Part 2

We see something essentially different, wherever spiritual life develops. Here life is not decomposed into a multitude of separate particles, but inner cohesions are formed, which embrace and dominate all achievement of individual beings. This is especially the case when human thought aspires towards Truth. Every individual has his own sum of conceptions and his own special associations; but he does not possess a truth of his own. All search for truth is based on the conviction that something must be acquired which is common to all men, and which embraces and governs them all. Aspiration thus extends far beyond separate individuals. We have here not a disconnected mass of assertion and dogma; all is gathered into a well ordered cohesion, and all separate efforts result in progression to the whole. Every kind of intellectual endeavour presents a similar situation. Thus the Good and the Beautiful are not values confined to single individuals; every man striving after them, only contributes towards the sum of common endeavour, and what he wins for himself is at the same time a gain for all. Aspiration is not confined to a limited number of separate results, but the manifestation of a great whole is sought for: a comprehensive realm of the good and the beautiful.

Once the mind is thus concentrated on the whole, greater spiritual independence inevitably ensues. For it is necessary to rise above the sense impression and constantly to assert the autonomy of the soul, if aspiration from the whole and to the whole is to be successfully developed. From being a mere accessory, the soul now becomes in all respects a source of independent life. In science ideas gain a significance of their own, apart from the impressions of sense; they develop their own laws, and react with transforming power on what they have absorbed, as we see in the case of mathematics. Our own mind supplies the forms in which we shape our world. Feeling also frees itself from sense impressions. Sense enjoyment no longer suffices for man's happiness. His relation to other human beings does not remain confined to external contact; pity and love can embrace the whole of mankind, as is proved by the great religions. We can no longer doubt man's capacity of aspiring to values far beyond external possessions; and his inner life, the development of his own individual personality may become a matter of paramount importance to him.

But this inner life, with all its distinct manifestations, can cope successfully with the outer world and its forcible inroads, only by developing an inner realm which it extends to an independent world of its own. This does in reality take place. What was at first beside us and apart from us, can be transferred to the soul without merging into it. The antithesis between internal and external values, which at first seemed to disintegrate life, can be overcome, if spiritual endeavour absorbs the object and brings it into reciprocal action with spiritual forces. Where spiritual development is at its highest, life does not fluctuate between the subjective and objective, but unites both in itself, brings them into reciprocal action, and develops one by means of the other. Such a triumph over antitheses is to be seen most clearly in the province of art. Art is not merely capable of copying external objects as exactly as possible, or of rendering with the greatest possible truth the feeling of the individual: really great art must embrace both factors and blend them to a perfect unity. This is how a real work of art is created, which then gives to life an inner expansion and a new reality.

As in art, so also in the other provinces human life. In the mutual relation of man to man, the spiritual phase by no means does away with all distinctions, but it exalts us above them, and embraces them all from a higher point of view. Individuals are not to be merged in a hazy and colourless whole, but in rising towards a higher life an inner communion becomes possible, within which even what is alien becomes to a certain extent our own. This enables men to understand each other, to put themselves in the place of one another, to find themselves in others. Man acquires in such communion a vaster self, which is not dependent on one tiny atom, but has a whole world of its own.

If scientific research is not to degenerate into barren scepticism, it must also overcome the antithesis of the subjective and the objective. To do this, it assimilates external objects by means of thought, and strives to embrace at the same time both the inner man and the outer world, developing one by means of the other.

We observe everywhere this tendency to subject everything to the operation of spiritual forces--to create and develop an inner world. Here all problems are confined to life itself, which is no longer concerned with extraneous matters, but with itself alone. In this inner world, life develops in its own way; it finds its aims and ideals in itself, in its own perfection, in its complete triumph over the antitheses it embraces.

How are we to interpret this new life and its origin? It cannot have proceeded from that nature inferior to man, from which it differs even in its most elementary fundamental forms. It cannot be a creation of man alone, in whom--as experience proves--it is far too weak, too much alloyed with lower and sensual elements, for a new gradation of life to originate in him. Nothing therefore remains but to recognise in this inward tendency a movement of the universe--a movement in which man is privileged to participate, but which he could never engender from out of his own nature. The recognition of such a movement completely changes the aspect of reality. The universe now seems to embrace two planes, and to be rising--at least as far as humanity is concerned--from one plane to the other. A new light is cast on reality, which ceases to be a collection of separate and non-cohesive elements, and becomes capable of comprehensive operation and of self-concentration. We realise that what at first appeared to be the whole of reality was only its outer aspect, which is supplemented by the new depth revealed to us. It is only the development of these depths that gives life its real significance; values come into existence which lie beyond the natural instinct of self-preservation--such values as the good, the true, and the beautiful.

