The Moral Life and Religion THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK BOSTON CHICAGO DALLAS ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITBD LONDON BOMBAY CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. TORONTO The Moral Life and Religion A STUDY OF MORAL AND RELIGIOUS PERSONALITY BY JAMES TENBROEKE, Ph.D. Professor of Philosophy in McMaster University, Toronto, Canada I2eto gorfe THE MACMILI AN COMPANY 1922 COPYRIGHT, 1922 BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and printed. Published October, 1922 To MY WIFE AND SISTER THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 498375 PKEFACE The following study deals with selected problems con- cerning the moral and religious consciousness and is de- termined accordingly in scope and method. The treat- ment of religion is limited to what may be considered its relation to morality. The problems selected are of uni- versal interest, and require the attention especially of students of ethics and religion to whom it is hoped this dis- cussion may be helpful. The point of view is empirical and largely psychological The exponent numbers in the text indicate corresponding notes and references which show in part the indebtedness to others. No further bib- liography is presented. The sectional analysis of each chapter is intended to serve as a guide to the reader and also as a part of the index. CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGB INTRODUCTION 3 1. The sciences and the unity of experience. 2. Morality and religion in relation to experience. 3. Methods of treating morality and religion. 4. Supplementary relation of methods. 5. The problem and the order of discussion. PART I THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 10 CHAPTER II THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 10 6. Moral action. 7. Origin and development of the moral life. 8 ( a ) . Method and assumption. 8 ( b ) . Relation of body and mind. 9. Degrees of mental power. 10. Defectives. The feeble- minded. 11. Habit. Entrance of the moral factor. Character. 12. The function of attention. 13. Capacities, needs, and values. 14. Moral ideals and values. CHAPTER III THE WILL AND CHARACTER 30 15. Voluntary action and moral action. 16. Conditions and forms of voluntary action. 17. Choice. 18. Choice and moral conduct. 19. Alternatives in relation to the self. 20. Delib- eration and reasons for decision in choice. 21. The most rea- sonable course. Conscience. 22. The moral intuition. 23. Im- perfect knowledge of alternatives. Decision. 24. Freedom of choice. 25. Responsibility and "unfreedom." 26. The wide re- lations of the free act. 27. Bergson's conception of freedom. CHAPTER IV THE MORAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 59 28. Rules of action and the individual. 29. Bases for rules of action. 30. Casuistry and fixed rules. 31. Interpretation of CONTENTS PAGE the Kantian imperative. 32. The authority of moral imper- atives. 33. The selection of means. CHAPTER V DUTIES AND VIRTUES 70 34. Moral nihilism. 35. Specific application of moral princi- ples. 36. The implications of duty. 37. The uniqueness yet universality of duties. 38. The duty to be virtuous. CHAPTER VI GOODNESS AND SELF-SIACRIFTCE 84 39. Egoism and altruism not contradictories. 40. The organic unity of society. 41. The beneficence of goodness. 42. The virtues as basis of social co-operation and welfare. 43. Self- sacrifice as self-assertion. 44. Sacrifice and the hierarchy of ends. 45. The growth of altruism. CHAPTER VII MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION .... 99 46. Self, other selves, and things. 47. The social self, and the social mind. 48. Social institutions and their purpose. 49. Custom. 50. Rights and obligations. 51. Interpretation of "natural rights." 52. The function of the state. 53. Historical development of the conception of the state. CHAPTER VIII SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 116 54. Attitude toward ethical problems. 55. Crime and punish- ment. War. 56. The feeble-minded in relation to crime. 57. The mechanism of forces and the moral ideal. 58. The reversal of standards of value. 59. Further objections to the fulfilment of the moral ideal. 60. The psychological relation of the actual and the ideal self. 61. The logical relation of the actual and ideal self. PART II THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 153 CHAPTER IX MORALITY AND RELIGION 153 62. The study of religion. 63. Relation of moral and religious values. 64. The social unity of morality and religion. 65. CONTENTS PAGB Development of the conceptions of religious objects. 66. The "essence" of religion as affirmation of life. 67. The unity of religions and the problem of life. CHAPTER X UNIVERSALITY OF THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS .... 165 68. Universality and supremacy of religion. 69. Religion and daily experience. 70. Religion and science. 71. Religion and morality. 72. Religion and philosophy. 73. Religion in rela- tion to human worth and dignity. 74. Christian affirmation of human worth. CHAPTER XI THE PRACTICAL RELATION OF MORALITY AND RELIGION . . 176 75. Reciprocal relation of morality and religion. 76. The Christian conception of God and the moral life. 77. Religion and the springs of action. 78. The germinal character of the idea of God. 79. The function of prayer. 80. Religion and moral reformation. 81. The elimination of evil and its con- sequences. 82. The rejection of vengeance. 83. Morality and the church. PART III PHILOSOPHY OF MORALS AND RELIGION 196 CHAPTER XII REALITY AND THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS . 196 84. Implications of moral and religious ideals. 85. Theories of the objective unreality of moral and religious ideals. 86. The ethic and religion of mysticism. 87. Reaction against sub- jectivity in morals and religion. CHAPTER XIII MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 206 88. Idealism and the moral and religious consciousness. 89. Necessity of returning to empirical reality. 90. The empirical nature of reality, truth and value. 91. Reality and the worth of the self. 94. Reality and the worth of the moral life. 95. Moral acts modify reality and determine final issues. 96. Sal- vation and the functional character of the moral ideal. 97. CONTENTS The personal ideal is the moral law of the self determining its place in being. 98. The moral ideal and the hope of immortal- ity. 99. Reality and worth within the religious realm. 100. Unity of reality, truth, and value. 101. Change and develop- ment of the objects of faith. NOTES AND REFERENCES ......... 231-241 INDEX . 243 THE MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION THE MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION" 1. The relation of the sciences to immediate experi- ence is such that its unity is sometimes forgotten. Things and events tend to be regarded as forming a world in time and space with its own laws but indifferent to the presence or absence of the knowing subject. Other persons are known and believed in as having like experiences of a world accessible to all. Values also attach to things, events and persons as possessed of properties of affording satisfying experiences or as serving as means to this end. Conceptual constructions seem to extend the scope of what is known far beyond the direct apprehension of self or of objects. Experience, whether immediate or mediate, is, how- ever, still a unity. The sciences may be classified accord- ing to the aspects of this unity which each selects as its subject-matter beyond which it cannot go. The factis gained by observation and experiment in the realm of physical causation the natural sciences describe and ex- plain by the formation of some law or principle regarded as the nature of the process investigated. Other sciences such as philology, history, politics and sociology, deal with the psychical causes operating in human affairs. Still others such as grammar, logic, aesthetics, ethics, and, in part, politics and the science of law, treat of the stand- ards of value to which the subject subordinates everything experienced. 1 The sciences differ in the success each attains in the at- 8 4 j MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION tempt to reach necessary and universal formulations. Physics is more firmly established than, for example, po- litical economy, while it may be questioned whether ethics is a science at all. In proportion to its success, there is a tendency to universalize the principles of a science be- yond the sphere of their proper application, especially the laws of physical causation. The abstracted features of experience are made to appear remote and impersonal but the isolated factors need to be put back into the unity of ex- perience before their full meaning can be learned. Relig- ion and philosophy, however, compel us to take a compre- hensive view of the whole of life. Religion seems to be not so much a factor within as sustaining a dominating re- lation to the whole of experience. Philosophy, likewise, lays the entire experience under tribute as it seeks the meaning and import of all things. It is, then, evident that reflection, whatever its topic, moves only within actual or closely related experience. The more we dwell upon the immediate experience of self, the world of things, of events and other persons, the more its realness, simplicity and yet depth seize us. No fac- tor of this unity is finally intelligible without the others, and we act according as we perceive, know, feel, and will values, in order that we may conserve and have more life. Here thought finds its limit whose meaning it ceaselessly tries to discover perchance a beyond not yet accessible, certainly not understood, but in which there is belief. 2. Many problems arise out of the relation of morality and religion to experience some of which it is the purpose of the following pages to consider. But what are morality and religion ? Their familiarity renders their definition difficult. Perhaps the terms good and bad conduct, right and wrong action, the sense of obligation to conform to some ideal or norm, involving relation to others, indicate the nature and sphere of morality. For some, religion is "man's original, unconscious, innate sense of infinity that gives rise to his first stammering utterances of that sense, INTBODUCTION 5 and all his beautiful dreams of the past and future." 2 It is man's "perception of the Infinite," says Jastrow, whatever that may mean. It is the moral law regarded as the command of the divine Lawgiver, according to Kant. For many, religion is not an instinct, not an innate sense of the Infinite, but "the religious consciousness has been built up, or differentiated from a background of overt ac- tivity and relatively objective phases of consciousness. The assumption underlying the problem is that the religious attitude of mind has had a natural history, that there was a time in the history of the race when a definite religious attitude did not exist, and that, in its genesis and in its development, it has been conditioned by the same laws ac- cording to which other mental attitudes have come into being." 3 These views are examples of the diverse defini- tions of religion. 3. There are different ways of treating moral and re- ligious experiences, each important, but only some of which we shall be able, for the most part, to employ. Our starting-point is the unity and continuity of man's life in adjustment to his environment and depends much upon the conviction, which emerges from immediate experience, that morality and religion promote and complete each other, especially that the moral consciousness passes naturally into the religious which supplements and fulfills what is de- manded by the moral. These convictions are what we live by and tend to be confirmed by the results of our action. Morality makes its demands, often disobeyed, while religion supplements efforts to fulfill ideals and gives assurance of the meaning and value of the universe in which our good is conserved and established. This confidence is more felt than clearly conceived but forms an essential factor in immediate moral and religious experi- ence. Hence the moral and religious should be viewed primarily and finally according to what they are in im- mediate life. Morality and religion may also be studied historically. 6 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION History aims to show how the different forms of morality and religion constitute an organic unity. The moral and religious consciousness of the race would then be regarded as assuming many phases in different peoples and ages. When did the moral consciousness appear? When the religious? Are the two essentially identical, or is one logically, though perhaps not chronologically, prior to the other, in the experience of both the race and the indi- vidual ? Another way of treating morality and religion is psy- chological both individual and social. Psychology ana- lyzes mental processes, including moral and religious phe- nomena, into their sensational, affective and conative elements, explaining them according to the laws of psy- chical causality and referring them, when possible, to organic changes. The psychologist is an impartial spectator of subjective and objective conscious states without regard to value, whether they be the psychical processes of telling a lie or speaking the truth or craving the satisfaction of an appetite. It is the will of the psychologist to regard moral and religious phenomena impersonally as objects for scientific analysis and ex- planation without subjecting them to norms of value, and yet the psychologist may properly investigate the nature of moral and religious values. The philosophy of morals and religion has its own problems. For example: What is the ontological significance of morality and religion? Are they only subjective processes of human life, the universe itself being not properly regarded in terms of values which can exist only in immediate personal experience? What sort of a World-Ground has to be postulated to be consistent with the claims of morality and religion ? Is it necessary to ask such a question, and, if so, can it be answered? Here we cannot forget Hegel's assertion that "the objects of philosophy are upon the whole the same as those of religion. In both the object is truth, in that supreme INTEODUCTION 7 sense in which God and only God is the truth." (Logic. Sec. 1.) If his view is rejected, what that is more satisfactory is to take its place? 4. Each of the methods of dealing with experience just described needs to be supplemented by the others, while all of them together are incomplete, since they fail to embody the whole of immediate life's significance, a large part of which is not cognitive at all. Life itself is the true reality. Especially is the psychologist's point of view, however important, an abstraction from imme- diate experience. The moment moral and religious experiences are thought of as personal, a realm of values comes into being. Because the same subject carries on the psychological investigation, studies physical proc- esses, has the moral ideal and is filled with religious aspiration, it is difficult to keep the strictly psychological point of view distinct from that of immediate experience. The same person may successively occupy these different points of view and perhaps make the transition from one to the other unconsciously. This happens when, for example, one gives a psychological analysis of a moral or religious state and then speaks of values and of duties that should not be neglected. There is, however, no ground for neglecting any of these methods of treating immediate experience if only no one of them is permitted to become dogmatic and to claim to be the sole representa- tive of life. This is prevented by recognizing that the unity of self-conscious experience is primal and that the sciences, from mathematics to the psychology of religion, move within this experience dealing with its selected aspects which philosophy tries to conceive as a whole. Beneath and through all flows the life of the personality willing to be, to know and to act in response to things, events and other selves, and striving to be faithful to the norms of value that emerge in consciousness as indica- tion of the direction in which life itself may be found. 5, Jn the following pages, the moral and religious MORAL LIFE ATTD RELIGION consciousness is considered in three parts. The first is chiefly a psychological study of moral phenomena; the second, in like manner, treats the religious consciousness, especially in its relation to conduct; the third outlines what might become a more extended philosophy of morals and religion which I have ventured to call moral and religious realism, and which seems to offer some hope of clearing up persistent problems in morals and religion. Of course, this "realism" may discover problems as difficult to overcome as those upon which it throws light. If so, it is only another evidence of the baffling complexity of immediate life. It is difficult to hold the even balance of thought and not become a misologist in view of the fact that the bravest chain of reasoning rests on postulates without which the whole fabric collapses. Mathematics has, per- haps, been most successful in following "the secure method of a science" but it cannot give an account of its assump- tions, and is puzzled to show the relation of its truths to reality. If this holds of the most ancient of the sciences, what hope of final truth elsewhere, least of all concerning the complex nature of moral and religious experiences, especially in relation to that other mystery called the World-Ground or God or Absolute? And yet "we are even willing to stake our all, and to run the risk of being completely deluded rather than consent to forgo in- quiries of such moment." It is not necessary in what follows to examine theories of knowledge. Where there is such diversity of opinion, there would be little prospect of settling the controversies concerning dualism, realism, and idealism, especially in view of the forms each assumes. Although mindful of the views of others, I refrain from their detailed discus- sion. The! same is true of theories of ethics and of religion. The limitations of this study have made it nec- essary to confine attention to certain problems of special interest to the writer. If the problems treated are not INTRODUCTION live questions to the reader, I ask indulgence for they are to me in my study of the moral and religious con- sciousness which I undertake in the hope of reaching a working hypothesis of life found, I believe, in moral and religious realism. PAKT I THE MOKAL AND KELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS CHAPTER II THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 6. It is more convenient to postpone the considera- tion of religious experiences, except as they may be re- ferred to incidentally, and give attention to the moral con- sciousness. \The definition of a moral action is difficult, for there is no proximate genus under which it may be subsumed, nor specific difference to be mentioned. If we try to define moral action by mentioning its essential attributes, we are assuming that we already know its nature sufficiently well to recognize it when presented and to select the attributes which distinguish it from other forms of activity. It is usual to describe a moral action as right or wrong, good or bad, when judged in relation to some standard according to which it ought or ought not to be done. Such acts are approved or disapproved, towards them merit or demerit is felt, and, when habitual, they are virtuous or vicious. But these terms are vague and a more detailed description is attempted. A moral action has an inner and an outer, a subjective and an objective nature. The subjective concerns what takes place in the individual's own consciousness, the objective signifies the relation of the act to some standard involving personal relations to the welfare of others and this standard measures the moral quality of the act. Analysis of the consciousness of the agent shows that a moral action 10 THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 11 springs out of some need of which the subject is conscious. There is also a more or less clear representation of the object which will satisfy the need, the object in conse- quence being viewed as a good, or a value, and the act to obtain it approved. Such is the nature of desire. There is also pleasure in the idea of that which will satisfy, and pleasure in its attainment. There may also be more or less thought of other needs and goods giving rise to a sense of conflict between values requiring com- parison followed by decision and choice of the good or value that seems to promise the greatest satisfaction on the whole which the subject ceaselessly strives to gain. Then follows, in some cases, selection of means to the end chosen as the good of the self. This analysis of the moral action is not complete for such an act has objective relations as well as the subjective characteristics just described. The objective features concern the deed that is done. This deed alters in some respects the physical and psychical environment of the subject, by bringing about changes in the natural world which includes the agent's body and those of his fellows, or it may modify the social relations in which he lives. Subordinating the physical to the spiritual, we may say, every moral action has spiritual consequences in the self of the agent and in other selves, these being finally in- separable, and the consequences are taken up even into the life of the universe itself. Who can set limits to the effects of a lie or a good deed? As Fichte said: "My moral will merely as such, in and through itself, shall certainly and invariably produce consequences in another to me incomprehensible world." 4 The description of the moral action just given uses terms among the most comprehensive in our vocabulary. What is a need, a representation of the object needed? What is the object, the "ought-to-be," the choice after deliberation, the subjective and objective? Our first im- pulse is to say that these terms are abstracted from de- 12 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION veloping personal experience which is so complex that analysis always falls short of the facts. How early in our developing experience does the moral life begin? Here again we assume that we already know the nature of moral action and are able to say just when it is present, how its origin is to be understood, What its content and how related to the whole of human life. Y. Moral experiences seem to many so unique that only a divine source appears sufficient to account for their origin. Others, however, cannot forget that man has in part at least a physical nature in many respects like that of lower orders of life. The question imme- diately arises as to whether his moral and even his religious life may not be a mere outgrowth of natural processes. My own view is that our moral life is a structure erected upon the basis of natural processes, and that a comprehensive survey of man's nature, both physical and psychical, individual and social, will assign to the moral life its proper place in the growth of the per- sonality. I shall now attempt to outline this growth, con- fining attention first, to the psychical history of the in- dividual, reserving the more objective and social consider- ations for later discussion, although fully recognizing that there is no final separation between subjective and ob- jective, individual and social.* *It is well known that at the close of the last century T. H. Green in his Prolegomena to Ethics embodied this controversy concerning the origin and development of moral conduct in the form that it assumed in that day. The two parties to this con- troversy were, on the one hand, representatives of what Green called naturalistic theories of ethics, for example, Hume of an earlier day, J. S. Mill in his Utilitarianism and Herbert Spencer in his Data of Ethics who held that the moral life is an outgrowth of natural wants, instincts, emgtions, pleasures and pains. The other party was represented by Green who from the Kantian and Neo-Hegelian point of view maintained that the sense of obligation, the will and the ideal of the highest good could be accounted for only on the basis of man as possessing a constructive reason who out of hia own rational nature formulates moral principles and realizes them through acts of will in fulfillment of the true self. THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 13 8 (a) The study of the moral and also of the religious consciousness should be, in the first place, psychological with a due recognition of biological concepts on the as- sumption of some kind of unity and continuity between animal and human behavior, and, in man's life, between his appetitive, instinctive, emotional processes and his higher modes of thought, feeling and action. The moral theory of Kant and Green means that the moral life cannot be accounted for on a naturalistic basis, thus agreeing with Huxley who in his "Evolution and Ethics" declared that all efforts ancient and modern fail "to bring the. order of things into harmony with the moral sense of man." "The cosmic process has no sort of relation to moral ends." Nor has the naturalistic view of ethical phenomena a sufficient answer to Spencer's question, "If the ethical man is not a product of the cosmic process, what is he a product of?" The controversy concerning the origin and development of the moral life still prevails but assumes a somewhat different form. A larger conception of nature and of man is held and the point of view is more emphatically psychological, biological and social which seems to permit us to regard man's ethical life as in some sense an outgrowth of natural processes. A brief reference to representatives must suffice. For example, Baldwin shows that in what he calls the "dialect of personal growth" the child even so early as the third year begins to be dimly aware of the superior will of the parents who are to be obeyed. In this personal relation to a dominating other self lies the beginning of the sense of obliga- tion. In his "Foundations of Character," Shand would hold that as the body is a system of co-ordinated systems, so is character a system of systems consisting of acquired organizations of activ- ities developed on the basis of primary organizations. The science of character must examine these primary systems and the laws of their interrelations in pursuit of their predetermined ends and their relations to the acquired organizations of activities. The growth of character is portrayed in three principal stages: "Its foundations are those primary emotional systems, in which the instincts play at first a more important part than the emotions; in them and as instrumental to their ends, are found the powers of intelligence and will to which the animal attains. But even in animals there is found some inter-organization of these systems, or, at least, some balance of their instincts, b'y which these are fitted to work together as a system for the preservation of their offspring and of themselves. This inter-organization is the basis of those higher and more complex systems which, if not peculiar to man, chiefly characterize him, and which we have called the sentiments; and this is the second stage. But character, if more or less rigid in the animals, is plastic in man; and thus the 14 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION The psychology of moral and also of religious expe- rience assumes that normal human beings are fitted to respond to their environment so as to develop their powers and fulfill their life. These capacities and the environment are so related that conscious processes, the neural mechanism including the end-organs of sense and motion and central organs, and the activities of the world- order may be conceived as forming a unity which, how- ever, it may not be easy to define. Everything, once endowed with existence, strives to maintain and preserve itself. This I think, is what is meant by Bergson's Creative, evolving Life, by Schopen- hauer's Will to be, or to live, and by Spinoza's "conation" who says: "Each thing endeavors, as far as it can, to persist in its own existence" which is "nothing but the actual essence of the thing itself." "The mind-endeavors to persevere in its being for an indefinite time, and is sentiments come to develop, for their own more perfect organization, systems of self-control, in which the intellect and will rise to a higher level than is possible at the emotional stage, and give rise to those great qualities of character that we name 'fortitude', 'patience,' 'steadfastness/ 'loyalty,' and many others, and a relative ethics that is in constant interaction with the ethics of the con- science, which is chiefly imposed upon us through social influence. And this is the third and highest stage in the development of character and the most plastic" (172 f). A view similar to the above is presented by Dr. McDougal in his "Social Psychology" which gives "an account of those most fundamental elements of our constitution, the innate tendencies to thought and action that constitute the native basis of the mind" exhibiting "human volition of the highest moral type as but a more complex conjunction of the mental forces which we may trace in the evolutionary scale far back into the animal kingdom" (p. 15, 17). On this basis, it is not difficult to anticipate an ethic which shall exhibit "volition of the highest moral type as but a complex conjunction" of these primary instincts and emotions (122-127). It is, however, with some protest one learns that this "volition of the highest moral type," in which the ideal is made to prevail by an effort of will, is finally due to "the instinct of self-display or self-assertion whose affective aspect is the emotion of positive self-feeling" an instinct which man has in common with the higher animals (256, 264). THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 15 conscious of this effort. " 5 This conative principle is applicable even to inanimate things whose slower changes may be factors in a time order vaster than our own. Each existing thing tends to preserve its existence. Does not the stone literally resist the hammer wielded by the human enemy? The plant makes a better, more com- plicated struggle to preserve itself than the stone, the animal is more successful than the plant, and man equip- ped with reason makes the best success of all. To be seems the most precious privilege. Once endowed with existence, it appears as though it would not and could not be surrendered. A like desire to ground the moral life in primary, instinctive and emotional organizations forms the motive of Westermarck in his "Origin and Development of Moral Ideas." This author is careful to show that the moral emotions of approval or disapproval do not follow moral judgments. Instead, "Such judgments could never have been pronounced unless there had been moral emotions antecedent to them. Their predicates are . . . essentially based on generalization of tendencies in certain phenomena to arouse moral emotions; hence the criterion of a moral emotion can in no case depend upon its proceeding from a moral judgment. But at the same time moral judgments, being definite expressions of moral emotions naturally help us to discover the true nature of these emotions" ( II. 101 ) . This relation of emotion to the moral concepts is reversed by David Irons in his "Psychology of Ethics." This author agrees with the writers just reviewed in the attempt to find the foundation of character in primary tendencies to react upon the environment in characteristic ways; it is due to these tendencies that objects and aspects of reality in general gain significance and claim our interests. Emotions presuppose these primary tendencies and in- terests and in their turn call new ideas to mind and liberate other impulses to action, but the emotion is itself a unique, unanalyzable feeling-attitude toward some object whose character and relation to the welfare of the subject is recognized as the condition of the rise of the emotion: "In other words every emotion presupposes a judgment by means of which the situation is brought under a general category. . . . Emotion is dependent on a cognitive interpretation of the facts and will, therefore, be 'irrational' if the judgment is wrong. . . . The conflict between reason and emotion, then, is ultimately a con- flict between inadequate knowledge and the deeper insight which has been subsequently obtained" (P. 16-18). 