Part 3

The real man is only a part, a section of the possible man. The possibilities dormant in us are an integral part of our being; and these possibilities enable us to attain something higher and greater. On this power of inner growth rests the confidence of those who, while recognising the evils of this life, fight bravely and hopefully on the side of progress. The statesman wishing to raise his people from within, builds on such a capacity for inner growth, and believes in the realisation of new possibilities; so does the educator in his efforts to cultivate and ennoble men's souls. Art and religion are ever at work, in order to discover new possibilities and bring them home to man. Were it not for such new possibilities and the regenerative power of man, his life could retain nothing of its youthful vigour, and would lapse into stagnation and senility. The same would apply to human civilisation: it would drift away from simplicity and truth, and would become more and more artificial.

It is in our own power to maintain our vitality, and to oppose increasing inner strength to all alien and hostile forces. It is by no means certain that we shall always be victorious; it is one of the tragedies of life that a man's soul is filled with longing for something better, yet is held captive by circumstance, and is finally driven back to that from which he would fain escape. And yet it is this struggle which gives to life its vitality and its greatness; and wherever there is religious conviction, there also dwells the hope that what could not gain full victory in our life, will not be lost before God. To quote Browning:

What I aspired to be, And was not, comforts me....

All instincts immature, All purposes unsure....

All I could never be, All, men ignored in me:

This, I was worth to God.[1]

If all this helps to prove the autonomy of man and his independent power of decision, it does not mean the dissociation of man from all inner cohesion. This freedom only becomes possible by the revelation within him of a new world. There could be no spontaneity of action in single cases, if a world of independent and spontaneous life did not exist and embrace us from within. Thus the individual appertains to the whole, even in the exercise of freedom. That of which he is capable by himself alone, is only his ability to bring his own will into accordance with higher laws. All deep thinkers have seen, in the grasp of the essence of life and the development of its possibilities by means of this individual capacity, not an achievement of man alone, but the manifestation of a higher power, a gift of grace. Life did not seem to them to be so divided between grace and freedom, that one of these factors could only be enriched by what was taken from the other; they considered both to be so indissolubly united, that freedom and the power of inner growth appeared to them to be the highest sign of grace. The most energetic natures, if possessed of any spirituality, have generally felt themselves to be instruments of a higher power and compelled by an inner necessity. This feeling gave them the strength and self-confidence indispensable for their work. In the case of achievement for the visible world, this higher power was mostly looked upon as a dark fate, which protects man as long as it needs him, and abandons him as soon as he ceases to be useful. But in the case of inner change and regeneration, this fate was superseded by a power of love and mercy, which sustains man even in the midst of the greatest dangers. In religion especially, the consciousness of complete dependence on a superior power has not led to a suspension or restriction of activity. This is clearly proved by such men as St. Paul, St. Augustine, and Calvin. They were not the soulless vessels of a truth committed to them; they grasped, by their own recognition and decision, what seemed to them to be the truth. Yet in their own consciousness, achievement was of small value compared to what they revered as a gift of grace. "Quid habemus quod non accepimus?" (St. Augustine). "What have we that we have not received?"

Hitherto we have been concerned with refuting widespread objections to the possibility of morality. We must now consider the violent opposition against the appreciation which morality demands--and must demand. It seems impossible for morality to be unquestionably superior to everything else in life, and to demand absolute obedience to its requirements, since it does not fill the whole of life, but must share men's allegiance with other obligations, and must seek some compromise with them. This objection could only be valid, if our whole life were a homogeneous structure,--if one single aim dominated all activity, and achievement in this direction could alone determine the value of our action. But the case is very different. Even the one fact that two planes unite in our life makes it impossible to apply the same standard to all the variety we encounter. The various values determined by these two planes are too different to be compared with one another. How could we judge sensuous enjoyment and outer success in the same way as we judge values like truth and honour?

Further, morality is not concerned merely with single values appertaining to the higher plane, but with the recognition and appropriation of this higher plane itself: it is a movement from a whole and to a whole. Once the conviction obtains that the spiritual phase of life is something entirely different to nature, the acquisition of it becomes the chief problem of life, and the claim of morality--which upholds the principle of such acquisition--can assert its supremacy over all other claims. Wherever this was contested, the new world revealed by the spiritual life was not fully recognised. The experience of history shows that no artistic or intellectual achievement could prevent a rapid abatement and deterioration of the spiritual life, if the ethical task was not fully recognised. Morality is like religion: neither can take a secondary or even a co-ordinate place; they must be valued _more_ than everything else in life, or else they will inevitably come to mean _less_.