Let us now see how this order of things strikes and influences man. The new phase of life at first appears--in man--only in a few individual operations, while his life and aspiration are still mainly determined by nature and natural self-preservation. A certain spirituality does indeed appear wherever there is human life, yet only as something subordinate, as an accessory to another kind of life, but without the autonomy necessary to a comprehensive and self-centred whole, which could develop its own specific character. If man is to participate in the movement of the universe and bring the spiritual into full operation in himself, this autonomy of the spiritual life is of paramount importance. It can only develop where a movement reaches man from the universe, embraces him, and determines his further course. But, at the same time, man must recognise and seize this impulse, thus taking possession of this new life. We have seen that what used to be considered of secondary importance, is now of paramount value. This requires a reversion of the original order of things, a readjustment of the values of life. We have not to realise any new achievement within a given sphere of activity, or to further develop existing conditions; we have to acquire an essentially new life.

The requirements thus formulated lead to a system of ethics. Its fundamental doctrine is man's power to rise by free action to the higher plane of cosmic life, and to develop it with all the strength of his soul. We have shown that the new object of our endeavour is not something unfamiliar that suddenly invades our consciousness. For it is the working within us of some spiritual force, that exalts us above the animal world to the status of human beings. But the spiritual life undergoes an essential change, as soon as it acquires autonomy within us. As long as it was held to be of secondary importance, it was chiefly appreciated as a means towards human ends: spiritual forces were to give us more power over external realities, and fuller enjoyment of life, but we did not penetrate into the life of the spirit and there find a new world. If we do this in accordance with the transformation of life we have been considering, great results will soon appear. In science and art, as well as in law and morality, our efforts will be accompanied by such strength, devotion, and gladness as we never before experienced. We shall operate with the laws and powers inherent in the things themselves; we shall become indifferent to outer profit and success, and shall find full satisfaction in the manifestation of genuine spiritual life, in spite of the trials and difficulties it may offer. If the spiritual life can thus grow towards perfection, undisturbed by human aims, it will manifest all its values in rich and pure abundance; it will reveal a new world, and will open up a new depth of reality. We thus take possession of a world which exalts us far above all petty human considerations, yet which is not alien and unfamiliar to us, but is essentially our own life and being.

With autonomy, the spiritual life also gains more unity. As at first manifested in human life, it is divided into a variety of separate branches--such as art, science, law, technical knowledge--which lack all inner cohesion and mutual understanding. If the autonomy of the spiritual life reveals a new phase of reality, it must also form a comprehensive whole, of which all the separate provinces are but the various manifestations. They themselves now appear in a new light, and every province must determine its position and significance in the whole, and must submit to the operation of the forces proceeding from the whole. This will give more depth and more soul to the activity in each separate province, while all will seek to come into closer touch and to supplement one another.

All this implies a great task for man. He is an imperfect and unfinished being, full of contradictions. He has to seek and achieve genuine life; he must penetrate from the sphere of effects to that of their causes; he must recognise the great cosmic movement as a personal concern of his own, and must thus give meaning and value to his life and aspiration.

We have here a matter of vast import. Not only must the new world be recognised and taken possession of by the individual, but a new order of things, valid for all humanity, must be created and triumphantly asserted against an entirely different order of things. Instead of the mere juxtaposition which the world of sense at first presents to us, we must establish inner cohesion in society and history. The efforts of all humanity must supplement the visible world, to which we remain bound, by an invisible one, and must make of this invisible world the chief seat of human life. While time is forever flowing onward, permanent truths and values of life must be found, which can sustain from within all aspiration and endeavour. We human beings must realise a higher life within given natural conditions; and to do this, we have first to create and establish a new order of things within our own sphere of existence. This transforms our life into a never ending task, but also imparts to it an incomparable greatness. While thus striving forward, the individual must first of all submerge himself in the new world as a whole, until he finds there his true life, his real and higher self. A complete negation of the little _Ego_ and emancipation from it are requisite. This does not mean that the individual is to disappear and be absorbed by the infinite. The infinite becomes a living present at this special point, and the individual must take possession of it and assert it. He must also promote the forward movement of life, and must enrich reality by the culture of a spiritual individuality, very different from the one nature has given him. This spiritual individuality can only develop on the basis of the spiritual life, from which it takes its aims and standards; and it must always be in harmony with the movement of the whole.