16 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION This conative principle is revealed in the impulse to life and finds its most complex expression in humanity. The living being strives to expand and develop, for it craves more life. Needs are forms of this striving for preservation. Man's capacities from his sense-organs to his intellect and will are so many instruments by which he is enabled to adjust himself to his environment so as to preserve, and gain, more abundant life, for so precious is it to be that he clings to his existence. When we go about our daily tasks without special struggle or acute atten- This view of \ Dr. Irons seems to be transitional between the attempts, just reviewed, to base the moral consciousness upon nat- ural modes of behavior and upon the emotions, and the position of Dr. Rashdall in his "Theory of Good and Evil" and other works ("Is Conscience an Emotion?" and "Philosophy and Religion"). Like Kant, this author regards the faculty of judging conduct to be good or bad, though it may be modified by use, as a primary intuition given a priori and not evolved from more elementary forms of judgment and certainly not conditioned in its origin by emotion, as Westermarck holds, for whom moral concepts follow upon the moral emotions and are generalizations of the phenomena that tend to evoke such emotions. It is also opposed to the view of McDougal and Shand who, in order to provide for interest in moral ends, presuppose original tendencies and primary organiza- tions of behavior impelling to action. Instead, Rashdall holds that "moral judgments are the work of reason, not of a supposed moral sense or any other kind of feeling" and hence have objectivity and presuppose mind, ultimately the divine Mind (Phil, and Relig. 71f.). Nor is the desire to do what is right or reasonable on our part derived from emotions but "may be created by the reason which recognizes the Tightness" (Theory of Good and Evil. I. 106). This is quite in the spirit of Kant who in the "Metaphysics of Morals" (III) finds difficulty in showing how there can be any interest in moral ideas, since interests concern the inclinations and desires that spring out of natural self-love with which he contrasts "rational self-love" which is in accord with the revered moral law. This reverence, however, is "a feeling which has an intellec- tual source, and it is the only feeling which can be known completely a priori, and which can be perceived to be necessary." Hence moral ideas have an interest derived from man's rationality leading to effort in their realization (Pr. R. Bk. I. Ch. III). For the Freudian theory, see note at conclusion of the third chapter. THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 17 tion, we are working out the realization of our needs, for these daily tasks bring values into our experience by pro- moting well-being. Likewise, in severe mental conflict and deep searchings of the heart, the life we possess manifests itself in the craving for larger living, a striving to discover the way of life, probably because our life is a fragment of the Life in which reality is founded and which has perfectly what we have only in part. But it is too early in our study to make further use of this sug- gestion. From what has just been said, moral and religious ex- periences may fittingly be regarded as forms of the general principle that man, in common with other crea- tures, strives to react upon his environment in such a manner as to conserve and promote his well-being. The environment is both physical and spiritual. Man's body is that part of the natural world, to use familiar terms, with which the conscious life is most closely connected, for man is in some sense a real psycho-physical unity. A world of nature offers itself for man's contemplation, enterprise and enjoyment. The spiritual world includes the community into which each is born, and whatever each believes to be Divine. Moral and religious experiences are the personal attitudes towards this physical and spir- itual environment and involve affective, cognitive and conative factors tending to be expressed in characteristic physical activities. These outward expressions modify the physical and spiritual environment and thus each encounters repeatedly varying effects of his own moral and religious life. It is a circle of relations whose center is the individual for whom the unique moral and religious experiences are a personal possession. 8 (b) It is generally believed that the human nervous system has been evolved in the course of the development of living organisms in making adjustments to the en- vironment. Different degrees of consciousness have ac- companied this development as means to the end of 18 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION successful adjustment so as to preserve and promote well- being. 6 Any deficiency of the neural organism has a cor- responding defect in consciousness. For example, failure to experience normal sensations as in color-blindness. The same principle accounts for the different forms of aphasia such as "word-blindness" or inability to know a printed word seen 7 though normally familiar, because of injured visuo-psychic portions of the cerebral cortex, or to pronounce it because the auditory psychic centers for images of sound which precede the formation of words are disturbed. 8 The above principle throws light upon the mediation 9 of impulses and upon thought processes involving the ac- quirement of meaning. For example, the child's per- ception of a white object, as a lump of sugar, evokes the motor-impulse to seize and put it into the mouth, the tongue and lips being especially sensitive as tactual organs. 10 Visual, tactual, muscular and taste sensations form a series which, by repetition, establishes such an association that later visual percepts of like white objects have a mean- ing depending upon the memory image of the taste sensa- tion. The mediation of perceptual impulses thus depends upon neural centers and association tracts making possible the reproduction of the memory of the associated sensa- tions. In its higher forms, this mediation appears as thought and selective judgment based upon reasons which are feeling-values fused with memory-images of former sensations and percepts. Since acts of will are based upon hopes, fears and beliefs requiring memory of past ex- periences, and since deliberative thought preceding choice involves memory, anything which interrupts memory such as injury or imperfection of the cerebral cortex would effectively destroy the will. 11 9. It is evident from the above that capacity to think and will depends upon the condition of the neural centers and so does growth in mental power. 12 In the human being, "the number of neurones is complete at birth, THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 19 though by far the larger portion is not mature or function- ally active at this time. . . . Development in the intercon- frection of the neurones goes on indefinitely, certainly with most persons up to forty years of age. 13 " Hence the infant of two has not the capacity for thought and will possessed by the child from eight to twelve, while the youth between the ages of twelve and twenty has powers of thought, affection and will that prepare for and pass into those of the adult whose maturity covers generally the period between twenty and fifty. 14 The psychology of infancy, childhood, youth, maturity and age shows a well- defined course of development of physical and mental powers to maturity with a subsequent slow decline. Each is different, though there is no sharp line of distinction and there are personal differences. The infant eagerly seeks new sensations, is restless and impatient and tends to repeat experiences, especially those that are agreeable and those that are not offer enticing inducements for bold adventure. The mental development of childhood is rapid ; among its important features are the ability to dis- tinguish objects, the beginning of self consciousness, the ac- quisition of language, with much intellectual vigor. Youth also has its distinctive features some of which are the sudden transition from childhood interests to those of the grown up. Imaginativeness rapidly yields to practicality. The emotional life is in the ascendant in response to the new relations and interests which char- acterize this period. The purely intellectual life is sub- ordinated to the emotions, sentiments, feelings and ideals. As a consequence, youth is rash compared with the child or adult. Maturity is characterized by thought and feeling and the power of intellectual perception reaches its maximum. The ability to acquire new facts and new associations declines but the adult lives in a world of in- tellectual or emotional endeavor. The psychology of age extending from about fifty to death shows a decline of powers : 20 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION "Little by little the variety of sensations and feelings decreases ; sight, hearing, and the other special senses either become dull or are lost; the emotions and sentiments be- come less vivid than they were in maturity; associations are more slowly acquired ; memory weakens, especially for recent experiences; thought is slow and ineffective. In- terest in life wanes and the individual sinks gradually into a psychological state which, though superficially that of the child, as a matter of fact differs radically from it. The aged person is childish only in that the mental powers are on the level of the child's. . . . The complete history of the span from the dawn of consciousness to its disap- pearance from view is a long and fascinating story." 15 The inference is almost unavoidable that the "sins" of youth" on the one hand, and the "virtue" of the aged and experienced, on the other, are, in some part at least, the normal accompaniments of a vigorously growing body and of its slow decline towards death when both the "sin" and the virtue disappear. 10. It would seem, in view of the facts above mentioned, that Spinoza's saying, the mind is the con- scious image of the body, the idea of the body, and, con- sequently, a good mind implies a good body, might be ap- plied to the entire personal life including moral and intel- lectual virtues, to use Aristotle's terms. 16 Scientific investigation supports this view. Dr. Goddard has shown the difference in mental capacity to be dependent upon neural development, ranging from the idiot with the men- tality of the normal child of one to two years of age, the imbecile with mental capacity of three to seven, and the feeble-minded with the mentality of a normal child seven to twelve years old. Such adults have suffered arrest of brain development resulting in a restricted mental capac- ity beyond which they can never go. Besides, primary organizations of activities are not present in their normal completeness so as to afford adequate foundations for character in its more developed forms a fact, as we shall THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 21 see later, of great moral and social significance in the light of heredity. Besides, the victims of arrested de- velopment, injury or disease of the neural centers and association tracts, are unable to mediate and adequately systematize their impulses in view of the probable con- sequences of action and so fail to act intelligently. Not that the feeble-minded have no intelligence but that they do not have enough to meet certain environments. As Alfred Binet says: "A French peasant may be normal in a rural community but feeble-minded in Paris." Later the bearing of this truth upon the moral responsibility of those who are deficient in mentality and upon the obliga- tion of society to protect them from circumstances exceed- ing their capacity will be considered. 17 11. Upon the basis of the individual's inherited racial organizations of the neural mechanism providing for re- flex, instinctive, emotional activities tending to preserve and promote well-being is erected a superstructure of organized activities known as habit and character which are the outgrowth of individual experience. Only slowly does consciousness awaken and become an im- portant factor in determining the response to the environ- ment. The life has proceeded on its way some distance before actions of moral quality are possible. Moral ac- tions grow out of the earlier activities as the functions of intelligence and will enter into the process, though no sharp line of distinction can be drawn and there is much difference of opinion as to precisely when the moral factor is present. Character involves habit which seems to be a broader term of two kinds, namely, habits that are not formed under the specific guidance of intelligence and those that are. The first develops from random movements pro- duced by diffuse stimulation which are ineffective as a means of adjustment and soon give place to more definite responses to the external world. This requires elimina- tion of useless responses, and selection of the useful, 22 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION which is not properly described as due to intelligence con- cerning whose function just at this point in the establish- ment of pleasurable 18 and successful habitual modes of ac- tion there is considerable difference of opinion the details of which cannot now be presented. 19 The second class of habits referred to in the preceding paragraph, not sharply distinguished from the first, has a larger place for the function of consciousness. The hypothesis is that, in complex situations, old ways of re- sponse do not suffice. Because the human being has the power of forecasting what will be, if certain conditions prevail, and is capable of selecting new modes of action, it is said that intelligence enters and performs the biolog- ical function of making adequate adjustment so as best to promote well-being. It is mediated in contrast to un- mediated action as in the first group of habits, although this distinction is not absolute. An impulse is mediated when the experiences following upon its expression re-act into the original impulse to modify it. In this manner, impulse and occasion acquire a meaning as in the child's perception, seizure and taste of the sugar already referred to. Whether ithis process should be called associative fusion or a more distinctively interpretative act may be questioned. Repetition, neural habit, association, with increasing mental activity, result in certain impulses to act and certain objects perceived gaining a meaning in re- lation to each other, that is, they are idealized and given value in view of which subsequent action occurs. In this manner, the subject acquires the means of forecasting ex- periences, if certain conditions prevail. If these are new, the responsive act, although mediated by meanings and values derived from earlier experiences, will be more or less of a venture with an element of uncertainty but will be more adequate than the direct, unmediated act would have been. 20 Thus man begins to distinguish him- self from the animals by his ability to deal with un- familiar situations for which usual modes of action are THE FOUNDATION'S OF CHARACTER 23 inadequate. He is now said, even exhorted, to act reason- ably. It is here too, I think, that the rudimentary moral consciousness begins to develop, although its content may be little more than a feeling of approval or disapproval towards certain actions. 21 There are, however, degrees of mediation ranging be- tween immediate impulse to act and the most elaborate deliberative choice. The thoroughness of this reaction of the consequences of an act upon the original impulse determines its moral value and indicates that discipline will consist precisely in learning to estimate probabilities by distinguishing between necessary and accidental re- sults of carrying out impulses whose worth depends upon the whole set of experiences that would follow their ex- pression. Ethically this is the goodness of the impulse consisting in the satisfaction it brings. Obligation is the necessity of modifying any particular expression of impulse by the whole system of which it is a part. Thus there are three sets of ethical ideas which center about value, control, and freedom of conduct. But these terms anticipate views for which the following sections must prepare. 22 12. The selective character of attention is finally only an expression of the individual's inherited and ac- quired forms of organization, whether physical or psychi- cal, in response to the environment. Attention is co- extensive with consciousness and degrees of attention mean degrees of clearness and distinctness in apprehend- ing the content of conscious states. This is, perhaps, not entirely satisfactory for often emotion involves great at- tention but the thought content, though vivid, is meager, or, an intense stimulus may produce such a forceful sense- impression that it absorbs attention with little thought- content, as in the case of a severe burn. The fundamental form of attention may be called spon- taneous referring to the cause of attending to one object rather than another, and meaning that the act of attention 24 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION directly expresses some form of physical or psychical or- ganization preformed or acquired. The animal attends to its prey, the trained botanist to plants. Voluntary and involuntary attention both involve conflicts of spontane- ous, or direct, attention but are to be finally understood according to the same principle of expressing some form of organization which, in turn, rests upon the ultimate conative impulse to life. For example, to study a lesson requires voluntary attention, with effort, because so many other aspects of the self seek expression, too, and these have to be suppressed. If voluntary attention prevails, effort ceases, for that special form of the subject's organ- ization now spontaneously expresses itself without inter- ruption, that is, the conative impulse is unhindered. But the so-called voluntary attention is really superficial at best, for it often has to yield to deeper forms of the or- ganization of the life, as when a loud sound interrupts our jstudy, or sudden danger threatens, and, against our will, we give it, that is, the psycho-physical organism gives it, voluntary attention. The entire scheme of life is laid out on the plan of adjustment to physical and social forces in constantly varying situations. The forms of attention are selective acts, based hipon inherited and Acquired organizations of activity, which best serve the needs of the subject in response to the specific conditions prevailing in the environment. Clearness and distinctness cannot be defined. The focus of attention is actively analytic, rendering the con- tent of a mental state clear and distinct, accompanied by certain feelings of expectation, relief and satisfaction, as though an end were accomplished in thus experiencing the content, with a tendency to turn to some other less clear object allowing the clear and distinct to pass out of the focal point of consciousness as recognized sufficiently for present purposes. I do not think we so much give atten- tion in the sense of one state of consciousness acting upon another as that a mental state develops as a subjectrobject THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 25 experience to full clearness and distinctness with its ac- companying feelings of stjrain, expectation and relief. NOT do I see how we can make a given state of conscious- nes clearer than it is by any so-called voluntary act of attention, for every mental state is an active process in- volving change through time which must mean that each instant has its own unique content. It seems more satis- factory to think of a flowing life that rises and falls in varying degrees of clearness and distinctness of subject- object states with corresponding changes in the accom- panying feelings of expectation and relief. It is unnecessary to discuss the conditions of attention, for I have only wished to show how the focus of attention is the point of adjustment of the psycho-physical organism to the environment through the aid of consciousness. The analytic and synthetic activity of the focus of attention, with its clearness and distinctness, is the mediating point between the subject and its world of cognition, feeling and action, and, over all, is the dominating tendency to preserve and promote well-being whose highest form is voluntary action and the moral character resulting from it. 23 13. The conception of attention above presented in- volves the assumption that every human being possesses capacities, which in their organic unity strive for fulfill- ment and express themselves in consciousness as wants or needs more or less clearly felt. Here is the ground of those conscious states variously designated as sense of value, desires, wishes, motives, ideals, hopes and ambi- tions which it is impossible sharply to distinguish from each other, for they belong to a growth which cannot be partitioned. Men are so complex in their individual na- tures that an exhaustive analysis of these capacities is not possible. The life impulse flows through the bodily or- gans causing them to strive to attain their appropriate objects. To see is the function of the eye which is truly an eye only when it sees, and it must see to be a good eye. 26 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION Each capacity craving its fulfilling is just so far expand- ing life. So closely are physical and psychical powers related that this classification is a mere convenience, for every physical capacity strives for its appropriate func- tioning and is vaguely felt as a craving, a need for and an- ticipation of satisfaction accompanying its fulfillment. The term value here obtains its clearest meaning. Value implies a need felt with some apprehension of what will satisfy and a motor tendency toward it. Value, then, exists in the subjective experience of the relation between a need and that which satisfies the need, a conative ten- dency towards its acquisition. There is, however, a con- tinuous series of activities from the lowliest impulses and instincts to the highest moral and religious values which are thus rooted in these primary tendencies. Many problems emerge at this point for it is not easy to decide precisely in what value consists, when it is pres- ent, whether it implies comparison, and whether it pre- supposes a norm by which it is to be estimated. The pres- ence of values is, I think, determined by the degree of conscious mediation of impulses already described which will, it seems to me, be sufficient for the sense of value to be present long before specific comparison and choice take place. Some hold, however, that there must be compari- son while I think the mediation of an impulse together with its accompanying feelings is enough. 24 Until then, the conative tendencies of the capacities possessed are only vaguely apprehended, though they may be intensly felt as in the awakening that occurs in the adolescent period. This craving gathers about itself whatever med- iation by associated experiences may be possible at the time, and, in proportion as it holds attention, tends to initiate processes necessary to bring about the immediate experience of the value which then may be said to have existence. Values are, in short, life-ends which contain in themselves norms of action. The value of my home, business, or friend, consists in a certain relatively perma- THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 27 nent coordination of my experiences about an end. I work for my home; its value is a unity of immediate ap- preciation of objectified experiences past and anticipated in relation to which I act. It is not quite correct to say that comparison is necessary, though it may take place, for I do not need to compare my home with that of an- other in order to value it, though in affirming my home I exclude as well as imply others. Nor is it necessary to measure my home by a norm that is other than itself, for it is itself a norm of my action which in its genesis and growth is inseparable from my own developing life. It is also evident that the full reality of value consists in the actual satisfying experience, for example, of the home. At other times, values are only postulated and believed in as possible experiences. Still further does the mediation of an impulse emerg- ing in consciousness as a need imply some representation of a satisfaction that is not yet but "ought to be." These needs keep the pool of life stirring. Man does not prim- arily cause his needs, though there are acquired needs of which it is not necessary to speak. These needs are varied in kind, from food for the body to food for the soul, and the need for divine comfort and help. What is striven for is not but more or less clearly "ought-to-be." This "ought-to-be" is both an ideal and a value, an ideal be- cause it is a value that exists only in idea an ideal be- cause of a tendency toward an end lighted up by intelli- gence as a value not yet attained and hence striven for all the more keenly. Even the cognitions of these ends are themselves forms of conation. 25 ~ 14. A perplexing question now arises: Under what conditions is the sense of value and of the "ought-to-be" present? Are these identical or different and how far is each to be thought of as definitely moral, or related to the moral ? The principle of the distinction of the moral from the non-moral can lie only in the degree of the mediation of impulses and the kind of affective and con- 28 MORAL LIFE AND BELIGION ative states. Here again the concept of growth from simple to complex processes relieves us from being too anxious sharply to distinguish one stage from another or to draw the limits between the animal and the human. Herbert Spencer preferred to say that the moral is only a form of universal conduct as adjustment of internal to external relations and that "there is an entire correspond- ence between moral evolution and evolution physically de- fined." For others, the earlier forms of activity are pre- moral, Vorstufen as Miinsterberg says, germs of the moral rather than non-moral, or, as Shand says, "in the instincts and emotions are found the powers of intellect and will to which the animals attain." 