throughout of an aristocratic and individual character. In that it is
adapted to the old experience, that to only a few is given the power and
the disposition for independent creation and independent life, it
addresses itself to these few and summons them to the greatest possible
development of the individuality of their nature, to the most decisive
detachment from the characterless average of the masses. For, without a
completely developed consciousness of individuality, without an
energetic differentiation and isolation, life does not seem to attain
its greatest height. Thus the matter is one of making all the relations
and all the externals of life as individual as possible. Everything
which places the development of life under universal standards, and,
through these, limits that development, is rejected as an unwarrantable
limitation and an intolerable restriction. This individualising of our
existence extends also to the matter of our relation to time. One moment
may not be sacrificed to another; the present may not be degraded to the
status of being a mere preparation for the future, but every moment
should be an end in itself, and, with this, life is considered as being
solely in the present. And so life is a ceaseless change, a perpetual
self-renewal, a continuous transition; but it is just this which
preserves to life its youthful freshness and gives to it the capacity to
attract through every new charm. Hence this system presents the most
definite contrast to the interminable chain and the gigantic
construction which the culture of work makes out of the activities of
the individuals.
Æsthetic Individualism appears most distinctive in the way it represents
the relation between the spiritual and the sensuous. It cannot take its
attention from the external world, in order to centre it upon human
perception, without strengthening the psychical. But, as its own system
is based upon sense experience, it is impossible for it to acknowledge
an independent spirituality and to contrast it with the sensuous; the
spirituality which it recognises always remains bound and blended with
the sensuous. For it an entirely mutual interpenetration is the highest
ideal, a spiritualising of the sensuous, and a sensualising of the
spiritual to an exactly equivalent degree. This high estimate of the
sensuous, and the endeavour to harmonise the spiritual with it, put this
new system of life in the sharpest opposition to the older systems,
especially to religious Idealism, in which the supremacy of the
spiritual is essential.
From such a basal character this system evolves a distinctive relation
to the individual values and spheres of life. Artistic literary creation
becomes the soul of life; the source of the influences for the
fashioning of a new man. The social, political, sphere is reduced to the
level of a mere outside world, which urges less to activity on our own
part than provokes a sceptical and critical attitude. The lack of
attention to all that which fits man into a common order, be it into the
State with its laws, or the civic community with its customs and
arrangements, permits the free relation of individual to individual in
social contact, friendship and love, to develop so much more
forcefully. In particular, it is the inter-relationship of the sexes,
with its many-sidedness and its inseparable interweaving of spirituality
with sensuousness, which occupies thought and dominates literary
production. Strike out the erotic element from specifically modern
literature, and how insignificant the remainder would appear! It is also
in the relation of the sexes that this scheme of life insists on the
fullest freedom. There is a marked tendency to regard an acknowledgment
of fixed standards and of traditional morals in this connection as a
sign of weakness and of a narrow-minded way of thinking.
Since this scheme seeks to realise an æsthetic conception of life and an
artistic culture in opposition to all the restraint of tradition and
environment, it will come into particularly severe conflict with
traditional religion and morality. It must reject religion, or at least
what hitherto has been called religion, because, with its blending
together of the spiritual and the sensuous in a single world, it can by
no means acknowledge a world of independent spirituality; its thought is
much too "monistic" for that. It must reject religion also for the
reason that, with its immediate affirmation of life, it cannot in the
least understand the starting-point of religion, the experience and
perception of harsh inner contradictions in our existence. Religion,
with all the heroism that it truly shows, is here regarded as a mere
lowering of vital energy; a chimera which pleases the weak.
In relation to morality the matter is not much different. A foundation
of morality in the necessity of its own nature is lacking in this
system. What motive could move a man who whole-heartedly accepted
Æsthetic Individualism to acknowledge something external to the subject
as a standard, and in accordance with this standard to put a check upon
his natural impulses? Indeed, with the denial of spiritual activity and
the division of the world into for and against, the entire antithesis of
good and evil loses its meaning and its justification. Reality appears
from the point of view of this system to be rent in twain in an
unwarrantable manner at the command of a human authority. What is
usually called morality is considered to be only a statute of the
community, a means by which it seeks to rob the individual of his
independence and to subordinate him to itself.
