This sensuous impulse is incessantly employed in drawing over to its interest the Will, which still remains under moral laws, and has upon it the obligation, ever to be in contradiction to the demands of the

reason.

But the sensuous impulse requires no moral law, and will have its object realized through the Will, whatever the reason may say thereto. This tendency of our appetitive power, to rule the will directly and regardless of a higher law, conflicts with our moral determinateness, and is the strongest rival that man must oppose in his moral action. Desire legislates directly for rude dispositions, who are deficient both in moral and æsthetic culture; and they act only according to the pleasure of the senses. The reason legislates directly for moral dispositions, though deficient in æsthetic culture; and they overcome temptation only through a regard for duty. In spirits that possess æsthetic refinement there is another court, (resort- Instanz), which not seldom compensates for virtue, where that is deficient, and assists it where it exists. This court is Taste.

Taste demands moderation and decency: it abhors everything that is hard, angular, violent, and inclines to all that unites with ease and harmony. A correct ton, which is nothing else than an æsthetic law, makes a well recognized demand of every civilized man, that he should listen to the voice of reason even in the storm of emotion, and set bounds to the rude outbreaks of nature. This constraint which the civilized man imposes upon himself in the expression of his feelings, secures to him a measure of dominion over those passions; at least, it acquires for him a facility in interrupting his condition of mere passivity by an exertion of self-activity, and in restraining the rash transition of feeling into action, by reflection. It is true, everything which breaks the blind violence of passion, evolves as yet no virtue (for that must always be its own work), but it affords space to the Will, to apply itself to virtue. But this victory of taste over rude passion is by no means a moral action, neither is the freedom, which taste gains here for the Will, a moral freedom. Taste liberates the mind from the yoke of instinct only so far as it substitutes its own fetters; and while it disarms the first and the open foe of moral freedom, it not seldom remains as the second foe, and all the more dangerous under the guise of friendship. That is to say, Taste governs the mind only by the lure of satisfaction a noble satisfaction, to be sure, since the reason is its source - but no morality exists where satisfaction determines the Will.

Still something of magnitude has been gained by this interference of taste in the operations of the Will. All those material inclinations and rude desires, which so often oppose themselves obstinately and stormfully to the practice of goodness, have been outlawed from the mind by Taste, and in their stead nobler and milder inclinations engrafted, which relate to order, harmony and perfection: and although these are no virtues, yet they share one object with virtue. If now desire speaks, it must endure a severe scrutiny from the sense of Beauty: and if now the reason speaks and enjoins actions of order, harmony and perfection, it finds not only no opposition from the side of inclination, but rather the liveliest concurrence. If, then, we survey the different forms in which morality may be expressed, we can refer them all to these two. Either sensuousness makes the move in the mind, that something should or should not take place, and the will takes action thereupon, according to the law of reason - or the reason makes the move, and the Will obeys it, without making inquiry of the senses.

The Grecian princess, Anna Comnena, tells us of a captured rebel, whom her father, Alexius, while he was one of his predecessor's generals, was commissioned to escort to Constantinople. On the way, as both are riding together alone, Alexius desires to make a halt under the shadow of a tree, to recover from the heat of the sun. Sleep soon overpowered him: but the other, troubled by the fear of expected death, remained awake. While Alexius is lying in a deep slumber, the rebel perceives his sword which was swung over a branch, and is tempted to gain his freedom by the murder of his keeper. Anna Comnena gives us to understand that she does not know what would have happened, if her father had not luckily awaked. Now here was a moral case of the first kind, where the sensuous impulse had the first voice, before the reason pronounced sentence upon it as arbiter. Had the former overcome the temptation out of pure regard for rectitude, there would be no doubt that it had acted morally.

When the Duke Leopold von Braunschweig, of illustrious memory, deliberated on the banks of the swollen Oder, whether he should trust himself to the impetuous stream at the peril of his life, in order to rescue some unfortunates who were helpless without him, - and when he, I suppose this case, entirely from a consciousness of duty, sprang into the skiff which no one else was willing to enter - none can deny that he acted morally. The duke was here in a situation the reverse of the former one. Here the representation of duty preceded, and then the instinct of self-preservation excited an opposition to the prescription of the reason. But in both cases, the will conducted in the same manner, obeying the reason directly: consequently both are moral.

But would both cases remain so still, if we allowed Taste to exert an influence ?

Suppose, then, that the first, who is tempted to commit a bad action, and forbears out of regard to rectitude, has a taste so cultivated, that everything infamous and violent excites an abhorrence which nothing can overcome: his pure æsthetic sense will reject anything infamous, the moment that the instinct for preservation urges it-then it will not come before the moral bar, before the conscience, but be already decided in a previous court. But the æsthetic sense governs the Will by feelings only, and not by laws. That man, then, renounces the agreeable feeling of life preserved, because he cannot bear the disagreeable one of having perpetrated a crime. The whole matter is thus decided in the court of feeling, and the man's conduct, however legal it is, is morally indifferent and nothing but a beautiful operation of nature.

Suppose now, that the other, whose reason prescribes something to be done, against which a natural instinct rebels, has an equally delicate sense of Beauty, charmed by all that is great and perfect: the moment that the reason makes its demand, the sensuousness will pass over to it, and he will do that with inclination, which, without this fine sensibility to Beauty, he would be compelled to do against inclination. But shall we, on this account, esteem him less perfect? Certainly not, for he acts originally out of pure regard for the prescription of reason: and that he obeys this prescription gladly, does not diminish the moral purity of his deed. Then morally he is just as perfect, but physically he is far more perfect: for he is a much more appropriate subject for virtue.

Then Taste gives the mind a tendency appropriate for virtue, as it removes all those inclinations which hinder the latter, and excites those which are favorable. Taste cannot be detrimental to true virtue, if, in all the cases where native impulse makes the first move, it tries at once and dismisses from its bar that upon which the conscience must otherwise pronounce sentence, - thus being the reason, that among the actions of those who are governed by it, many more are found to be indifferent, than truly moral. For human excel