26 There seems, then, to be no chasm between the natural, on the one hand, and the moral and religious, on the other, but they shade into each other, the earlier preparing for the later, nor is this necessarily a chronological distinc- tion only, for the higher is implicit in the lower or earlier. The relation may, I think, be illustrated by play as it is in the child and, to a less degree, in the animal. To call play an instinct is a convenient way of referring to in- herited forms of organization which may come to matur- ity after birth. The instinct manifests itself in a series of acts more or less extensive that serve an end which promotes the well-being of the individual or species. These acts, though in some degree conscious, are done, at least at first, without previous training and without clear apprehension of the end to be accomplished. In the child's play, native forces which treasure or "recapitulate" the race's experience are manifested. The child's men- tal state in play is doubtless free and satisfied but serious with a sense of reality. There is some forecasting of the thing to be done, a plan of play which at a higher level would be an ideal. There are also some invention and selection of means and a successful carrying out of an order of play. But why just this order? Why play at all ? Perhaps one may be permitted to say that later the THE FOUNDATIONS OF CHARACTER 29 child becomes a parent, and then the meaning of the doll's play is evident. In like manner our earliest strivings and much of our activity at every stage, guided only by a vague apprehension of what is being done, is related to the higher moral life, and the moral in its turn to the re- ligious. Everywhere it is the striving for satisfaction. The later fulfills the earlier. What were latent capacities become exercised, developed, and go out to their appropri- ate objects. Thus from the beginning of our existence, there is a forward-striving in response to needs that grow and expand, till only harmony with a divine ideal and life in God can satisfy the longing. Thus far our study has only attempted to show the factors that enter into the more subjective life of the moral personality. The objective, social aspects of moral conduct, though already implied, remain to be considered, for strictly the moral ideal involves personal relations and the obligation to bring the self into harmony with the objective standards established by some dominating per- sonality or group of persons. CHAPTER III THE WILL AND CHARACTER 15. In the analysis of voluntary action, which it is necessary to undertake before dealing in detail with moral action, the "psychologist's fallacy" of assuming a will as an independent agent must be avoided. Instead, the vol- untary action is the man acting; it is an achievement of the growing personality, a phase of the larger life-impulse to preserve and promote well-being, and is of several kinds. There is the simple volition consisting of simple feeling and idea, and it mdgiht be designated as unimotived. There is also the voluntary act which is the issue of com- plex feelings and ideas tending to definite expression. An- other form is choice where there is a conflict of motives understood as consisting of complex feelings and ideas; and, lastly, there is the habitual action following upon re- peated choices where the idea representing an end is di- rectly carried out with the former conflict of motives ab- sent because overcome in the established mode of action. It is will in the form of character and approximates the direct unimotived activity of simple volition. Much depends at this point upon the nature and relation of feelings and ideas which together form the motives that lead to action. We may pass over those forms of feeling which arise in connection with the organism as a whole whose state of comfort or discomfort may be spoken of as pleasurable or unpleasurable. Feelings, in the more spe- cific sense, are subjective attitudes towards perceptions or ideas. Such feelings may be designated as agreeable or disagreeable and regarded as revealing the relation of the object perceived, or thought of, to the well-being of the subject and thus the source of our approvals or disap- 30 THE WILL AND CHARACTEB 31 provals which in their turn express the relation of some object, or act to attain some object, to the welfare of the true self. 27 Constancy in the character of feeling will be relatively correlated with constancy in subject and object. If one varies and the other is constant, the feelings will be different. The quality of feeling changes in various ways in relation to the duration and intensity and the habituation of sensations, perceptions and ideas, the de- tails of which may for the present be neglected. Approval or disapproval of our own acts or those of others, now being done or that have been done or will be done, may, indeed, not be wholly identical with agreeable or disagreeable feeling, since obligation is not merely feeling however unique, yet there is at least a partial iden- tity, since both are grounded in the relation of the acts to the subject's well-being. If this be so, these peculiar feelings, granting the above qualifications, may be called ethical and do not appear to be original, since they vary with the relation of the character of the object to that of the subject. As a consequence, what we once approved, we may later condemn, and what formerly we condemned may be approved when better understood. Or, the ap- proval or disapproval may grow more intense, or lessen, or even change into its opposite, as our understanding of the nature of human actions is enlarged with the growth of character. Or, habituating ourselves to certain classes of action, the vivid sense of approval or disapproval ma} r largely disappear. If it is objected that the sense of obligation, approval and disapproval, are here too closely identified with agree- able or disagreeable feeling, it should be noted that each is analyzable into affective, ideational, and probably cona- tive factors. Of course, it may not be possible for gene- tic psychology to trace the development of these factors to the level of the moral consciousness. But it seems reasonable to suppose that the relation of ends that have to do with the complex physical and social environment 32 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION (to say nothing of a "spiritual realm") to the entire being of the subject should, in some manner, reveal itself in consciousness so as to serve as guide to action, and I think this takes place in the agreeable and disagreeable feelings fusing with memory images of former experiences a fusion which obviates the objection that feeling follows upon or accompanies sensational and ideational processes and hence cannot be a guide to action yet to be performed. Titchener believes that feeling lacks the clearness that sensations possess because feelings arise in connection with "free afferent nerve-endings distributed to the vari- ous tissues of the body" which represent "a lower level of development than the specialized receptive organ." "Had mental development been carried further, pleasant- ness and unpleasantness might have become sensations." This theory, it is held, would account also for "the move- ment of affective processes between opposites and the re- lation of this movement to the health and harm, the weal and woe of the organism, for the excitatory processes will report the 'tone' of the bodily systems from which they proceed, and the report will vary between 'good' and 'bad 7 of different degrees. This theory helps us to under- stand the introspective resemblance between feeling and organic sensations, for the two processes are genetically near akin and it is natural that they should be intimately blended in experience. 28 It may be objected that agreeable and disagreeable feel- ings, even when fused with ideational representatives of former experiences, are not reliable guides in conduct be- cause sensations and ideas, though highly significant for the subject's well-being, are often neutrally toned. It is at this point that Kantian theories may seem to have an advantage, for the sense of obligation and the desire ac- companying it are, it is held, "created by the reason which recognizes the Tightness" 29 in consequence of which moral obligation has an objectivity and necessity apparently not provided for by any compounding of affective, cognitive THE WILL AND CHAEACTEB 66 and conative elements that it is possible to conceive. It may be replied that this view assumes reason and the right as the reasonable, without attempting to show what we mean by reasons, when we give reasons for our decisions. These reasons are values which are rooted in the conative, cognitive and affective nature of the subject and these elemental processes combine to form those values so weighty as reasons for decisions in choices after delibera- tion concerning the way to attain well-being. 16. An agreeable feeling in relation to an idea of an action may not be of sufficient intensity to lead to its being performed. The assumption here is, of course, that men- tal states have some physiological counterpart which pre- pares for and may issue in outward expression, in con- sequence of which, whatever group of ideas and feelings dominates attention determines action. This is true, whatever theory of the relation of the psychical and neural is held. For example, the idea of doing a kindness to a friend who is apt to do gracious deeds in return might be approved, but the feeling accompanying the idea might be of such a mild form that the idea soon passes from the focus of attention and nothing is done, though there may be unobserved physiological changes, often of considerable intensity, that will form part of the conditions under which future actions will be performed. On the other hand, the feeling of approval towards such an action may become intense, and involve other feelings, until the complex group of feelings may be designated as an emotion. Then we have one who, we say, is strongly moved to do the kind act thought of. The psychic energies are just on the verge of breaking forth into an outward action, but, curi- ously enough this emotional state accompanying the idea of such a deed of kindness may terminate in one of two ways: either the emotional condition subsides and fades into the ordinary course of feeling too weak, apparently, to overcome the inertia of the physical mechanism, result- ing in no action at all. That is, the thought of doing the 34 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION deed of kindness never becomes anything but a thought. Such is the working of the mind and heart of those who have beneficent intentions, but do little that is beneficent. Or, on the other hand, the feelings may become so complex and intense, issuing in an emotion of such volume ac- companying the idea of the act of kindness that the deed is done and the emotion ends. Such a process may be called a simple volition. As Wundt says : "The simplest case of volition is that in which a simple feeling in an emo- tion of suitable constitution, together with its accompany- ing idea, becomes a motive and brings the process to a close through an appropriate external movement." 30 In this sense, the simple volition is impulsive in its freedom from conflict with other feelings and ideas. The volitional act in its more developed form pre- supposes several motives, that is, feelings and ideas, in the same emotion, and of these one seems dominant over others and is accomplished. This may happen without special consciousness of antagonism between the motives. It is more correct to say that the feeling and its idea which are to dominate gradually rise into prominence and possess the field of consciousness to such an extent that all other factors are subordinated to this motive with which some of them may be implicitly, though not consciously, in con- flict. This might be called the reasonable type of de- cision. The subject moves steadily on to the goal, the act follows without violence to any of the different courses proposed, but each finally takes its place in submission to the one dominant motive. In this gradual settling of the mind in favor of one course rather than another, there has been, indeed, recognition of different courses and there have been different feelings, but these do not resist each other. Instead, there seems to be mutual adjustment so that one set of ideas and feelings is lifted, by what may be called resolution, into the dominant place and the act follows accordingly. 17. Volition known as choice occurs in those cases THE WILL AND CHARACTER 35 characterized by a consciousness of conflict and strife be- tween different courses thought of where the attendant feelings, to some extent, neutralize each other. There are also more or less selective deliberation preceding choice, and accompanying feelings of resolution and decision. But the choice itself may be comparatively, though not wholly, unemotional, since conflicting feelings tend to modify each other. 81 There may also be, in the higher levels of attainment, a volitional act whose effect is primarily internal, as when some plan looking to a remote end is decided upon to be carried out in the future. Conditions may be added which may mean that, under certain circumstances, the resolution will not be expressed in outward action. While this is a voluntary act of a high order it seems to be incomplete till fully accomplished in outward action; it is possible only in the higher levels of personal experience. Again, the principle of habit-formation enters to cause a retrogradation to take place from choice between con- flicting alternatives to the direct impulsive form of simple volition and action where the mere occurrence of the proper occasion i,s sufficient to call forth the act without any special sense of effort or obligation, for the deed follows as a matter of course. This retrogressive process is famil- iarly described by saying that what one does at first with a keen sense of duty to choose rightly between alternatives comes to be done after repetitions, habitually ; conflict dis- appears, emotion and thought processes are at a minimum, and character has been formed because conduct has become mechanized along what was once a new way of acting. This fixity of character gained through action according to choice means that one no longer confronts vague pos- sibilities but acquires freedom through the induced neces- sity of acting in a specific manner inherent in the self's de- termination to ends. This conception of freedom will be more fully treated later. 18. Further analysis of choice brings to light the con- 36 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION ditions under which the moral quality of action is intro- duced into conduct. A distinction is necessary between acts in which one sets out to realize some desired purpose without any sense of conflict and those in which there is. In the first, the subject acquiesces in the proposed course and enters upon it directly. Here an act of will takes place realizing a value; it is conduct in its broader significance. In the other, the subject is brought to a halt and made keenly aware of different ends or values so incompatible that they cannot be brought into the same organization of the self's activity, in consequence of which a selection of the end or value that has a right to dominate over others has to be made before overt action can occur, thus introducing the moral quality into conduct. It has, however, to be granted that no sharp line of distinction can be drawn between moral conduct and conduct guided by ideas of value yet morally indifferent because all volun- tary action ultimately springs from character and has social consequences. This view may be accepted without prejudice to the conception of the moral consciousness as involving a recognition of incompatible values requir- ing selection, especially if it is remembered that one is led to this recognition by various causes, such as the difficulty of persisting in a course at first readily adopted or the bearing of its consequences upon the welfare of others, or some change in the physical world which mod- ifies the course of thought. In preparation for the discussion that is to follow, at- tention should be called to the characteristic features of those situations which are, at least in the narrower sense, moral. Here is that sense of the actual state of the world and of the self in antithesis to what ought to be with the be- lief it is possible for the subject to modify one or both for the better. Here is that unique division of the self known as duty to an ideal contrasted with the present self and im- plied in the necessity of selecting the end or value that has a right to a place in the organization of the self's activity THE WILL AND CHAKACTEB 37 instead of others recognized as incompatible. Much in- terest attaches to this "right to be." Does the subject know three things, two incompatibles and a third some- thing which is to determine the selection of the one that has a "right to be" and, consequently, is "better" ? It seems to me that there is no such third factor or ideal of the high- est good consciously present but, instead, a conative organ- izing tendency emerging in absorbed attention directed to alternative ends or values whose incompatibility in the same self gradually becomes clearer, while the accompany- ing feelings of "constraint," "obligation," "approval," "disapproval," become more composite and intense until the one dominates over the other. In this unity of the self, no factor, whether physical or spiritual, sensuous or ideal, is properly higher or lower, better or worse. In- stead, "the right to be" signifies the fitness of the part to stand in the whole, in this case, in the self that is becoming organized. This self-organizing tendency is the main- spring of every choice which is the judgment of value as to what is the most suitable form of realizing abundant life in a given situation. Thus the self, comprehending so- called physical and spiritual, individual and social, re- lations, is evolving through its choices in response to "con- science" as above understood, in company with other selves, towards a fullness of experience, a highest good, which shall be most satisfying, yet fruitful of still richer expe- rience. But how and why does the environment differentiate and narrow itself for the subject to particular alternatives that are real disjunctives, an either or? Our burdens would be lifted, our problems solved, if we could only transform our disjunctives into categoricals. Man's ability to choose between alternatives has been heralded as his glory, but the inglorious fact is that man must choose between real alternatives, because of his limitations. We cannot have and do everything we propose to our- selves, for it belongs to us to have only the freedom, not 38 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION of a god-like nature, but, of a very narrow and definite individuality for which some things are incompatible, but God may not be supposed to have alternatives, inner conflicts, and subject to a law superior to Himself, for He is truly free in the identity of reason, will and action. Nor is a beast troubled with conflicting ideals and a divided self, for the inherited organizations of activity provide what is necessary. It is only man, neither a beast nor a god, that has alternatives between which he must choose, and ideals to which he ought to conform, but both are perhaps indications of his inferi- ority, if, according to Bergson, the instinctive guidance of animal life is superior to the intellectual at least these crises marked by alternatives and ideals are incidents in the achievement of personality in which there may be a measure of hope and comfort. 19. The alternatives between which choice is made are directly related to the actual self, and do not leave the confines of conscious life, though they shade into the subconscious and even rest upon unconscious neural processes. The alternatives spring from the self, while the decision to take one rather than the other is a decision to be one sort of self or character rather than another. Each alternative, A or B, consists of feelings more or less intense and complex, and of ideas of the act to be done and its consequences. There is also an accompanying motor tendency to give expression through the physical or- ganism to what is thus represented and felt. It is the feeling aspect that gives the intensely personal grip upon an ideal which is objective and impersonal. Ideas as such are powerless ; they enter the mind, flit through the focus of attention and may pass away without being seized upon as especially significant. The idea of B is to one noth- ing, to another all important. If a strong feeling-tone accompanies the idea of B, the case is serious. Ideas receive more or less of a backing from the feelings which are a token of the value of the object thought of to the THE WILL AND CHARACTER 39 subject's wjell-being. Whether an idea is ever totally without some feeling-tone of the original sensation or per- ception persisting in its ideal revival, or arising independ- ently in connection with the ideational process as an ac- tivity directed toward an end, 32 may be questioned, though I should think that ideas might be neutral, since sensations and perceptions are said to be sometimes neu- trally toned or indifferent. However this may be, the feelings accompanying ideas may, with sufficient intensity, break forth into overt action and the psychic and physical energy will go into the act. Then the fully developed volition is accomplished in the external world. But, before this occurs, there are only feelings related to ideas of courses of action that might be followed, that is to say, desires, motives, or springs of action. It does not es- pecially matter as to the term used, if it is remembered that the feelings are -subjective attitudes of valuation towards ideally represented courses of action directed towards ends that have to do with well-being accompanied by the motor-tendency to do these acts which are out- wardly accomplished when some one set of these feelings and ideas becomes dominant. The desire, the motive to action, therefore, and the final meaning of choice, are grounded in the striving for satisfaction and fulfillment of the self's capacities in a developing environment. Con- sequently, the choice between alternatives is really be- tween complex groups of desires mutually re-enforcing each other within the unity, or between incompatible kinds, of self. It is now possible to state, at least formally, what the highest good is, for as Socrates said, "the answer is rolling at our feet." If the subject may be supposed to reflect upon the various desires that rise spontaneously from orig- inal and acquired capacities striving for their appro- priate functioning, he will gradually become aware of the idea of a good on the whole looking to the fulfill- ment of as many of the capacities of the self as 40 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION possible in every act. 33 If, as Taylor believes, 34 this idea of the highest good on the whole is not nec- essarily present in choice, I think it represents the motive-spring of every selective decision which, there- fore, seeks to reach the most comprehensive satisfaction of life's needs possible in a given situation, and the deci- sions is just the judgment of what the best good of the self is in the circumstances. Later one may come to see in a new light that what he formerly took as his personal good was evil, for the deed will then be revealed in its real character. Here are the bitterness of sin and, at the same time, self-condemnation and the beginning of repentance in awakening to the fact that one is such a self as to have taken evil as the self's good, or, as it is said, in order to "conversion," there must first be con- viction of sin. In this sense, evil is necessary to good in an individual's or a people's development. Savage morality can be condemned only in contrast with the moral standards of civilized life. "Evil is therefore not the abstract opposite of good, but a lower stage of good" through which the spiritual nature of man passes towards its fulfillment. 35 On the other hand, there is increasing satisfaction accompanying choices that tend to develop ideals of action and, when accomplished, do really pro- mote personal and social welfare. It is now evident that in choice is revealed the func- tional significance of intelligent self-direction by the for- mation of a judgment as to what is required in a given situation, for which original, or habitual acquired organ- izations of activity are inadequate. It is, I think, what Kant meant by the autonomy of the rational will, when he says: "We have at last succeeded in reducing the true conception of morality to the idea of freedom which is de- termined to action by no cause other than itself." It is just the self as rational working out its own true self- hood. This is morality. 86 20. Deliberation examines the incompatible courses, THE WILL AND CHARACTER 41 by which the subject is halted, in order to discover rea- sons for choosing one rather than the other. One might conceivably both reject A and refuse B, but, in view of what the self is and is becoming, these incompatibles are practically contradictories so that to refuse E is to adopt A. The presupposition, of course, is that the entire system of relations has specialized itself into just these alternatives or incompatibles before which the self stands critically examining them to discover reasons for adopting one rather than the other as fit to be incorporated into the unity of the growing self. This analytic act also reveals the character of the agent which settles what will come into mind as a reason to be heeded in the delib- eration ; indeed, as Aristotle says : "If a man be in any sense whatever responsible for his moral condition, in that same sense will he also be responsible for his conception of the true end." 3T If one's character is beneficent and benevolent, reasons that have to do with the welfare of others will assume importance in decision. The mood in which one is, the emotional condition prevailing, will determine what is thought of. If one is sorrowful, ideas harmonizing with this mood will come into mind rather than ideas that are associates of cheerful moods. If one has wealth, there is apt to be a sense of security resting upon possessions rather than upon effort of will to attain a larger self -hood leading to indifferent reflection ; if there is poverty, the sense of being unable through lack of means to carry out purposes will inhibit reflection and so, in each case, as Plato says, 38 both wealth and poverty are equally causes of self-deterioration. But what is a reason when we give a reason for our de- cision ? The above principle helps us to reply. A reason is just one of these unities of feeling and idea which arise in connection with some need that springs spontaneously out of the self as both body and mind, presupposing some mediation of the impulse through former experience. More briefly, a reason is a value that the self recognizes 42 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION and appreciates, indeed, constitutes. But why is it a value? Because it goes back into the primary and ac- quired tendencies of the self including the instinctive, emotional and habitual, in brief, into psycho-physical pre- dispositions, partly inherited, partly acquired. Nothing is a reason in a pure, abstract, impersonal sense, for the ideal content of value in order to be a value is made to glow with life by the feeling akin to agreeableness, ex- pressing the relation of the object thought of to the self's well-being, or to the whole system of the self. A reason for decision is, therefore, a value determined by the self as the complex of psycho-physical organizations and dis- positions. But comparison 39 is not, I think, necessary to the sense of value for values must be already recog- nized as present in order to weigh in the comparison of alternatives and serve as reasons for deciding in favor of one rather than the other. It is, however, true that valua- tion may be enhanced in clearness of content during a comparison of alternatives. But the sense of value passes through various changes due to fluctuations in the quantity and quality of the emotional attendants of the ideal con- tent, as in the case of the volunteer soldier yielding obe- dience to patriotism as against the claims of family. In the final decision, the emotional element subsides, indeed, yet acquires a potential strength which it did not have before, for the decision establishes one alternative as the self that is to be, while the other may be strongly felt but no longer viewed as possible yet contributing to an undercurrent of life that will be encountered in later deliberations. Instead of comparisons being necessary to the sense of value in reaching decisions, it seems more like the up- springing of a fountain in two or more streams one of which gradually becomes greater in volume, while the others either become less or disappear. In like manner, the life-stream which was flowing in two or more ways, or alternatives, finally flows in only one. It is the source of THE WILL AND CHARACTER 43 the stream, the upspringing fountain of life, that counts. 21. Deliberation assumes that, when there is a con- flict of values, there not only is a most reasonable course but that it may become known. The assumption is im- portant for it means the Best, as Plato said, the Highest Reason which may be no merely logical reason. The decision is finally ontological. But wbat is the most reasonable course and how is it discovered? The most reasonable course is that which affords the widest and completest realization of the true self striving to become actual through the elimination of tendencies that narrow and inhibit, and the exercise of powers in relation to their appropriate objects, thereby enabling the self to meet the demands that arise from within and from re- lations to the community. The determination of the manner in which the most reasonable course becomes evident may now be under- taken. It is not sufficient to say that the agent knows it because he so strongly approves one alternative rather than another. Why the strong approval ? The popular way is to say that conscience directly reveals what shall be done, which is true, but this only obliges us to settle what we mean by conscience. Only a review of the his- tory of ethical theories would suffice to make clear its various meanings. The authority of conscience and its right to command, apparently underived, seem so myste- rious that from Socrates to the present many identify conscience with the voice of God. Others, like Shaftes- bury and Hutcheson, after the analogy of a sense organ, think of conscience as an inner sense that directly reveals the moral quality of voluntary actions. Still others give it a naturalistic interpretation in terms of pleasurable and unpleasurable feelings and the instinct of sympathy. These naturalistic theories assume various forms from Hume and Adam Smith to Mill and Spencer. There are also different kinds of rational intuitionism as to right and wrong. Such an intuition is held to be original and 44 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION underived from any source but the pure rational nature itself. Even if an empirical element is admitted, as per- haps the critic would hold is the case with SidgwicFs two propositions, "I ought not to prefer a present lesser good to a future greater good," and "I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater good of another," 40 it is said that the final recognition of the highest, most rational, course of action is an intuition. These types of ethical theories have representatives from Ealph Cudworth (1617-1688) and Samuel Clarke (1675-1729) to Kant (1724-1804). Even those who have Hegelian tenden- cies and admit an empirical unfolding of the rational nature in a social order as the realization of the idea of freedom fall back upon an intuitive recognition "that the good of another must be immediately accepted by a clear thinker as objectively good and that this acceptance is the obligation which may or ought to lead to action, quite apart from the pleasure felt by the agent in such ac- tions." 