THE MORAL JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION[1]
It is generally agreed that religion is either the paramount issue or the
most serious obstacle to progress. To its devotees religion is of
overwhelming importance; to unbelievers it is, in the phrasing of Burke,
"superstitious folly, enthusiastical nonsense, and holy tyranny." The
difference between the friends and the enemies of religion may, I think,
be resolved as follows:
Religion recognizes some final arbitration of human destiny; it is a
lively awareness of the fact that, while man proposes, it is only within
certain narrow limits that he can dispose his own plans. His nicest
adjustments and most ardent longings are overruled; he knows that until
he can discount or conciliate that which commands his fortunes his
condition is precarious and miserable. And through his eagerness to save
himself he leaps to conclusions that are uncritical and premature.
Irreligion, on the other hand, flourishes among those who are more snugly
intrenched {215} within the cities of man. It is a product of
civilization. Comfortably housed as he is, and enjoying an artificial
illumination behind drawn blinds, the irreligious man has the heart to
criticise the hasty speculations and abject fear of those who stand
without in the presence of the surrounding darkness. In other words,
religion is perpetually on the exposed side of civilization, sensitive to
the blasts that blow from the surrounding universe; while irreligion is
in the lee of civilization, with enough remove from danger to foster a
refined concern for logic and personal liberty. There is a sense, then,
in which both religion and irreligion are to be justified. If religion
is guilty of unreason, irreligion is guilty of apathy. For without doubt
the situation of the individual man is broadly such as religion conceives
it to be. There is nothing that he can build, nor any precaution that he
can take, that weighs appreciably in the balance against the powers which
decree good and ill fortune, catastrophe and triumph, life and death.
Hence to be without fear is the part of folly. Behold, the fear of the
Lord, that is wisdom.
Religion is man's recognition of the overruling control of his fortunes.
It is neither metaphysical nor mythical, but urgently practical.
Primeval chaos, Chronos, the father of Zeus, and the long line of
speculative Absolutes have no {216} worshippers because they take no hand
in man's affairs. They may be neglected with impunity. But not so the
gods who send health and sickness, fertility and death, victory and
defeat; or He who sits in judgment on the last day to determine the doom
of eternity. Religion is the manifestation of supreme concern for life,
an alertness to the remotest threat of danger and promise of hope. A
certain momentousness attaches to all the affairs of religion, because
everything is at stake. Its dealings are with the last court of appeal,
in behalf of the most indispensable good.
In form, religion is a case of _belief_; that is, of settled conviction.
There is no religion until some interpretation of life, some
accommodation between man and God, has been so far accepted as to be
unhesitatingly practised. The absurdity of doubt in matters of religion
has been pointed out in the well-known parody, "O God, if there be a God,
save my soul, if I have a soul." The quality of religion lies not in the
entertaining of a speculative hypothesis, but in an assurance so
confident that its object is not only thought but enacted. God is not
God until his unquestioned existence is assimilated to life. Indeed, it
is conceivable that an object thus made the basis of action should still
remain theoretically doubtful. To Fontenelle is attributed the remark
that he "did not believe in ghosts, but was afraid of {217} them." This
is a paradox until we distinguish theoretical and practical conviction;
then it becomes not only credible but commonplace. If one prays to God,
it is not necessary for the purposes of religion that one should, in
Fontenelle's sense, believe in him. But I prefer to use the term
"belief" more strictly, to connote such assent as expresses itself, not
in a deliberate judgment made conformable to one's intellectual
conscience, but in fear, love, and purpose, in habitual imagery, in any
attitude or activity that spontaneously and freely presupposes the object
with which it deals.
By conceiving religion as belief we may understand not only its air of
certainty, but also the variety of its forms and agencies. Belief sits
at the centre of life and qualifies all its manifestations. Hence the
futility of attempting to associate religion exclusively with any single
function of man. The guises in which religious belief may appear are as
multiform as human nature, and will vary with every shading of mood and
temperament. Its central objects may be thought, imagined, or dealt
with--in short, responded to in all the divers ways, internal and overt,
that the powers and occasions of life define.
This will suffice, I trust, to lay the general topic of religion before
us. I shall employ the terms and phrases which I have formulated as a
{218} working definition: _Religion is belief on the part of individuals
or communities concerning the final or overruling control of their
interests_.[2] I propose from this point to keep in the forefront of the
discussion the standards whereby religion is to be estimated, and
approved or condemned. On what grounds may a religion be criticised?
What would constitute the proof of an absolute religion? History is
strewn with discredited religions; men began to quarrel over religion so
soon as they had any; and it is customary for every religious devotee to
believe jealously and exclusively. There can be no doubt, then, that
religion is subject to justification; it remains to distinguish the tests
which may with propriety be applied, and in particular to isolate and
emphasize the moral test.
II
In the first place, let me mention briefly a test which it is customary
to apply, but which is not so much an estimate as it is a measure. I
refer to the various respects in which an individual or community may be
said to be _more_ or _less_ religious. Thus, for example, certain
religious phenomena surpass others in acuteness or intensity. This is
peculiarly true of the phenomena manifested in conversion and in
revivals. In this respect the mysteries of the ancients exceeded {219}
their regular public worship. Individuals and communities vary in the
degree to which they are capable of enthusiasm, excitement, or ecstasy.
Or a religion may be measured extensively. He whose religion is constant
and uniform is more religious than he whose observance is confined to the
Sabbath day, or he whose concern in the matter appears only in time of
trouble or at the approach of death. This test may best be summed up in
terms of consistency. Religion may vary in the degree to which it
pervades the various activities of life. That religion is confined and
small which manifests itself only in words or public deeds or emotions
exclusively. If it is to be effective it must be systematic, so
thoroughly adopted as to be cumulative and progressive. It must engage
every activity, qualify all thought and imagination, in short, infuse the
whole of life with its saving grace.
It is clear, however, that a measure of religion does not constitute
either proof or disproof. If a religion be good or true, or on like
grounds accredited, then the more of it the better. But differences of
degree appear in all religions. Indeed, the quantitative test has been
most adequately met by forms of religion the warrant of which is
generally held to be highly questionable. We may, therefore, dismiss
this test without further consideration. The application of it must be
{220} based upon a prior and more fundamental justification.
There is one test of religion which has been universally applied by
believers and critics alike, a test which, I think, will shortly appear
to deserve precedence over all others. I refer to the test of truth.
Every religion has been justified to its believers and recommended to
unbelievers on grounds of evidence. It has been verified in its working,
or attested by either observation, reflection, revelation, or authority.
In spite of the general assent which this proposition will doubtless
command, it is deserving of special emphasis at the present time.
Students of religion have latterly shifted attention from its claims to
truth to its utility and subjective form. This pragmatic and
psychological study of religion has created no little confusion of mind
concerning its real meaning, and obscured that which is after all its
essential claim--the claim, namely, to offer an illumination of life.
Religious belief, like all belief, is reducible to judgments. These
judgments are not, it is true, explicit and theoretically formulated; but
they are none the less answerable to evidence from that context of
experience to which they refer. It is true that the believer's assurance
is not consciously rational, but it is none the less liable before the
court of reason. Cardinal Newman {221} fairly expressed the difference
between the method of religion and the method of science when he said
that "ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt," that "difficulty
and doubt are incommensurate." [3] Nevertheless, the difficulties are in
each case germane; and the fact that every article of faith has its
besetting doubt is proof that the thorough justification of faith
requires the settlement of theoretical difficulties.
No religion can survive the demonstration of its untruth; for salvation,
whether present or eternal, depends on processes actually operative in
the environment. Religion must reveal the undeniable situation and
prepare man for it. It must charge the unbeliever with being guilty of
folly, with deceiving himself through failing to see and take heed.
Every religious propaganda is a cry of warning, putting men on their
guard against invisible dangers; or a promise of succor, bringing glad
tidings of great joy. And its prophecy is empty and trivial if the
danger or the succor can be shown to be unreal. The one unfailing bias
in life is the bias for disillusionment, springing from the organic
instinct for that real environment to which, whether friendly or hostile,
it must adapt itself. Every man knows in his heart that he can not be
saved through being deceived. Illusions can not endure, and those who
lightly perpetrate them are fortunate {222} if they escape the resentment
and swift vengeance which overtook the prophets of Baal.
The grounds of religious truth will require prolonged consideration; but
before discussing them further let me first mention a test of religion
which belongs to the class of psychological and pragmatic tests to which
I have just alluded, but which has latterly assumed special prominence.