All this reasoning presents itself as an offspring of our own time, and
wishes to establish the correctness of its claims on its own ground
through its results. Yet it by no means lacks historical relations:
often in the course of the centuries the subject has shaken off every
constraint and sought a solution to life's problems in its own realm.
This happened, first among the Sophists; then in a form less marked and
with more direct attention to happiness in Epicureanism; later, in proud
exaltation and in a titanic struggle with the world, in the Renaissance;
and again in a more delicate and more contemplative manner in the
Romantic period. Tendencies from all these operate in the Æsthetic
Individualism of the present time and enrich it in many ways, though
their contributions are not always free from contradiction. But, even
with these historical elements, Æsthetic Individualism is essentially a
modern product; and it cannot be denied that it has won a great power in
the present; a movement of culture in this direction is unmistakeable.
It is the very nature of this scheme of life not to hasten to a definite
form, and for this reason it does not manifest itself with very definite
features; but, with invisible power, it is everywhere present and
creates a spiritual atmosphere from which it is difficult to withdraw
ourselves. Notwithstanding all the attacks it is subjected to and the
doubts as to its validity, it draws power continually from both the main
tendencies which it unites; from the evolution of the subject and from
the growth of art. Thus, here again we are concerned not with mere
subjective willing and wishing, but with an actual movement in universal
history.
Whether this movement be the primary and the all-dominant remains to be
examined by consideration of the total possessions of humanity. Such an
examination is in this case peculiarly difficult, because in
Individualism and Subjectivism diverse forms mingle together and give to
the movement very different levels. There is, therefore, an obvious
danger that, viewing these forms from the position of an average level,
at which we may attempt to arrive, we may judge one too severely and
another too leniently. And yet we cannot dispense with the assumption of
such an average level; only, it must not be applied mechanically to the
individual forms which are so numerous.
In forming our judgment in this matter, it is necessary in the first
place to distinguish the aims and the methods of the scheme of life.
There can hardly be any doubt or dispute concerning the aims. For, if we
are called to give to life an independence, a content and a value; to
raise it to complete power; to press forward from anxious negation to
joyful affirmation; to reduce the monotony of existence; to organise the
whole realm of individuality so that it shall be fully clear; and if, at
the same time, the fact of the degeneration of the inner life through a
culture of work lends to such demands the impressiveness and the voice
of a present need, it is difficult to see how this system is to be
effectively opposed. Æsthetic Individualism here appears as the champion
of truths which may be obscured for a time, but which, nevertheless,
continually gain in significance in human evolution as a whole. A
further question is whether its aims, which cannot be rejected, are
attainable along the ways which Individualism follows and beyond which
it is not able to go; whether the means suffice for the attainment of
the end. If this should not be the case, we are in presence of a great
difficulty, in that something, in itself of the highest necessity, is
desired, but is desired in a way which not only is inadequate to the
aim, but directly contradicts it.
And yet that is how the matter really stands. It is essential to
Individualism--with this it stands or falls--that it lead to an
independent life, to a self-consciousness; that it transform our whole
condition into something of positive value on the basis of sense
experience. That the actual condition of human reality, the nature of
human experience, inexorably resists such a transformation, and that on
this account the individualistic scheme of life is contradictory, we
intend to indicate more in detail.
Man desires a self-conscious life, a deliverance from all external ties,
a removal of all oppressions. This desire is a lofty one, but one which,
as things are, is very difficult of attainment. For not only in what
happens to us, but also in the innermost depths of the soul--in our
spiritual constitution--we are bound up with an overwhelming and
impenetrable world. The mechanism of nature as well as the organisation
of society surrounds and visibly and invisibly coerces us. At first
sight we are no more than parts of an immense whole, and appear to be
completely determined by that which happens in this whole; we come from
it and sink back into it, and every moment we are dependent upon that
which takes place around us. What is Individualism able to do against
such forces, and what does it succeed in achieving towards life's
attainment of independence? The means it employs are the arousing of an
unrestrained mood, and the withdrawal of life to the greatest possible
concentration in its own passive states of consciousness. Because by
these means man is in some measure relieved from the oppression of
things, he imagines himself to be fully free. But is he free simply
because he appears to himself to be so; free, to take the example of
Spinoza, in the way in which the stone thrown up into the air might
during its motion suppose itself to be free? As a matter of fact, as
everyday experience shows us, it is just in his moods that man is least
stable and least lord of his own soul, and that the most diverse
circumstances, physical and psychical, visible and invisible, great and
small, influence and compel him. The transitoriness of appearances,
which form the matter of fact as far as moods are concerned, is lacking
in all firm relation, all inner construction of life; for nothing is
more mobile, nothing more subject to sudden changes, than mood--nothing
except the surface of the rolling sea, or a reed shaking in the wind.