41 22. The above explanations of the discovery of the best course to be adopted seem to leave something unexplained. Why does one so confidently affirm that what he approves as right and good ought to prevail over some present im- pulse in another direction? Why should the intuition be followed? Does this confidence imply perfect trust in our approvals and disapprovals of what we seem intui- tively to know to be good or evil, or is there an element of uncertainty ? Conscience, declaring immediately what should be done, seems to have the nature of something external to the agent, whereas morality properly requires free obedience to a self imposed law. A similar difficulty is encount- ered, if it is true, as Muirhead says, that "the elements of feeling and judgment may stand in contradiction to one another," 42 and that there may be intellectual approval of a course of action as right and good accompanied by a feel- ing closely resembling remorse. This again makes the THE WILL AND CHAEACTEE 45 approval or disapproval of conscience appear external to the agent. But, I think, there is no such contradiction between the feelings and the judgment, or between the self and the intuitions of conscience. What is "intellectual approval" but a judgment accompanied by a feeling of a certain quality? The real question is, then, what is the relation of this feeling in the approval to the feeling that seems to stand in contradiction, as Muirhead says, to the judgment? It is not sufficient to say that feeling is the conservative and reason the radical and revolutionary element in life, for I think it necessary to hold to the unity of the feeling and judging elements of conscience in the light of which the apparent contradiction of feeling and judgment is due to the lack of what may be called a realizing sense of the trustworthiness of the judgment about the new and untried. 43 This judgment of con- science is not always knowledge, though it wears its garb. We do not really know that the course of action intellect- ually approved is what it is claimed to be, for such judg- ment is more like a postulate whose full acceptance as knowledge follows rather than precedes verification in practice, when it will become a necessity of life. This was, I believe, Socrates' meaning when he said he could not conceive a man knowing the good and not doing it. Approval or disapproval is implicit action, and we have seen that voluntary action is the idea of an act impelled to realization through strong emotional energy from whose motor tendency the act follows. Of course, the emotional state may give place to ordinary feeling or be insufficient to overcome the inertia of the physical mechanism and, in either case, the act would not be done. But I am inclined to say that we do not really know till we feel it, nor do we feel it till we know and, therefore, as Socrates said, when a man knows the good he will do it. Such a knowing is a realizing sense of the act in its relation to the self and others which makes it identical with action. So important are the above principles that I venture to 46 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION illustrate them. A mother approved her son's enlistment and departure for the battle-front. But the mother-love was against what seemed to be right. Now, I hold that this conflict of feelings means a lack of knowledge that the intellectually approved course is right and the knowledge cannot be gained until the entire significance of the se- quel of the act is experienced. The intellectual approval or judgment is here only a postulate with an element of doubt and reservation. If the mother could. have a real- izing sense, a full knowledge, that her son's departure was both right and the best good for her son, herself and the world, the mother-love would act without regret. Another illustration may be an instance of the writer's own experience in which a certain course of action pre- sented itself to be adopted or rejected. Even to do noth- ing was very much of a positive decision. Feelings and thoughts, with ceaseless striving, were intense and vivid. Both alternatives seemed to be possible; both involved difficulties and each was sure to have far-reaching con- sequences for himself and others, even modifying the ma- terial world. Each alternative seemed to have a large element of obligation in its favor, but one seemed imme- diately much harder, though it was difficult to decide whether this immediate hardness was greater than the hardness the other would finally have, for the full con- sequences of both were unknown, the fear of which was doubtless a large element in the difficulty experienced. But the harder alternative was regarded with a peculiar satisfaction as something that he would like to do, al- though he would like to do the other. Still harder it seemed that both courses of action could not be followed at the same time which was an evidence of personal limita- tion which gave to the two alternatives the force of con- tradictories. But when to do, and how, were for a long time left indefinite which permitted pleasure in contem- plating the proposal to do the act that had somehow be- come the harder and yet more obligatory, and the pleasure THE WILL AlTD CHARACTER 47 of this contemplation tended to postpone doing it, the con- soling assurance that it would be done making up for lack of satisfaction in actually doing it, thus tending to in- hibit action. When at last the immediately harder al- ternative was decided upon and actually done, there was a certain collapse and sinking of feeling as though this immediately harder alternative were a loss, a venture whose immediate and remote consequences were unknown and feared. Certainly all that the rejected alternative represented was forever impossible nor was it clear that it was less obligatory than the one that seemed harder. Nor was the sense of obligation to take the harder al- ternative made any clearer by the decision and action, for there was still doubt as to the wisdom of the choice. The deed was literally committed to the order of things as the next move in the game of life with the feeling of not being sufficiently expert in the game to know whether it was a good move or not. The words of Socrates in the Apology were applicable: "Which is better God only knows." Are not these words largely true in every choice? And yet was not Socrates right in holding that he could not conceive of one having a realizing sense of what is his good and at the same time taking what, with a like clearness of apprehension, is recognized as his loss and injury? Full knowledge, approval and act are indistinguishably one in the Perfect Being and, so far as they are at all in man, they seem to be inseparably one. In God is perfect freedom. In our youth, our freedom seems great, for it is the freedom of indefiniteness ; in maturity, it is narrow but with a wide vision of what we should not attempt and cannot do. 23. The element of doubt as to which alternative is the good of the self makes it necessary to show why one course rather than another is taken in spite of the uncer- tainty as to the final issue which no "moral intuition" can overcome. This tentative attitude even towards the best decisions we can make accounts for the apparent con- 48 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION" tradiction between feeling as conservative and intellectual approval or disapproval as radical and revolutionary, the unknown element evoking the impulse to daring ventures. How much good do we lose by the rejected alternatives? To choose to be a physician destroys a multitude of other possible selves, and he who tries to be a physician in- stead of a preacher or teacher may occasionally question whether he has not missed his calling. Might not the other type of life have worked out better in a larger and richer experience? How unfortunate it seems, in such moments, that we could not have tried every one of these possible selves and finally settled our permanent type of life in the light of an adequate experience! But the necessity of action due to the brevity of life and the swiftness of opportunity, the danger of delay, forbid ex- periments in kinds of self and force the choice of what we shall be and, if now we are not that, we are nothing. Here is tragedy. Many possible selves are killed by deciding to be one definite self. Curiously enough, the question arises: Is not this necessity a mark of limita- tion? A Perfect Being would have full knowledge and the possible would be actual. In spite of the full significance of alternatives being hidden, there is some sort of "intuition" as to what shall be done, an "ideal of worth as regulative principle" (Irons), a "sense of dignity" (Mill), a "revelation," a "psycho-physical predisposition," determining decision. Much mystery attaches to the process which, I think, is capable of an empirical interpretation. It has been shown that reasons, having weight in deliberation pre- ceding choice, are values analyzable into feelings and ideas of objects towards which the feelings are directed. These feelings are, lacking better terms, agreeable or dis- agreeable in character and express the relation of the object or act thought of to the needs of the subject which are to be satisfied. But each ideo-feeling unity is motor in tendency and would, if unrestrained, issue in a move- THE WILL AND CHARACTER 49 ment to obtain or escape the object according to its re- lation to the well-being of the subject. Each alternative is a system of ideo-f eeling. unities motor in tendency, and choice is the selection of one of these systems as the good of the self. The specific selection is brought about by the fact that "when any psychical process rises above the threshold of consciousness, it is the affective elements, which, as soon as they are strong enough, first become noticeable. They begin to force themselves energetically into the fixation point of consciousness before anything is perceived of the ideational elements. This is the case whether the impressions are new or are revivals of earlier processes. This is what causes those peculiar states of mind the reasons for which we are usually unable to dis- cover. 77 44 The feeling-tone of not yet reproduced ideas mingles with the feelings already present in consciousness, and together they tend toward action which will be the rejection or adoption of an alternative according as its accompanying composite feelings are disagreeable or agreeable expressing its relation to the well-being of the subject. If, now, a certain course of action becomes habitual, with the consequent cessation of any conscious conflict between alternatives, the way will be prepared for those peculiar and constant feelings towards certain acts of the self, or of others, done or to be done, as always either right or wrong, good or bad, without clearly recognizing the reasons why. Thus it is possible to give an empirical interpretation of our "rational intuition 77 or "moral sense 77 that certain acts are inherently vicious or good, but this inherent badness or goodness means, not that the act in itself has this quality, but, that the idea of this act reinstates the feelings of its associated but only vaguely apprehended ideas, these feelings uniting with its own to reject or accept the alternative according to the character of these feelings which express the relation of the act thought of together with its associates to the subject 7 s well- 50 MORAL LIFE AND EELIGION" being. If the subject were radically to change, the in- tuitively perceived quality of the same act might be bad where formerly it was good. Hence the decision might be called, as Bosanquet designates it, the "logical" conse- quence of the self, if "logical" means the next step in the self's developing experience. At another level, alternatives similar to those formerly rejected may be chosen, for we may be mistaken as to our duty without destroying the present sense of duty but when we awaken to our error as the result of some newly discovered feature of the case, we may make a new and even contradictory choice under a new sense of duty which will be the form assumed by our "moral intuition." Much in this discussion depends upon the hypothesis al- ready treated that it is the function of feeling to express the relation of an object or an act to the welfare of the sub- ject. Dr. Crile has made this all the more forceful by his exposition of the evolutionary hypothesis that every vital manifestation in which man is directly or remotely con- cerned is only a phase of the organism's adjustment to the environment. In this sense, man is essentially a transformer of energy derived from the environment and ultimately returned to it, as a result of which the reactions which compose his life are the effects produced in a sen- sitive structure by an activating environment. Whether we agree with him or not in the details of his argument, we may at least hold that sensation, feeling, emotion, and even higher mental processes, are modes of reactions that have been evolved in the age-long process and sig- nify relations to the environment that must be heeded if life is to be conserved and promoted. 45 Hence it is the very existence of the subject that is at stake in the choice which means that the good, even the highest, is the sat- isfaction of this craving for life. 24. The conception of choice as the "logical" issue of what the self is raises the question as to personal free- dom which may be treated, psychologically, politically THE WILL AND CH ABAC TEE 51 and metaphysically, the first being fundamental to a proper understanding of the others and the only one now to be considered. Psychology assumes that the so-called free act of will is a member of a series of conditions which soon loses itself in the psychical and physical his- tory of the individual. In the "free" choice, only a few members of this series of conditions are visible, and thus we are to ourselves absolutely undetermined by anything except our own will. 46 Nevertheless this freedom within determining conditions is the true and desirable freedom. These conditions of choice it is the province of psychology to discover and explain. The discussion of freedom of will is usually from the standpoint of the individual as differentiated from the community. The individual begins life in subordination to ties of birth, speech, customs and traditions. Only slowly does the individual acquire a relative independence of thought, feeling and action. Consequently, the con- ditions operating in volition are, first, those due to the race and community of which the individual is an expres- sion and which constitute the more permanent background of action, and, second, the more transient conditions given under the form of actually present ideas and feelings, or motives. 47 Dealing with the second group of conditions first, free- dom of will is psychologically that normal balance and right relation of the psychic powers, such as feelings, emotions, ideas, impulses, as permits a normal self-ex- pression in decisions. Then the self is free for the judg- ment follows upon sufficient, well-balanced deliberation upon alternatives. In the sense of determination by a conception of the good of the self, freedom is an attain- ment and belongs to the comparatively well-developed per- sonality. Indeed, this freedom is even transitional be- tween the freedom of the child in its spontaneous re- sponse to what appeals to the sense organs and instincts, and the spontaneous activity of the mature character rich 52 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION in experience one who, without conflict or painful sense of duty, directly does the act suitable to the changing moral situation. This is the goal of the moral life, the level of the virtues, and the highest freedom. In this sense, it is true that "except ye turn and become as little children, ye shall in no wise enter into the kingdom of heaven." (Mat, 18:3.) Between the earlier and the later stages of personal development lies the period in which the individual more forcefully asserts his own reconstructive initiative and differentiation from the stream of social life of which he is a part, but in the later as in the earlier, the great forces permanent in the race and the community prevail more surely in present motives, but differently in that the well- developed personality returns from special independence to a deep self-identification with the supreme life of hu- manity and its welfare. Reflective choice tries to view the act in the light of the whole self including character as the result of experience and of the deeper forces whose his- tory can be followed only a short distance. If the act is not determined by the inner causality of the entire psychical history rather than by present motives that do not represent that history, one is not free but the plaything of present conditions. In this sense, it may be again said with Bosanquet that the free act is the "logical" sequence of the self. Freedom has thus become necessity, for the good man not only knows but performs the good act as the only thing he is at liberty to do. Indeed, the good man rejoices in the necessity imposed by his virtuous charac- ter and the wisdom gained in the school of life. To re- peat once more, he has a narrow but true freedom with a wide vision of what he should not and cannot do. The subject under the conditions just explained claims the deed as his own and is willing to be held responsible. The deed stands before the reflecting subject as a self- revelation. There are here remarkable experiences which can only be mentioned in passing. One is the subject's THE WILL AND CH ABAC TEE 53 immediate joy during the deed, if it is his own self ex- pression. This is the source of much satisfaction, es- pecially if the act is adequate to the ends sought; there is also an immediate self-approval during the act and in retrospect, particularly if it promotes welfare and is fruit- ful of further enjoyable experiences. But, if the act does not have this result, there is an experience of evil and re- straint with failure to be satisfied which calls for a change of purpose sought. Here is the beginning of repentance, reform and identification with a new order of life which promises to attain the good always being sought. 25. The unconventional term, "unfreedom," is here used to mean inability to determine the self to action by a conception or law after due reflection upon the moral situation. In the first place, lack of true freedom with unwilling- ness to be held responsible occurs when the normal re- lation between inhibitive and impulsive aspects of con- sciousness is disturbed. There are extreme cases, for ex- ample, when the subject is unable to bring reflection to a normal conclusion, but remains in continuous indecision which is unendurable to the healthy mind. Normally we live in an affirmative state. Better and less dangerous is it to decide partly in the wrong and carry it out with vigor than continue undecided. Everybody experiences states of more or less protracted indecision, apparently unable for the present to make up the mind what to do. Of course, decision is finally reached and, it may be, with greater effort, the course to be pursued is fixed. Such an issue is a fortunate escape from a partially deranged condition. It is only necessary to assume a continuous deliberation, endlessly analyzing pros and cons, to have a distressing case of an unfree self, unbalanced and in- efficient. In the normal mind, however, the necessity of action prevents continuous indecision and choices are made which, it is true, are more or less tentative but form a somewhat satisfactory response to the situation. 54: MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION There is also an unfreedom which issues in too hasty decisions with inability to restrain the psychic processes sufficiently for due reflection. Waves of passion, fixed ideas, exaggerated impulsion, prevent the normal expres- sion of the self. When this condition is in mild form, we have the blunderers who do more harm than good and wreck well-laid plans; in extreme form, such persons may be the criminal insane or victims of sudden passion. It should be noted that the free and the unfree acts are subject to psychical laws. The unfree man does what the deranged psychical condition requires, while the free makes his choice according to what he conceives his good to be ; it is his self-determination and his freedom is found in the normal balance of his psychic powers which enables him to subject his decision to calm reflection so as to reach a conclusion which in some sense is a logical ex- pression of what he is, and his good in that particular situation. 48 In the second place, there are those who are unfree in complex circumstances but free and able to function ad- equately in a simple environment. Such are the feeble- minded to whom reference has already been made (sec. 10) and whose incapacity is due chiefly to arrested development of the neural centers and association tracts, thus interfering with memory processes necessary to mediation of impulses and required in deliberate choice. These persons are deficient in power of dramatic rehear- sal of the consequences of different courses of action. 49 "We call choice free when it takes place with reflective self-consciousness ... of one's own personality together with all those characteristics which result from the past development of the will. ... To act with reflection is to act with a consciousness of the significance which the motives and purposes of the action have for the character of the agent. The man who dreams or is insane may act not only voluntarily but selfconsciously, since he is con- scious of his own ego. He cannot, however, act with re- THE WILL AND CHAKACTEK 55 flection, for either he has lost the power of reflecting on his personality as conditioned by his previous mental his- tory, or his personality has been altered by disturbing in- fluences." 50 The same principle holds of the feeble-minded whose arrested development makes them incapable of relating their actions reflectively to the whole self. It seems, however, impossible that the defectives are totally unfree and morally irresponsible for they have some intelligence with which to direct activity to self-chosen ends, although it is only the mentality of a normal child of eight to twelve years of age. It would seem to follow that, in a suitable environment the feeble-minded are morally free and re- sponsible, while in others too complex for proper coordin- ation of activities, they would not be, and are, instead, objects of care and oversight on the part of the normal minded whose tay taking in the whole previous history of the individual consciousness and the sum-total of the conditions which originally de- termined the latter. And so we see that every voluntary act, even the simplest, is the end of an infinite series, 56 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION of which the last links alone are open to our observa- tion." Consequently, any decision, even though it be not acted out, indeed, any feeling harbored in the mind and heart, becomes a member in a series of conditions con- tributing to later volitions. We now catch a glimpse of what freedom politi- cally, and metaphysically, must be, though only a word is necessary at this point (sec. 24). Psychological freedom shows that one is politically free only when the social order is such as to permit and evoke the exercise of capac- ities in such a manner that each may attain a fullness of life in helpful cooperation with others who have a similar happy destiny, while, metaphysically, that is, from the standpoint of the universe itself, each personality is being brought through self -direction into subordination to that definite meaning or end in which consists the reality of the self and which determines its place in the meaning of the world as that meaning is known, experienced and made actual by the Divine Mind. Here our power to follow further the origin and significance of our free acts ceases, for we have seen that it returns into the all-embracing Life which wells up in us and in the world-order in what Bergson sails Creative Evolution. 27. The above reference to Bergson is intended to approve only a part of what he says concerning freedom and that has been already emphasized, namely, "that the self alone is the author" of the free act which "springs from our whole personality" which is finally an expression of the Divine Life. Bergson also is right when he says that, to find the free self, we must ascend from the out- ward and spatial inward to pure duration which is a qualitative, intensive multiplicity of states that has to be experienced to be known. But we cannot follow him when he says that in these depths of the inner life, in- describable in terms derived from sensual, spatial forms, and beneath deliberation as to the most reasonable course of action, there is a "gradual heating and a sudden boiling THE WILL AND CHARACTER 57 over of feelings and ideas" which leads us to "choose in defiance of what is conventionally called a motive, and this absence of any tangible reason is the more striking the deeper our freedom goes; and that occasionally, in fact, in all cases of really free action, "we decide without any reason, and perhaps even against every reason. But in cer- tain cases, that is the best of reasons." 52 It may be replied to Bergson' s view that the activity to which he refers as free because beyond any determina- tion by thought, if there is such a thing, is no reason why it should be called free. As Schopenhauer, regarding the known self as nothing and the willing self as real, lost the self in Nirvana, so does Bergson lose the self in this pure duration beyond thought. This sudden blazing up and "boiling over of feelings and ideas" leading to action without reason, even against reasons recognized, suggests that man is most free when not a man but an animal. Like Kant, Bergson seeks the free self beyond the em- pirical self but, unlike Kant, he does not see that freedom consists in determining action according to conceptions which spring out of the deeper nature of the self. For us, as we have shown, the self consists in some ideal end being realized in self-conscious experience which distinguishes the individual from others and determines the place of each in being. For us, there are reasons for choice which are values grounded in the needs springing out of the depths of the self striving for fulfillment, and choice is free only in the light of tie self's entire history much of which is, of course, hidden from the deliberative con- sciousness. There are in our life, indeed, sudden volitions and rad- ical changes which can be accounted for in another way than by resorting to Bergson's intuition of what is to be done even in defiance of recognized reasons. These expe- riences we have already anticipated and accounted for (sec. 23) by showing the tentative hypothetical nature of the judgment reached in deliberation upon alternatives and 58 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION" by explaining the apparently original intuition of right and wrong, good and evil, in terms of feelings and ideas, the feelings entering consciousness before the ideas with which they are associated and possessing motor tendencies. Thus the total complex of feelings may be the forerunner of the best and most reasonable idea of action which is not just now in consciousness, the feelings even becoming sud- denly greater in volume with the approaching reproduction of the idea, making it possible for the choice to be against the reasons at the moment in consciousness. As a con- sequence, the decision and choice are, in some sense at least, the logically legitimate next step in self-develop- ment, and its mystery, which Bergson makes so much of, becomes a familiar psychological principle.