under such auspices, there is prevailing a certain physical and mental
weariness, which makes one seriously doubt whether the whole of modern
education must not be on the wrong track if, instead of producing
mental and physical power and joy in the lifelong acquisition of new
and newer knowledge, it only prematurely dulls and destroys all these
capacities, and if it is bringing on a too weakly organized and nervous
race which would as little prove a match for the onset of some horde
of healthy barbarians as did, once upon a time, the Roman or Greek
cosmopolitan culture, outwardly brilliant, but likewise undermined by
just such over-civilization as ours.
With this, we have arrived at once at the heart of our question. By
culture we must understand something greater, something other than
knowledge, or learnedness in special subjects, if it is at all to be
something beneficial and desirable. Relatively speaking, the most
striking result of general culture must be the healthy and vigorous
development of every man’s personality into a full and rounded human
life, inwardly at peace. Otherwise it will be of no very definite
value, either to himself or to his state.
If it does not effect this it does not justify the hopes that have, for
so long a time, been set upon it, and there may stand before us a time
such as humanity has already more than once experienced, when the most
highly civilized peoples have been overpowered by barbarians, simply
by virtue of greater physical strength and greater mental freshness
and originality, and when too delicately constituted republics have
not been in a condition to withstand the momentum of such onslaughts,
directed by some single powerful will.
Therefore the question “What is Culture?” is a question of the life of
our whole present race, as well as, in a special degree, of our native
land and the nature of its government.
I
By this very ambiguous and therefore often misunderstood word “culture”
we must understand ourselves to mean _an evolving_ from an originally
formless, rough condition into a condition in which the development
into the best of which the material is capable is completed, or at
least is in the process of unfolding without hindrance.
Every man at the beginning is a rough block that can only be fashioned
into a true human form and a true work of art partly by the formative
power of life itself with its manifold influences, and partly by the
hand and sagacity of men. And as an unskilful sculptor may so misshape
and spoil a stone intrusted to him that no real work of art can any
longer be made of it, or may carve it so delicately that it loses the
massiveness and strength necessary to resist all outer influences,
so also, in the art of human culture, we often speak from painful
experience of a man’s culture as neglected, or distorted, or too
excessive and refined.
In true culture (one that does not injure but benefits men), three
things seem to be essential: the conquering of natural sensuality
and natural selfishness through higher interests, the wholesome and
symmetrical training of the physical and mental faculties, and a
correct philosophical and religious conception of life. Where one of
these three is lacking, there is a drying up in the man of something
that had been capable of a better development.
1. The final goal of all true culture is the liberation of man from the
“sensual gravitation” which every one experiences in himself, and from
the selfishness which, though it rests in the final analysis upon man’s
impulse to self-preservation, stands nevertheless in opposition to the
purpose of his life. Essentially as a creature of the senses man begins
his course in this world, essentially as a creature of the spirit he
should finish it here, and, as we hope, continue it in another world
under more favorable conditions. Thus there lies already in his nature
a conflict between that which _is_ and therefore would naturally like
to persist, and that which is undoubtedly demanded by his deepest and
best feelings and which is meant to grow and develop. If he does not
stay as he is, then the ground seems at times to give way under his
feet; but if he does stay as he is, then his better self is always
grievously reproving him, and saying that he is not fulfilling his duty
and is not becoming what he could and should become. This is the battle
that every man begins with himself as soon as he comes to consciousness
about himself, and in this battle he must at any cost carry off the
victory.
All inward dissatisfaction springs from sensuality or selfishness;
these two never fail to show themselves as the primal causes, when the
matter is run to the ground. Any genuine happiness is not conceivable
where the spiritual nature has not gained the day over the sensual,
and where a disposition toward liberality, humanity, and kindliness
has not won the victory over a disposition to narrow selfishness--a
victory already decided in one’s innermost tendency, and, as a matter
of practical life, to be daily gained anew.
Whoever has not been able thus to subdue himself will never be a
match for the world around him, which fights him with the same though
thousand fold greater powers of selfishness. All that is left for him
is to defend himself in this struggle for existence by continually
injuring and destroying others and by uniting himself with others into
groups with mutual interests, groups that are likewise of a purely
selfish nature.
To try to suppress this struggle for existence which now threatens to
destroy all the nobility that is in man and to make us like beasts of
prey, is the chiefest task of all the truly cultured men of our time.
They must first show by their own example that this struggle is not
necessary, and that there is a way out of the labyrinths of this life
other than the sad one of who shall be strongest in his selfishness.
After all, the man who proves strongest in this struggle, even in the
most favorable case, only makes the existence of many fellow-men the
heavier, and his own better self, besides, has suffered harm.