Though realizing that I use a somewhat disparaging term, I suggest that
we call this the "therapeutic test." It has been proved that the state
of piety possesses a direct curative value through its capacity to
exhilarate or pacify, according to the needs of a disordered mind. As a
potent form of suggestion, it lends itself to the uses of psychiatry; it
may be medicinally employed as a tonic, stimulant, or sedative.
Now we can afford to remind ourselves that, at least from the point of
view of the patient, this use of religion bears a striking resemblance to
certain primitive practices in which God was conceived as a glorified
medicine-man, and the healing of the body strangely confused with
spiritual regeneration. Bishop Gregory of Tours once addressed the
following apostrophe to the worshipful St. Martin: "O unspeakable
theriac! ineffable pigment! admirable antidote! celestial purgative!
superior to all the skill of physicians, more fragrant than aromatic
drugs, stronger than {223} all ointments combined! thou cleanest the
bowels as well as scammony, and the lungs as well as hyssop; thou
cleanest the head as well as camomile!" [4]
It is true that religion is in these days recommended for more subtle
disorders; but even religious ecstasy may be virtually equivalent to a
mere state of emotional exhilaration, or piety to a condition of mental
and moral stupor. What does it profit a man to be content with his lot,
or to experience the rapture of the saints, if he has lost his soul? The
saving of a soul is a much more serious matter than the cessation of
worry or the curing of insomnia, or even than the acquiring of a habit of
delirious joy. Tranquillity and happiness are, it is true, the
legitimate fruits of religion, but only provided they be infused with
goodness and truth. If religion is to be a spiritual tonic, and not
merely a physical tonic, it must be based on moral organization and
intellectual enlightenment. I do not doubt that religion has in all
times recommended itself to men mainly through its contributing to their
lives a certain peculiar buoyancy and peace. There is such a generic
value in religion, which can not be attributed wholly to any of its
component parts. But, like the intensity or extent of religion, this may
manifest itself upon all levels of development. _Sound_ piety, a
tranquillity and happiness {224} which mark the soul's real salvation,
must be founded on truth, on an interpretation of life which expresses
the fullest light. Again, then, we are referred to the test of truth for
the fundamental justification of religion. There is a generic value
which is deserving of the last word, but that word can be said only after
a rigorous examination of the more fundamental values from which it is
derived.
Religious truth is divisible into two judgments, involved in every
religious belief, and answerable respectively to _ethical_ and
_cosmological_ evidence. Since religion is a belief concerning the
overruling control of human interests, it involves on the one hand a
summing up of these interests, a conception of what the believer has at
stake, in short, an ethical judgment; and on the other hand, an
interpretation of the environment at large, in other words, a
cosmological judgment. Religion construes the practical situation in its
totality; which means that it generalizes concerning the content of
fortune, or the good, and the sources of fortune, or nature. Both
factors are invariably present, and no religion can escape criticism on
this twofold ground.
The ethical implications of religion are peculiarly far-reaching, since
they determine not only its conception of man, but also, in part, its
conception of God. This is due to the fact that {225} the term "God"
signifies not the environment in its inherent nature, but the environment
in its bearing on the worshipper's interests. It follows that whether
God be construed as favorable or hostile will depend upon the
worshipper's conception of these interests. Thus, for example, if
worldly success or long life be regarded as the values most eagerly to be
conserved, God must be feared as cruel or capricious; whereas, if the
lesson of discipline and humility be conceived as the highest good, it
may be reasonable to trust the providence of God without any change in
its manifestation.
Furthermore, as we shall shortly have occasion to remark, it is
characteristic of religion to insist, so far as possible, upon the
favorableness of the environment. But this favorableness must be
construed in terms of what are held to be man's highest interests.
Consequently, the disposition and motive of God always reflect human
purposes. This is the main source of the inevitable anthropomorphism of
religion.
Conceptions of nature, on the other hand, define the degree to which the
environment is morally determined, and the unity or plurality of its
causes. Animism, for example, reflects the general opinion that the
causes of natural events are wilful rather than mechanical. Such an
opinion obtained at the time when no sharp {226} distinction was made
between inorganic and organic phenomena, the action of the environment
being conceived as a play of impulses.
Religion is corrected, then, by light obtained from these sources: man's
knowledge of his highest interests, and his knowledge of nature. As a
rule, one or the other of these two methods of criticism tends to
predominate, in accordance with the genius of the race or period. Thus,
the evolution of Greek religion is determined mainly by the development
of science. Xenophanes attacks the religion of his times on the ground
of its crude anthropomorphism. "Mortals," he says, "think that the gods
are born as they are, and have perception like theirs, and voice and
form." But this naïve opinion Xenophanes corrects because it is not
consistent with the new enlightenment concerning the _archê_, or first
principle of nature. "And he [God] abideth ever in the same place,
moving not at all; nor doth it befit him to go about, now hither, now
thither." [5]
In a later age Lucretius criticised the whole system of Greek religion in
terms of the atomistic and mechanical cosmology of Epicurus:
For verily not by design did the first-beginnings of things station
themselves each in its right place guided by keen intelligence, nor did
they bargain sooth to say what motions each should assume; but because
many in number and shifting about in many ways throughout the universe
they are driven and {227} tormented by blows during infinite time past,
after trying motions and unions of every kind at length they fall into
arrangements such as those out of which this our sum of things has been
formed.[6]
In the light of such principles Lucretius demonstrates the absurdity of
hoping or fearing anything from a world beyond or a life to come. In
this case, as in the case above, the religion of enlightenment does not
differ essentially from the religion of the average man in its conception
of the interests at stake, but only in its conception of the methods of
worship or forms of imagery which it is reasonable to employ in view of
the actual nature of the environment.
If, on the other hand, we turn to the early development of the Hebrew
religion, we find that it is corrected to meet the demands not of
cosmological but of ethical enlightenment. No question arises as to the
existence or power of God, but only as to what he requires of those who
serve him. The prophets represent the moral genius of the race, its
acute discernment of the causes of social integrity or decay. "And when
ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye
make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood. Wash
you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine
eyes; cease to do evil: learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve {228}
the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow." [7]
But whichever of these two methods of criticism predominates, it is clear
that they both draw upon bodies of truth which grow independently of
religion. The history of Christianity affords a most remarkable record
of the continual adjustment of religious belief to secular rationality.
The offices of religion have availed no more to justify cruelty,
intolerance, and bigotry than to establish the Ptolemaic astronomy or the
Scriptural account of creation. This is more readily admitted in the
case of natural science than in the case of ethics, but only because
teachers of religion have commonly had a more expert acquaintance with
moral matters than with the orbits of the planets or the natural history
of the earth.
For the principles of conduct, like the principles of nature, must be
derived from a study of the field to which they are applied. They
require nothing more for their establishment than the analysis and
generalization of the moral situation. If two or more persons conduct
themselves with reference to one another and to an external object, their
action either possesses or lacks, in some degree, that specific value
which we call moral goodness. And by the principles of ethics we mean
the principles which truly define and explicate this value. Now neither
the truth nor {229} the falsity of any religion affects these fundamental
and essential conditions. If the teachings of religion be accepted as
true, then certain factors may be added to the concrete practical
situation; but if so, these fall within the field of morality and must be
submitted to ethical principles. Thus, if there be a God whose
personality permits of reciprocal social relations with man, then man
ought, in the moral sense, to be prudent with reference to him, and may
reasonably demand justice or good-will at his hands.
But the mere existence of a God, whatever be his nature, can neither
invalidate nor establish the ethical principles of prudence, justice, and
good-will. Were a God whose existence is proved, to recommend injustice,
this would not affect in the slightest degree the moral obligation to be
just. Moral revelation stands upon precisely the same footing as
revelation in the sphere of theoretical truth: its acceptance can be
justified only through its being confirmed by experience or reason. In
other words, it is the office of revelation to reveal truth, but not to
establish it. In consequence of this fact it may even be necessary that
a man should redeem the truth in defiance of what he takes to be the
disposition of God. Neither individual conscience nor the moral judgment
of mankind can be superseded or modified save through a higher insight
which these may {230} themselves be brought to confirm. Whatever a man
may think of God, if he continues to live in the midst of his fellows, he
places himself within the jurisdiction of the laws which obtain there.
Morality is the method of reconciling and fulfilling the interests of
beings having the capacity to conduct themselves rationally, and ethics
is the formulation of the general principles which underlie this method.
The attempt to live rationally--and, humanly speaking, there is no
alternative save the total abnegation of life--brings one within the
jurisdiction of these principles, precisely as thinking brings one within
the jurisdiction of the principles of logic, or as the moving of one's
body brings one within the jurisdiction of the principles of mechanics.
