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this fate was superseded by a power of love and mercy, which sustains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.
* * * * *