The first step is, that one shall no longer be recognized as a truly
cultured man who has any trace of such a conception of life. And it
must and will come to that, before long, in our civilized states. On
the one hand, selfish solicitude for self and as much as possible of
sensual enjoyment during a short life--on the other, human kindness,
care for others, mental advancement, and the development of the nobler
powers of the soul: these are the two great armies which now stand over
against each other, ready for battle, and in one or the other you will
be obliged to take your place.
2. The second point is the proper and healthy physical and mental
development of all our faculties, in the interest of these higher aims.
We are not to live with this better conception of life in cloisters or
studies, but as far as possible to bring it into use in our ordinary
life and in every calling--but not, of course, in any calling that
stands in radical opposition to this better conception of life.
Here is the point where oftentimes a somewhat morbid and exaggerated
philosophical, religious, or scientific tendency stands likewise
opposed to true culture. There is no profit in a philosophy that does
not hold its own in the full current of life, and there is little help
in a religion which exists only in the church on Sundays and has no
value in the market or in business. And even knowledge, in itself, has
no great worth if it does not serve, somehow, to build up a more worthy
kind of life for oneself or for others.
In a sickly, overfatigued body, with nerves continually overexcited, no
quite healthy soul can live and work unimpeded. It is one of the chief
mistakes in the culture of our day that a kind of misunderstanding
has arisen between body and mind, whereby the body is harmed directly
and, through the body, the mind. Besides, our whole modern education
is much more directed toward the mechanical acquisition of things to
be remembered than to the attainment of real convictions and of true
knowledge.
3. But all these things, the pursuit of ideals, the search for true
knowledge, and the maintenance of bodily tone, do not yet help a man
toward true culture, unless they rest upon the conviction of the
existence of a transcendental world whose forces can effectively come
to his help. His sensual tendency and his natural selfishness are
far too strong for him to subdue them wholly by his own expedients
and without the help of such a Power residing outside himself. And
the motives for doing it are too weak. What indeed should impel him
to fight a hard and at first apparently almost fruitless battle with
himself and the surrounding world his life long, if this life is only a
transitory animal existence with no further destination?
The strength of a merely natural nobility, which for a time, perhaps,
may lift itself above these things, does not, under all circumstances,
hold out in the presence of this conception of life, but easily
despairs of itself when trials, continuing and great, draw nigh. There
must therefore be the introduction into human existence of a power
which is mightier than all a man’s natural forces and which makes it
possible for him to master himself and no longer to fear all external
evils, in comparison with the evil of high treason to his better self.
That there is such a power, which one can not indeed logically prove,
but which he can put to the test and himself experience,--this is
the mysterious truth of religion; and it would be much less of a
mystery if all men, if but once in their life, would venture the trial
whether there is such a power. To be sure, if any one does not want
to let quite go of his pleasure-seeking and selfishness, or does not
altogether yet desire to attain, at any cost, to something better than
the ordinary life, then, in spite of his trial, he will not have a
perfect experience of this power, and in that case the mere outward
profession of a religion does not help him much. He remains on the
whole as he is, even though he go to church every day.
But if he has this will, then he receives this power, then he
infallibly becomes another man, to such a degree that one may
truthfully call it a new birth. Then only will all his natural gifts
and knowledge become really alive in him and productive for the welfare
of himself and others.
The highest step is complete self-renunciation, in which a man is
only the receptacle of divine thoughts and impulses; but it is very
dangerous to work oneself into such a condition by the fantasy, before
it comes of itself and is really at hand. The main thing in religion
is not its immediate perfect attainment, but that every one who will
may enter on the way and pass from a joyless existence to a gradually
ascending life.
This is the way to true culture, and every one must try to travel it by
himself. It can not be taught; it can only be shown.
The evidence that one has true culture is, first, a gradually
increasing mental health and power, then a certain higher sagacity
that comes in, and finally a peculiar, larger caliber of spirit which
one can bring about in no other way, which one can not imitate, and
which really forms the chief element in culture. Yet these thoroughly
cultured men are, for all that, entirely natural human beings, but free
from all pretence and vanity; free also from all struggling, from all
seeking for life’s good things, on which human happiness does not have
to depend, and in whose incessant pursuit men only lose their souls;
free from all unhealthy pessimism, or monkish seclusion; free from fear
or nervousness or impatience; cheerful and quiet in the innermost
centre of their being, and continuing in their mental and spiritual
soundness up to the highest goal of human life. “As their days, so is
their strength,” as the Old Testament says with great beauty and truth.
