am empowered to enjoy it fully. All
spirits--one degree below the most perfect Spirit--are my brethren,
because we all obey one rule, and do homage to one supremacy.
How magnificent and sublime this announcement sounds! What a field
for my thirst of knowledge! But--unlucky contradiction of nature--this
free and soaring spirit is woven together with the rigid, immovable
clockwork of a mortal body, mixed up with its little necessities, and
yoked to its fate--this god is banished into a world of worms. The
immense space of nature is opened to his research, but he cannot think
two ideas at the same time. With his eyes he reaches up to the sunny
focus of the Godhead, but he himself is obliged to creep after Him
slowly and wearily through the elements of time. To absorb one
enjoyment he must give up all others: two unlimited desires are too
great for his little heart. Every fresh joy costs him the sum of all
previous joys. The present moment is the sepulchre of all that went
before it. An idyllic hour of love is an intermittent pulsation of
friendship.
Wherever I look, Raphael, how limited man appears! How great the
distance between his aims and their fulfilment!--yet do not begrudge
him his soothing slumber. Wake him not! He was so happy before he
began to inquire whither he was to go and whence he came! Reason is a
torch in a prison. The prisoner knew nothing of the light, but a dream of
freedom appeared over him like a flash in the night which leaves the
darkness deeper than before. Our philosophy is the unhappy curiosity
of Oedipus, who did not cease to inquire till the dreadful oracle was
unravelled. Mayest thou never learn who thou art!
Does your wisdom replace what it has set aside? If you had no key to
open heaven, why did you lead me away from earth? If you knew
beforehand that the way to wisdom leads through the frightful abyss of
doubt, why did you venture the innocence of your friend Julius on this
desperate throw?--
If to the good, which I propose to do, Something very bad borders far

too near, I prefer not to do this good.
You have pulled down a shelter that was inhabited, and founded a
splendid but lifeless palace on the spot.
Raphael, I claim my soul from you! I am unhappy. My courage is gone.
I despair of my own strength. Write to me soon!--your healing hand
alone can pour balm on my burning wounds.

LETTER III.
Raphael to Julius.
Julius, happiness such as ours, if unbroken, would be too much for
human lot. This thought often haunted me even in the full enjoyment of
our friendship. This thought, then darkening our happiness, was a
salutary foretaste, intended to mitigate the pain of my present position.
Hardened in the stern school of resignation, I am still more susceptible
of the comfort