We have now seen that the doubts assailing morality generally proceed from a particular conception of the universe and of man's position in it. This more or less naturalistic conception, in spite of all it claims to be, by no means exhausts the resources of human life. As soon as we recognise the limitations of this conception of life and free ourselves from its tyranny, we are able to acknowledge fully the claims of morality. Nay, more: these claims must then appeal to us as being both legitimate and imperative; and what might at first appear to be unintelligible, will become absolutely clear and certain.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] From "Rabbi Ben Ezra."

IV

EVOLUTION OF THE ETHICAL PRINCIPLE

Having removed the obstructions which oppose the development of morality, we can now inquire into the special characteristics of the morality based on the spiritual life. Since morality recognises the principle of the spiritual life, which it absorbs into its own volition and being, therefore the nature of the spiritual life will also determine the nature of morality itself. We have already seen that the life of the spirit constitutes a new world as compared to the life which originally encompasses us in nature and society, and which, though it contains certain processes of a spiritual character, is yet mainly and fundamentally bound to the senses. The spiritual element is here disintegrated into separate manifestations, and is never free from the alloy of sense. In the new life, the spiritual gains autonomy, becomes a comprehensive whole, and is able to cultivate its own individuality. It reveals a plane of life essentially superior to that of nature. On man devolves the great task of attaining and developing this plane, on which life first acquires self-concentration and inner significance, and becomes real, genuine life.

Let us see how this affects morality. It is not confined to individual provinces of life, but extends over its whole expansion and into every ramification, demanding a change and an uplifting. This refutes a conception of morality which limits it to the relation of man to man, and makes it synonymous with altruism. Morality undoubtedly has much to do in relation to our fellow-men; but does it not also find great tasks in the culture of the soul,--in spiritual work for the world, as expressed in science and art? The quintessence of the Stoical teaching was the development of personality, the proclamation of man's inner autonomy and superiority to the world around him. We can hardly refuse to acknowledge the moral character of this teaching, as also of the Christian teaching, which found expression in men like Augustine, who brought all moral action into immediate connection with God, and derived it from love to Him.

Let us now turn to science and art. We see how, in spite of all inner and outer difficulties, a man like Kant devotes himself in unremitting activity to the lifelong task of finding pure and adequate expression for the perception of truth struggling into consciousness within him. We see how, in the same spirit, an artist scorns all external advantage, and strives only after a pure cultivation and assertion of the creative power within his soul. Must not such fidelity to oneself and to one's own work strike us as being in the highest degree moral? The ethical obligation consequently extends to all ramifications of life. Everywhere we must take possession of the spiritual life for its own sake, transpose ourselves into its inner movement, and exalt it above all concerns of the individual or even of mankind. Therefore we must not seek the highest aim of our actions in the welfare of society, of the community to which we belong.

The welfare of society is a conception capable of very different interpretations. It may mean the mere subjective well-being of people living together. In that case, a new plane of life is not attained; a social utilitarianism develops, which destroys all inner values, and the sole _aim_ of life is to provide the _means_ of life. But the condition of society can also be our chief aim because the new plane, with its essentially new values, is best attained through life in the community. Then we do not place ourselves merely in the service of humanity, but we labour for the development of a spiritual world within the life of man. Then humanity as a whole is uplifted, and acknowledges a great task, while social utilitarianism limits life to the human sphere, and takes from it all possibility of inner uplifting. Utilitarianism is the most dangerous opponent of spiritual productive power, for it degrades to a means what should be valued for its own sake and as the highest aim. Utilitarianism does not change its character by becoming _social_ utilitarianism. Inner progress of life is only possible if the spiritual values, as the true, the good, and the beautiful, are striven after and appreciated for their own sake, and not as a means for promoting human welfare,--if creative production is not actuated by any consideration of results, but is an inner necessity of a man's own soul.

We have seen that the attainment of autonomy in the spiritual life implies a reversion of the original order of things, and that the whole of life is thus seen in a new light. It follows that no real morality can be engendered merely by developing existing conditions, or heightening natural forces. Wherever this was attempted, closer investigation will always show the presence of both the lower and the higher phase, and the consequent weakening of morality. Here Christianity has achieved something of world-wide historical importance: it clearly demonstrated the gulf between all merely natural development and real moral action; it has also shown us that something essentially new appears in morality, something unattainable by merely ennobling nature.