The highest imaginable degree of this culture is a complete devotion
to all that is good and great, a devotion that no sort of trouble any
longer clouds, or can cloud; it is that condition of the soul, mentally
conceivable but seemingly rarely attained, in which there is no longer
any battle with the sensual and the transitory, and the struggle of
nature against the law of the spirit is completely at end.
This is that condition of perfection which we ascribe, in its
consummate development, to the Divine Being alone, but toward which we
also are called to strive; and the gradual winning of all men to this
goal is the task in particular of all true education, and looked at in
the whole, it is the end to which all history is moving.
II
No false culture nor half-culture is therefore to be compared with this
true culture, which is unmistakable in its effects upon the whole
nature of men, and upon their manner of intercourse with others. Even
in the very simple relations of life it will always reveal itself by a
certain greatness of spirit it confers, a spirit that distinguishes its
possessor from the ordinary man in the like ranks of life. And along
with this there is a quiet sense of peace with oneself and with others
such as no other philosophy of life can assure, and which, by its
contagious serenity, is apparent to every one who has ever been with
such people.
However, it is not wholly unnecessary, particularly at the present
time, to set down the chief characteristics of a false or insufficient
culture, characteristics which one meets very often and can not help
but notice. They are particularly the following:
1. Great extravagance in living. A man of genuine culture will never
set a _very_ high value either upon his outward personal appearance,
or upon where he lives, or what he eats and drinks, or the like
things: and so he will carefully avoid luxury, as improper for himself
and unjust toward others. Excessive finery, golden rings on all the
fingers, watch chains with which one might, if necessary, tie a calf,
houses in which one can not move for the furniture, banquets at which
one risks undermining even a robust constitution--these are all quite
sure signs of a lack of culture and things that one must guard against.
For whoever has intelligence sees through all this; it is only the
fools who are blinded by it. The surest mark of culture in all these
things is a certain noble, easy simplicity in one’s whole personal
appearance and manner of life.
The love of display and pleasure is always a sign of lacking culture,
and culture alone can thoroughly guard against it. Even a general
raising of the standard of life in a country is desirable only in so
far as a rough, half-animal, unworthy mode of living is by its means
done away with; otherwise a continual increase in men’s needs is a
misfortune for any country, and the cultured classes must earnestly
strive against it and set a better example. A noble simplicity of
living has also the advantage that it can always remain the same under
any circumstances, while people inclined to luxury usually have two
modes of living, one before people, and the other for themselves.
2. An external, but also very easily recognizable and characteristic
mark of culture is the possession or absence of books; especially with
persons who have the most ample means of procuring them. A fine lady
who reads a soiled volume from a lending library you may safely set
down as but half-cultured at best, and if she slips an embroidered
cover over the volume, it does not remedy the matter; it only shows
that she is conscious of her fault. An elegant home in which but a
dozen books stand unread on an ornamental whatnot you may quietly
regard as uncultured, with all its inmates; especially if, as usual,
the books are only novels.
Much reading still remains, in our day as always, a necessity of
general culture. Of a thoroughly cultured man one can properly require
that in the course of a moderately long life he shall have read all
of the very best in literature, and shall have gained, besides, a
tolerably general and correct idea of all the branches of human
knowledge, so that “nothing of human is to him quite alien.”
But if you ask how one can get time for this, outside of one’s business
or occupation, the answer is this: Break away from all unnecessary
things, from the hotel, from societies, clubs, and social pleasures,
from the useless reading of a great portion of the newspapers, from the
theatre, where you learn little that is worth knowing in these days,
from the too frequent concerts, from skating for whole afternoons, and
from much else besides that every one can easily charge against himself
as his special manner of squandering time. One can not be very cultured
and at the same time enjoy all the possible pleasures going.
But, if necessary, you may even break away somewhat from business. That
pays, and you will soon see what a difference there is, even as regards
business success, between a cultured merchant and a merely clever
manager.
3. A further sign of defective culture is a loud, rude nature: talking
very loud, in public localities, in cars, in restaurants, etc.;
acting as if one were the only person there; and conducting oneself
discourteously in places where many men gather. Our age is less
cultured in this respect than some earlier ones have been.
On the same footing stands everything that savors of advertising and
boasting, all showy pretence and braggadocio. A merchant, for example,
who greatly exaggerates the importance of his business, or puts very
boastful advertisements in the papers; or a lady who wears a silk dress
without quite immaculate undergarments--those surely you would not take
for people of sufficient culture.
4. Work also belongs to culture. It is not only a quite indispensable
means of attaining thereto, but idleness, even if one can “afford”
it, is always the mark of a disposition with low ideals; and that is
directly opposed to culture. Such a man will seek his pleasure in
something else, something less fine, or will possess a foolish pride
in not being obliged to work, or finally he is a fellow of coarse
sensibilities to whom it is a matter of indifference whether others
perish by his side whom he could have helped by his exertions.
