August 1791, Humboldt wrote to Georg Forster:

The axiom that nothing on earth is so important as the highest power, and most
varied cultivation of the individual, and that, therefore, the primary law of
true morality is, educate yourself, and only the second, influence others by
what you are; these axioms are so firmly impressed upon my mind that nothing
can change them.

The limits of state action

The true end of Man, or that which is prescribed by the eternal and immutable dictates of
reason, and not suggested by vague and transient desires, is the highest and most harmonious
development of his powers to a complete and consistent whole. Freedom is the grand and
indispensable condition which the possibility of such a development presupposes; but there is
besides another essential,—intimately connected with freedom, it is true,—a variety of
situations. Even the most free and self-reliant of men is thwarted and hindered in his
development by uniformity of position. But as it is evident, on the one hand, that such a
diversity is a constant result of freedom, and on the other, that there is a species of oppression
which, without imposing restrictions on man himself, gives a peculiar impress of its own to
surrounding circumstances; these two conditions, of freedom and variety of situation, may be
regarded, in a certain sense, as one and the same. Still, it may contribute to perspicuity to
point out the distinction between them.
Every human being, then, can act with but one force at the same time: or rather, our whole
nature disposes us at any given time to some single form of spontaneous activity. It would
therefore seem to follow from this, that man is inevitably destined to a partial cultivation, since
he only enfeebles his energies by directing them to a multiplicity of objects. But we see the
fallacy of such a conclusion when we reflect, that man has it in his power to avoid this one-
sideness, by striving to unite the separate faculties of his nature, often singly exercised; by
bringing into spontaneous co-operation, at each period of his life, the gleams of activity about
to expire, and those which the future alone will kindle into living effulgence; and endeavouring
to increase and diversify the powers with which he works, by harmoniously combining them,
instead of looking for a mere variety of objects for their separate exercise. That which is
effected, in the case of the individual, by the union of the past and future with the present, is
produced in society by the mutual co-operation of its different single members; for, in all the
stages of his existence, each individual can exhibit but one of those perfections only, which
represent the possible features of human character. It is through such social union, therefore,
as is based on the internal wants and capacities of its members, that each is enabled to
participate in the rich collective resources of all the others. The experience of all, even the
rudest, nations, furnishes us an example of a union thus formative of individual character, in
the union of the sexes. And, although in this case the expression, as well of the difference as of
he union of the sexes. And, although in this case the expression, as well of the difference as of
the longing for union, appears more marked and striking, it is still no less active in other kinds
of association where there is actually no difference of sex; it is only more difficult to discover in
these, and may perhaps be more powerful for that very reason. If we were to follow out this
idea, it might perhaps conduct us to a clearer insight into the phenomena of those unions so
much in vogue among the ancients, and more especially the Greeks, among whom we find
them countenanced even by the legislators themselves: I mean those so frequently, but
unworthily, classed under the general appellation of ordinary love, and sometimes, but always
erroneously, designated as mere friendship. The efficiency of all such unions as instruments of
cultivation, wholly depends on the degree in which the component members can succeed in
combining their personal independence with the intimacy of the common bond; for whilst,
without this intimacy, one individual cannot sufficiently possess himself, as it were, of the
nature of the others, independence is no less essential, in order that the perceived be
assimilated into the being of the perceiver. Now, it is clear (to apply these conclusions to the
respective conditions for culture,—freedom, and a variety of situations), that, on the one hand,
individual energy is essential to the perceived and perceiver, into which social unions may be
resolved; and, on the other, a difference between them, neither so great as to prevent the one
from comprehending the other, nor so inconsiderable as to exclude admiration for that which
the other possesses, and the desire of assimilating it into the perceiver’s character.
….
3. Everything towards which man directs his attention, whether it is limited to the direct or
indirect satisfaction of his merely physical wants, or to the accomplishment of external objects
in general, presents itself in a closely interwoven relation with his internal sensations.
Sometimes, moreover, there co-exists with this external purpose, some impulse proceeding
more immediately from his inner being; and often, even, this last is the sole spring of his
activity, the former being only implied in it, necessarily or incidentally. The more unity a man
possesses, the more freely do these external manifestations on which he decides emanate from
the inner springs of his being, and the more frequent and intimate is the cooperation of these
two sources of motive, even when he has not freely selected these external objects. A man,
therefore, whose character peculiarly interests us, although his life does not lose this charm in
any circumstances or however engaged, only attains the most matured and graceful
consummation of his activity, when his way of life is in harmonious keeping with his character.
In view of this consideration, it seems as if all peasants and craftsmen might be elevated into
artists; that is, into men who love their labour for its own sake, improve it by their own plastic
genius and inventive skill, and thereby cultivate their intellect, ennoble their character, and
exalt and refine their enjoyments. And so humanity would be ennobled by the very things which
now, though beautiful in themselves, so often go to degrade it. The more a man accustoms
himself to dwell in the region of higher thoughts and sensations, and the more refined and
vigorous his moral and intellectual powers become, the more he longs to confine himself to
such external objects only as furnish ampler scope and material for his internal development;
or, at least, to overcome all adverse conditions in the sphere allotted him, and transform them
into more favourable phases. It is impossible to estimate a man’s advance towards the Good
and the Beautiful, when his unremitting endeavours are directed to this one engrossing object,
the development of his inner life; so that, superior to all other considerations, it may remain
the same unfailing source, the ultimate goal of all his labours, and all that is corporeal and
external may seem but as its instrument and veil.
…
But, still, it cannot be doubted that freedom is the indispensable condition, without which even
the pursuits most happily congenial to the individual nature, can never succeed in producing
such fair and salutary influences. Whatever man is inclined to, without the free exercise of his
own choice, or whatever only implies instruction and guidance, does not enter into his very
being, but still remains alien to his true nature, and is, indeed, effected by him, not so much
with human agency, as with the mere exactness of mechanical routine. The ancients, and more
especially the Greeks, were accustomed to regard every occupation as hurtful and degrading
which was immediately connected with the exercise of physical power, or the pursuit of external
advantages, and not exclusively confined to the development of the inner man. Hence, many of
their philosophers who were most eminent for their philanthropy, approved of slavery; thereby
adopting a barbarous and unjust expediency, and agreeing to sacrifice one part of mankind in
order to secure to the other the highest force and beauty. But reason and experience combine
to expose the error which lies at the root of such a fallacy. There is no pursuit whatever,
nothing with which a man can concern himself, that may not give to human nature some
worthy and determinate form, and furnish fair means for its ennoblement. The manner of its
performance is the only thing to be considered; and we may here lay down the general rule,
that a man’s pursuits re-act beneficially on his culture, so long as these, and the energies allied
with them, succeed in filling and satisfying the wants of his soul; while their influence is not
only less salutary, but even pernicious, when he directs his attention more exclusively to the
results to which they conduce, and regards the occupation itself merely as a necessary means.
For it is the property of anything which charms us by its own intrinsic worth, to awaken love
and esteem, while that which only as a means holds out hopes of ulterior advantage, merely
interests us; and the motives of love and esteem tend as directly to ennoble human nature, as
those of interest to lower and degrade it. Now, in the exercise of such a positive solicitude as
that we are considering, the State can only contemplate results, and establish rules whose
observance will most directly conduce to their accomplishment.

