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.
Good sense is the most equally distributed of all things among people. Everyone thinks they have so much of it that they usually want no more than they already possess. Even those who are hardest to satisfy in every other respect feel this way. And it is unlikely that everyone is mistaken about this. Rather, this shared conviction should be taken as evidence that the ability to judge correctly and distinguish truth from error is naturally equal in everyone. This ability is what we properly call good sense or reason. So our differences of opinion do not arise because some people have more reason than others. They arise solely because we follow different paths in our thinking and focus on different things. For having a powerful mind is not enough. What matters most is using that mind correctly. The greatest minds are capable of the greatest achievements, but they can also go furthest astray. And those who travel very slowly may still make far more progress, provided they stay on the straight road. They may outpace those who run but leave that road behind.
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.
For my part, I have never thought my mind was in any way better than most people's. On the contrary, I have often wished I could match some others in quickness of thought. I have also wished for their clear, vivid imagination or their capacity to remember much and recall it readily. Beyond these qualities, I know of no others that make a mind better. As for reason or good sense, reason alone makes us human and distinguishes us from animals. I am inclined to believe that reason is present in full in every individual. On this point, I accept the common view of philosophers. They say that individuals of the same species differ in degree only in their incidental qualities, not their essential nature.
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.
Still, I will not hesitate to say that I believe I have been unusually fortunate. Very early in life, I came upon certain paths that led me to ideas and principles. From these, I developed a method that I believe allows me to increase my knowledge gradually. I hope to raise my knowledge, little by little, as high as my modest abilities and short life will allow. For this method has already brought me considerable rewards. I have generally thought little of my own abilities. And when I consider humanity’s many pursuits as a philosopher, hardly any seem worthwhile or useful. Nevertheless, I take the greatest satisfaction in the progress I believe I have already made in seeking truth. And I cannot help having such hopes for the future that I believe the following: if any human pursuit is truly excellent and important, it is the one 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.
After all, I may be mistaken. Perhaps what I take for gold and diamonds is only a little copper and glass. I know how easily we deceive ourselves about ourselves. I also know how much we should distrust our friends’ judgments when they favor us. But in this discourse, I will try to describe the paths I have followed and paint a picture of my life. My purpose is to let everyone judge those paths for themselves. I also hope to learn from the general opinion of them, as I hear it reported. This would give me another way to learn, alongside the methods I have regularly used.
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.
My aim, then, is not to teach the method everyone should follow to reason correctly. I only want to describe how I have tried to guide my own reasoning. Those who set out to give rules must, of course, consider themselves more skilled than those they instruct. And if they make even the smallest mistake, they open themselves to criticism. But I offer this work only as a history or, if you prefer, a story. Among some examples worth following, there will perhaps be just as many that would be better avoided. So I hope this account will help some people without harming anyone, and that everyone will look kindly on my openness.
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.
From childhood, I was familiar with books and learning. I was led to believe that studying could provide clear and certain knowledge of everything useful in life. So I was eager to learn. But I completely changed my mind after finishing the full course of study. Completing this course usually meant being accepted among the learned. I found myself caught up in so many doubts and errors that I became convinced of my lack of progress. All my efforts to learn had achieved nothing beyond revealing my own ignorance at every turn. Yet I was studying at one of the most celebrated schools in Europe. I thought there must be learned people there, if any could be found anywhere. I had been taught everything the other students learned there. Not satisfied with the subjects we were taught, I also read every book I could find on other subjects. These subjects were considered among the most unusual and little known. I knew how others judged me, and I found that they did not consider me inferior to my fellow students. Some of those students had already been singled out to take our teachers’ places. Finally, my own age seemed as flourishing and as rich in powerful minds as any earlier age. So I felt justified in judging everyone else by my own experience. I concluded that no field of knowledge offered the kind of understanding I had previously been led to expect.
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.
Still, I continued to value the studies taught in schools. I knew that the languages taught there are necessary for understanding the writings of the ancients. The charm of fables stirs the mind, while the memorable deeds recorded in history lift it. If read with care, history also helps develop judgment. Reading all excellent books is like having conversations with the noblest people of past ages, who wrote them. These are carefully prepared conversations, revealing only their finest thoughts. Eloquence has unmatched power and beauty, and poetry has captivating charms and delights. Mathematics contains many elegant discoveries especially suited to satisfying curious minds, advancing all the arts, and reducing human labor. Writings on morality contain many highly useful rules and appeals to virtue. Theology shows the path to heaven. Philosophy offers ways to speak with an appearance of truth about every subject and wins the admiration of simpler minds. Law, medicine, and the other sciences bring honors and wealth to those who practice them. Finally, it is useful to give some attention to all these subjects, even those most filled with superstition and error. Doing so allows us to judge their true 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.
