general consent (if not unanimously), a proposal could be submitted to the
crown. This would seek to protect the congregations who had, for instance,
agreed to alter their religious establishment in accordance with their own
notions of what higher insight is, but it would not try to obstruct those who
wanted to let things remain as before. But it is absolutely impermissible to
agree, even for a single lifetime, to a permanent religious constitution which
no-one might publicly question. For this would virtually nullify a phase in
man's upward progress, thus making it fruitless and even detrimental to
subsequent generations. A man may for his own person, and even then only for a
limited period, postpone enlightening himself in matters he ought to know about.
But to renounce such enlightenment completely, whether for his own person or
even more so for later generations, means violating and trampling underfoot the
sacred rights of mankind. But something which a people may not even impose upon
itself can still less be imposed upon it by a monarch; for his legislative
authority depends precisely upon his uniting the collective will of the people
in his own. So long as he sees to it that all true or imagined improvements are
compatible with the civil order, he can otherwise leave his subjects to do
whatever they find necessary for their salvation, which is none of his business.
But it is his business to stop anyone forcibly hindering others from working as
best they can to define and promote their salvation. It indeed detracts from his
majesty if he interferes in these affairs by subjecting the writings in which
his subjects attempt to clarify their religious ideas to governmental
supervision. This applies if he does so acting upon his own exalted opinionsС in
which case he exposes himself to the reproach: Caesar non est supra
GrammaticosСbut much more so if he demeans his high authority so far as to
support the spiritual despotism of a few tyrants within his state against the
rest of his subjects.
If it is now asked whether we at present live in an enlightened age, the answer
is: No, but we do live in an age of enlightenment. As things are at present, we
still have a long way to go before men as a whole can be in a position (or can
ever be put into a position) of using their own understanding confidently and
well in religious matters, without outside guidance. But we do have distinct
indications that the way is now being cleared for them to work freely in this
direction, and that the obstacles to universal enlightenment, to man's emergence
from his self-incurred immaturity, are gradually becoming fewer. In this respect
our age is the age of enlightenment, the century of Frederick.
A prince who does not regard it as beneath him to say that he considers it his
duty, in religious matters, not to prescribe anything to his people, but to
allow them complete freedom, a prince who thus even declines to accept the
presumptuous title of tolerant, is himself enlightened. He deserves to be
praised by a grateful present and posterity as the man who first liberated
mankind from immaturity (as far as government is concerned), and who left all
men free to use their own reason in all matters of conscience. Under his rule,
ecclesiastical dignitaries, notwithstanding their official duties, may in their
capacity as scholars freely and publicly submit to the judgement of the world
their verdicts and opinions, even if these deviate here Ind there from orthodox
doctrine. This applies even more to all others who are not restricted by any
official duties. This spirit of freedom is also spreading abroad, even where it