Religion, then, mediates an enlightenment which it does not of itself
originate. In religious belief the truth which is derived from a
studious observation of nature and the cumulative experience of life, is
heightened and vivified. Like all belief religion is conservative, and
rightly so. But in the long run, steadily and inevitably, it responds to
every forward step which man is enabled to take through the exercise of
his natural cognitive powers. Only so does religion serve its real
purpose of benefiting life by expanding its horizon and defining its
course.
I have hitherto left out of account a certain {231} stress or insistence
that must now be recognized as fundamental in religious development.
This I shall call _the optimistic bias_. This bias is not accidental or
arbitrary, but significant of the fact that religion, like morality,
springs from the same motive as life itself, and makes towards the same
goal of fruition and abundance. Life is essentially interest, and
interest is essentially positive or provident; fear is incidental to
hope, and hate to love. Man seeks to know the worst only in order that
he may avoid or counterwork it in the furtherance of his interests.
Religion is the result of man's search for support in the last extremity.
This is true, even when men are largely preoccupied with the mere
struggle for existence. It appears more and more plainly as life becomes
aggressive, and is engaged in the constructive enterprise of
civilization. Religion expresses man's highest hope of attainment,
whether this be conceived as the efficacy of a fetich or the kingdom of
God.
Such, then, are the general facts of religion, and the fundamental
critical principles which justify and define its development. Religion
is man's belief in salvation, his confident appeal to the overruling
control of his ultimate fortunes. The reconstruction of religious belief
is made necessary whenever it fails to express the last verified truth,
cosmological or ethical. The {232} direction of religious development is
thus a resultant of two forces: the optimistic bias, or the saving hope
of life; and rational criticism, or the progressive revelation of the
principles which define life and its environment.
I shall proceed now to the consideration of types of religion which
illustrate this critical reconstruction. The types which I shall select
represent certain forms of inadequacy which I think it important to
distinguish. They are only roughly historical, as is necessarily the
case, since all religions represent different types in the various stages
of their development, and in the different interpretations which are put
on them in any given time by various classes of believers. I shall
consider in turn, using the terms in a manner to be precisely indicated
as we proceed, _superstition, tutelary religion_, and two forms of
_philosophical religion_, the one _metaphysical idealism_, and the other
_moral idealism_.
III
_Superstition_ is distinguished by a lack of organization both in man and
his environment. It is a direct cross-relationship between an elementary
interest, passion, or need, and some isolated and capricious natural
power. The deity is externally related to the worshipper, having private
interests of his own which the worshipper respects {233} only from
motives of prudence. Religious observance takes the form of barter or
propitiation--_do ut des, do ut abeas_. The method of superstition is
arbitrary, furthermore, in that it is defined only by the liking or
aversion of an unprincipled agency.
Let us consider briefly the type of superstition which is associated with
the most primitive stage in the development of society.[8] The
worshipper has neither raised nor answered the ethical question as to
what is his greatest good. Indeed, he is much more concerned to meet the
pressing needs of life than he is to co-ordinate them or understand to
what they lead. He can not even be said to be actuated by the principle
of rational self-interest. Like the brute, whose lot is similar to his
own, he feels his wants severally, and is forced to meet them as they
arise or be trampled under foot in the struggle for existence. There is
little co-ordination of his interests beyond that which is provided for
in the organic and social structure with which nature has endowed him.
Over and above the instinct of self-preservation he recognizes in custom
the principle of tribal or racial solidarity. But this is proof, not so
much of a recognition of community of interest, as of the vagueness of
his ideas concerning the boundaries of his own self-hood. The very fact
that his interests are scattering and loosely knit prevents him from
clearly {234} distinguishing his own. He readily identifies himself not
only with his body, but with his clothing, his habitation, and various
trinkets which have been accidentally associated with his life. It is
only natural that he should similarly identify himself with those other
beings like himself with whom he is connected by the bonds of blood and
of intimate contact. Morally, then, primitive man is an indefinite and
incoherent aggregate of interests which have not yet assumed the form
even of individual and community purpose.
To turn to the second, or cosmological, component, we find that primitive
man's conception of ultimate powers is like his conception of his own
interests in being both indefinite and incoherent. In consequence of the
daily vicissitudes of his fortune, he is well aware that he is affected
for better or for worse by agencies which fall outside the more familiar
routine operations of society and nature. So great is the disproportion
between the calculable and the incalculable elements of his life that he
is like a man crouching in the dark, expecting a blow from any quarter.
The agencies whose working can be discounted in advance form his secular
world; but this world is narrow and meagre, and is overshadowed by a
beyond which is both mysterious and terrible. Of the world beyond he has
no single comprehensive idea, but he acknowledges it in his {235}
expectation of the injuries and benefits which he may at any time receive
from it. It is an abyss whose depths he has never sounded, but which he
is forced practically to recognize, since he is at the mercy of forces
which emanate from it.
The method of primitive religion is the inevitable sequel. In behalf of
the interests which represent him man must here, as ever, make the best
terms he can with the powers which beset him. He has no concern with
these powers except the desire to propitiate them. He has no knowledge
of their working excepting as respects their bearing upon his interests.
Obeying a law of human nature which is as valid now as then, he seeks for
remedies whose proof is the cure which they effect. Let the association
between a certain action on his own part and a favorable turn in the tide
of fortune once be established, and the subsequent course of events will
seem to confirm it. Coincidences are remembered and exceptions
forgotten. Furthermore, his belief in the effectual working of the
established plan is always justified by the difficulty of proving any
other alternative plan to be better.
But, in order to understand superstition, it is not necessary to
reconstruct the earliest period in the history of society, nor even to
study contemporary savage life, for the superstitious intelligence and
the superstitious method survive {236} in every stage of development.
They appear, for example, in mediaeval Christianity; in Clovis's appeal
to Christ on the battle-field: "Clotilda says that Thou art the Son of
the living God, and that Thou dost give victory to those who put their
trust in Thee. I have besought my gods, but they give me no aid. I see
well that their strength is naught. I beseech Thee, and I will believe
in Thee, only save me from the hands of mine enemies." The same period
is represented by the petition attributed to St. Eloi, "Give, Lord, since
we have given! _Da, Domine, quia dedimus!_" [9] In modern life the
motive of superstition pervades almost all worship, appearing in sundry
expectations of special favor to be gained by service or importunity.
The application of critical enlightenment to this type of religion has
already been made with general consent. It is recognized that morally
superstition represents the merely prudential level of life. It bespeaks
a state of panic or a narrow regard for isolated needs and desires.
Furthermore, it tends to emphasize these considerations and at the same
time degrade the object of worship through claiming the attention of God
in their behalf. The deity is conceived, not under the form of a broad
and consecutive purpose, but under the form of a casual and desultory
good-nature.
{237}
But superstition has been corrected mainly by the advancement of
scientific knowledge. Science has pronounced finally against the belief
in localized or isolated natural processes. Whether the mechanical
theory be accepted or not, its method is beyond question, in so far as it
defines laws and brings all events and phenomena under their control. In
the dealings of nature there can be no favoritism, no special
dispensations, no bargaining over the counter.
IV
The correction of superstition brings us to our second type, which I have
chosen to call _tutelary religion_. It is distinguished by the fact that
life is organized into a definite purpose, which, although still narrow
and partisan with reference to humanity at large, nevertheless embraces
and subordinates the manifold desires of a community. The deity
represents this purpose in the cosmos at large, and rallies the forces of
nature to its support. He is no longer capricious, but is possessed of a
character defined by systematic devotion to an end. His ways are the
ways of effectiveness. Furthermore, since his aims are identical with
those of his worshippers, he is now loved and served for himself. It
follows that he will demand of his followers only conformity to those
rules which define the realization of the {238} common aim, and that
these rules will be enforced by the community as the conditions of its
secular well-being. Ritual is no longer arbitrary, but is based on an
enlightened knowledge of ways and means.
While this type of religion is clearly present in the most primitive
tribal worship, it is best exemplified when a racial or national purpose
manifests itself aggressively and self-consciously, as in the cases of
ancient Assyria and Egypt. Here God is identified with the kingship,
both being symbols of nationality. Among the Assyrians the national
purpose was predominantly one of military aggrandizement. Istar
communicates to Esar-haddon this promise of support: "Fear not, O
Esar-haddon; the breath of inspiration which speaks to thee is spoken by
me, and I conceal it not. . . . I am the mighty mistress, Istar of
Arbela, who have put thine enemies to flight before thy feet. Where are
the words which I speak unto thee, that thou hast not believed
them? . . . I am Istar of Arbela; in front of thee and at thy side do I
march. Fear not, thou art in the midst of those that can heal thee; I am
in the midst of thy host." [10]
Egyptian nationality was identified rather with the principles of
agriculture and political organization. The deity is the fertilizing
Nile, or the judge of right conduct. There is recorded in {239} the
_Book of the Dead_ the pleading of a soul before Osiris, in which the
commands of the god are thus identified with the conditions of national
welfare:
I have not committed fraud and evil against men.