It is evident that all these factors have laid the foundations for a system of ethics. As we have seen, life as a whole challenges man to a great change, to a decision, an action, but also to unremitting work for the establishment of a new order of things. That which gives us human beings our pre-eminence and constitutes our innermost essence is not to be gained without our own efforts, and pervades our life as a continuous task. We may call the morality arising thence the Ethics of the Spiritual Life, for the centre of life and its ruling motive lie in man's relation to a superior spiritual life, which is at the root of his own being and yet has to be acquired by his own action and effort. Morality represents the principles underlying this great change. Morality grasps the question as a whole. Morality elucidates the fact that all the variety of work is dominated by strife for a spiritual self, a strife which can only be successful if the original situation is reversed.

We must now try to determine more closely what form these ethics are to take, and whether they are able to overcome the objections which confront every kind of morality.

III

A DEFENCE OF THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE

Before we proceed further in the direction indicated, we must see whether our own convictions are capable of overcoming the opposition and impediments to morality, presented by widespread currents of contemporary thought. Were we unable to overcome them, then all further advance would be stamped by inner uncertainty.

The first objection was, that all human action must tend to the preservation and advancement of the performer, so that action apart from self-interest, as required by morality, is impossible. We are told that man cannot be inspired and moved to action by any aim outside his own personality, and that even where this appears to be the case, closer examination reveals some hidden motive of self-interest. This was the doctrine of Spinoza and is now a widespread conviction. There is undoubtedly some truth in the fundamental idea, but it is by no means certain that this truth is rightly applied. It is true that all endeavour must start from the life and being of a man and reflect back on him. Something absolutely alien would necessarily leave us cold and indifferent; by his action man must in some way grow and gain and assert his own inner self.

But we must ask ourselves whether the natural Ego, to which the opponent of morality binds all human action, represents the whole of man's life, and whether all endeavour is obliged to serve the interests of natural self-preservation. If a man recognises any kind of spiritual activity in its specific working, he will reject such limitation; and the more he sees in the spiritual life a new and independent phase of reality, the more decisively will he declare that a real self is not contained in the natural Ego, but must first be acquired by means of the spiritual life. In spite of all the subjective force and passion displayed in the self-preservation of the natural Ego, this Ego and its life are without inner significance: it plans and acts, without being absorbed and illuminated by an inner force; it remains alien and dense.

On the spiritual plane, on the other hand, man acquires an individuality, and is able to embrace a whole of reality, into the life of which he submerges himself; and in developing this life, he is able to find full satisfaction and joy. The spiritual life does indeed demand repression, subjection, and even sacrifice of the little Ego; yet the experience of humanity clearly proves that life thereby suffers neither degradation nor disintegration, but rather, that it is thus strengthened and regenerated. Life is certainly not weakened or extinguished in the efforts to gain truth and beauty, in the activity of the scholar and the artist, in social and philanthropic work. By enfranchisement from the little Ego, life has gained in expansion and strength. Man is conscious of finding his real self and of developing his innermost being in such work, not of promoting ends outside himself. All deeper religions and systems of philosophy have in common this requirement that man should give up his little Ego, and they promise that from this renunciation a new life shall be born, which is of infinitely greater meaning and value than the old life. The movement towards spirituality is not a mere negation, but leads to an assertion founded on the basis of negation. Once man has found the right plane of life, and has acquired a new individuality, the gulf between man and the universe is bridged over. Man can then come into inner relation with reality, and can take possession of the infinite. This is the meaning of Goethe's lines:

Und so lang du dies nicht hast, Dieses "Stirb und Werde!" Bist du nur ein trüber Gast Auf der dunklen Erde.

(Till thou hearest the behest Saying: "Death is Birth!" Thou art but a dreary guest On the gloomy earth.)