This was not only the case with religion, for the deepest thinkers of all times have seen in morality not a mere intensification, but a complete transformation. Plato made real virtue dependent on aspiration to the world of ideas. He distinguished this virtue from all that men call virtue, though to him it was little more than physical ability. Kant advocated something similar, by forbidding man to base action on inclination alone. He even went so far as to make action against natural inclination a sign of good principle. The requirement thus formulated does not preclude fruitful moral germs and impulses in the existing order of things; but their full development is only possible when a distinct reversion has taken place, and when an independent spiritual life purifies, unites, and exalts all beginnings. These alone can never, by a slow process of evolution, raise life to the plane of genuine spirituality. As we have seen, the morality of the spiritual life rejects a merely natural origin. But because it represents something essentially new, its main object cannot consist in the denial and suppression of mere nature. This was the aim of asceticism, especially in its development as a reaction against the antique over-estimation of nature. In the latter days of antiquity, life was swamped and enfeebled by a refined form of sensuality. Life could only develop if this sensuality was resisted and full supremacy was advocated for the spiritual. We can understand that those engaged in this struggle went so far as to see the highest morality in the complete suppression of sensual life. This bears witness to admirable personal feeling; and yet it was a dangerous error, for it diverted men from the great task of giving inner significance to life, and of filling it with strong and healthy love. The strictest asceticism can be united to inner hollowness, to spiritual pride, and to want of love. An ascetic element is inseparable from all morality, but only an element subject to higher aims. We feel it to have been one of the great merits of the Reformation, that it set aside the mediæval appreciation of asceticism.

If it is true that autonomy of the spiritual life results in progression towards a new plane, then only such forms of morality can satisfy us as fully acknowledge such progression and the consequent affirmation of life,--as establish the value of man, and stimulate him to strenuous effort. All systems which base morality on pity alone must therefore appear inadequate. Pity does much to free man from narrow egoism, and to inspire him with sympathy for others, even for all mankind; but pity alone shows only one side of life--only limitations and difficulties, suffering and gloom. It restricts man's outlook to this one side of life, so that he can acquire neither glad courage nor any impulse tending to the uplifting of his existence. Pity reveals no new possibilities as love does it; complete resignation here forms the highest pinnacle of the philosophy of life and not the creating of a new world.

Neither can a system of morality satisfy us which only draws up laws and regulations,--which indicates definite channels of action, without vitalising action or giving it any progressive impulse. This might suffice if man only had to take his place in a given order of things. But it is quite inadequate if the whole soul is to be gained for a new plane, and if a new order of things is to be built up within the human sphere. There is, besides, the danger of interpreting morality above all as a narrowing, a police system of life, and of thus forfeiting man's sympathy. We do not deny that the uplifting, inseparable from spiritual life, demands many struggles and renunciations. We can only rise to an affirmative by means of a decided negation--a negation rendered necessary by the brutality of mere nature and the pettiness of mere man. In the history of mankind, morality at first operated chiefly through prohibition: it was necessary to restrain the wild natural impulses and destructive passions of man, in order to prepare the way for spiritual activity. We have but to think of the frequent recurrence of prohibitive laws in the older legislation of all nations. But there is a great distinction, even in this primitive form of morality. The lower kind may remain permanently on the grade of negation, while higher forms will work their way through the negation to affirmation, and will retain consciousness of this affirmation even in presence of negation. Morality must consequently be productive in character, not merely regulative. Productive morality will press forward, not waiting till man is brought face to face with a new requirement or an opportunity of action, but taking the initiative, seeking new points of attack, bringing everything into movement, and promoting the growth of the spiritual life.