I have not diverted justice in the judgment hall.
I have not known meanness.
I have not caused a man to do more than his day's work.
I have not caused a slave to be ill treated by his overseer.
I have not committed murder.
I have not spoiled the bread of offering in the temple.
I have not added to the weight of the balance.
I have not taken milk from the mouths of children.
I have not turned aside the water at the time of inundation.
I have not cut off an arm of the river in its course.[11]
Similar illustrations might be drawn from the nationalistic phase of
Hebraism. The same principle appears in mediaeval Christianity, and is
thus embodied in the prologue of the Salic Law, "Long live the Christ,
who loves the Franks." In more recent times one might point to the
Christianity of the Puritan revolution, not wholly misrepresented by the
maxim popularly attributed to Cromwell, "Put your trust in God and keep
your powder dry," or in Poor Richard's observation that "God helps them
that help themselves."
Such is the religion of nationalism, {240} sectarianism, of sustained but
narrow purpose. I shall not attempt to formulate exhaustively the ideas
through which this religion has been corrected. It is clear that its
defect lies in its partisanship. All forms of partisanship yield slowly
but inevitably to the higher conception of social solidarity. Such
enlightenment reflects a recognition of community of interest, and a
widening of sympathy through intercourse and acquaintance. Tutelary
religion, in short, is corrected through the validity of the ethical
principles of justice and good-will. The cosmological correction of this
type of religion is due to the same enlightenment that discredits
superstition, a knowledge, namely, of the systematic unity of the cosmos.
The laws of nature are as indifferent to private purposes as they are to
private desires, and whether these be personal or social in their scope.
Furthermore, the universality of God is recognized in principle in the
rules of worship. For a god of war or agriculture or politics can not be
privately appropriated. If the observance of the principles proper to
these institutions brings success to one, it brings success to all. In
short, a god of nationality must be a god of all nations.
{241}
V
The correction of tutelary religion brings us at length to a type which
may be said to be formally enlightened. Both components of belief, the
ethical and the cosmological, are universalized. I shall call this type,
in its general form, _philosophical religion_, since it recognizes the
unities which systematic reflection defines. It recognizes, on the one
hand, the summing up of life in a universal ideal, and on the other hand,
a summing up of the total environment in some scientifically formulated
generalization. It affirms the priority of justice and good-will over
party interest, and the determination of the world without reference to
special privilege. Religion is now the issue between the good--the
highest good, the good of all--and the undivided cosmos.
Within the limits of philosophical religion thus broadly defined there is
yet provision for almost endless variety of belief. Religions may still
differ in tradition, symbolism, and ritual. They may differ as moral
codes and sentiments differ, and reflect all shades of opinion as this is
determined by discovery and criticism.
But I propose to confine myself to a difference which is at once the most
broad and fundamental, and the most clearly defined in contemporary
controversy. This difference relates to neither {242} ethics nor
cosmology exclusively, but to the religious judgment itself in which
these two are united. How is the universe in its entirety to be
construed with reference to the good? In both of the answers which I
propose to consider it is claimed that goodness in some sense possesses
the world. Hence both may be called _idealisms_. But in one of these
answers, which I shall call _metaphysical idealism_, the cosmological
motive receives the greater emphasis. The good is construed in terms of
being; and, in order that it may be absolutely identified therewith, its
original nature must, if necessary, be compromised. In the other, the
_moral_ motive predominates. It is held that goodness must not lose its
meaning, even if it be necessary that its claims upon the cosmos should
be somewhat abated.
_Metaphysical idealism_ is the extreme form of the optimistic bias. It
provides a moral individual with a sense of proprietorship in the
universe; it justifies him in the belief that the moral victory has been
won from all eternity. Goodness is held to be the very essence and
condition of being.
Let me briefly state the inherent difficulty in this philosophy of
religion. Being is judged to be identical with good. But the world of
experience is not good; it must therefore be condemned as unreal. Of
what, then, do goodness and being consist? If an empty formalism is
{243} to be avoided, the all-good-and-all-real must be restored to the
world of experience. But as the all-real it can not consistently be
identified with only a part of that world; and if it be identified with
the whole, its all-goodness contradicts the moral distinction within the
world of experience, between good and evil. The theory is now confronted
with the opposite danger, that of materialism, or moral promiscuousness.
Let me illustrate this full swing of the pendulum from formalism to
materialism by briefly summarizing certain well-known types of religious
philosophy.
At the formalistic extreme stands the Buddhistic _pessimism_,[12]
which rests on a recognition of the inevitable taint of this world,
of the implication of evil in life. To avoid this taint, the
all-real-and-all-good must be freed even from existence. It can be
conceived and attained only by denial. Nirvana is at once the all-real,
the all-good, and--in terms of the existent world--nothing.
_Other-worldliness_ is the Christian modification of the Oriental
philosophy of illusion. Heaven is a world beyond, to be exchanged for
this. It is not constituted by the denial of this world, as is Nirvana,
but access to it is conditioned by such denial. It is goodness and
happiness hypostasized, and offered as compensation for martyrdom. But
since every natural impulse and source {244} of satisfaction must be
repudiated, it remains a purely formal conception, except in so far as
the worldly imagination unlawfully prefigures it. Rigorously construed,
it consists only in obedience, a willing of God's will, whatever that may
be.
_Mysticism_,[13] which appears as a motive in all religions of this type,
defines the all-real-and-all-good in terms of the consummation of a
progression, certain intermediate stages of which constitute man's
present activities. In Brahmanism, God is the perfect unity, which may
be approximated by dwelling on identities and ignoring differences; in
Platonism, God is the good-for-all, which may be approximated by dwelling
exclusively upon the utilities and fitness of things. The absolute world
still remains beyond this world and excludes it, although a hint of its
actual nature may now be obtained. But there at once appears a
formidable difficulty. So long as the absolute world is wholly separated
from this world, and therefore purely formal, evil need not be imputed to
it; but at the moment when it is conceived by completing and perfecting
certain processes belonging to this world, it is committed to these
processes with all their implications, and tends to be usurped by them.
In other words, heaven, in so far as it obtains meaning, grows worldly.
In the conception which may be termed _panlogism_, {245} heaven is boldly
removed to earth. It is identified with laws or other universals, that
lie within the scope of human intelligence and control the course of
nature. God is now immanent rather than transcendent; he has obtained a
certain definable content. But the difficulty which has already appeared
in mysticism now grows more formidable. How can it be said that a being
that coincides with the known laws of nature works only good? Among the
Stoics the attempt was made to conceive all necessities as somehow
"beneficial," as somehow good in the commonly accepted sense of the
term.[14] But even the Stoics found themselves compelled to abandon the
common conception of goodness. And in Spinoza the motive of panlogism is
clear and uncompromising.[15] God as the immanent order of the world is
good only in that he is necessary--good only in so far as he satisfies
the logical interest and enables the mind to understand. In panlogism,
then, we find metaphysical idealism already compelled in behalf of its
cardinal principle to deny the moral consciousness. But this is not all.
For even were it to be admitted that mere system and order constitute the
good, wholly without reference to their bearing on the concerns of life,
the fact remains that even such a good does not fairly represent the
character of this world. For experience conveys not only law, {246} but
also irrelevance and chaos; not only harmony but also discord.
To meet this last difficulty, and at the same time better to provide for
the complexity of human interests, metaphysical idealism finally assumes
the _aesthetic_ form. The absolute world, the all-real-and-all-good, is
boldly construed in terms of the historical process itself, with all its
concreteness and immediacy. Endless detail, contrast, and even
contradiction may be brought under the form of aesthetic value. The very
flux of experience, the very struggles and defeats of life, are not
without their picturesqueness and dramatic quality. Upon this romantic
love of tumult and privation is founded the last of all metaphysical
idealisms.[16] A strange sequel to the doctrine of despair with which
our brief survey began!