The life of mood is, in reality, a purely superficial life; a projection
of the psychical nature on to the surface of the immediate passive
states of consciousness. Life in this case attains no depth, content, or
independence, but only subjective opinion, the mere semblance of
independence. We shall see that Individualism so persistently offers the
semblance instead of the real thing that it has come to believe that
with the production of the semblance it has acquired the reality. Life
can only attain a real independence when it has been widened to a realm
in itself, when inner relations, antitheses, problems thus become
evident; and when, through the exercise of activity upon these, an inner
world is raised up, which confidently places itself in opposition to the
endlessness of the soulless world and is able to take up the struggle
with it. We must show unrelenting hostility to any attempt to identify
mood with inner spirituality, with the soul's self-consciousness; for,
really, there is no greater contrast than that between simple
disposition and spiritual depth, between the man of mere sentiment, with
his dependence and vacillation, and the personality rooted in an inner
infinity.
And so the independence and the predominance of the individual over the
social environment, which Individualism asserts, are nothing more than
an appearance. For what is offered in this system is far less a
self-conscious life and an undisturbed pursuance of our own course than
the inclination to say and do the opposite of that which is said and
done by the majority of those who surround us. It is easy to see that
life, as a matter of fact, always remains related to its environment and
to the standard of that environment; and that what is represented here
as independence is nothing but a different kind of dependence, an
indirect dependence. To the endeavour of Individualism to provide a free
course for the individual with his particularity it is scarcely possible
to offer any opposition. Unfortunately, however, intention and
realisation are different things, and Individualism is apt to assume as
something simple and self-evident that which of all things is the most
difficult, that is, individuality itself. Just as Socialism promises a
sure advance of life as a result of the removal of external hindrances,
so Individualism expects a magnificent advance of an inexhaustible
individualistic culture, if only the statutes by which the community
oppresses and limits the individual are annulled. What, then, is the
real state of the matter? Are men so full of spiritual impulse that it
is only necessary to open up a course for it? And further, does that
which is peculiar in a man signify, as a matter of course, that he is an
individuality with some sort of value?--and is it at once capable of
forming a centre of life? How indefinite and how lacking in consistency
the psychical nature of man usually is! How much that is lofty and how
much that is mean, how much that is noble and how much that is vulgar,
is found here! Shall this chaos display itself and be extolled as an
individuality? In truth, an inner unity appertains to a genuine
individuality, and the ascertaining and realisation of this are not
simply a gift from nature, but a result of spiritual endeavour. To
attain to a genuine individuality requires an energetic concentration of
life; an overcoming of the spirit of indifference; a unifying of the
multiplicity of experience; often, also, a transcending of sharp
contradictions. How difficult it has been for even the most prominent
individualities--men such as Luther, Kant, Goethe--to find their true
selves, that is, the essence of their being, the aspect in which their
strength lay! How great a problem, and what an object of the keenest
conflict, their genuine individuality formed to them! How could a task
of such difficulty find fulfilment, and life a unification and
elevation, in superficial and fleeting mood? If in order to make men
independent individuals it sufficed to declare them so, we should indeed
be much further advanced than unfortunately is the case.