Even then, morality cannot limit its task to the ordering of private life, but must extend its activity to general conditions and human society. Life in the community must be exalted, and fitted to become the representative of spiritual life. It is one of the chief demands of modern times, that not only private life, but the whole of human society, should be subject to moral judgment and moral operation. Hegel condemned as "paltriness of faith," (Kleinkrämerei des Glaubens) men's belief in the guidance of their personal destiny by divine might and wisdom, while at the same time they believed the fate of mankind, as manifested in the history of the world, to be governed by blind unreasonable chance. We must also combat a paltriness of morality which concerns itself with the private affairs of individuals, but shows no interest and recognises no obligation with regard to what concerns humanity at large. In former times, when man was conscious of his weakness with regard to his environment, the most hopeless situation could be accepted as the will of God or as a decree of fate. But the modern man, with his consciousness of power and of his obligations towards the community, cannot reject the idea of the moral solidarity of all. He must therefore concern himself with the general conditions of mankind, and must display active interest in this direction.

Let us further consider what has been achieved by the autonomy of the spiritual life. We must first of all return to the new depth of life which we have already recognised as one of its most important results. This means that we must cultivate in ourselves a firm basis, a continuous activity which determines, vitalises, and permeates each individual action. We must develop a distinct nucleus, an essential character which is not a mere background to our activity, but an integral part of it. This being the case, morality cannot be satisfied with stimulating man to certain achievements, and setting free the forces within him; it demands of him a new life, in which he must strive to make the deepening of activity we have been considering, an essential part of all his action. This is the ideal we try to realise in the development of personality and moral character. We want not merely to _act_ but to _be_ something, to make something out of ourselves, to put our own personal self into our action, and to so act that we ourselves thereby grow and advance. Only then life is so concentrated on itself and becomes self-conscious and self-centred--only then can it gain significance; it will otherwise be empty and hollow inwardly, in spite of unremitting activity. This is what justifies the estimation in which the ideas of personality and character are held. Why indeed should we value it so highly, were it but an accumulation of natural forces and impulses, and not the representative and starting-point of a new life?

Not only in individuals must such a depth of being, such a spiritual individuality be developed; but in every community, in every nation, in all mankind. Everywhere must a spiritual character be formed, and this spiritual character must inspire and permeate all action. Only thus can a spiritual atmosphere be created,--can a really civilised nation be differentiated from other nations; only thus, and not by means of outer victories and conquests, can any nation gain lasting significance for all humanity. So, for instance, Greek culture is a possession forever.

In all this, it is evident that in striving for morality, we are not seeking something alien, but rather our own essential being. Yet this being does not already exist in us, but has first to be acquired; it lies not behind us, but in front of us; we cannot take for granted a firm basis and positive continuity, which we see before us as high tasks and ideals. From the imperfect and incomplete life we generally lead, we must resolutely advance towards real and genuine life. While striving after morality, we are at the same time battling for our own spiritual self; we cannot but feel morality as a living inner presence, a source of strength and of joyous impulse to action. Thus understood, morality needs no reward from without; indeed, it sustains grave injury, if action is dominated by the thought of reward. For then the autonomy and independence which are above all aimed at, must be given up; and we force under an alien yoke that life which should be based on itself alone.

Such accentuation of autonomy in life and morality, might seem to exalt man unduly, and to inspire him with self-conscious pride. But we have already guarded ourselves against such misapprehension. We have seen that every undertaking possible to the individual lies within a sustaining and impelling movement of the whole. The recognition of morality is therefore not a matter of personal option or caprice. The life of the whole operates in the individual; but, on the other hand, his decision influences the whole of reality in the direction of progress or retrogression. In this way the conception of duty arises, in which the whole of life, the whole of the cosmic movement formulates a claim on us. Kant rightly pointed out that duty cannot come to us from without, but must proceed from our own being. This can only be the case if our being experiences an inner gradation. A spiritual world speaks within us, not as something alien, but in union with our own innermost being, as the depth of our own soul. The idea of duty is necessary in proportion to the consciousness and recognition of the difference between man as he is, and the inner world which corresponds to his innermost being. Wherever this consciousness grows dim, there morality speedily experiences an inner weakening. Duty is the salt of life. Where it is lacking, life, however brilliant externally, becomes inwardly tame and insipid, while on the other hand, duty can impart inner greatness and dignity to what appears small and insignificant. But as we do not wish the presence of salt to be everywhere perceptible, so also the idea of duty must not always force itself on our consciousness, but must be a latent power in our soul and life, lifting us above all that is arbitrary and capricious. We must take duty up into our inner being, and not place it there as something alien or hostile. Moral life can quite well unite earnestness and joy, reverence and love--earnestness and reverence towards the superior majesty of a higher power operative to us, joy and love arising from the mighty presence of this higher power within us.

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