I can only recapitulate most briefly the characteristic limitations of an
aesthetic idealism. First, in spite of the fact that aesthetic value may
be extraordinarily comprehensive in its content, as a value it is none
the less narrow and exclusive. For in order that experience may have
aesthetic value, an aesthetic interest must be taken in it. And even
were all experience to satisfy some such interest, this would in no wise
provide for the endless variety of non-aesthetic interests that are also
taken in it. Thus, were it to be proved that life on the whole is
picturesque, this {247} would in no way affect the fact that it is also
painful, stultifying, and otherwise abounding in evil.
But, even if it were to be granted that aesthetic value embraces and
subordinates all other values, this higher value would still exist only
where such an aesthetic interest was actually fulfilled. If it were
assumed that the totality of the world is pleasing in the sight of God,
this would in no way affect the fact that it is otherwise in the eyes of
men. Those who furnish a spectacle which has dramatic value for an
observer do not necessarily themselves share in that value. It is an
incontrovertible fact that the aesthetic interests of men are actually
defeated; and this whether or no some other aesthetic interest--that, for
example, of a divine onlooker--is fulfilled.
But the radical defect of this aesthetic philosophy of religion lies in
its absolute discrediting of moral distinctions. Optimism has so far
overreached itself as to sacrifice the very meaning of goodness. In
order that the ideal may possess the world, it has been reduced to the
world. God is no more than a name for the unmitigated reality. Like
Hardy's Spirit of the Years, he is the mere affirmation of things as they
are:
"I view, not urge; nor more than mark
What designate your titles Good and Ill.
'Tis not in me to feel with, or against,
These flesh-hinged mannikins Its hand upwinds
{248}
To click-clack off Its preadjusted laws;
But only through my centuries to behold
Their aspects, and their movements, and their mould." [17]
Morally, there could be no more sinister interpretation of life. It
offers itself as a philosophy of hope, promising the lover of good that
his purpose shall be fulfilled, nay, that it is fulfilled from all
eternity. But when the pledge is redeemed, it is found to stipulate that
the good shall mean only life as it is already possessed. In other
words, man is promised what he wants if he will agree to want what he
has. This is worse than a sorry jest. It is a philosophy of moral
dissolution, discrediting every downright judgment of good and evil,
removing the grounds upon which is based every single-minded endeavor to
purify and consummate life. John Davidson says: "Irony integrates good
and evil, the constituents of the universe. It is that
Beyond-Good-and-Evil which somebody clamoured for." [18] Irony is indeed
the last refuge of that uncompromising optimism that equates goodness and
being.
VI
But the bankruptcy of metaphysical idealism does not end the matter.
There is another idealism in which religious faith both confirms moral
endeavor and gives it the incentive of hope. This {249} idealism
establishes itself upon an unequivocal acceptance of moral truth. It
calls good good and evil evil, with all the finality which attaches to
the human experience of these things, leaving no room for compromise.
Its faith lies in the expectation that the world shall become good
through the elimination of evil; it manifests itself in the resolution to
hasten that time. God is loved for the enemies he has made. Evil is
hated without reservation as none of his doing, and man is free to
reverence the Lord his God with all his heart.
From the stand-point of _moral idealism_ the universe resumes something
of its pristine ruggedness and grandeur. If, as James says, "the world
appears as something more epic than dramatic," the dignity of life is
enhanced and not diminished on that account.[19] Life is not a spiritual
exercise the results of which are discounted in advance; but is actually
creative, fashioning and perfecting a good that has never been. And the
moment evil is conceived as the necessary but diminishing complement to
partial success, the sting of it is gone. Evil as a temporary and
accidental necessity is tolerable; but not so an evil which is absolutely
necessary, and which must be construed with some hypothetical divine
satisfaction.
This in no way contradicts the fact that the {250} fullest life under
present conditions involves contact with evil. Innocence must be tragic
if it is not to be weak. Jesus without the cross would possess something
of that quality of unreality which attaches to Aristotle's high-minded
man. But this does not prove that life involves evil; it proves only
that life will be narrow and complacent when it is out of touch with
things as they are. Since evil is now real, he who altogether escapes it
is ignorant and idle, taking no hand in the real work to be done. Not to
feel pain when pain abounds, not to bear some share of the burden, is
indeed cause for shame. In that remarkable allegory, "The Man Who Was
Thursday," Chesterton has most vividly presented this truth. In the last
confrontation, the real anarchist, the spokesman of Satan, accuses the
friends of order of being happy, of having been protected from suffering.
But the philosopher, who has hitherto been unable to understand the
despair to which he and his companions have been driven, repels this
slander.
'I see everything,' he cried, 'everything that there is. Why does each
thing on the earth war against each other thing? Why does each small
thing in the world have to fight against the world itself? . . . So that
each thing that obeys law may have the glory and isolation of the
anarchist. So that each man fighting for order may be as brave and good
a man as the dynamiter. So that the real lie of Satan may be {251} flung
back in the face of this blasphemer, so that by tears and torture we may
earn the right to say to this man, "You lie!" No agonies can be too
great to buy the right to say to this accuser, "We also have suffered."
'It is not true that we have never been broken. We have been broken upon
the wheel. . . . We have descended into hell. We were complaining of
unforgettable miseries even at the very moment when this man entered
insolently to accuse us of happiness. I repel the slander; we have not
been happy.'[20]
But the charge of happiness is to be repelled as a slander only because
there are real sufferers in the world to make the charge. It is, after
all, not happiness but insensibility which is the real disgrace. If the
suffering is real, not to see it, not to feel it, not to heal it, is
intolerable. To say, however, that suffering is wilfully caused in order
that it may eventually contribute to an ultimate reconciliation, is to
charge God with something worse than complacency. If life is a real
tragedy it can be endured, and to enter into it will bring the deep
satisfaction which every form of heroism affords. But if the tragedy of
life be preconceived and wilfully perpetrated, it must be resented for
the sake of self-respect. Even man possesses a dignity which is not
consistent with puppetry and mock heroics.
Moral idealism means to interpret life consistently with ethical,
scientific, and metaphysical truth. It endeavors to justify the maximum
of {252} hope, without compromising or confusing any enlightened judgment
of truth. In this it is, I think, not only consistent with the spirit of
a liberal and rational age, but also with the primary motive of religion.
There can be no religion with reservations, fearful of increasing light.
No man can do the work of religion without an open and candid mind as
well as an indomitable purpose.
I can not here elaborate the evidence upon which moral idealism is
grounded; but it might be broadly classified as ethical, cosmological,
and historical. The ethical ground of moral idealism is the virtual
unity of life, the working therein of one eventual purpose sustained by
the good-will of all moral beings. The cosmological proof lies in the
moral fruitfulness and plasticity of nature. The historical proof lies
in the fact of moral progress, in the advent and steady betterment of
life.
VII
In conclusion I wish to revert to the topic of the generic proof of
religion. We have defined the tests which any special religion must
meet, and unless conformably to such tests it is possible to justify some
form of idealism, it is clear that the full possibilities of religion as
a source of strength and consolation must fail to be realized. But it
may now be affirmed that there is a moral {253} value in religion which
is independent of the cosmological considerations which prove or disprove
a special religion. No scientific or metaphysical evidence can
controvert the fact that man is engaged in an enterprise which
comprehends all the actualities and possibilities of life, and that the
success of this enterprise is conditioned, in the end, on the compliance
of the universe. A summing up of the situation as involving these two
factors is morally inevitable. Some solution of the problem, assimilated
and enacted, in other words, some form of piety, is no more than the last
stage of moral growth.
The value of religious belief, in this generic moral sense, consists in
the enlargement of the circle of life. Man knows the best and the worst;
he walks in the open, apprehending the world in its full sweep and just
proportions. An inclusive view of the universe, whatever it may reveal,
throws into relief the lot of man. Religion promulgates the idea of life
as a whole, and composes and proportions its activities with reference to
their ultimate end. Religion advocates not the virtues in their
severalty, but the whole moral enterprise. With this it affiliates all
the sundry activities of life, thus bringing both action and thought
under the form of service of the ideal. At the same time it offers a
supreme object for the passions, which are otherwise divided against
{254} themselves, or vented upon unworthy and fantastical objects.
Through being thus economized and guided, these moving energies may be
brought to support moral endeavor and bear it with them in their current.
Piety carries with it also that sense of high resolve without which life
must be haunted with a sense of ignominy. This is the immediate value of
the good-will: the full deliverance of one's self to the cause of
goodness. This value is independent of attainment. It is that _doing of
one's best_, which is the least that one can do. Having sped one's
action with good-will, one can only leave the outcome to the confluence
and summing of like forces. But such service is blessed both in the
eventualities and in a present harmony as well. The good of
participation in the greatest and most worthy enterprise is proved in its
lending fruitfulness, dignity, and momentousness to action; but also in
its infusing the individual life with that ardor and tenderness which is
called the love of humanity and of God, and which is the only form of
happiness that fully measures up to the awakened moral consciousness.