The new life ought not to be simply autonomous, independent and
individual, it should also be powerful and great. Is the mere evolution
and cultivation of sentiment able to give such power and greatness to an
unrestrained passivity? Of course, in its own estimation unrestrained
mood can raise itself high above the whole world, and so magnify the
supposed independence as to give rise to a feeling of supreme power; but
again, it is only a representation of power, a semblance of power, and
not a real power, that is reached. Mere mood and genuine power
constitute an irreconcilable antithesis. Attention to and cultivation of
sentiment may refine life; it will at the same time weaken and dissipate
it. Power develops and grows only in grappling with resistances, whether
they be outside or within one's own soul. Life will acquire a powerful
character only where an active spirituality is acknowledged, which,
drawing from its own nature, holds up standards and aims to the actual
condition of reality, especially to its own soul, and undertakes to
change this condition in accordance with the requirements set by these
standards and aims. Æsthetic Individualism, however, as we saw,
conceives of the spiritual life as chiefly receptive and contemplative;
as an appropriation, a mirroring and an enjoyment of an existent
reality. Thus for it the spiritual life might be closely connected with
this existent reality, indeed might be one with it; but at the same time
the view robs that life of the power of arousing and elevating, of
independent construction and secure advance.
An aristocratic character, the separation of an exoteric and an esoteric
sphere, has been distinctive of an æsthetic conception of life from
ancient times even until now. The fact appealed to in justification of
its assumption of this character is beyond doubt: it is that, not only
in art but in all spiritual creation, only few among those creating or
reproducing stand high; that genuine creation always comes about in
opposition to the mediocre; that if it identified itself with the
interests and conditions of the majority it would be deeply degraded,
indeed inwardly destroyed. But this is a contrast between spiritual
creation and human circumstances, not a division of humanity according
to two sets of circumstances; in truth, fewer of the really great than
of those great in their own estimation have boasted of greatness. For
the genuinely great have been occupied far too much by the demands of
their task, and been too deeply conscious of the inadequacy of human
capacity, to have been able to indulge in a reflection upon and a vain
enjoyment of themselves. The infinity of the task by which, rather than
by other men, they measured themselves made even the highest result
appear inadequate to them. It is necessary to Individualism to represent
the unmistakeable distinction between a culture that is genuinely
spiritual and one that is merely human, as a difference between two
classes of men; and it is only because it knows no objective restraint,
no inner necessities, and can measure men only with men, that it is able
to believe itself justified in looking down upon other men from its
standpoint--as though the mere profession of faith in its programme at
once effected an elevation of nature.
The undertaking to transform life completely into something of positive
value, suddenly and directly to advance to complete affirmation of life,
is associated with the desire for power. So far as this is simply a
desire to abandon an irresolute and narrow mode of thought, false
humiliation and self-belittlement, and mere accommodation to
circumstances in tasks where the beginning is difficult and calls for
great effort, we may frankly admit its justification. But the matter is
not so simple as it is represented in this train of thought. Ultimately
no spiritual movement which would win mankind can give up its claim to a
final affirmation of life. Even the most completely pessimistic systems,
systems of absolute negation--as, for example, the original
Buddhism--could not conquer wider areas without making that negative
milder and transforming it into an affirmative. But the question is
whether, after all that humanity has experienced and suffered, a quick
and immediate affirmation is possible; whether the way to a final
affirmation does not lead rather through an energetic negation. So long
as the restriction which life felt seemed to come from outside only,
and not to reach the inner recesses of the soul, as the prevailing mode
of thought in Antiquity represented the case to be, the decisive
rejection of all suffering, the proud armouring of the soul against all
pain, could be accepted as the crown of all virtues. In face, however,
of actual experience, Antiquity could not continue to hold such a
conviction. For good or for evil, it was compelled to regard suffering
as something more important and to occupy itself more with it, and,
until Christianity opened up new paths, it fell into the danger of
losing all vital energy. Whatever position one may take up with regard
to the dogma and the tendencies of Christianity, the fact cannot be
struck out of history that it has laid bare infinite perplexities in the
soul of man in regard to his relation to the world, and at the same time
has taken up suffering into the centre of life, not to perpetuate it,
but to rise above it by the revealing of a world of spirit and of love.
This has not made life easier, but more difficult; yet at the same time
it has made it greater, deeper, and more inwardly determined. Every
scheme of life which light-heartedly professes to be able to lead us
quickly over suffering and to cast it off proves itself to be
intolerably superficial, if not frivolous. Superficiality easily
triumphs over men and becomes their first opinion; men seem to welcome
first every way of thinking which makes life comfortable and presents no
demands of any sort. But the problems of our existence, and the longing
for genuine and not merely illusory happiness, remain, and in face of
the seriousness of these problems it soon proves to be fleeting and vain
to try to find satisfaction in that which is simply comfortable.