* * The Freudian theory of complex organizations of neural ele- ments into systems beneath the normal waking consciousness which, when aroused, may find expression in impulses to good or evil, seems to have been sufficiently recognized in what I have designated as rudimentary conations, psychophysical predispositions, neural mod- ifications by Impressions and retention both racial and individual. Much more might be done along these lines, but it does not seem to make these neural processes and organizations any clearer to say that these neural complexes have desires or are "wishes" suppressed for the time being only later to find some unique expression in the normal consciousness. We know so little, as Stout says, of the actual neural process involved even in the simplest sensation that questions concerning the relation of the hidden complexes of neural activities to consciousness seem to be unanswerable. We use terms that simply conceal our ignorance of what really takes place, such as conations, tendencies, congenital pathways, ideo-motor action, psycho-physical predispositions, ready to respond to occasions af- forded by the environment in such a way as to preserve the well- being of the organism. All of these processes have an opportunity to reveal themselves in deliberation and choice, and often the hidden depths of the psycho-physical organism find expression in a "gradual heating and a sudden boiling over of feelings and ideas" in the free act of will, as Bergson says, or according to Freud, the suppressed "wish" gains the dominating position when the censor or higher self loses its grip. The purpose of this study does not permit further consideration of the merit of these theories whose essential signifi- cance, I believe, is embodied in the views adopted in the discussion of volition and choice after deliberation upon occasions presented by the environment to which response is necessary for personal well- being. CHAPTER IV THE MORAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 28. It has been shown (sees. 7, 8) that everyone be- gins life in subjection to ties of birth, speech and custom, and that consciousness of self and the consciousness of others develop together. Only gradually does each person gain relative independence through individual in- itiative in thought and action, while the affective attitudes, especially the emotions of love and hate, tend to differentiate the self from others, bringing to light the problem of reconciling this apparent individual- ism with general rules of conduct which seem to re>- quire common interests. In order to treat this problem, it should be remembered that laws are not existing things but formulations of experienced processes, such as the law of gravitation or the law of supply and demand or international law. Likewise moral laws are only rules of action which undertake to formulate the relation of certain acts to their motives and effects upon the welfare of the agent and of those with whom he has to do. In each of these cases, the experienced facts are primary, the rules or law secondary. Confining attention to the moral sphere, the virtues such as truthfulness, honesty, purity, temperance, courage, with their imperatives, are really formulations of the re- lation between certain feelings, ideas, volitions and their effects upon personal and social welfare. Repeated ex- periences evoke sufficient reflection to discover and formu- late what seems to be a fixed relation between these feel- ings, ideas, volitions and acts, on the one hand, and, on the other, their good or evil effects upon the self and upon other persons. These formulations are also the coopera- 59 60 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION tive product of the members of the social group and first appear as customs representing the conditions of social welfare; at a more developed stage, as the voice of con- science which the individual obeys when he as a free moral agent decides what is to be done. Consequently, there is in the moral sphere the necessity and the universality implied in law. It is evident that moral law assumes free will acts to be the issue of present motives and re- mote conditions involved in the history of each person, and that there is such a relation between the free per- sonality and the natural and social world that the volition is the joint product of inner psychical causality and outer physical and social causality to the same end of personal well-being. Where, now, is the universal element in these moral phenomena in view of each person's relative independence and free initiative? We may easily grant that there is such an element yet, probably, no one has exactly the same attitude towards or idea of a custom, rule, or self- imposed law of action as another, nor has one the same situation to meet as another. But law implies repeti- tions. There seem, however, to be no repetitions in the moral sphere, for the subject i.s modified by his own act, others feel its effects, a duty done creates a new duty, and nothing is just the same after as it was before the act. Personally we each feel that no one could have had just the crises to face that each of us has had to meet. I know that my experiences may be regarded, abstractly, as only a type capable of indefinite repetition but, for me, they are unique and impossible of duplication so long as I am myself. Individuality implies uniqueness. How, then, can there be a rule of action that more than one should fol- low? Still more precisely, how can the same individual have a rule of action, for is not each modified by his own responses to the environment which constantly changes and is affected by the agent's own action? but change in- Tolves time while a rule or law of action implies same- THE MOKAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 61 ness at different times apparently making real change im- possible. Indeed, it is the problem of the relation of the universals of thought to the particulars of experience which has engaged attention from Plato and Aristotle until now. A good example of these difficulties is found in Leibnitz's theory of the changing monads which, according to Lotze (Met. sec. 67), do not permit those repetitions of partic- ulars which seem to be required if there is to be a general rule or law. 29. The attempt to provide for the objectivity and universality required by moral theory is in danger of either reverencing the universal as an abstract rational principle, or of emphasizing the particulars in such a manner that no bond between them can be found. Prob- ably Hegel showed best the true relation between the uni- versal, particular and individual (Logic. Sec. 163). I be- lieve Hegel explains what the individual is in our ex- perience and that he holds the universal to be only a pro- duct of thought existing only for "the mind (Logic. Sees. 21, 164). It is, however, the fashion to say that Hegel neglected experience, though in my opinion he discusses nothing else as the "Phenomenology of the Spirit" and even the Logic make clear. In response to this attitude toward Hegel, our task is to determine whether there are bases in particular experiences for those universal rules or laws that morality seems to require. In an earlier section, I reviewed in brief the attempts of Shand, West- ermarck, McDougal and others to found character upon primarily emotional tendencies issuing in a doubtful hold upon universals, and showed how these views were met by others who, like Rashdall, return to an a priori rational source of moral principles in order to secure objectivity and universality (Sec. 7 note). To these authors may be added Coe who in his Psychology of Religion (p. 246 f.) makes much of "social immediacy," as linking the in- dividual with other selves, from which the distinct per- sonality becomes differentiated especially through love 62 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION and hate, but Coe does not seem to explain how and in what sense, after the self s differentiation, it is still pos- sible to have common rules of action. It should be noted that a rule or law of action is a cognitive formulation and is not identical with the intuitive "social immediacy 77 above referred to, or with instinctive, emotional "psycho- physical predispositions" inherited or acquired, whatever this term may mean. I shall now undertake to explain the way in which I think such universals are related to the particulars of experience. There is a ground for the universality of ethical ideas in their sensuous and social origin. The word "good," for instance, has a varied use such as, a good dinner, pic- ture, or action. The term ethical is from an original (20os, TJOos) that refers to custom, and, in its earliest meaning, to the abiding place of men or animals. Then it comes to signify the disposition resulting from a famil- iar environment, while Aristotle gives it a still deeper significance expressing inner character. 53 The sensuous origin of ethical ideas presupposes fundamental capaci- ties and needs in relation to the environment, such as hunger and food to satisfy it. Fundamental needs and what satisfies them afford a basis upon which thought rests the construction of a universal. Multiply the needs in number and kind in relation to a relatively constant environment and it is evident that men have original and acquired needs much alike capable of being satisfied in similar ways. Although differentiated from the group through unique feelings, thoughts and voluntary acts, the career of every person still shares in the social mind and will which, like that of the individual, is a unity of mental states and, to a certain extent, is a product of the social order and re fleets the community life past and present. "The indi- vidual is simply the last member of a series whose ascending order is lost in infinity." 54 Just because the THE MORAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 63 individual embodies the deeper life of the community, yet acts voluntarily according to self-formed conceptions of the good, there is opportunity for new factors to be introduced into society through which the individual be- comes universal. Especially does this new progressive element enter into society through its leading minds. It follows that our choices more or less faithfully represent the needs of everyone including our own. But the maxim of our choice is only a tentative working hypoth- esis, awaiting the revelation of its consequences before it can be given the rank of a safe rule of action. If it works, we hold to it as long as we are in this part of the journey and, if ever after we find ourselves in a like environment, we shall use the same rule, guide ourselves by the same chart, and the more frequently used, the more certainly will the rule of action become a habit, a part of our character and even an intuition. It also seems to me that our choices are supplemented by a reasonable faith that the causality in our psychical antecedents and the causality in the world-order form some sort of an identity which issues in volitions that tend to promote individual and social well-being. Of this there is no proof except the empirical, "wait and see." The remainder is trust in the fundamental goodness of human nature and in the fitness of the world to be the stage upon which the moral drama is enacted. 55 Though individual initiative in choice seems to be inconsistent with rules of action, psychical and physiological processes are rapidly mechanized in char- acter of sufficient constancy to be expressed in at least relatively universal rules of action applicable to the individual. Why this mechanization of activity takes place can no more be explained than why the retina, when stimulated, gives rise to sensations of light. There is also a tendency to eliminate acts and methods of action that are harmful and to establish those that are beneficial 64 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION a tendency which admits of no further explanation unless it is regarded as an inherited product of gener- ations of selective exerience. The same process of development has a social, ontolo- gical, even religious, significance. In becoming a person differentiated through feelings, thoughts and volitions from the family and group whose immediate influence declines, the physical crises through which the body passes in adolescence are correlated with mental crises resulting in an expansion of the self until the personal will is surrendered to the guidance of forces more broadly conceived. In this changed condition, the individual, even through free choice, helps to form a broader national character typical of humanity at large. Then it is easy voluntarily to identify ourselves, very much in the manner of Spinoza, with the universe itself, or, in religious faith, with God. This is the normal course of human experience which, if lacking, as it may be, since there are bad as well as good characters, leaves life undeveloped and its needs unsatisfied. 56 Thus, through freedom of choice with its assertion of individu- ality, we pass to the necessity involved in the stead- fastness of character correlated with the "moral trust- worthiness of the universe." 5T Upon this two-fold basis rest our rules of action and whatever universality they possess, while room is left for changes which may limit their application. But, whatever occurs, we hold with Socrates in the Phaedo (Par. 98-99) that it will be subordinated to the Best which is the highest of all reasons why the event 1 should occur, thus, again with Socrates, becoming a partisan in faith. /" 30. If it is held that rules of action, instead of being / relatively constant, are fixed, that is, if we hold to the abstract universal, there is danger of resorting to the subterfuges of casuistry keeping the letter of the law but violating its spirit. If "circumstances alter cases," THE MOBAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 65 how can a rule of action be universally valid, since circumstances are never twice identical? Tell the truth. But shall the thief, the enemy, the critically ill, be told the truth? Obligation to tell implies the right to the truth which may, indeed, be forfeited. For Kant, no conditions could remove the obligation to tell the truth, the principle of whose violation would make all truth impossible and destroy society. It is usual to say that Kant's imperative is an empty formula: "Act in con- formity with that maxim, and that maxim only, which you can at the same time will to be a universal law." But Kant himself says: "This law is merely formal, or prescribes only the form of that maxim which can be a universal law, and hence it abstracts from all matter, that is, from every object of volition . . . and the moral law must alone determine the pure will, and its sole object is to produce, or help to produce, such a will." 58 From Kant's formal law come the practical impera- tives: "Act so as to use humanity whether in your own person or in the person of another, always as an end, never as merely a means" ; and "Act so that the will may regard itself as in its maxims laying down universal laws." To these, Kant adds the comment: "The three ways in which the principle of morality has been formulated are at bottom simply different statements of the same law, and each implies the other two." 59 Con- sequently, the obligation, for example, to tell the truth admits of no exception in view of circumstances, for failure to do so could not will its maxim a universal law. The kingdom of ends, essentially identical with the Christian conception of the Kingdom of God, would be impossible. Kant at least suggests what Hegel after- wards made clear that the universal and particular imply each other and that the universal by itself is, indeed, formal and empty, but that it belongs to the universal to particularize itself in concrete experiences. 66 MOKAL LIFE AND RELIGION 31. It has been said that Kant's imperative means only consistency of action like the Stoic Zeno's maxim : "Act consistently on one principle. " "Both views," says Dr. Caird, "go upon the idea that the reason which makes us men is an impartial faculty that abstracts from our own individual case, and, indeed, from every individual case; and both views imply that we cannot act consistently on one law or principle and yet act wrongly. ... To universalize the maxim of an act, therefore, must mean, if it means anything, to con- ceive it as an element in the system of things, which can be realized consistently with the realization of all the other elements that make up that system," that is, "consis- tently with the whole system of the universe." 60 This view of Kant's imperative is acceptable if the "whole system of the universe" is realizing our well- being but our ends which we choose are not the universe but the fulfillment of our capacities in a satisfying expe- rience of their appropriate functioning. We are, however, seeking the elements in the agent, in the situation and in his choice which afford a basis for a universal law of action. Caird, I think, in the above passage, too easily escapes the difficulty, although it may be an unavoidable postulate that in deciding what to do, the individual com- mits himself to the "whole system of the universe" trust- ing in the beneficent significance of the forces expressing themselves in the choice with confidence in the environ- ment to which response is made and in reality itself. Reli- gion utters the same faith in the confession "that to them that love God all things work together for good, even to them that are called according to His purpose" (Rom. 8. 28), according to the necessity inherent in the system of things which includes the individual and finds expression in volition. The ultimate implications of universal laws of conduct, just referred to, may be, in a measure, avoided by reduc- ing these laws to tentative hypotheses of action not to be THE MORAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 67 followed as unalterable but as points of view to be applied to the changing environment, continuously presenting moral situations for which old rules of action may, or may not, be suitable, though the required modification may be slight. Dispute arises chiefly concerning the application of principles, for all agree, for example, that the truth should be told, but difference of opinion occurs as to how best to serve the interests of truth and right in a given sit- uation. 61 What the Greeks called wisdom, in distinction from knowledge, should always fit the deed to the occa- sion. "There is no moral law so sacred that it may not in specific cases have to yield to the superior sacredness of the more general functions of morality." 62 Whether pre- cepts of conduct are on occasion modified or not, the agent implicitly commits his deed to the assumed meaning and goodness of reality. Such an attitude towards rules of conduct, as validated by their beneficent consequences, is in keeping with the functional nature of knowledge and with the completion of morality in religious faith. 32. If, as we have said, moral precepts are not abso- lute, how is the authority of moral principles to be under- stood? Their sanctions are external constraints such as public opinion and social institutions, and internal such as habits and the persistent desire for permanent sat- isfaction. Hence in the preferences controlling volition, the deeper imperative needs find expression. Besides, in the process of self-development, choices become subordi- nated to a wider conception of the community, the nation, and humanity, and even identify the self with God. Of special importance are those ideal characters of literature, art, morality, and religion, who seem to embody the en- tire spirit of humanity in living, concrete, yet universal, personality, regarded by their fellow-beings as the very manifestation of God on earth. It is through these noble characters who act for the sake of the highest ideal good of humanity that society is purified and progresses. 63 33. A choice usually requires a continuous selection of 68 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION methods, times, and means to the end decided upon, until the deed is accomplished. The period necessary to fulfill- ment varies according as the purpose is near or remote, simple or complex. This selection reveals character as much as the choice of ends. The moral quality of the deed requires that the means be good as well as the end which together form a whole of parts, each part having its fit place in the unity in subordination to the end. In this respect, moral goodness has much in common with the beautiful whose parts form a whole expressive of a def- inite meaning. In this sense, the parts of a beautiful whole may be spoken of as beautiful, though in themselves they are evil or even ugly, like the character of Satan in Miiton's "Paradise Lost," or of lago in the "Othello" of Shakespeare. 64 We may, then, speak of the beauty of holi- ness and of the beautiful soul. The Greeks easily identi- fied the beautiful and the good; but, for us, the morally good act in its purpose and in its means is more than a beautiful harmony of parts, for the means must be good as well as the end. There is, therefore, no moral basis for doing evil that good may come. The comparison of the choice of evil means to the plucking out of the eye, or the cutting off of the hand, if it offends, that there may be soundness of body, is inapplicable. To choose means known to be evil that a moral good may be accomplished is a contradiction, for the deed is a unity of means and end and cannot be partly good and partly bad without destroying the moral worth of the act as a whole. On the other hand, morally good means to a bad end do not make the act good nor can it be properly called partly good and partly bad without contradicting the unity of the act. 65 It is, however, a curious fact that we are inclined to give some credit for good means to bad ends, and for good ends brought about by bad means. Probably this is because none of our acts is ever either perfectly good or evil. There is some good even in sin, for sin were not sin, if it did not make holiness so evident, and if it were not the expression of will as is the good. How discomfiting THE MORAL LAW AND THE INDIVIDUAL 69 to Satan to be compelled to do some good that he may do the greatest evil, and to know that he cannot do only evil in God's good world! Besides, we never fully know the scope of our purposes, nor the entire significance of the means we use. Both may be somewhat unsuitable in spite of our good intentions. Hence we easily, though wrongly, give some credit for good means to bad ends, or -for good ends with bad means, forgetting the difference between unintentional and intentional choice of bad means or ends. This is not surprising, for we feel some uncertainty con- cerning our own motives and acts because of their com- plexity. Ea,ch factor in each act has many associates. Every feeling, idea, volition, and act, is related to every other. Are the means, taken in themselves, good? Are they consistent with each other and with the chief end? Our acts are very complex and intricate, for they are rooted in an endless series of psychophysical conditions, individual and social, issuing in the representation of some desired object chosen as the good of the self after reflection upon other courses regarded as possible. Then comes selection of means, methods, personal relations to others, place and time in subordination to the main pur- pose, till the act is finally accomplished, through the in- strumentality of the organism, in the external world where control over it and its consequences is lost. Even the chain of natural forces modifies the deliberative proc- ess and may cause the best intentions to miscarry. Some- times, these natural causes save us from evil repute and bring us undeserved merit by defeating our bad aims and producing good results ; or, they may hinder our good pur- poses and make us appear either indifferent, careless, help- less, or unjust, till one is tempted to believe the world unsuited to our moral task. And yet it is through these deliberations and choices that we may bring ourselves, sometimes slowly and painfully, into harmony with that "system of the universe of things," as Caird says, which we somewhat blindly trust is working together with us to fulfill our longings for well-being and the highest good. CHAPTER V DUTIES AND VIRTUES 34. A word should be given to what Paulsen calls moral nihilism which denies the validity of moral ideals and declares that there is no duty. Life is a struggle for existence in which anything is permissible, if it succeeds, whether it be murder, violence, or falsehood. Justice, law, and religion are for weak minds who are willing to be slaves. No claim of duty or of religious ideals ever recog- nized by others needs to be heeded. The universe is indiff- erent. Each lives for himself, caring nothing for others, with no fear, hope, love, ideals, or reverence for past or present, and there is no Divine. Life means a struggle to get what is desired and, so far as successful, good is real- ized. Affirmations such as these cannot be refuted. The sense of obligation cannot be logically forced upon an- other any more than we can refute a man who denies the existence of the sun in the heavens. "But this does not mean that nihilism is a valid theory. We cannot prove to the fever patient that he sees only hallucinations, or to the madman that his fixed ideas are crazy notions. That does not prevent the former from being sick or the latter from being crazy." The best thing that can be done is to remind the moral and religious nihilist that he may be mistaken, and to suggest that he does not himself believe what he says and that, at least, he would have difficulty in the practical application of his views. We may, there- fore, turn from such a moral and religious nihilism as beyond the scope of argument and resume the discussion of experience known as duty. 66 35. The nature and origin of the sense of obligation 70 DUTIES AND VIRTUES 71 have already been considered (sees. 22, 31). Our interest now concerns the application of moral principles to con- crete situations. The ideal of the highest good was found to be grounded in the original and acquired capacities striving for realization giving rise to a multitude of needs that are felt and reflected upon, developing the ideal of the most enduring satisfaction. A specific duty is what is owed to this supreme ideal in a particular situation, while virtue is the habitual response to what is thus re- quired. It should be noticed that there is no abstract duty, al- though Kant in his Apostrophe to Duty makes it of heavenly origin. It is, indeed, true that, in a general sense, we may speak of our duty to seek the supreme end of our being. But, as Emerson says, 67 "Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood." All duties are specific, since they arise out of the relation of the in- dividual to himself and to his environment. A specific duty is what one expects of himself in a particular sit- uation. It is a consciously experienced demand for ac- tion which is to cause a change both in the agent and in the environment, presumably for the better according as it brings into experience and renders definite the vague ideas of the best good of the self as a member of the com- munity and a factor in the universe. Wundt even holds that the individual is short-sighted at best, limited per- haps to his own posterity, at most to a few generations, whereas the true end is public welfare and the universal progress of humanity in which all that is individual is absorbed. We judge the men and nations of the past "not by the happiness which they themselves enjoyed, nor by the happiness they gave to their contemporaries; but solely by what they have done for the total develop- ment of humanity in all subsequent ages." 68 Even so, we may reply, yet it means, not exactly identity of the end of the individual with that of the race, but, identity with a difference, for each of us is unique in individuality 72 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION with something definite to accomplish and with specific duties growing out of our own personality in relation to others. A present duty, usually, though not necessarily, repre- sents a state of the self to be realized, because not now possessed, which seems to clash with some present incli- nation or desire springing out of original or acquired organizations of activity. To act along the line of what is already a possession of the self, be it instinct or habit, is easy and pleasurable, while the new act proposed by the specific duty often seems to require an effort directed against present tendencies. A duty blocks the way for- ward and inhibits the self's action to escape by some other path. It is also relatively stern and cold. The warmth and glow are on the side of the self as it is. Of course, the duty may be done with inclination and with a glow of emotion accompanying approval, but, then, it is ceas- ing to be a duty by becoming a virtue, since the self is iden- tified with it. To accomplish the duty is to gain a certain amount of freedom by clearing the road forward for the next step. A duty accomplished exalts; a duty, undone, subordinates the whole self to an over-ambitious partial self. 36. The painful character of duty just referred to is significant. Whoever feels it to be a duty to be hon- est, requiring effort, is in an undeveloped condition. He is a divided self, tempted not to be honest. The sense of duty, under such circumstances,, condemns us to our- selves. Indeed, it is a "moral duty not to be moral," 69 that is, to pass beyond the sense of duty which means to be so established in the habit of honesty, for example, that the thought of it as a duty will not occur to us but the honest deed follows as a matter of course. This is to have the virtue of honesty a formed habit of choosing and acting honestly implying the absence of any special reflection upon the quality of the act as something to be attained. Consequently, the state in which the act is DUTIES AND VIRTUES 73 done with effort from a sense of duty is an undeveloped, painful condition, almost humiliating, indeed, as Kant says, crushing self-esteem, because it condemns and cries loudly for a new and better self reconstructed and ad- justed to the proposed new mode of conduct. A difficult question now arises as to whether one may not also be inclined, and desire, to do the act, yet feel it a duty in the moment of acting. In other words, may not one sometimes gladly and willingly do what ought to be done, and yet do it with a sense of duty? Of course, the thing of importance is to do the act required by the ideal good of the self, but this leaves it open to say, the act, then, is merely what Kant meant by legal, the objectively fit, but is not done from the sense of duty. The difficulty disappears if we determine what the inclination and desire are with which the feeling of duty is supposed to clash. One may be hungry and desire to eat at once all the food possessed, but the same person expects to live and eat to-morrow and may feel it a duty and desire to save part of the food for the next day. One may be inclined to amusements yet also desire to read a good book but both at the same time are impossible. The rejection of the one in favor of the other does not make the other any the less desired. In this sense, one might say nothing can appear a duty unless it accords with inclination and desire which, indeed, here mean those that can prevail only when others are overcome. Any duty would then be a form of the conative life-impulse seeking fulfillment. But, more precisely, the quality of the sense of duty is somewhat different where there is a pronounced clash with inclina- tion and desire where there is not. In the latter case, one does not act so much from a sense of duty as from an appreciation of the value of the act, as good and attract- ive, to which one gladly commits himself, distinguishing it from the quality of the feeling of duty where there is a marked clash with inclination and desire which are im- mediate in their demands upon the self. 70 74 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION There are, however, crises in which failure to act for the sake of duty would be a spiritual disaster. Such cases are, however, on the frontier of the advancing life and, since there is always a frontier, the sense of duty is seldom, if ever, absent in growing experience. But, while these instances show that the self is undeveloped in those directions, it is only fair to acknowledge that there has been neither time nor opportunity to establish the vir- tues that apply to such unique situations, assuming that, had there been, the required virtues would have been de- veloped. The case is different, however, with the one who, no matter how often called upon to meet like occa- sions, never can do what is required without a distressing sense of duty and effort. He is "unstable as water . . . and shall not excel" (Gen. 49:40). He is an "unstead- fast soul" (II Peter 2:14), incapable of gaining the vir- tues required by recurring situations. Usually, however, there is a hopeful feature of the clash between the sense of duty and inclination, for it is then evident that the self is capable of acquiring fixed modes of action which may, indeed, resist modification, yet this relatively un- yielding organization of the self has greater possibilities for good than a loose and fluid life in which change in one direction is as easy as in another. Between such ex- tremes is the growing self conserving in character what promotes well-being, yet open to the new advances that development requires. Every sense of duty is also a confession of ignorance, for it implies the new and untried. This seems to mean that the familiar and tried are the known. If so, cannot the same act be repeatedly a duty and hence duty is not a confession of ignorance? This, however, is too easy a solution of the problem. Surely the act required by duty is new and not strictly the same as any former act each of which has modified both the subject and the environ- ment. It is true that the principle of a duty may have been frequently verified by its beneficent consequences DUTIES AND VIRTUES 75 in the experiences of the self and others, and yet the changes taking place render what seems to be a specific duty, whether familiar or new, more or less a tentative hypothesis of action needing to be confirmed by results. Changes often destroy the duty altogether. For ex- ample, many a parent considers it a duty to do much for the child with the consequence that the child becomes self- ish, and later the parent repents doing what seemed duty. People are often mistaken as to their duty. There is always the possibility that another alternative might have resulted in larger good than the one chosen as obligatory. We are partly blind even in the light of conscience which, however, like a candle, is apt to show only the objects nearest and largest in our affections and interests, power- less to reveal what lies a little farther on than we have yet gone which may be our true good. The sense of duty is always a mark of limitations. God has no duties but the free active possession of the perfect good. Moreover, our duties may change their significance. What, for example, is brotherly love ? After centuries of reflection on the question: Who is my brother? How should brotherly love be shown? there is still no very satisfactory answer. Brotherly love is not mere senti- ment or instinctive sympathy. It is the same with the duty to be just. Strictly justice means right with es- tablished law and order. But whence the law and what does it mean ? Who now dare say what justice is in view of the horrors of war between the most Christian na- tions in the sacred name of Justice? Its serene beauty was the theme of Plato but he lived in the innocency of the race and now his vision of Justice appears a poet's dream. Justice is evidently an ideal of human welfare whose definite significance is being wrought out in the complex life of humanity whose full meaning no one ade- quately interprets but implicitly trusts. Duties also multiply in number and in quality. Every act in fulfillment of a duty creates new duties of different 76 MORAL LIFE A!NT> RELIGION kinds. Some even base the hope of immortality upon tha ever increasing scope and significance of duties, for there can be no last moral act. For example, a kindness may win a friend, and to maintain the friendship an indefinite number and variety of other acts become obligatory, each deed strengthening the friendship and deepening the sig- nificance of each duty that arises. Where is this growth, this deepening significance of duties to end, if not at the limits of our capacities ? Is it, then, a duty to recognize our limitations and withdraw from kindly impulses lest they increase our friendships and so overburden us with new duties ? As a matter of fact, the circle of friends is often purposely restricted evidently from a vague fear of self-reproach because of neglected obligations. Only a divine Being seems able to love all men and to assume the burden of their friendship even to the laying down of life. 37. Each person's duties grow out of his own individ- uality in relation to the environment and no one else is precisely so obligated. The sensible man avoids positions whose duties his individuality renders him unable to ful- fill. Happy the man who has found and knows his place for whose duties he is relatively adequate ! Happy the man, as Democritus said, "who has himself so well in hand that even when fortune comes his way and is ap- parently, though not really, ready to lead him on to higher things, he is able to put her aside and not over-reach his powers." 