Since religion emphasizes the unity of life and supplies it with meaning
and dignity, it is the function of religion to kindle moral enthusiasm in
society at large. Religion is responsible for the {255} prestige of
morality. As an institution, it is the appointed guardian and medium of
that supreme value which is hidden from the world; of that finality
which, in the course of human affairs, is so easily lost to view and so
infrequently proved. It is therefore the function of the religious
leader to make men lovers, not of the parts, but of the whole of
goodness. Embarrassed by their very plenitude of life, men require to
have the good-will that is in them aroused and put in control. This,
then, is the work of religion: to strike home to the moral nature itself,
and to induce in men a keener and more vivid realization of their latent
preference for the higher over the lower values. This office requires
for its fulfilment a constructive moral imagination, a power to arouse
and direct the contagious emotions, and the use of the means of
personality and ritual for the creation of a sweetening and uplifting
environment.
In culture and religion human life is brought to the elevation which is
proper to it. They are both forms of discipline through which is
inculcated that quality of magnanimity and service which is the mark of
spiritual maturity. But while culture is essentially contemplative,
far-seeing, sensitive, and tolerant, religion is more stirring and vital.
Both are love of perfection, but culture is admiration; religion,
concern. {256} "Not he that saith Lord, Lord, but he that doeth the will
of his Father, shall be saved." In religion the old note of fear is
always present. It is a perpetual watchfulness lest the work of life be
undone, or lest a chance for the best be forfeited.
{257}
NOTES
CHAPTER I
[1] Joseph Butler: _Sermon VII_, edited by Gladstone, p. 114. _Cf._
also _Sermon X_, on Self-Deceit.
[2] Nietsche: _Beyond Good and Evil_, translated by Helen Zimmern, p.
174.
[3] Edmund Burke: _A Vindication of Natural Society_, Preface, pp. 4,
5. (Boston, 1806.)
[4] The classic discussion of the whole matter is to be found in
Aristotle's _Nicomachean Ethics_, Book I, Chapters I-VI, translated by
J. E. C. Welldon. _Cf._ also Fr. Paulsen: _System of Ethics_, Book II,
Chapters I, II, translated by Frank Thilly; G. H. Palmer: _The Nature
of Goodness_, Chapters I, II; and W. James: _The Moral Philosopher and
the Moral Life_, in his _Will to Believe_.
[5] The issue is presented clearly and briefly in Paulsen: _Op. cit._,
Book II, Chapter II, and in James's _Principles of Psychology_, Vol.
II, pp. 549-559.
[6] Nietsche: _Op. cit._, p. 107.
[7] Huxley: _Evolution and Ethics and Other Essays_, pp. 81-82. The
first two essays contained in this volume, the _Prolegomena_, and the
_Romanes Lecture_, contain a very interesting study of the relation of
morality to nature.
[8] Huxley: _Op. cit._, p. 13.
[9] G. K. Chesterton: _Napoleon of Notting Hill_, p. 291. The whole
book is a brilliant satire, intended to show that all of the heroic
sentiments and virtues depend on war and local pride.
[10] Nietsche: _Op. cit._, pp. 59, 163, 176, 223, 235, 237, 122.
[11] Chesterton: _Heretics_, and _Orthodoxy_.
[12] Plato: _Protagoras_, p. 322 (marginal pagination), and _passim_;
translated by Jowett.
{258}
CHAPTER II
[1] Locke: _The Conduct of the Understanding_, Bohn's Library Edition,
Vol. I, p. 72; also, _passim_.
[2] Locke: _Op. cit._, p. 56.
[3] Descartes: _Discourse on Method_, translated by Veitch, pp. 13-14.
Also, _passim_.
[4] Spinoza: _The Improvement of the Understanding_, translated by
Elwes, Vol. II, p. 4.
[5] _Cf._ Plato's _Republic_, Books V-VII, _passim_.
[6] For further discussion of the meaning of duty, _cf._ Kant's
_Critical Examination of the Practical Reason_, Book I, Chapter III,
translated in Abbott's _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, p. 164; Bradley's
_Ethical Studies_, Essays II and V; and Sidgwick's _Methods of Ethics_,
Book I, Chapter III.
[7] Chesterton: _Napoleon of Notting Hill_, p. 162.
[8] G. E. Moore: _Principia Ethica_, Chapter III, Sect. 58-63.
[9] Locke: _Op. cit._, p. 29.
[10] There is an excellent account of the questions that lie on the
border between ethics and jurisprudence in S. E. Mezes's _Ethics,
Descriptive and Explanatory_, Chapter XIII.
[11] Kant: _Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals_,
translated in Abbott's _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, p. 47.
[12] H. G. Lord: _The Abuse of Abstraction in Ethics_, in _Essays
Philosophical and Psychological in Honor of William James_, pp. 376-377.
[13] John Davidson: _A Rosary_, pp. 77, 82.
[14] Maurice Maeterlinck: _The Measure of the Hours_, translated by A.
T. de Mattos, p. 151. The essay in this volume, entitled "Our Anxious
Morality," charges rationalism with destroying the romantic and
mystical element in life.
CHAPTER III
[1] A good discussion of the several virtues will be found in Paulsen:
_Op. cit._, Book III.
[2] W. H. S. Jones: _Greek Morality_, p. 50.
[3] Jeremy Taylor: _Rules and Exercises of Holy Living_, edited by Ezra
Abbot, p. 73.
[4] Jones: _Op. cit._, p. 124.
{259}
[5] Count Baldesar Castiglione: _The Book of the Courtier_, translated
by Opdycke, p. 250.
[6] _Cf._ Hobbes: _Leviathan_, Chapters XIII, XIV, XV. In Hobbes's
account, morality is reduced wholly to the prudential economy.
[7] H. G. Wells: First and Last Things, p. 82.
[8] Castiglione: _Op. cit._, p. 257.
[9] Burke: _Op. cit._, p. 8.
[10] Epictetus: _Discourses_, Book III, Chapter XXII, translated by
Long, Vol. II, pp. 82, 83.
[11] Taylor: _Op. cit._, p. 7.
[12] Epictetus: _Op. cit._, Book II, Chapter XXI, translated by Long,
Vol. I, p. 229.
[13] _Cf._ Hegel: _Philosophy of Right_, Third Part, Third Section,
translated by S. W. Dyde; and _Philosophy of History_, Introduction,
translated by J. Sibree.
[14] _Cf._ Plato's _Republic_, _passim_, but especially Book IV. Plato
makes the state analogous to the individual organism, requiring baser
classes that shall permanently supply its lower functions, as well as
classes that shall supply its higher functions and so participate in
its full benefits.
[15] Aristotle: _Politics_, Book II, Chapter V, translated by Jowett,
p. 35. _Cf._ also Chapter II.
[16] Epictetus: _Op. cit._, Book II, Chapter XV, translated by Long,
Vol. I, p. 189.
[17] Sophocles: _Antigone_, translated by G. H. Palmer, pp. 61, 62.
[18] Munro and Sellery: _Medieval Civilization_, pp. 349-350.
[19] Castiglione: _Op. cit._, p. 261.
[20] Quoted from Diog. Laert. by Jones, _Op. cit._, p. 69. For a full
account, _cf._ Aristotle's _Nicomachean Ethics_, Books VIII and IX,
translated by Welldon, pp. 245-314.
[21] Walter Bagehot: _Physics and Politics_, No. V, in the edition of
the International Scientific Series, pp. 165-166. _Cf._ this chapter
_passim_.
[22] Matthew Arnold: _Culture and Anarchy_, p. 100.
[23] Quoted by Jones: _Op. cit._, p. 128.
[24] Ibid.
[25] Arnold: _Op. cit._, pp. 25-26. _Cf. passim_.
[26] Euripides: _Medea_, translated by Gilbert Murray, pp. 67-68.
{260}
[27] _Cf., e. g._, Aristotle, _Nicomachean Ethics_, Book X. Also J. A.
Farrer's _Paganism and Christianity, passim_; and Paulsen, _op. cit._,
Book I, Chapters I-III.
[28] Sir Thomas Browne; _Religio Medici_, edited by J. M. Dent & Co.,
p. 97.
[29] W. James: _Pragmatism_, p. 230.
[30] Browne: _Op. cit._, pp. 118-119.
[31] _Ibid._, p. 110.
[32] Castiglione: _Op. cit._, pp. 304-305.
