This pure, elevating, merely negative presentation of morality brings with it, on the other hand, no danger of _fanaticism_, which is _a delusion that we can will ourselves to see something beyond all bounds of sensibility_, _i.e._ to dream in accordance with fundamental propositions (or to go mad with Reason); and this is so just because this presentation is merely negative. For the _inscrutableness of the Idea of Freedom_ quite cuts it off from any positive presentation; but the moral law is in itself sufficiently and originally determinant in us, so that it does not permit us to cast a glance at any ground of determination external to itself. If enthusiasm is comparable to _madness_, fanaticism is comparable to _monomania_; of which the latter is least of all compatible with the sublime, because in its detail it is ridiculous. In enthusiasm, regarded as an affection, the Imagination is without bridle; in fanaticism, regarded as an inveterate, brooding passion, it is without rule. The first is a transitory accident which sometimes befalls the soundest Understanding; the second is a disease which unsettles it. _Simplicity_ (purposiveness without art) is as it were the style of Nature in the sublime, and so also of Morality which is a second (supersensible) nature; of which we only know the laws without being able to reach by intuition that supersensible faculty in ourselves which contains the ground of the legislation. Now the satisfaction in the Beautiful, like that in the Sublime, is not alone distinguishable from other aesthetical judgements by its universal _communicability_, but also because, through this very property, it acquires an interest in reference to society (in which this communication is possible). We must, however, remark that _separation from all society_ is regarded as sublime, if it rests upon Ideas that overlook all sensible interest. To be sufficient for oneself, and consequently to have no need of society, without at the same time being unsociable, _i.e._ without flying from it, is something bordering on the sublime; as is any dispensing with wants. On the other hand, to fly from men from _misanthropy_, because we bear ill-will to them, or from _anthropophoby_ (shyness), because we fear them as foes, is partly hateful, partly contemptible. There is indeed a misanthropy (very improperly so-called), the tendency to which frequently appears with old age in many right-thinking men; which is philanthropic enough as far as _goodwill_ to men is concerned, but which through long and sad experience is far removed from _satisfaction_ with men. Evidence of this is afforded by the propensity to solitude, the fantastic wish for a secluded country seat, or (in the case of young persons) by the dream of the happiness of passing one’s life with a little family upon some island unknown to the rest of the world; a dream of which story-tellers or writers of Robinsonades know how to make good use. Falsehood,