71 Our duties are limited by the exigencies of our individuality. This justifies refusal to be obligated by what another would impose as duties which grow out of the autoitomy of the rational will as each works out his own self-hood in a definite sphere, all being "fitly framed together, growing into a holy temple in the Lord" (Eph. 2:21). The uniqueness of personal duties meets an obstacle in the assumed right of one person to dictate another's duties as in the relation of parent to child, of one neighbor DUTIES AND VIRTUES 77 to another, or of a pastor to the members of his church. The solution of this problem requires certain distinctions such as the subjective and objective aspects of duty, the objective only being accessible to the adviser who may be able to see more or less clearly the deed required by the place in "the holy temple of the Lord" occupied by the axlvised. The child also has not yet attained the personal initiative which the subjective sense of duty im- plies and is still undifferentiated from the ties of the fam- ily and group. Where the adviser and advised are both re- sponsible persons, one's declaration of the other's duty concerns the objective relations of the act and can never be more than a proposal, to be accepted or rejected by the other, but powerful, for it is a form of public opinion which is a factor in the authority of duty because it rep- resents the deeper, broader, more enduring series of psych- ical causes of which the individual is also an expression. But care is needed in this counselling one of another, for there is no such thing as compulsory morality and the adviser is always in danger of reading another's duty in terms of his own. The individual may always with good reason assert that his duties are personal and unique. "On the side of self-imposed ideals, an enormous amount of distress and waste effort has been due to the feeling that we ought to aim at something which we may admire, apart from the question whether we are person- ally fitted for its attainment, or capable of taking real satisfaction in the life for which it calls. ... To dis- cover my own duty, I must study my own constitution and desires ; and the only final test that I am succeeding is, not consistency with some concrete objective standard capable of being determined by everyone alike by reason- ing it out, but my own satisfaction and assured content in the outcome." 72 Here again we fall back upon the as- sumed identity between the individual and the race and upon the ultimate trustworthiness of their development, an identity-, indeed, amidst personal differences, a unity of 78 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION meaning distributively realized in individuals who are ends-in-themselves, members one of another, and whose duties are not to be regarded as either higher or lower in the unity which they form. The universal aspect of our duties can only be con- ceptual in character. The subjective and objective uniqueness of specific duties, like the obligation to tell the truth and the truth-telling act, is due to the fact that it is conditioned by certain feelings, hopes, aspirations, and satisfactions that render the act a special event which can- not be duplicated by others, nor even repeated in the same person's experience. Besides, the objective uniqueness of every duty is shown by its fragmentary character, for example: What is told is not all the truth, nor could a finite being tell all the truth about anything ; the only con>< pleteness about the act is the subject's spirit of truth-tell- ing, and even this is open to question, for much depends upon the hearer. To utter true words with the best in- tention is not always to tell the truth, for they may give a false impression. Does one tell the truth when he is not understood ? or, when he fails to convince the other that it is the truth ? In fact, truthfulness is vastly more than true words. Stevenson somewhere beautifully shows that it is an established dependableness between persons who understand each other with the understanding that love and trust create. Then words are not necessary. Action is possible with unshaken confidence in each other which is the highest, perhaps the only form of truthful- ness. How evident, therefore, is the subjective and ob- jective uniqueness of our duties and their fulfillment since they finally involve the personal relations of love, trust and cooperation ! Until our duties are carried out to the satisfaction of those whom they concern, they are not really accomplished and probably have in some measure been inadquately conceived as to the end and means by the agent or by others. Of course, it is implied that he to whom the duty DUTIES AND VIRTUES 79 is owed should be accurate to conceive and quick to recog- nize its fulfillment. Otherwise the unresponsiveness, per- haps the insatiability, of those who have a claim upon us impose a heavy burden, for we may ourselves believe that we have done our duty, and yet we must not forget that love is the true fulfillment of duty. The basis of what- ever universality duties possess is, therefore, to be found in both their conceptual aspects and more especially in the experiential dependable personal relations which they tend to establish. The universality of specific duties, if such an expression is allowable, really means their bearing upon the common welfare. Consequently, when we require each other to be, for example, truthful and hon- est, the act in the individual's experience is, indeed, unique but its meaning is that only through faithful per- formance of duties rising out of personal relations can the general welfare be gained. This is the significance of every appeal to do what we individually conceive to be our personal duties. 73 38. Our specific duties, indescribable in detail, cul- minate in the duty to be virtuous which means to acquire a steadfast character that readily responds to our relations in such a manner as to promote the welfare of self and others. How suggestive is Aristotle's definition of virtue as "that trained faculty of choice, the characteristic of which lies in observing the mean relative to the persons concerned and which is guided by reason, that is, by the judgment of the prudent man" (Ethics II. 6) ! This conception of virtue means that a person becomes so trained that he readily chooses in changing situations the reason- able and so right thing to do. It implies a dependable- ness of choice of the action most suitable in complex re- lations. It invites the confidence felt towards those who redeem critical situations and lead others into safe courses by their wise judgment and adequate action. "The virtues are those habitual forms of conduct which re- alize the conception of the better and nobler self." Among 80 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION the Greeks dyatfo? expressed the most fundamental personal characteristics, d/oer^ is that which is best for a man (apio-ros). To be bad, vicious and unworthy to be called a man is to be without these characteristics. Under the influence of religion, the idea of stain and defilement became more emphatic. The man who is bad (/teAas- black) has a darkened and soiled self -hood. 74 Light is thrown upon the nature of virtue by its rela- tion to duty. The youth's maturing powers foreshadow their functioning in the consciousness of duties relating, for example, to choice of friends, studies and vocation. Every decision eliminates possibilities by tending to fix the course of life. The issue is sure to be a definitely formed self restricted to a sphere of activity which can belong to no other. The relation between duties and virtues may be sharply expressed by saying that we may escape our duties by transforming them into virtues. Until this is done, a duty is usually a challenge, a foreign element, often accompanied by a painful sense of obligation and approval of what is proposed but disapproval of the self because it is not yet in harmony with the demand, with some regret that other courses of action have to be sur- rendered. That there are also duties which are wel- comed and willingly done has been granted (sec. 37), though in such cases it seems better to say, one acts from appreciation of value instead of a sense of obligation. In proportion as the self becomes organized along lines of action that promote well-being, the divided self be- comes a unity freed from the conflict often present with the sense of duty. Then peace, constancy, efficiency and satisfaction become possible. This is why youth is often so stormy, ambitious and yet unhappy, while maturity and old age are relatively peaceful and hopeful with sat- isfying adequacy for what is required. In this sense, the virtuous good man is like the child before the un- quietness of youth arrives. He is born again with the child's spontaneous response to the environment but with DUTIES AND VIRTUES 81 the difference that acts and methods are the result of ex- perience rather than of inherited capacities. Such have entered into the kingdom of virtuous attainment. Virtue also implies habitual, satisfying activity. Aris- totle warns against regarding the sleeping, that is, the passive, man as virtuous. It is rather the man acting, and doing what he has to do with skill and adequateness. The virtue of a carpenter is in his carpentry, and of an eye in its vision. Likewise the virtuous man acts in a characteristic way, exercising the soul's powers in such a manner as to take pleasure in noble deeds because his faculties are performing their function in accordance with their true excellence. Such virtuous action has no re- grets for the past nor hope of reward but is satisfied to be itself. The good man finds his happiness in his action. The Aristotelian virtues of bravery, liberality, highmind- edness, wisdom, gentleness, truthfulness, justice, mean that the good man makes an unhesitating and appropriate response to demands made upon him, since hindrances have been overcome so that his life steadily produces these pleasing experiences. There is no regretful backward look, no acting a part for the sake of future praise. Vir- tue is its own reward. Surely the Aristotelian conception of goodness is noble. It is like that of the Apostle who declares that "the fruit of the spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, meekness, self -control" (Gal. 5 : 21 f.). These are fruits, active states of the soul requir- ing but to be experienced. ~No virtue is a foreign element transferred into the soul-life. The feeling, the will, the knowledge, the love of the act constitute the virtue and render the personality rich in goodness. The Aristotelian and apostolic conception of the virtues implies that the good man will love himself and act in view of what he is and, by so doing, he will at the same time love and benefit others. This topic is so important that it is reserved for the next chapter. 82 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION Since virtues imply direct relations to duties, and since they are formed habits of choice in response to the com- mon good, they may not be present, though the duty is rec- ognized. The uniqueness of duties renders it impossible to classify their corresponding virtues. The different capacities of individuals, and their circumstances, impose special duties, "and exact different virtues and yet one person is not more or less virtuous than another because his virtues take a different form/ 7 75 nor one virtue better than another. The ancient conception of the unity of the virtues contains an important truth, namely, that the vir- tuous character is a unity possessing different but insepar- able aspects which must each be present if the character is properly decribed as virtuous. It is to be remembered that we are dealing with a living process that may be vari- ously described but the features of the character corre- sponding to the descriptive terms are the living process itself. This unity of the virtuous life may be designated as a unity of temperance, courage, justice, and wisdom. Temperance implies a harmony of the desires with the ideal of reason, the moderation of each act in view of what goes before and of what is to follow, purity, control of passion so as to prevent attention being absorbed by some end to the neglect of others that have equal claim to be heeded, also reverence for the situation in which one is and for the wide significance of the act to be done; cour- age or fortitude in the face of what is hard and unpleas- ant, or to withstand the pleasurable either in the one case repelling or in the other enticing from what reflection upon the self and the situation reveals as required by the ideal of the highest good; courage which is the energetic, effective aspect of the executive will, courage to know the hard facts and yet to commit the will to belief in the supremacy of good ; justice as what is due in the personal ordering of the inner life and in relation to others, and wisdom or conscientiousness which is "that voluntary atti- tude interested in discovering ... the good of conduct" DUTIES AND VIRTUES 83 requiring a tender conscience immediately responsive to the presentation of good and evil, and thoughtfulness in which the subject acquires the habit of judging moral situations with increasing accuracy and appreciation of the importance and ideality of the act to be done. But thoughtfulness must be supplemented by resolute courage of the will to face evil in behalf of the end conceived as good upon which the affections involving the entire self are concentrated. 76 Any personality thus conditioned is sure to progress in the attainment of true well-being and at the same time be an efficient factor in promoting human welfare, as will be shown more fully in the suc- ceeding chapters. CHAPTER VI GOODNESS AND SELF-SACRIFICE 39. The conception of goodness, already presented, as the development, the realization of the self's capacities, should not be identified with egoism and made to conflict with the interests of others. Instead, goodness implies that the true love of self is identical with the love of others. Recently the emphasis upon the biological and psycho- logical aspects of society has done much to reveal unity of interests at least within the same community, if not between communities and nations. But there are occa- sions when this common welfare of all appears doubtful. In other words, self-sacrifice in the sense of "diminution of possessions, pleasures, or powers in order to increase those of others" 77 seems to require interpretation, if a gulf is not to be fixed between the self and others. Moral theories of pure egoism assert that it is morally necessary to make individual welfare the sole end of ac- tion and that it is right to pursue only one's own good. Thus each best serves others, for individual good is as- sumed to mean the general good. Pure egoism is also logically possible, for a society is conceivable in which everyone acts solely for his own ends. Likewise, there are moral theories based on pure altruism which sets up the principle that acts have moral worth only in so far as they are determined by purely altruistic motives, the weal or woe of others. Schopenhauer, for example, advocates altruism in extreme form holding that the motive of an act must be the welfare of another, if the act is to have moral worth. Otherwise the act is egoistic and bad. This agrees with the popular use of the word, selfish, 84 GOODNESS AND SELF-SACRIFICE 85 which implies blame, and unselfish which carries with it approval. To such theories, the egoist replies that pure altruism is inconceivable and absurd for, if each cares only for the interests of others and never for his own, such an exchange of interests would result as to make collective life unthinkable. 78 This controversy involves three questions: first, whether or not the motive of every act is self-interest; secondly, whether egoism and altruism are contradictories ; and, thirdly, what is the proper moral interpretation of the fact. The question whether the motive of every act is self-interest concerns the reality of self-sacrifice in the sense of "diminution of possessions, pleasures, or powers in order to increase those of others." There are four historical forms of the argument in support of a denial of genuine self-sacrifice. First, the psychological impossi- bility of sacrificing one's own interest for that of another, for one acts always for some desired end or personal inter- est whether one promotes the welfare of relative, friend, community, church, state, nation, humanity, or strives to be virtuous. Secondly, if an act for the sake of another with loss to the self takes place, it is a necessity due to limitations. The real spring of action is pure self-inter- est, as Hobbes and others showed, but we are forced to suffer the loss of what we would have if we could. It is, indeed, self-sacrifice, but there is no glory in it, only hard necessity. The motive is unsatisfied self-interest. Thirdly, it is a mistake to suppose that there is any per- sonal loss in promoting another's good apparently at the cost of one's own, for the larger self is to be found only in fellowship with others. Once more it is self-interest which is the motive, for everyone gains instead of loses by identifying himself with the life of the community. Lastly, self-sacrifice in the sense of personal loss for the sake of others, whenever it occurs, is a kind of glorious madness, mysterious, irrational, but heroic imprudence. The rational man does not so act, for there is no obliga- 86 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION tion to do such deeds which are not so much below as above the level of human life. 79 40. Do the above objections prove that real altruistic action is impossible? What of the apparently genuine self-sacrifice for the welfare of others and for the sake of ideals which seems to be of daily occurrence in the home, the school, the church, the community, on the battlefield and in one's inner life when some great surrender is made in behalf of a vague ideal, like the ultimate well-being of humanity ? It seems unfair to say that such acts are done for the sake of self-interest in the ordinary sense of the term. It is only necessary to recall what has been said con- cerning the nature of the self striving to conserve and promote well-being by appropriate responses to the envi- ronment and to follow its history to discover the intrinsic unity of egoism and altruism. The individual begins, indeed, with the "coarser" instincts and emotions dom- inant, rendering the life self-centred, but later other ten- dencies appear as the psycho-physical organism matures. At first there is no very clear distinction of self from others; indeed, it is held that the consciousness of others is prior to that of self, for the child's needs are satisfied only by others who assume importance as the source of satisfaction which is withheld or given in a most perplex- ing manner. Others are instinctively feared, loved, watched, with a vague belief in their reality which is intensified by their action, command or the information imparted. In the presence of some persons whose real- ness is over-powering, the self seems as nothing. This belief in the reality of others is not primarily by analogy with ourselves but seems to be immediate awareness of their presence, "social immediacy," as Coe says. "The smallest known unit of personality is three, father, mother, child .... While it is true that the ties of parentage loosen as the child matures, these drop away only because others, now more formative, take him in charge. Before GOODNESS AND SELF-SACKIFICE 87 we have a separate consciousness we know ourselves as members of a family, of a state, of the community of human kind. We never stand alone" (Palmer, Altruism, P. 9). This direct apprehension of the being of others is also supplemented by the use of analogy between their acts and our own whereby we know them as agents like ourselves. After the individual has become differentiated from others through personal initiative of feeling, thought, and action, a transition from individual to social consciousness begins culminating in a more clearly recognized unity of each with all. The beginning of this transition is pro- vided for by primary organizations and "psycho-physical predispositions" which make egoistic and altruistic ac- tion equally original, simple and direct. If a man falls into the water, the instinct of self-preservation expresses itself in efforts to get out; equally direct is the action of the one who jumps in to save the other. But the ex- periences of the two are different in quality. Reflection may follow the act of the rescuer but does not necessarily precede it. Thus the instincts of self-preservation and fellow-feeling are an original unity, however much later ideas and feelings may either broaden and deepen this unity or cause them to appear radically opposed. 80 The unity of moral ends shows the true relation of ego- ism and altruism. The wider view of motives and acts may, indeed, not always be taken, though they may be im- plicitly in harmony with the larger social and humanitar- ian ends. The ideal would be to see and will one's acts as having a bearing upon the welfare and progress, not only of one's own immediate social group, but, of the nation and even humanity. Each end can fulfill itself only as it fulfills the whole being realized through each person. In this wider significance of every act, the primitive impulses of self-preservation and fellow-feeling are expressions of the psychical causes at work in the individual and the race. Indeed, there are reasons why sympathy or fel- 88 MOEAL LIFE AND RELIGION low-feeling may be regarded as the deeper tendency of in- dividual life, for the individual, even in acts of self -differ- entiation, is the later expression of an infinite series of psychical causes in the race-life in consequence of which every individual tendency is only a fragment of the whole sure to return again to the level of the onward flow of human existence. Hence the individual's acts are ab- sorbed in the whole and have worth only as they are judged in relation to the ideal of humanity according to which each nation and age is to be judged good or evil. Each individual, however humbly doing what is required, contributes to these larger movements which it is the pro- vince, especially, of the leading minds to perceive and promote. 81 41. It is now evident that goodness is neither egoistic nor altruistic but, as Palmer says, "mutuality . . . the recognition of another and myself as inseparable elements of one another, each being essential to the welfare of each" (Altruism, p. YT). Plato speaks of the good man, even in a bad state, as exerting a saving power, since a he reflects upon all this, and holds his peace, and does his own busine-ss. He is like (one who retires under the shadow of a wall in the storm of dust and sleet which the driving wind hurries along; and when he sees the rest of mankind full of wickedness, he is content if only he can live his own life and be pure from evil and unright- eousness, and depart in peace and good will, with bright hopes. . . . And he who does this will have done a great work before he departs . . . but not the greatest unless he find a state suitable for him" (Republic VI. Par. 496). The great work is the beneficence of goodness. Aristotle emphasizes the same truth, for his conception of virtue implies that the good man should even love him- self and that by doing so he will love and benefit others. "It is then clear," says Aristotle, "that it is the reason which, if not entirely, at any rate most especially, con- stitutes each man's self; and it is this which the good man GOODNESS AND SELF-SACRIFICE 89 most especially cherishes. And hence it is the good man who, most of all, may be said to love himself; although his self-love is entirely of another kind from that self- love which brings reproach upon the selfish man, and, al- though he differs from the selfish man as widely as the life of reason differs from the life of passion, and the desire for that which is noble differs from the desire for that by which a man hopes to serve his own private ends. - . . And hence it follows that the good man ought to be a lover of himself, inasmuch as, if his acts be noble, he will reap good fruit for himself and will confer great benefit upon others" (Ethics. IX. 8). This is like Kant's "rational self-love" which destroys natural self-esteem. Such self-love is the love of the spirit of virtue and of the virtues. Even our Lord exhorts us to love the inner righteousness, and the Apostle's message to the Galatians (5: 21) urges them to love and cherish that inward life which bears the beneficent fruit of the spirit. The Greek and the Christian virtues are at least formally identical in motive and content, though the one may be less complete than the other. The identity between the welfare of the self and that of others is also expressed by Aristotle in his conception of friendship which suggests the Christian's love of the brethren. Aristotle shows that the virtues can be ac- quired only through the aid of others who are virtuous. The good man needs good friends, first, because "no man would choose to be assured in the possession of all possible good at the price of living a solitary life" ; and, secondly, because the friend is a second self the value of whose friendship lies in the fact that he presents a mirror of good actions and so intensifies his friend's appreciation of the virtuous life. The good man's love for himself is identi- cal with his love for his friend, for in himself and in his friend, it is the rational nature realized in the virtues that is loved (Ethics. IX. 9, 10). How suggestive of St. John's saying: "We know that we have passed out of 90 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION death into life, because we love the brethren" (I John. 3:4). Aristotle expresses the same thing in obverse form when he says: "Since the wicked have in them nothing that calls for love, they can feel no affection towards them- selves" and towards each other. As the Christian believes his love of the brethren is due to the indwelling divine Spirit, so does Aristotle identify the rational principle in which the human soul essentially consists with the di- vine creative Reason. But the Christian thought, of course, glows with devotion to Jesus as Savior, while Aristotle's love of virtue and the virtuous friend, as ex- pressions of the creative Reason, lacks some of the warm affection that characterizes the Christian faith (De Anima. III. 5, 430 a 10. Ethics: X. 8. 9). Nor does Aristotle seem to leave much room, practically, for anything like the Christian's love of one's enemies. 