But to continue: the evil results of a too extended solicitude on the part of the State, are still
more strikingly manifested in the suppression of all active energy, and the necessary
deterioration of the moral character. We scarcely need to substantiate this position by rigorous
deductions. The man who frequently submits the conduct of his actions to foreign guidance and
control, becomes gradually disposed to a willing sacrifice of the little spontaneity that remains
to him. He fancies himself released from an anxiety which he sees transferred to other hands,
and seems to himself to do enough when he looks for their leading, and follows the course to
which it directs him. Thus, his notions of right and wrong, of praise and blame, become
confounded. The idea of the first inspires him no longer; and the painful consciousness of the
last assails him less frequently and violently, since he can more easily ascribe his shortcomings
to his peculiar position, and leave them to the responsibility of those who have shaped it for
him. If we add to this, that he may not, possibly, regard the designs of the State as perfectly
pure in their objects or execution—should he find grounds to suspect that not his own
advantage only, but along with it some other bye-scheme is intended, then, not only the force
and energy, but the purity and excellence of his moral nature is brought to suffer. He now
conceives himself not only irresponsible for the performance of any duty which the State has
not expressly imposed upon him, but exonerated at the same time from every personal effort to
ameliorate his own condition; nay, even shrinks from such an effort, as if it were likely to open
out new opportunities, of which the State might not be slow to avail itself. And as for the laws
actually enjoined, he labours, as much as possible, to escape their operation, considering every
such evasion as a positive gain. If now we reflect that, as regards a large portion of the nation,
its laws and political institutions have the effect of circumscribing the grounds of morality, it
cannot but appear a melancholy spectacle to see at once the most sacred duties, and mere
trivial and arbitrary enactments, proclaimed from the same authoritative source, and to witness
the infraction of both visited with the same measure of punishment. Further, the injurious
influence of such a positive policy is no less evident in its effects on the mutual bearing of the
citizens, than in those manifestations of its pernicious working to which we have just referred.
In proportion as each individual relies upon the helpful vigilance of the State, he learns to
abandon to its responsibility the fate and wellbeing of his fellow-citizens. But the inevitable
tendency of such abandonment is to deaden the living force of sympathy, and to render the
natural impulse to mutual assistance inactive: or, at least, the reciprocal interchange of services
and benefits will be most likely to flourish in its greatest activity and beauty, where the feeling
is liveliest that such assistance is the only thing to rely upon; and experience teaches us that
those classes of the community which suffer under oppression, and are, as it were, overlooked
by the Government, are always cemented together by the closest ties. But wherever the citizen
becomes insensible to the interests of his fellow-citizen, the husband will contract feelings of
cold indifference to the wife, and the father of a family towards the members of his household.

La sociedad puede ejecutar sus propios mandatos y así lo hace; y si da los

mandatos equivocados en lugar de los correctos, o cualquier mandato en cosas
en las que no debiera entrometerse, ella practica una tiranía social más
formidable que muchas formas de opresión, dado que aunque no es usualmente
sostenida en penalidades extremas, deja menos vías de escape, y esclaviza el
alma misma. Protección, entonces, contra la tiranía de los magistrados no es
suficiente; hay una necesidad de protección también contra la tiranía de la
opinión y el sentimiento predominante, contra la tendencia de la sociedad a
imponer, con otros medios que la penas civiles, sus propias ideas y prácticas
como reglas de conducta sobre aquellos que disienten con ella, para restringir el
desarrollo, y si es posible prevenir la formación, de cualquier individualidad que
no esté en armonía con ella, y forzar todas las personalidades a ser moldeadas a
semejanza de la suya propia.
Traducción de: Stuart Mill, On liberty. Page 233.