CHAPTER IV
[1] The nearest approach to such a philosophy of history is George
Santayana's Life of Reason. The reader will find it the best book of
reference for this and the following chapter. _Cf._ also, Samuel
Alexander's Moral Order and Progress.
[2] Bagehot: _Op. cit._, No. VI, pp. 208-209.
[3] _Ibid._, p. 161.
[4] Nietsche: _Op. cit._, pp. 65-66.
[5] For a general ethical discussion of the function of government,
_cf._ Santayana: _Reason in Society_, Chapters III-VIII.
[6] Sophocles: _Antigone_, translated by Palmer, pp. 60, 63-64.
[7] 1 Samuel, Chapter VIII.
[8] Quoted in Taine's _Philosophy of Art in Greece_, translated by J.
Durand, p. 130.
[9] Thucydides: _Peloponnesian War_, Book II, Chapters 37-40,
translated by Jowett, pp. 117-119.
[10] Plato: _Republic_, Book IV, p. 433, translated by Jowett.
[11] Burke: Op. cit., p. 43.
[12] For a brief statement of the elements of political science in
their application to modern institutions, _cf._ E. Jenks: _A History of
Politics_.
[12] Arnold: _The Future of Liberalism_, in the volume, _Mixed Essays,
Irish Essays and Others_, p. 383. _Cf._ also the admirable essay on
Democracy in the same volume.
[14] Plato: _Republic_, Book I, p. 335, translated by Jowett.
[15] Wells: _Op. cit._, pp. 130-131.
{261}
CHAPTER V
[1] A good account of the meaning of art is to be found in Santayana's
_Reason in Art_, Chapters I-III.
[2] For this whole topic of the aesthetic interest, _cf._ H. R.
Marshall's _Pleasure, Pain, and Aesthetics_.
[3] For an interpretation of painting in terms of the perceptual
process, _cf._ B. Berenson's _Florentine Painters of the Renaissance_,
pp. 1-16; and _North Italian Painters of the Renaissance_, pp. 145-157.
[4] The best account of the emotions and instincts is to be found in
James's _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. II, Chapters XXIV, XXV.
[5] Walter Pater: _The Renaissance_, p. 140.
[6] Taine: _Op. cit._, pp. 112, 114-115, and _passim_.
[7] Pater: _Op. cit._, pp. 129-130; _cf._ the chapter on _Leonardo da
Vinci_, entire.
[8] Plato: _Republic_, Book III, p. 398, translated by Jowett. The
whole of Books III and X are interesting in this connection.
[9] In connection with the general topic of the moral criticism of art,
_cf._ Santayana's _Reason in Art_, Chapters IX-XI; also Ruskin's
_Lectures on Art_, Lectures II-IV.
[10] Aristotle: _Nicomachean Ethics_, Book X.
[11] _Cf._ the _Republic_, Book X.
[12] Arthur Benson: _Beside Still Waters_, pp. 138-139. _Cf._ also pp.
143-144.
[13] Pater: _Op. cit._, pp. 249, 250; _cf._ the Conclusion, passim.
[14] James: _Op. cit._, Vol. I, pp. 125-126.
[15] _Republic_; Book X, p. 606, translated by Jowett.
[16] _Ibid._, Book III, p. 399.
[17] Aristotle: _Politics_, Book VIII, Chapter V, translated by Jowett,
p. 252.
[18] Taine: _The Ideal in Art_, translated by J. Durand, pp. 42 _sq._
[19] Tolstóy: _What is Art?_ X, translated by Leo Wiener, p. 227.
[20] Arnold: _Culture and Anarchy_, pp. 37, 38. _Cf._ Chapter I,
_passim_.
[21] _Republic_, Book III, p. 401, translation by Jowett.
{262}
CHAPTER VI
[1] This chapter is reprinted from the _Harvard Theological Review_ for
April, 1909.
[2] I have treated this matter more fully in my _Approach to
Philosophy_, Chapters III and IV. At the close of that book the reader
will find a selected bibliography of the subject.
[3] John Henry Newman: _Apologia pro Vita Sua_, p. 239. The whole book
is of interest in this connection.
[4] Munro and Sellery: _Mediaeval Civilization_, p. 69.
[5] _Fragments of Xenophanes_, in Burnet's _Early Greek Philosophy_, p.
115.
[6] Lucretius: _De Rerum Natura_, Book I, lines 1021-1028, translated
by Munro.
[7] _Isaiah_ 1:15-17.
[8] For a brief account of primitive religion, _cf._ J. B. Pratt's
_Psychology of Religious Belief_. For a fuller account, _cf._ F. B.
Jevons's _Introduction to the History of Religion_.
[9] Munro and Sellery: _Op. cit._, pp. 80, 75.
[10] A. H. Sayce: _Babylonians and Assyrians_, p. 253.
[11] A. Wiedemann: _Religion of the Ancient Egyptians_, p. 250.
[12] _Cf._ H. C. Warren's _Buddhism in Translation_.
[13] The reader will find a good exposition of mysticism in Royce's
_World and the Individual_, First Series, Lectures II, IV, V.
[14] _Cf., e. g._, _Epictetus_: Discourses, Book II, Chapter VIII.
[15] _Cf._ Spinoza's Ethics, _passim_, translated by Elwes.
[16] _Cf._ Royce's account of Romanticism and Hegel, in his _Spirit of
Modern Philosophy_, Lectures VI, VII. This motive, together with the
motive of mysticism, appears in such writings as J. McT. E. McTaggart's
_Studies in Hegelian Cosmology_, Chapter IX; and A. E. Taylor's
_Problem of Conduct_, Chapter VIII.
[17] Thomas Hardy: _The Dynasts_, Part I, p. 5.
[18] John Davidson: _A Rosary_, p. 88.
[19] James: _Pragmatism_, p. 144. The whole chapter is a brilliant
representation of the stand-point of moral idealism.
[20] G. K. Chesterton: _The Man Who Was Thursday_, pp. 278-279.
{263}
INDEX
Achievement, 79, 81, 97.
Adaptation, 22.
Aesthetic Interest, definition of, 179; varieties of, 181 _ff._,
189; moral limitation of, 190; sell-sufficiency of, 192;
exaggeration of, 192, 195, 198 _ff._; its pervasiveness,
194 _ff._; vicariousness of, 197; stimulating character
of, 201, 203 _ff._; liberality of, 209 _ff._;
in religion, 246 _ff._
Aimlessness, 94.
Anarchism, 107.
Aristotle, quoted, 100, 106, 192, 204.
Arnold, M., quoted, 108, 109, 112, 164, 211.
Art, moral criticism of, Ch. V;
its liability to moral criticism, 173 ff; definition of,
177; distinction between industrial and fine, 177 _ff._;
emotion in, 182 _ff._; representative function of, 185 _ff._,
203 _ff._; Greek, 185 _ff._; of Renaissance, 187;
censorship of, 190; stimulating character of, 201 _ff._;
truth in, 205 _ff._; universality and particularity of,
207 _ff._; and liberality, 209 _ff._; moral function of, 212.
Asceticism, 79, 81, 92 _ff._
Bagehot, quoted, 106, 127, 132.
Beauty, and goodness, 172 _ff._
Belief, and religion, 216, 220, 228.
Benson, A., quoted, 194.
Bigotry, 79, 81, 101 _ff._
Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, 115, 117, 118.
Buddhism, 243.
Burke, quoted, 6, 92, 158, 214.
Butler, J., quoted, 1.
Castiglione, quoted, 89, 90, 119.
Character, 97.
Chesterton, G. K., 32; quoted, 28, 55, 250.
Christianity, 94, 111, 114 _ff._, 140, 158, 187, 228, 239, 243.
Civilization, 3, 6, 10, 23, 32, 124, 137, 167, 170, 215. See
Progress.
Competition, 14, 129, 130; relation to morality, 24 _ff._
Conscience, 34, 36. See Duty.
Conservatism, 144 _ff._
Convention, 36, 38 ff.
Cosmological, test of religion, 224, 225, 234, 237,
240, 241, 252.
Courage, 95.
Culture, 211, 253. Chap. V, _passim_.
Cynics, the Greek, 92 _ff._, 137.
Davidson, J., quoted, 70, 248.
Democracy, 29, 39; modern idea of, 158 _ff._, 163 _ff._
Descartes, quoted, 35.
Desire, 11. See Interest.
Discussion, 106, 132.
Dogmatism, 4.
Duty, Ch. II, 40, 72; formalism and, 76.
Egoism, theoretical, 59 _ff._; practical, 79, 81, 101.