42. Since duties and virtues are finally personal re- lations, the virtues promote mutual confidence and co-op- eration. Until, for example, the virtue of truthfulness is acquired, there is room for partial distrust lest the truth be not certainly told. Our duties are demands that we afford a basis of understanding and affection for others' action which can be depended upon in time of need. Virtue on our part invites and claims the trust of others that we shall do and be always what is implied in truthful- ness, wisdom, justice, temperance, faithfulness and love. Every virtue possessed is a rock upon which others may build. This rock resists time, the storms of passion, the hardships of toil and the enticements of pleasure. If one possesses the virtues, he will cherish them in himself out of love for his fellows because he knows that these virtues invite and claim their trustful action. To use the language of religion, we confess our frailty by finding perfect goodness that will never disappoint only in the divine Personality, or, as Christians, in Jesus whose excellence so far surpasses ours that we regard Him as Divine. What a comment upon the nature of virtue in GOODNESS AND SELF-SACRIFICE 91 its completeness and upon human frailty in the effort to be virtuous ! And so we confess that God alone is worthy of our full trust and love. Still we do trust and act with reliance upon the goodness of our fellows, for there is no other hond of social unity and cooperation. This reverence for virtue is found at all levels of life but what is approved is not simply that one is brave, skill- ful, constant, self-controlled, and wise in his special sphere, but he shows his helpful relationship to general well-being. We always carry over this recognition of the general welfare and the larger good, to which the vir- tues minister, to the single virtues, though they may be temporarily misapplied in the service of an unworthy end, as in the courage, constancy and self-control of an lago wiho plots the ruin of Othello. This approval, however, is based upon the assumption that the virtues in their proper relation to means and end invariably promote well- being both of the one who is virtuous and of those with whom he has to do. Because of the realization of our own failures, we too often dare not give, nor do we receive, the perfect trust that the virtues invite, with the result that our actions are inhibited and hesitating. We even suspect ourselves of being in danger of betraying the trust of others just when we ought to be strong and reliable. This lack of full confidence in ourselves and in others is curiously shown by the attitude toward praise of goodness which seems to indicate that one is in a condition that should be trans- cended. Suppose, for example, one says to another: "You deserve to be praised for telling the truth, or, for your noble action." Is it not to imply a certain unstead- iness of character, for it seems to mean that the unex- pected has happened? The principle is, as Aristotle ex- pressed it: "The pleasure or pain that accompanies the acts must be taken as a test of the formed habit or char- acter" (Ethics: Bk. 2:1. 1). And yet it is right to praise God which shows that we recognize a supreme ex- 92 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION cellence. We should have, however, not vanity, but what Aristotle called highmindedness a just appreciation of one's powers as adequate to worthy and great objects in life, affording dependable personal relations inviting mut- ual trust and confident action. The firmly established relation of husband and wife based upon virtue, love and peace, it is unsuitable to praise; instead, there is a recog- nition of excellence, of trust and mutual dependence in view of which action takes place. The soldier's supreme sacrifice on the battlefield is revered and honored. We do, however, rightly desire mutual recognition of virtues. Through sympathy, the social instinct of gregariousness, and retributive kindly emotion, the self is extended to and identified with others whose merit is recognized, making praise, in this sense, of a worthy deed, an aspect of normal self-satisfaction in accomplishing good ends to be loved for their own sakes whether in the self or in others. In this better sense, praise of others is approval and reveals the character of him who approves. 43. Our conception of moral goodness transforms self- sacrifice into self-assertion for .some approved end in which the welfare of all is involved. Leonidas and his J>and fought for their country but, of course, it was their country. They fell for their own glory which was that of Sparta. Is it not absurd to ask whether their motive was egoistic or altruistic? Hence "every self- sacrifice is at the same time self-preservation of the ideal self; indeed, it is the proudest kind of self-assertion for me to sacrifice myself, for me to stake my life, in battling for a good which I esteem higher than my life. . . . The self is always involved, it sacrifices a good only for a higher good, possessions for fame, a good name for a good conscience, life for the freedom and honor of the people. And vice versa, the traitor sacrifices his friend or his reputation or his people for thirty pieces of silver; he, too, would rather have the thirty pieces of silver without the sacrifice," 8S GOODNESS AND SELF-SACRIFICE 93 There is no merit in sacrifice as such. "Self-sacrifice is noble if its end is noble, but becomes reprehensible when its object is petty or undeserving. Omit or over- look that word for (something) and self-sacrifice loses its exalted character. It sinks into asceticism, one of the most degrading of moral aberrations. In asceticism, we prize self-sacrifice for its own sake." The only safe rule, then, is that self-sacrifice is self-assertion and its worth depends upon its object. "The act is not complete until the sense of loss has disappeared." 83 One is just that sort of self as to do that sort of act As Jesus said: "My meat it is to do the will of my Father" which is a self-assertion that His will should be identical with that of the Father, with no regrets and no playing a part for the sake of reward This joy and peace Jesus longs that His followers may have in their fellowship in His sufferings. 44. To determine the moral worth of sacrifice as self- assertion for some end, the objective magnitude of the interests involved and the efficiency of the sacrifice in relation to these interests must be considered. Objec- tively the order of preference in ascending worth is indi- vidual, social, and humanitarian ends, but efficiency of sacrifice generally decreases in direct proportion to the distance between the benefactor and the object of his interest, giving rise to what Paulsen calls a natural hie- rarchy of ends in which every ego arranges others about itself in concentric circles, and the farther away the interests from this centre the less weight and motive force they possess. 84 According to this principle of efficiency, the duties that concern the self, one's position and calling are first, then duties to those nearest and dearest, to relatives and friends, then duties to those more distant, to country and humanity. Hence the order required by the principle of efficiency seems to be the reverse of the order in the objective worth of ends, creat- ing the difficult task of determining what motives should 94 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION prevail and what forms of sacrifice will, in the circum- stances, best serve human welfare. It is always debatable whether, considering one's capac- ities and relations, the service of one's self, position and calling, immediate family or community, may not have precedence over more remote ends such as a mission to the heathen, or the care of some poor unknown person, because the efficiency of efforts is so largely determined by personal relations. Besides, we often do not know what to do for those who have an immediate claim upon us, and how much less for strangers, although ready to do much. Usually happiness and welfare cannot be be- stowed, for they are the result of personal effort in nor- mal conditions but how much more difficult the task when the conditions are abnormal and those receiving aid are the unsuccessful whom no assistance can keep from fail- ure. Here are limitations requiring a high degree of tact, love, and foresight on the part of those who would be benefactors. The readiness, the motive to acts of sacrifice, vary widely; at first, the interests of self and others nearest appeal most strongly, but, since each is a link in an end- less chain of psychical causes involving the entire exist- ence of mankind, humanitarian ends often have a power transcending immediate personal relations, as when one becomes the Good Samaritan to a stranger whom circum- stance has made nearest neighbor, or the life of a people is at stake, or justice and truth require the sacrifice of domestic happiness, or, in lofty moments, the ideal of the welfare of humanity generations hence moves the soul. Indeed, the entire question concerning the nature and worth of sacrifice as self-assertion for valued ends merges into the more general problem of the highest good in the light of which, if any act ought to be done from any point of view, individual or humanitarian, it ought to be done from all. 45, The evolutionists have taught that there is a grad- GOODNESS AND SELF-SACRIFICE 95 ual increase in altruistic tendencies and that the time will come, as Spencer says, when "the ministration to others' happiness will become a daily need and the lower egoistic satisfactions will be continually subordinated to this higher egoistic satisfaction." Indeed, the desire for altruistic satisfactions ' will become so strong that each will insist upon taking an undue share of them, compet- ing with his fellows for opportunity to do good to others. "There is being effected a conciliation of individual na- tures with social requirements; so that there will eventu- ally be achieved the greatest individuation along with the greatest mutual dependence an equilibrium of such a kind that each, in fulfilling the wants of his own life, will spontaneously aid in fulfilling the wants of all other lives." 85 This means that the development of individu- ality implies an increasing recognition of the identity of welfare with that of others accompanied by sponta- neous effort to promote this common well-being with no sense of personal loss. Paulsen, however, opposes this view and holds that, as civilization advances, individual- ity becomes more marked creating more occasions for fric- tion with others and that, even in the family, though the members live in closer union than in primitive ages, there are often greater bitterness and hatred between the mem- bers than formerly. Thus contradictory opinions might be arrayed against each other as to whether or not altru- ism is on the increase a question like that of the relative merits of pessimism and optimism peculiarly exposed to personal bias and even prejudice. Whether altruism increases or not should be considered, first, as to the motives of action and, secondly, as to the ends. Motives are unities of feeling and idea. Are feelings for the well-being of others becoming more potent and responsive? Devotion to ideals has been apparently equally great in all ages. The ancient warrior gave his life for his tribe or country, the modern missionary devotes his life to the cause, each gives all. The modern 96 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION soldier dies on the battlefield and a mother, sister, or brother dies at home in faithful service, nor is one more devoted than the other. Ends sought are ideally not much improved. In the diplomacy recorded by Livy and in that of the present day between Christian nations one searches in vain for marked improvement; as one says, there is no new form of trickery. A Christian student of Plato, Aristotle, and the Stoics doubts whether the essential principles of virtue are now better understood than formerly, though many would hold to the originality and finality of Christian ethics. 86 More satisfactory is it to pass beyond the antithesis between altruism and egoism by denying that they are contradictories, since all action is self-assertion for ends in which the weal and woe of self and others are involved. As Green says, morality may be summed up in the duties of a the good neighbor and honest citizen" which means that, however broad the conception of the act in relation to self, humanity, and God, it is always the particular act required by the concrete situation, and, if it ought to be done from either point of view, it ought to be done from all. Then the question may be stated in a new form: Does the conception of personal welfare become more comprehensive of all its relations to self, to human- ity, and to God as the centuries come and go ? Are the means and ends chosen and the acts done in their' objective character increasingly such as to promote the welfare of humanity? Are the subjective feelings to- wards these more broadly conceived acts required by concrete situations becoming more responsive to the beneficent results to be attained ? The reply only reflects personal opinion or, more correctly, the attitude toward faith in the ultimate trustworthiness of humanity assumed to be working out its highest good. It would be useful to remember that, although it par- takes somewhat of the nature of an assumption, in GOODNESS AND SELF-SACKIFICE 97 proportion as we establish ourselves in virtue by building up a good character, we provide a basis of action for our- selves and others. Then the virtuous life would appear in its true light as the strength of nations and the source of order and progress. To adopt this truth is to pass be- yond morality into religious faith which R. L. Stevenson beautifully expresses in the poem: "If this were Faith": "To go on forever and fail and go on again, And be mauled to the earth and arise, And contend for the shade of a word and a thing not seen with the eyes ; With the half of a broken hope for a pillow at night That somehow the right is the right And the smooth shall bloom from the rough: Lord, if that were enough ?" But is it not enough? To do what is to us the excellent, the just and right confident of its final imper- ishable worth. It suffices to possess goodness. Plato de- scribes the just man as one who "sets in order his own inner life, and is his own master, and at peace with him- self" (Republic. IV. Par. US). Socrates in the Phcedrus prays: "Give me beauty in the inward soul: and may the outward and inward man be one .... that prayer, I think, is enough for me." Aristotle also says, the good man has feelings of satisfaction concerning him- self with happy memories of the past and bright hopes of the future (Ethics. IX. Ch. IV). It is a certain inner affection and joy in the love of virtuous action, comparable, I think, to the Beatitude : "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness; for they shall be filled." Aristotle's expression may not, indeed, be so full of meaning, yet he says: "To the good and perfect man, existence is of itself a good thing." But the supreme good is perfectly enjoyed by God and, since man's 98 MOKAL LIFE AND RELIGION personality is centred in his reason which expresses itself in virtuous action, the good man, like God, "holds continuous communion with himself." This, evidently is the Greek's anticipation of "the peace of God which passeth understanding" (Phil. 4:7). CHAPTER VII MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 46. jjocial.. institutions have, an ^ etkicaL^haiCacMr^ . Jbe- cause of their relation to the attainment of personality. Already the development of self-consciousness in insepar- able union with the consciousness of others has been con- sidered (Sec. 40) so that only a brief statement is now required. Probably the consciousness of the new-born child consists of a succession of states evoked by internal activities and by external stimulation of end-organs min- gled with sensations arising from motor impulses reflex and instinctive. It may be, as Lotze suggests, that agree- able or disagreeable feelings in connection with these sensuous experiences form the root of individuality. "The crushed worm writhing in pain undoubtedly dis- tinguishes its own suffering from the rest of the world, though it can understand neither its own ego nor the na- ture of the external world." 81 Gradually the stream of mental states is differentiated into the consciousness of self, other selves and things, but all are within the unity of experience arid the process is largely unreflective. The consciousness of others probably is first to attain clear- ness, since they are the source of satisfactions, and, at higher levels, is deepened by the need of making suitable responses. Feelings, persistent sensations, motor impul- ses, acts of attention and many other factors form a group that gradually becomes the empirical self, at first closely associated with the organism. Soon the distinctions, "I," "me," "not-self," become possible, though their limits are not fixed. Then the self is still further spiritualized by being differentiated, not only from other selves and material things but also from the body, the space occupy- 99 100 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION ing thing, the organ of the soul, that perishes. This spiritualization may be carried further as with Plato, Aristotle, and Descartes, distinguishing the "essence" of the soul as pure thought or reason from feelings and sen- suous experiences which are temporal. Religion, too, often seeks a real self in mystic union with the Divine. But this "essential- self" is not what we are to ourselves in daily life, although in rare moments we seem to expe- rience a deeper reality. Our empirical self-hood includes, indeed, fleeting sensuous images and feelings connected with the image of the organism, as Bergson seems to sug- gest, 88 but however important they may be in accomplish- ing the differentiation from other existences, self-hood is constituted by some -degree of memory and self-conscious- ness subordinating experiences to some recognized end, especially in the higher levels, that dominates activities through which it is realized. This makes personality not so much actual as something that ought to be, a task to be achieved, ethical. About this end are gathered those interests and unique experiences which constitute indi- viduality. Material things are relatively constant forms of expe- riences and are representative of some action which gives them almost a spiritual significance. For example, we do not try to kindle a fire with a stone, but it is useful in the foundation of a building. The permanence of things consists largely in the constancy of their utility in satisfying our needs, especially in cooperation with others. Things are, therefore, in some real sense, a social product of common and constant experiences upon which personal intercourse depends. Thus self, other selves and things are forms of the unity of experience subordinated to the ideal of well-being. 47. The interpretation of personal relations requires the conception of the social self. "A man has as many social selves as there are individuals who recognize him and carry an image of him in their min'd . . . about MOBAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL OEGM'TiZA^ON 10l whose opinion he cares." 89 The ethical character of this social self is evident, for what we believe others think of us influences the formation of our ideals and motives. The groups to which one belongs develop the ethical task of maintaining a consistent character in them all, as for example, being the head of the family, a mem- ber of a club, a director in a stock company, a church deacon, a politician, a philanthropist. The self may be regarded as a system consisting of lesser systems of activ- ities or social selves, imposing the ethical task of unify- ing them in one definite personality. It is easy to be a good club-man or home-lover or this or that, but to be all these consistently requires a high order of thought and will. Success in one may coexist with failure in another. Then the self is a collection of fragments. In contrast, are those who have had the courage and wisdom to elim- inate what cannot be unified and to set their faces stead- fastly toward some life-purpose in which the good of self and others is realized. But, in these different social selves, individuality is preserved through the uniqueness of thoughts, feelings and actions with the consequence that the more comprehensive the social relations, the more marked the personality becomes. The conception of the social self implies that a certain public consciousness or opinion or attitude exists in the group as a whole and forms the background from which each determines his duty in a particular situation. This social mind largely accounts for the "intuitions" of the moral judgment. Common modes of action, feeling, thought, and will soon develop. Language shows that each group possesses its own terms, to some extent famil- iar to others. A family, a trade-union, a religious sect, has its own range of ideas. Practical knowledge, tools and methods may vary. Each age has its point of view a priori rationalistic, deductive, mathematical as in the time of Descartes and Spinoza, inductive and biological in that of Darwin and Spencer. Classes have different .MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION habits and virtues differently emphasized. We speak of the age of chivalry, the spirit of the French, Germans or English. Self-consciousness of the group also arises when something occurs to bring it into contrast with others. Children feel that the family to which they be- long has a home-life separate from the rest of the world. Pressure from the outside frequently throws men together and creates a consciousness of themselves as a unit with special ends to accomplish, as, for example, a religious sect, or an organization for a crusade against evil. Then this social self-consciousness becomes volitional to work out jointly conceived purposes for the common welfare. Even the locality has an influence upon the social mind, for the seaman, the plainsman, the mountaineer, the city- dweller, have somewhat different attitudes and springs of action. The individual inherits the family, class, and race consciousness, enjoys and enriches it but soon transmits it to others, for the individual is the ephemeral offspring of the enduring social mind. Progress thus becomes pos- sible through the individual's reconstructions of prevail- ing modes of thought and action which in turn are incor- porated into the common life. The widening o this social mind is conditioned chiefly by means of communi- cation between classes, closeness of association and unity of action for common ends. Hope arises that there may sometime be a social mind large enough to embrace the thought, feeling and will of all men. 48. The participation of the individual in the social mind goes far toward accounting for the nature and origin of society. It is unnecessary to review the facts con- nected with the propagation and preservation of the species, the care and protection of children, the position of mother and father in the family, the growth of the tribe, clan, state, nation, until the ideal of a federation of nations is formed. Everywhere the individual has interest in the good of others "which cannot be satisfied MOKAT, SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 103 without tlie consciousness that these other persons are satisfied." 90 It is the presence of sufficient intelligence in its members to recognize each other as having common interests and a common good which distinguishes human society from lower forms of association. Only as there is this intelligent capacity of "conceiving and seeking a permanent well-being in which the permanent well-being of others is included" is it possible for that community of life to arise which is known as society and social institu- tions. If it is objected that self-conscious recognition of others' well-being in relation to that of the self is not present in primitive life, nor, to any marked degree, in the daily routine of the civilized state, it may be granted. It is also true that men are bound together through primary tendencies, instincts and emotions, and that customs de- velop with little foresight of results, yet I think this is quite in keeping with growth to full ethical personality. The entire process forms a whole rendering it impossible rightly to elevate some factor like instincts or emotion into the place of supreme importance. The tendencies, instincts, and emotions which man has in common with the animals are characterized by differentiations in which may lie a large part of the rationality which is supposed to distinguish man from the lower orders of life and through which he is capable of recognizing that the good of others is involved in his own welfare, thus distinguish- ing human society from animal associations. Attempts have been made to conceive what the indi- vidual in a state of nature apart from social relations would be. Hobbes described this hypothetical condition as one in which men would be so equal in body and mind that no one would have advantage over another. With like passions and appetites, they strive for the same objects with the result that "they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war, as is of every man, against every man/ 7 with no security other than what individual 104 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION strength and invention can furnish. "There is no place for industry, because the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation nor use of commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building; no instruments of moving, and re- moving, such things as require much force ; no knowledge of the face of the earth ; no account of time ; no arts ; no letters; no society, and, which is worst of all, continual fear, and danger of violent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short." 91 This famous passage shows how limited is the good attainable by individual effort deprived of social institu- tions, and finds illustration in the effects of the Great War. The constant tribal warfare of the American Indians, for example, gradually reduced their number and rendered their life poor and miserable. But these tribes were al- ready social organizations. There have been and are yet lower forms of human life but still with some social or- der. 92 Of course, Hobbes' hypothetical state of isolated individuals liever existed, for primary needs of food, shelter, propagation, and protection always compel mutual recognition and cooperation in some degree and hence society to this extent has always prevailed. Hobbes was right in seeking to found his commonwealth upon a psychological analysis of man's nature with the purpose of forming a social order that would most serve human needs. The principle is that men dwelling to- gether supplement each other's efforts and promote each other's good. Consequently, individuals set each other free by calling into activity powers that would otherwise remain dormant and the social order is only a system of tested and approved modes of cooperative activity. Social problems derive their significance from this principle of personal freedom and concern ways and means of its en- largement and interpretation. Social institutions are, as Hegel says, the embodiment of the idea of freedom and social relations determine one's individuality and self- MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 105 hood. Practically we acknowledge this in our admiration of the person who is adequately faithful to family, neigh- borhood, church, and state with a steady devoted will. Such life is stronger and more real than one which heeds only a few relations, a confession of limitations yet an acknowledgment that true self-hood and freedom are still to be attained in wider relations. It is as though every social regulation released some hitherto imprisoned power and allowed it to come forth into the light and find ex- pression in its appropriate function. Human powers are intellectual, aesthetic, moral and religious. How much personal freedom means ! Self -chosen ends bring unexer- cised powers into activity in response to the community, the social order, law and the state. We need each other and each needs the rest of mankind. Two children play together more happily than either alone while a company is merrier still. Any honest-minded man is able to do and be more, the more the opportunities within his capacity to which he is forced to respond. "Iron sharpeneth iron ; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend" (Prov. 27:17). The power as well as the limits of social regulations to liberate and train individual capacities to useful ends is shown by the success of such schools as the Vineland Training School in which defectives attain a good degree of development with happiness and freedom. But such persons have limits beyond which they cannot go, however favorable the conditions. The color-blind or tone-deaf cannot become artists or musicans, but they may be "born long" in some other power in which they may be success- fully trained, if proper methods are employed to discover and develop this capacity. 93 But everyone is rendered relatively helpless and miserable if deprived of the bene- fits of society and compelled to live in isolation. Per- sonal freedom and independence are, therefore, possible only in relation to others who give opportunity for and re- quire the use of one's powers the purpose of which is to 106 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION fulfill the ideal of personality, or, to gain abounding life. As long as there are unrealized capacities, there will al- ways be room for progressive improvement in the social order. 