An idler by profession is therefore surely a man without ideals and
without real culture, however elegant may be the external forms of
culture he has gathered round him. They are empty forms without real
substance, and every man of better culture is bound not to allow
himself to be deceived thereby and not to respect such people.
5. But not much less harmful is the inordinate passion for work. When
it is voluntary, it nearly always springs from ambition or greed, two
of the worst enemies of true culture; they always show that one sets
the highest value upon something else than culture. Or this passion
for work is only a bad habit and the imitation of a bad example, or
finally it may spring from a want of inner peace and control, which are
themselves the fruit of culture.
Whoever works on Sundays just the same as on week-days, when he is not
compelled to, you may quietly consider as little cultured as the man
who does nothing any day.
6. A very necessary element in culture is an absolute trustworthiness
and an upright conduct in all money-matters. To the cultured man it is
not permitted to display prodigality, or an aristocratic contempt for
money; a disposition like that always indicates lack of culture, and is
unjust toward one’s needy fellow-men, besides being mostly pretence.
Nor is it permitted him, on the other hand, to show undue parsimony,
nor dishonesty even in the smallest particulars. On this point, the
Scriptures say quite truly: “He that is faithful in a very little is
faithful also in much.”
An absolutely rightful employment of money, with the strictest honesty,
with complete disregard for money as the goal of life, and yet with
a proper valuation of it as the means of attaining higher ends, is
perhaps the surest of all signs of a man of genuine culture; as the
chase after gains and the worship of money most surely betrays the
uncultured man.
7. Another sufficient indication of defective culture is arrogance
toward inferiors or toward those who are poorer off, and this is
usually combined with subservience toward superiors and toward the
wealthy. This is the special characteristic of parvenus who spring
from uncultured surroundings. A man of the best culture will always be
polite and friendly, but the more so, the more he has to do with those
who stand below him, with the dependent or the oppressed; and the less
so, even to the bare edge of politeness, the more he has to do with
some one who makes pretensions, or wants to treat him as an inferior.
To show deep respect for the mere wealth of another is, as said before,
the most unmistakable mark of a man completely lacking in any culture
of his own.
8. There are still a number of minor signs of lack of culture, which
may, however, be in part only bad habits or the result of defective
bringing up; they do not always point conclusively to a general lack of
culture. Among these minor signs one may rightly reckon: much talking
about oneself; gossip and scandal over the personal affairs of others;
a great tendency to talkativeness on all occasions; a hasty, uncertain,
violent temperament; making many excuses for oneself where it is not
necessary or has already been done; to accuse or disparage oneself
in the hope that others will then assert the contrary; a too-zealous
officiousness; or a too-effusive politeness.
The thoroughly fine aristocratic temperament, such as the English
especially prefer, demands a very great self-possession and
preciseness; but this can easily degenerate into indifference and
coldness, and is then a fault. Enthusiasm and eagerness for whatever is
good a cultured man always possesses; where this is lacking, there is
also a lack of true culture, in spite of fine pretences.
But this is also certain: when the enthusiasm is genuine and is not
merely manufactured or the zeal of a beginner in the noble art of life,
then it will never be too forward and loud in expressing itself. A
noisy virtue is always a little suspicious, or at least is still in its
infancy.
Culture, therefore, is essentially the gradual development of inner
power toward what is right and true, with the purpose of elevating
and liberating one’s own higher nature from the bonds of the ordinary
animal sensuality with which it came into the world, and of training it
up to a higher level of life in complete soundness of mind and body.
Wherever it does not do this, it is of very subordinate value; and this
it must always above all things do in the so-called cultured classes,
for whom this is a primal duty.
It noway suffices to be always talking of the “elevation of the lower
classes,” who are often superior now to the upper in particular
elements of true culture. The chief need of our present day is much
rather the vigorous rehabilitation of this upper class, which is deeply
sunk in pleasure-seeking and the materialistic conception of things,
and has turned aside from the higher ends of life.
III
Now if you should resolve to try in this manner to attain to true
culture, you must have great patience with yourself. It is not the
matter of a single day or of a single resolution, although a great part
is played by making, once for all, a firm and binding resolve, to which
one always comes back again as often as one has in some particular
departed from it.
True culture, like true virtue in the main, is a matter of growth. By
degrees it grows in strength and insight, but can not be suddenly and
forcibly won by any kind of magic process; one must make some definite
beginning and then persevere in it for life. But this is the only true
purpose of living, never to be laid aside, and the only outcome of life
wholly to be wished.