But I believed I had already spent enough time studying languages and reading ancient authors, their histories, and their fables. For talking with people from other ages is almost the same as traveling. Knowing something about other nations’ customs is useful because it helps us judge our own more accurately. It also keeps us from thinking that everything contrary to our customs is ridiculous and irrational. People whose experience is limited to their own country usually reach that conclusion. On the other hand, when we spend too much time traveling, we become strangers in our own country. And people who take an excessive interest in past customs are generally ignorant of present ones. Besides, fictional stories lead us to imagine that many impossible events are possible. Even the most accurate histories almost always leave out at least the most ordinary and least striking details. They do so even if they do not completely misrepresent events or exaggerate their importance to make them worth reading. As a result, what remains does not represent the truth. People who model their conduct on examples from these accounts are therefore likely to fall into extravagant behavior. They behave like the wandering knights of adventure stories and undertake plans beyond their abilities.
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 valued eloquence highly and was delighted by poetry. But I thought both were natural gifts rather than skills gained through study. People whose strongest ability is reason, and who arrange their thoughts most skillfully to make them clear, are always the most persuasive. They are best able to convince others that what they say is true. This holds even if they speak only the language of Lower Brittany and know nothing of the rules of rhetoric. Likewise, the best poets have minds filled with the most pleasing imaginative ideas. They can express those ideas with the greatest beauty and harmony, even if they know nothing of poetic technique.
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 was especially delighted by mathematics because its reasoning was so certain and clear. But I did not yet understand its true use precisely. I thought mathematics served only to advance the mechanical arts. So I was astonished that no grander structure had been built on such strong, solid foundations. By contrast, I compared the writings of ancient moralists to towering, magnificent palaces founded on nothing better than sand and mud. These writers praise the virtues highly and present them as more valuable than anything else on earth. But they give us no adequate standard for judging virtue. Often, what they call by that fine name is merely apathy, pride, despair, or the murder of a parent.
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.
I revered our theology and wanted as much as anyone to reach heaven. But I had been assured that the path to heaven was as open to the most ignorant as to the most learned. I also understood that the revealed truths leading to heaven were beyond our understanding. So I did not presume to judge those truths with my weak powers of reason. And I thought that examining them properly would require special help from heaven and being more than human.
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.
I will say nothing about philosophy except this. I saw that the most distinguished thinkers had studied philosophy for many centuries. Yet every question in philosophy was still disputed, so nothing in philosophy was beyond doubt. I therefore did not presume that I would have greater success in philosophy than others had. I also considered how many conflicting opinions scholars may hold on a single question, though only one can be true. So I judged everything that was merely probable to be almost certainly false.
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.
As for the other sciences, they borrow their principles from philosophy. So I judged that no solid structures could be built on such weak foundations. Neither the honor nor the financial rewards they offered were enough to persuade me to pursue them. For, thank Heaven, my circumstances did not force me to sell my knowledge to improve my finances. And although I would not claim to scorn glory like a cynic, I placed little value on such honor. I could hope to gain that honor only through titles with no real substance. Finally, I thought I understood the worth of false sciences well enough to avoid being deceived. I would not be taken in by an alchemist’s claims, an astrologer’s predictions, or a magician’s frauds. Nor would I fall for the tricks and boasting of anyone claiming knowledge of things they knew nothing about.
For these reasons, as soon as my age permitted me to pass from under the control of my instructors, I entirely 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.
For these reasons, as soon as I was old enough to leave my teachers’ supervision, I abandoned book learning entirely. I decided to seek no knowledge except knowledge of myself or of the great book of the world. I spent the rest of my youth traveling, visiting courts and armies, and meeting people of different temperaments and ranks. I gathered a wide range of experiences and tested myself in the different situations that chance brought my way. Above all, I reflected on my experiences so that I could learn and improve. For I thought I would find much more truth in people’s reasoning about matters that directly concerned them. If they judged wrongly in such matters, the outcome would soon punish them. I expected far less truth from a scholar reasoning in his study about abstract questions with no practical importance. Such reasoning had no consequences for the scholar himself, except perhaps to feed his vanity. The further his ideas strayed from common sense, the more they might feed his vanity. For ideas so far from common sense required greater ingenuity and skill to make them seem plausible. Besides, I had always deeply wanted to know how to distinguish truth from falsehood. I wanted to see clearly which path was right in life and follow 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.
It is true that studying only other people’s customs gave me hardly any basis for firm beliefs. I found almost as much disagreement among those customs as among the opinions of philosophers. So the greatest benefit of my study was the lesson I drew from those differences. Many things seem strange and ridiculous to us, yet other great nations commonly accept and approve of them. Seeing this taught me not to believe too firmly in anything I had accepted as true merely through example and custom. In this way, I gradually freed myself from many errors. Such errors can cloud our natural understanding and largely prevent us from listening to reason. But after several years of studying the book of the world and trying to gain some experience, I changed course. I finally decided to study myself and use all my mental powers to choose the paths I ought to follow. This undertaking succeeded better than it would have if I had never left my country or my books.