If this is the case, then all spiritual work contributes to the development of a new, real self; then no blame can be attached to morality for advocating the absolute necessity of this change, and for recognising, in all ramifications of work, the one great task of developing a new human individuality. Morality will not thereby weaken and suppress the impulse of life, but will direct it into the right channel and ennoble it. By treating man's task as a harmonious whole--which at the same time forms part of the one great entity--it will act as a stimulus on all the separate provinces of life. The gravity of this ethical task is heightened by the fact, that we must pass through a negative stage in order to reach one of positive affirmation, and that all action which denies or obscures such negation, remains one-sided and imperfect.

Closely allied to this first objection to morality is the second: the assertion of the Determinists that human action is but part of an immutable concatenation, and that the decision of the moment arises, with inevitable necessity, from what is and what has been. This is an old assertion, reaching back to the latter days of antiquity. It has frequently aroused men to passion in the domain of religion. It permeates modern philosophy, and has found classical expression in the doctrine of Spinoza. In our day, it is often confirmed by a more careful study of the universe. Favourable to Determinism is also our modern insight into such forces as heredity and social environment, and our greater knowledge of psychology. Everywhere the single atom appears as the result of some cohesion, of which it at the same time forms part. Closer observation only accentuates such dependence; we can no longer consider a separate atom or moment as something absolutely self-centred, nor can we interpret any action as really taking place suddenly. There exists, without doubt, more cohesion and more subordination than was formerly believed, or is often accepted even now.

However legitimate these considerations may be, it does not follow that they exhaust all the possibilities offered by reality. If we declare that man is completely absorbed in such concatenation, we must assume what is by no means unassailable: that man is simply part of a given order of things, of a natural mechanism, of a network of causality. Were he in reality no more than this, there would be no possibility of his own decision, no freedom of action, and consequently no morality. This would destroy, not morality alone, but much that its opponents could not well give up. If our life were merely part of a natural mechanism, it would necessarily cease to be our own life; it would be only a process realised in us without our co-operation, and our attitude to it would resemble our attitude to our bodily functions. It is difficult to see how we could then be made responsible by society, or how we could ourselves feel any responsibility,--how such conceptions as those of good and evil could come into existence and engross our attention. Neither would there be any real present, for if there is no demand for decision, and no room for original action, all action would, with inevitable necessity, grow out of the past, like a flower out of its bud, without our co-operation.

We might be able to endure such determination of our life for all time, if the various movements could easily meet and mingle in our soul, without any complications. But if our life contains great problems, grave conflicts, various and often opposed planes, then we human beings, did we submit passively and unresistingly, would be chained like Prometheus to a pitiless rock. Determinism, if followed to its logical conclusion, is nothing less than inner annihilation of life.

Such recognition necessarily brings us to the question whether the hypothesis held by the Determinists is unassailable. Do we really appertain absolutely to a given and distinctly limited existence? From the point of view of a new plane of reality manifested by the spiritual life, our reply must be a decided negative. As we have seen, this new phase does not embrace us from the beginning, but must be grasped, appropriated, and developed by us; our own decision and action are here indispensable. Our life must indeed reckon with certain given factors; we must recognise the powerful influence of heredity and environment. Our individuality is determined for us by nature; we cannot in all things remould ourselves as we would wish to do; we are on all sides encompassed by fate. But man is not entirely at the mercy of this fate. The spiritual life which can grow up in him gives him a new, spontaneous source of life; he can originate something new, something entirely his own, and can oppose his own action to fate.

Our life thus becomes a struggle between freedom and fate; and to this struggle it chiefly owes its expansion and greatness. The idea of development is therefore not applicable to the progression of human life. There is no inevitable sequence on a well established basis and in one definite direction; later results are not simply determined by what has gone before; one thing does not follow another naturally and easily, but various elements meet and clash. Time after time, we are in danger of losing what we seemed to have won; over and over again, we must climb to the summit of life. But this struggle constantly calls forth new powers. We see that there is much more in us than appeared at first sight, or than we ourselves were wont to believe. Great shocks and strong emotions often produce new convictions or set free new forces within us. It is, above all, suffering which rouses and regenerates, which teaches us to see and cultivate the deepest that is in us. What hitherto seemed to constitute our whole being, now proves to be but a single stratum, which it is quite possible to transcend.