what is to be called right, or whether it desires for its own
instruction to determine honestly the worth of actions; and, in the
latter case, it may even have as good a hope of hitting the mark as
any philosopher whatever can promise himself. Nay, it is almost more
sure of doing so, because the philosopher cannot have any other
principle, while he may easily perplex his judgement by a multitude of
considerations foreign to the matter, and so turn aside from the right
way. Would it not therefore be wiser in moral concerns to acquiesce in
the judgement of common reason, or at most only to call in
philosophy for the purpose of rendering the system of morals more
complete and intelligible, and its rules more convenient for use
(especially for disputation), but not so as to draw off the common
understanding from its happy simplicity, or to bring it by means of
philosophy into a new path of inquiry and instruction?

Innocence is indeed a glorious thing; only, on the other hand, it is
very sad that it cannot well maintain itself and is easily seduced. On
this account even wisdom- which otherwise consists more in conduct
than in knowledge- yet has need of science, not in order to learn from
it, but to secure for its precepts admission and permanence. Against
all the commands of duty which reason represents to man as so
deserving of respect, he feels in himself a powerful counterpoise in
his wants and inclinations, the entire satisfaction of which he sums
up under the name of happiness. Now reason issues its commands
unyieldingly, without promising anything to the inclinations, and,
as it were, with disregard and contempt for these claims, which are so
impetuous, and at the same time so plausible, and which will not allow
themselves to be suppressed by any command. Hence there arises a
natural dialectic, i.e., a disposition, to argue against these
strict laws of duty and to question their validity, or at least