You must rouse into people's consciousness their own prudence

Hear now the words of Luc de Clapiers, Marquis de Vauvenargues, a voice of clarity from the 18th century: “You must rouse into people's consciousness their own prudence and strength, if you want to raise their character.” In this saying lies a truth profound and eternal, that no man or woman is truly elevated by gifts bestowed from without, but by the awakening of the virtues that already lie hidden within their own souls. To raise another is not to carry them, but to awaken in them the realization of their own power.

The origin of these words rests in Vauvenargues’s reflections on human nature, penned during a short life marked by both frailty and brilliance. Born into nobility yet burdened by ill health, he turned his gaze inward and outward, studying the movements of the human heart. He saw that flattery may intoxicate, charity may soothe, and authority may command—but none of these truly raise the character of a man. Only when he himself discovers his prudence—the wisdom to act with foresight—and his strength—the courage to endure and to strive—does his soul begin to ascend.

This wisdom echoes through history. Consider the story of Epictetus, the Stoic philosopher who was born a slave. Though bound in chains, he came to understand that freedom and greatness come not from external liberators, but from the awakening of inner discipline and strength. His master could beat his body, but could never conquer his mind. Epictetus became a teacher to emperors and common men alike, showing them that by discovering their own prudence and inner power, they could elevate themselves beyond all external chains. His life embodies the spirit of Vauvenargues’s words: to raise character is to awaken self-mastery.

There is in this saying also a subtle warning: those who seek to improve others by domination or by constant provision may weaken them instead. A parent who shields a child from every trial leaves them unready for life. A leader who demands blind obedience raises not noble souls but mere servants. But the one who rouses consciousness, who awakens others to their own capacity for wisdom and endurance, becomes a true guide. For the flame of character, once lit from within, cannot be extinguished by any storm.

The teaching applies not only to leaders but to each of us in our dealings with others. To inspire is greater than to command. To awaken is greater than to bestow. If you wish to raise a friend, a child, a community, you must remind them of what already lies within their grasp: their ability to think clearly, to act wisely, to endure hardship, and to stand strong. This is the noble art of mentorship and true love—not to replace the will of another, but to call it forth.

Consider also the life of Abraham Lincoln. In the darkest days of the American Civil War, he did not merely order his generals and citizens to endure; he spoke in ways that awakened in them their own capacity for sacrifice, courage, and unity. His words at Gettysburg did not give them something foreign—they gave voice to what already burned in their hearts. In doing so, he raised the character of a nation, not by imposing greatness, but by summoning it from within.

The lesson for us is clear: if you wish to shape others, do not strive to mold them as clay, but to awaken them as seeds. Teach them to trust their prudence, to draw upon their strength, and to recognize their own worth. In so doing, you give them the tools not only to face the trials before them, but to walk with dignity all their days.

Thus, O seeker, take these words of Vauvenargues into your life. When you guide, do so with gentleness that awakens; when you teach, do so with wisdom that inspires; when you love, do so in a way that reveals strength in the one you love. For only when a man or woman sees their prudence and strength clearly can their character be raised to its true height. This is the eternal law: greatness is not given, but awakened. And he who awakens it becomes a torchbearer for generations.