Emotion, and art, 182 _ff._, 201 _ff._
Epictetus, quoted, 93, 96, 100.
Equality, 65, 66, 158 _ff._, 163 _ff._
Ethics, and history, 124; and religion, 224 _ff._, 233, 240,
241, 252; independence of, 228. See Morality.
Euripides, quoted, 114.
Evil, 11, 15, 84, 86; religious conception of, 243 _ff._,
249 _ff._ See Good, Vice, Formalism, Materialism.
Faith, 33, 71.
Fine Art. See Art.
Formalism, 74 _ff._, 92; and duty, 76, 77; varieties of,
79, 81, 92, 98, 107, 116, 209, 242.
Freedom, 36, 107, 164.
God, 216, 224 _ff._, 229, 232, 237, 240, 245, 249.
Good, basal definition of, 11 _ff._, 44; definition of moral,
15 _ff._; relativity of, 45 _ff._; relation to beautiful,
172 _ff._, 212.
Good-will, logic of, 67 _ff._; virtue of, 79, 81, 113 _ff._, 158.
Government, 14; progress in, 148 _ff._; Platonic theory of,
148; definition of, 150; ancient forms of, 152 _ff._;
summary of modern, 160 _ff._
Greece, morality of, 110, 114; government in, 154 _ff._; art
of, 185 _ff._, 204; religion of, 226.
Happiness, 18, 115, 116 _ff._
Hardy, T., quoted, 247.
Health, 79, 81, 88 _ff._
Hebrews, government of, 152; religion of, 227, 239.
Hedonism, 16.
History, meaning of, 123 _ff._
Hobbes, 89.
Honesty, 88.
Huxley, theory of morality and nature, 21 _ff._
Idealism, metaphysical, 242 _ff._; aesthetic, 246;
moral, 248 _ff._
Idleness, 94.
Imagination, 28, 69, 111.
Imprudence, 79, 81, 85 _ff._
Incapacity, 79, 81, 83.
Individualism, 34 _ff._
Injustice, 79, 81, 103. See Justice.
Institutions, their necessity, 3, 147. See Government.
Intelligence, 79, 81, 82 _ff._
Interest, definition of, 11, 43; organization of, 13, 14, 19,
variety of, 16, 17; the higher, 52; conflict of, 53;
objective validity of, 54; private, 57 _ff._; the
potential, 67, 68, 167; present and ulterior, 74 _ff._;
economies of, 78; simple, 78, 81, 82 _ff._; reciprocity
of, 78, 81, 87 _ff._, incorporation of, 78, 81, 95 _ff._;
fraternity of, 78, 81, 105 _ff._; universal system
of, 79, 81, 112 _ff._; and progress, 132; and reform, 137;
and revolution, 139; and government, 148 _ff._; the
aesthetic, 179; the theoretical, 180, 193; varieties of
the aesthetic, 181 _ff._ See Aesthetic Interest.
James, W., quoted, 116, 199, 249.
Justice, meanings of, 63, 79, 81, 105, 158, 163;
logic of, 63 _ff._
Kant, quoted, 64.
Laissez-faire, 108.
Liberality, 156; and art, 209.
Life, morality as the organization of, Ch. I; versus
mechanism, 10, 22; morality one with, 19, 27; method of, 23.
Locke, quoted, 34, 35, 62.
Logic, of the moral appeal, Ch. II; and the imagination, 69.
Lord, H. G., quoted, 69.
Lucretius, quoted, 226.
Maeterlinck, quoted, 71.
Manners, 121.
Materialism, 74 _ff._, 84; varieties of, 79, 81, 94, 101,
110, 243.
Mechanical Nature, 12; lack of value in, 9, 84; and
progress, 130.
Menander, quoted, 88.
Metaphysics and religion, 242 _ff._
Moderation, 87.
Moore, G. E., critique of egoism, 59 _ff._
Morality, as the organization of life, Ch. I; the dulness
of, 1; as verified truth, 7; its universal pertinence,
7 _ff._; essential to life, 9, 32; natural genesis of,
9 _ff._; basal definition of, 13; and nature, 20 _ff._;
and competition, 24 _ff._; the logic of, Ch. II; rational
ground of, 38, 40 _ff._; material and formal aspects of,
74 _ff._, 121; and progress, Ch. IV; and art, Ch. V; and
aesthetic standards, 172 _ff._; and religion, Ch. VI;
and idealism, 248 _ff._
Mysticism, 116, 244; and art, 208.
Nationalism, 99.
Nature, genesis of morality in, 9 _ff._; and morality,
20 _ff._; theories of, in religion, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240.
Newman, J. H., quoted, 220.
Nietsche, his conception of morality, 1, 5, 6, 20, 29 _ff._, 165.
Optimism, 230, 242, 247.
Other-worldliness, 115, 243.
Overindulgence, 79, 81, 84 _ff._
Panlogism, 244.
Pater, quoted, 185, 188; on the aesthetic interest, 196.
Patience, 95.
Pessimism, 114, 243.
Philosophy, of history, 123 _ff._; and religion, 241 _ff._
Piety, 67, 68, 120, 223, 253, 254.
Pity, 111, 163.
Plato, quoted, 32; individualism in, 37; nationalism in,
100; account of disinterested activity in, 135 _ff._;
theory of government in, 148; on art, 190, 193, 202, 212;
on religion, 244.
Pleasure, its relation to morality, 16 _ff._
Preference, 50; the quantitative principle of, 55 _ff._, 127.
Progress, moral test of, Ch. IV, 127; definition of, 125 _ff._;
principles of, 130 _ff._; by constructive reform, 134 _ff._;
by revolution, 139 _ff._
Prudence, 79, 81, logical ground of, 43 _ff._; limits of,
49, 88, 90, 91, 94; meaning of, 87 _ff._; basal character of,
91; in religion, 232.
Purpose, logic of, 50 _ff._; virtue of, 95 _ff._
Radicalism, 145 _ff._
Rationality, 37, 42, 65; and progress, 134, 142; in
government, 152.
Reform, 134 _ff._
Religion, 79, 81; and good-will, 113; mysticism in, 117; as an
institution, 148; and progress, 170; moral justification
of, Ch. VI; moral necessity of, 214 _ff._; definition
of, 215 _ff._; quantitative tests of, 218 _ff._;
psychological study of, 220; belief in, 216, 220; therapeutic
test of, 222 _ff._; superstitious, 232 _ff._; primitive,
233 _ff._; and ethics, 224 _ff._, 233, 240, 241, 252;
cosmological test of, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240, 241,
252; tutelary, 237 _ff._; Assyrian, 238; Egyptian, 238;
Hebrew, 227, 239; philosophical, 241 _ff._; generic
proof of, 252 _ff._ See Piety, Good-will, Worship and
Christianity.
Revolution, definition of, 139; the Christian, 140; the
French, 141.
Rightness, 18. See Virtue.
Satisfaction, 11, 79, 81, 83.
Scepticism, 4 _ff._, 36, 108.
Sentimentalism, 98 _ff._, and art, 209.
Society, Chap. I, _passim_, 38; prudential basis of, 89;
character of modern, 39, 166; progress in, 126, 132;
continuity of, 143; and the aesthetic interest, 195, 211.
Sophocles, quoted, 102, 151.
Sordidness, 79, 81, 94.
Spinoza, quoted, 35.
Stoics, religion of, 245. See Epictetus.
Struggle for existence, 30; its relation to morality, 21 _ff._;
its relation to progress, 130.
Superstition, 232 _ff._
Survival, 24, 131.
Tact, 88.
Taine, quoted, 185.
Taylor, J., quoted, 86, 94.
Temperance, 90.
Thrift, 68, 87.
Thucydides, quoted, 156.
Tolerance, 38, 105, 164.
Tolstóy, on art, 207.
Truth, of art, 205 _ff._; of religion, 220 _ff._
Truthfulness, 96. See Veracity.
Tyranny, 36, 39, 151 _ff._
Value, the simpler terms of, 11, 82; definition of moral,
15; varieties of moral, 79, 81.
Veracity, 88, 96, 105.
Vice, varieties of, 79, 81. See Virtue, Formalism, and
Materialism.
Virtue, the order of, Ch. III; verification of, 73;
varieties of, 73, 79; classification of, 73 _ff._; table
of, 81. See under particular virtues, Prudence, etc.
War, and morality, 24 _ff._, 30; the passing of, 28, 162; and
progress, 131.
Wells, H. G., quoted, 89, 167.
Worldliness, 79, 81, 110 _ff._
Worship, 122, 232, 235, 237, 240.
Xenophanes, quoted, 326.