49. Just as the individual half -unconsciously, with- out forethought, develops habits of action which become fixed because successful, so does the cooperative activity of the members of a social group in procuring satisfaction of primary needs assume definite forms which, being re- garded as successful, become the most approved methods of promoting the common welfare. These social habits are customs which may be peculiar to a community. There is, of course, opportunity for the growth of acci- dental features in connection with customs, for essential and unessential are not readily distinguished and both re- ceive authority. Religion, too, is apt to impart a sacred- ness to customs which cannot then be disregarded without impiety. Customs represent the conservative side of social life and do not easily give place to new and untried meth- ods with the consequence that there is little room for per- sonal initiative except as one purposely adopts these ac- cepted modes of activity. Such acts may be regarded as the morality of custom which is only a preliminary stage in moral development, not fully conscious of its ethical significance. There are, however, some intelligence, and often intense emotion which revolts against any depart- ure from the custom; some recognition of authority, with voluntary acceptance, and even a fear akin to reverence. The partially developed nature of the morality of cus- tom lies in the tendency of the individual to act in accord with the standards of the group with inadequate recogni- tion of the purpose of the customs to promote well-being. Genuine morality consists in each member of the commun- ity becoming self-legislative with a due sense of the bear- ing of his self-imposed ends of action upon his own and /K others' welfare, with thoughtfulness, self-control and as- piration towards an ideal, and with courageous effort of MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 107 will to achieve this end. The moral development of the individual and of the race is promoted by increasingly intelligent direction of activity, with a deepening rever- ence for an ideal good, issuing in character organized about the best conceptions of human welfare. Then the firmness of virtuous character provides for the steadfast- ness and certainty of action which customs produce. Thus do customs have their place in the orderly develop- ment of mankind towards genuine morality in fulfillment of the ideal of the highest good. 50. The individual begins) in subservience to custom, but acffttrees ability - to-cr eafe personal ideals of conduct towards which obligation is felt and claims the right to ofr-what appears to be duty. This is properly the moral stage of personal development followed by more or less fixed character. But these personal views of what one is obligated to do are so numerous and often so er- roneous that they are subjected to social regulation. The community, becoming self-conscious as to the necessity of performing certain acts and preventing others, not only recognizes the right but authoritatively decrees both the obligation and the right to do only such acts as tend to promote common welfare. Such is the origin of rights and obligations variously designated civil, political, legal, which go beyond custom and personal ideas of duty, not so much in principle as in the clearer social recognition of the importance of the acts concerned. Eights and obligations mean that the individual has\ ^ powers of body and mind whose exercise will contribute to V^ ^ the general welfare, and is not only permitted but re- / quired to use them under definite conditions. Having / the right, the individual is obligated to use the right and society, having granted the right, assumes the obligation to guarantee it by instituting conditions which will make it possible to use the powers thus set free. Rights with their corresponding obligations are, then, specific forms of personal freedom with an ethical significance, 108 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION since they remove hindrances to action according to per- sonal conceptions of life's good which is the condition of the development of character and the fulfillment of the moral ideal. "The 'only fundamental anarchy is that which regards rights as private monopolies, ignoring their social origin and intent. . . . Absolute rights,if we mean by absolute those not relative to any social order and hence exempt from social restriction, there are none." 94 Absoluteness could only attach to the personal sense of obligation to self-imposed norms of conduct and to the feeling that one has the right to do what seems to be a duty, but even then the social relations of the act have to be considered. , 51. The theory of "natural rights' 7 may be shown to be consistent 'with the doctrine of the social origin of rights and obligations. Its history is instructive. Hobbes, for example, held that, in their primal condition, men had each a "natural right" to obtain as much as possible with- out regard to others, though it might involve their injury. But, since such a condition of strife could not be endured, these "natural rights" were delegated to a central power or sovereign whose decrees established right and wrong and secured the reign of the "laws of nature" whose end is security and peace. The truth of this is that the central government derives its powers from the people for whose security and welfare both the government and law exist, and that the social order, established, in its turn creates rights and imposes obligations upon the members of the state. 95 On the other hand, Jeremy Bentham rejected the theory of "natural rights" and held that there are no rights but those established by the state. Spencer, how- ever, declares that "it is ridiculous to think of a people creating rights, which it had not before, by the process of creating a government in order to create them. It is ab- surd to treat an individual as having a share of rights as a member of the people, while in his private capacity he has no rights at all." 96 ' 9 jf- MOBAL, SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 10 The theory of "natural rights" inhering in the Individ- ual even against the state has a meaning which "Ts^nT^ danger of being lost through the assumed irreconcilability,/*^ of individual with social well-being. This deadlock pef^ sists, until it is discovered that true individuality is pos- sible only in the social order which represents the deeper life of humanity. The individual is not an atom, a simple unity, but a subject with many attributes. Apply- ing this principle to ourselves, it follows that our indi- viduality as persons exists in proportion as our experien- ces are many and our capacities called forth by relation to the environment. Our good, therefore, consists in be- coming more truly persons with an increasing complexity and richness of experience, with definiteness of condi- tions, determined by some end, for no simple form of con- tinuous activity can permanently satisfy. This attain- ment of definite personality ministers to the richer ex- perience of the social whole. Two_v,things now become clear: first, that each jpossesscs_ certain JJOW^TS. of body and rmr\c\ wTymfo in fa**- MORAL SIGNIFICANCE OF SOCIAL ORGANIZATION 115 cuse the voter any more than they do the juror for both are called upon, however difficult it may be, to render their verdict in the light of what they believe to be true and best. The voter is in a highly moral situation which requires an effort to understand the conditions and the standard of valuation. The hypothetical character of the voter's decisions is inseparable from the untried stages through which the developing life of mankind passes. Errors may be made and later corrected by a more ade- quate understanding of the conditions of human welfare, but the very errors are significant of growth. Nietzsche, for example, in his invective against democracy fails to understand the significance of the ballot, for it expresses the social mind which, in a very real sense, is the super- man. The ballot, indeed, is only one way in which the individual contributes to the common welfare but its re- sults have a permanance that other products of personal effort do not seem to possess. The institutions and so- cial regulations thus produced by the will of the people have also an "educational influence and are measured morally by the occasions they afford and the guidance they supply for the exercise of foresight, seriousness of con- sideration and depth of regard." 10T CHAPTER VIII SOME PEOBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 54. There are certain obstacles to ethical theory so difficult to overcome that it seems best to give them sepa- rate consideration. The attitude toward such problems should be taken with some care. An attempt should be made to discover a way either to solve these problems, or to modify their force, or to abide with them though un- solved and unmodified. Aristotle's caution is applicable: "A man who has been well-trained will not in any case look for more accuracy than the nature of the matter allows. . . . We must consequently rest well satisfied if in the treating of such matter, and with premises thus un- certain, we can exhibit a rough outline of the truth" (Eth- ics, 1. 8). There are at least four points of view of the facts to be considered, namely, their analysis and relation to causes, their ethical import, their religious meaning, and their interpretation in a theory of reality. The facts are so well known that their analysis and causes may be, for the most part, assumed. Chief attention will be given to their ethical import, while appeal will be made to religion and to the theory of reality only as suggesting a way out of the difficulty when other means of interpretation seem to fail. It will not, however, be possible always to keep these points of view distinct. 55. The conception of the state presented in the pre- ceding chapter, as the embodiment of freedom affording opportunity to realize the highest good in personal life by removing hindrances to its fulfillment, encounters ob- stacles in crime and its punishment by fine, imprison- 116 SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 117 ment, and sometimes by death as in the case of murder and treason. Frequently, the social system seems to bring in- jury upon the innocent. In war, the individual's service and life are given to the state. How, then, is the state the embodiment of freedom and personal well-being? How does it "hinder hindrances" when it sometimes de- stroys persons? Or, is the social or race mind the true permanent individual whose interests persons temporarily serve? Our chief difficulty concerns war and punishment, whose origin should be distinguished from their interpre- tation in a theory of the state. Their origin may be traced to the instinct of pugnacity and the emotion of anger against others of the same species. 108 But punish- ment implies some mental effort to equate penalty and offence which differentiates it from the fighting reactions against interference with the gratification of instincts which leads to deadly struggle between rivals. Offences range from disobedience of parental rules to violations of the social order, especially law, known as crimes in which the general well-being is attacked, it may be, through the injury of the individual. Within the primitive group, punishment in the sense of mental adjustment of penalty to offence does not occur. The group acts as a homoge- neous unit, each member is identified with the group so that, if one offends or suffers, all are involved and hence punishment cannot take placed Children are not pun- ished. Whatever is foreign may, however, be attacked. If an adult assumes the character of a stranger, he is driven out and may be destroyed. Wherever there is a division of the whole world into two classes, "kin who can- not become enemies, and enemies who cannot become kin," there is no punishment within or between groups but attack in war of one upon the other ceasing only with the annihilation of the enemy, with no measurement of the gravity of the offence so as to determine the amount of in- jury to be inflicted which punitive justice requires. No 118 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION social relation exists between one group and the members of another who are treated abstractly. This primitive relation survives in modern interna- tional relations, the citizens of one nation not being sub- ject to punishment by another whose attempts to redress injury within another's territory would be war. "There are only two courses open to an offended people in such a case. They can send an attacking force across the bor- der to avenge the wrong, but this is not punishment, it is war. The only other course open to the injured govern- ment is to appeal in a friendly way for the government of the offenders to take cognizance of the offence and do jus- tice. But clearly here the injured nation is not punish- ing anyone. They may appeal to another to punish, but this appeal is a friendly and social act. Punishment must, therefore, be administered by the group to which the offender belongs. But we have seen that when the group is homogeneous, it is impossible for the category of pun- ishment to have any place." But punishment may occur within the group when it becomes complex enough to permit at least three parties, the offender, the offended, and a mediating party with in- terests in both who adjusts equitably the difference that has arisen. Hence punishment occurs only within com- plex societies in which it is possible for a mediating neu- tral, such as a judge and jury, in some measure to fit the penalty to the offence and restore the interrupted har- mony. In the same manner, it seems possible that war, a survival of the primitive tendency to attack in order to de- stroy a threatening stranger, might give place to a council of nations as a means of adjusting international differ- ences. Nor is it true that war develops virtues that are impossible in peace. 109 How is punishment, implying mediation by which pen- alty is apportioned to offence, to be reconciled with the theory of society and the state, already approved, as the embodiment of the ethical idea of freedom and of personal SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 119 welfare, especially in view of the fact that the offended suffers and the punished is restrained and perhaps de- stroyed? Such a problem requires fair recognition of the truth that "the creation of a moral order on an ever- growing scale is the great historical task of mankind, and the magnitude of it explains all short-comings." "Much of what is unfree and unhuman in our modern life comes much more from mere inadequacy than from ill-inten- tion." 110 A forgery, for example, of a bank-cheque is a complex event with many antecedents and consequents. An understanding of the fact goes far towards cancelling its criminal character. What was the environment in which the forger lived? What were the character and circumstances of the parents, the social and economic con- ditions affecting his own life and his physical condition ? What of the relation to the one whose name is forged, the motive, and the springs of action? How far was the agent responsible in view of all the conditions? The court is only a crude judge of the real act We as spectators should remember that "no matter how mean or hideous a man's life is, the first thing is to understand him; to make out just how it is that our common human nature has come to work out in this way." Nor is the spectacle of punishment "for us to gloat over, but to re- mind us of our sins, which, as springing from the same nature and society, are sure to be much the same as that of the one punished." 111 Besides, to punish the offender is apt to be a condemnation of the social order because it fails to socialize its members and too easily inflicts penalty, instead of removing hindrances to right living. As Plato said: "In a perfect state no punishments would be necessary." Theories of punishment have interpreted it as reform- ing the offender, chastising a rebellious subject thereby bringing wrong-doing clearly to mind, educating and cor- recting a faulty will, but this seems to treat the of- fender as a patient whom it is unjust to punish and who 120 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION needs, instead, to be cured of his malady. Punishment interpretated as retributive coming upon the offender because of his deed has the merit of definitely emphasizing his responsibility and the necessity of preserving the social order and of keeping alive the general conscious- ness of right which crime assails. But punishment as retributive, expiative, requires that it be graded according to the offence and of this there can be no determination except its deterrent power as it has been learned by expe- rience. Sometimes the offender welcomes punishment as an opportunity to put himself right again with the vio- lated social will, but more often he rebels against the penalty undoubtedly revealing some fault in the working of the social organism. Punishment is, I think, best understood in relation to the theory of the social order and of the state as involving the true selfhood of its members, which was presented in the preceding chapter, though it is granted that it does not solve all the problems. This view of punishment assumes that the offender as a person has a share in mak- ing the social order. Providing, as it does, opportunity of being his true self, the state, in its reaction upon the offender in the form of punishment, is only his own larger and better self reacting against the lesser and false self represented by his unsocial act. Punishment, then, reveals to the offender his own will and in this sense he has a right to be punished and is punished justly, some- times, as has been said, even welcoming the opportunity to right the wrong done. "Doubtless if an uneducated man were told, in theoretical language, that, in being punished for an assault he was realizing his own will, he would think it cruel nonsense," and yet, it is true, for the state rests upon and is the common will in which he shares while the maxim of his voluntary act would destroy the state. 112 Also "the primary right of a criminal is to be convicted of his offence. The failure of justice may be the complete undoing of a human life. When SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 121 a man who is a criminal is set free by a court of law, it is doubtless a menace to society, but the main point is that it is the worst disaster that can happen to the man. ... If the man really needs a treatment which the ordi- nary citizen does not, society is under obligation to give it to him, and in his sentence, society, too calm for wrath, has done her best." 113 For like reasons, a nation at war is simply the collective self of its members and hence they owe it to themselves to take up the battle in behalf of the state. To desert the state in its need is to be false to one's self. The above conception of punishment and war does not remove all difficulties, for there is still room for doubt, as in the case of the penalty of death and the loss of life in battle. It seems absurd to say that an offender has the right to be put to death as an assertion of his true self, but, in such a case, the fault is not in the principle but in the kind of punishment employed. May not the offender, however serious his crime, still be of service to the state? It seems as though a living man should be of more value to his fellows than the same man dead. A better social order, more adequate means of determin- ing the facts and adjusting the penalty to the degree of responsibility seem necessary if the state is adequately to perform its function in relation to its members. The problem is at best not fully solved and we are inclined to take refuge in trust that a time will come when such grave offences and terrible penalties shall give place to good deeds and charitable relations which shall issue in the redemption of those who go astray. This hope is embodied in the conception of the end of moral effort as the production of a social mind which shall, in its turn, bring forth individuals whose deeds shall so reflect the social mind that offences shall not occur. An objection 114 is made to our interpretation of the relation of the individual to punishment and war on the ground that the state which punishes and engages in war 122 MOEAL LIFE AND RELIGION is only an institution among institutions and not all inclu- sive in character. But I do not think the conception of the state, against which the objection is directed, means that there are not other social institutions together with the unformulated modes of action of social groups and individuals wfliose function, including that of the state, is to promote the common welfare. There seems to be much in Hegel's view that the state is a universal concept of the Life that particularizes itself in the concrete indi- vidual states, it is the "realized ethical idea . . . spirit or will in its objective form . . . the unity of objective and subjective freedom . . . the nation's spirit . . . the law which permeates all its relations, ethical observ- ances, and the consciousness of its individuals. Hence the constitution of a people depends mainly on the kind and character of its self-consciousness. . . . Every nation, therefore, has the constitution which suits it ... and re- produces its conditions." 115 These passages mean, I think, that the growing life of society finds expression in its institutions which, at a given period, serve the ends of personal well-being, tenta- tively modified as the life develops. The same thought is expressed by Lotze who regards human society, with its internal relations, as formed and developed "partly in order to compensate the needs and deficiencies of indi- viduals, partly in order to make use of the general capac- ities of different individuals for the mutual benefit of all ; but the general order which results from the systema- tization is only valuable in proportion as it produces some good result which, coming back to the individual, is consciously enjoyed by him." Society "requires state organization as a necessary means" to this end of free development of individuality, and civil and political ordi- nances and institutions are "the forms of human effort in which men struggle to reach the supreme good which can exist nowhere but in personal experience." This conception of the relation between society and the state SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 123 "makes it seem possible to hopeful minds that the numer- ous states, which still divide the world, may finally be replaced by one universal society." 116 From this point of view, war and punishment are not to be thought of as supporting any fixed institution, but as exigencies by the way which may well be eliminated through a more adequate appreciation of what is involved in being a person. It seems reasonable that wars will not cease through wars, but "through a growing realization that they are cruel and irrational, that the supposed con- flicts between the interests of nations are illusory and that cooperation is more likely to promote the happiness of the average citizen than mutual slaughter." 117 Pro- gress is not mere change and the problem of progress now confronting us, says Dewey, "is a problem of discov- ering the needs and capacities of collective human nature as we find it aggregated in racial or natural groups on the surface of the globe, and of inventing the social machinery which will set available powers operating for the satisfaction of those needs. To this end there is re- quired contriving, constructing intelligence and social planning." "Our existing human intercourse requires some kind of a mechanism which it has not got. We may drift along till the evil gets intolerable and then take some accidental Way out or we may plan in advance, set ourselves in deliberate consultation to institute the needed laws of the intercourse of nations," 118 instead of leaving the remedy to accidental clash and strife. The end of social welfare is constant, the institutions through which it is realized develop under 1ihe progressive realization of the ethical spirit. While change is not progress, it is equally true that progress involves change which may be accompanied by the appearance of conflicting interests, which should not deceive the understanding mind and heart. The elimination of war is sometimes objected to on the ground that it cultivates the virtues of courage, wisdom, 124 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION honor, and willingness to sacrifice self for great ends, together with efficiency as nothing else does. It is said that a nation gains or loses its soul according as it does, or does not, engage in war. It is, indeed, true that war makes demands which, if successfully met, powerfully influence character. But, it is still possible that other occasions furnished by social conditions may call for equal effort of will, and develop the virtues. This is the meaning, I believe, of Nietzsche's saying that "a good war sanctifies any cause" (Thus spake Zarathustra I. X.), rather than that he advocated the clash of armies, and, in this sense, contributed to the outbreak of war in 1914. Instead we must war for our thoughts and fight for the best we know. Then a good fight marks true attain- ment. But, according to W. M. Salter, Nietzsche really aims at the ideal human best above nationalities, at a common bond a task in which all may unite. 119 Wd have reached the moral ideal of the welfare of humanity but the political organization as means corresponding to this conception is still lacking. There has been progress from isolated clans to the national state and from private war and retaliation to the administration of justice by courts of law. The ideal of an international federation of states seems to be not so great a step as the already accomplished national state and courts, especially in view of the close relation and interdependence of all peoples at the present time. 56. Offenders against the social order are often defect- ives who are classified by Dr. Goddard, as already stated (sec. 10) in three groups; the idiot with the mentality of a normal child of one or two years of age ; the imbecile, three to seven, while those of a mentality ranging from eight to twelve years are called feeble-minded in a nar- rower sense. These feeble-minded lack the capacity of competing on equal terms with their fellows who are normal and of managing their own affairs with prudence. They also may lack will-power and the capacity to deal SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 125 w good mind possible and prepare for high moral attainment. The definition of moral action was found to be difficult, requiring, as it does, distinction from non-moral naturalistic conditions as they exist in the animals and in the early stages of child life (sec. 7). Even sunlight, fresh air, food and drink, cleanliness, lo- cality and many other natural causes seem to have a direct bearing upon the kind of moral life attainable. The physical means of communication are also important in moral development. If to these physical conditions is added the social environment which seems to make or unmake so many characters, one is led to ask whether human nature, even in its highest attainment, is only a product of a mechanism of natural forces. But the moral ideals seem to require men to be ends in a kingdom of ends. The automaton theory, so vividly described by James, regards consciousness as an inefficient epiphenom- enon attending neural processes. Shadworth Hodgson says : "The real agency is not in the consciousness, but in the neuro-cerebral system." Acts of choice are only "the evidence and record of the selection of one out of SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 12Y several actions, originally perhaps instinctive and uncon- scious, of the neuro-cerebral system, when they come into collision, actions which may come to be accompanied by consciousness either before or immediately upon their collision with one another." Hence the will is a an exer- cise of nerve energy accompanied by the sense of choosing between alternatives." "Any scientific teleology of cre- ation, whether optimist or pessimist in character, is an empty dream. At the same time we are forever delivered from the insane imagination of attempting a theodicy." 122 This view is made more difficult to meet in the form of the mechanistic conception of life and of consciousness. Jacques Loeb says: "The mechanists proceed as though a complete and unequivocal physico-chemical analysis of life were the attainable goal of biology. . . . Nothing indicates at present that the artificial production of liv- ing matter is beyond the possibilities of science." The inner life of hopes, wishes, and moral effort "should be amenable to physico-chemical analysis." . . . "It seems the only conception of life which can lead to an under- standing of the source of ethics." 123 This author holds that scientific materialism extends to all spheres of knowl- edge embraced by the term philosophy indeed, it is a phil- osophy based no doubt upon physiology but in definite opposition to all other systems of tphilosophy and, of course, to every system of theology. Hugh Elliot defends the main propositions of scientific materialism which, he holds, are the law of universal causation, the principle of mechanism necessitating the denial of purpose in the uni- verse and "the denial that there exists any form of 'spirit- ual' or 'mental' entity that cannot be expressed in terms of matter and motion." 124 Dr. Crile holds that "scien- tists agree in regarding the process of evolution as con- tinuous from the birth of the earth in star nebulae to the coming of man" a process infinitely prolonged. "Myr- iads of ages must have been required to produce the first ultra-microscopic particles of quasi-living matter, which 128 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION scientists regard as the probable step between non-living and living matter.' 7 Finally there appeared "the first mass of ancestral colloidal slime" from which "to man is a long road, the conception of which taxes our imagina- tion to the utmost, but it is an ascent which is now fairly well demonstrated.' 7 With the coming of life, the evolu- tion of organisms to man's self-conscious experience is brought under the same mechanistic conception. For ex- ample, the heliotropism of plants and animals is "essen- tially identical . . . and occurs in accordance with the laws of photo-chemical action. 77 Like principles explain the discriminating response of the Venus 7 Fly-trap to stimuli, and the sensational reaction of animals and man to stimulation of end-organs of sense. Emotions and the higher mental processes come under the same laws, as, for example, fear causing far reaching metabolic disturbances as against "faith 77 which leads to so-called "faith-cures. 77 In short, the entire human mind is nothing apart from the physico-chemical processes of the nervous system. 125 The mechanistic conception of life and mind presents a formidable problem to the ethical theorist who should give its truth full recognition with a more adequate view of the nature of knowledge which we shall now attempt. It is possible to reject a "vital force 77 and a "spiritual or mental entity 77 and to grant that neural processes condi- tion conscious states, and still have left many logical and philosophical problems. It has been shown (chap. I) that all investigation from physics and chemistry to ethics and a philosophy of religion is only an analytic constructive interpretation of the unity of self-conscious experience. The empirical psycho-physical parallelism, with which we began the discussion (sec. 9), recognizes the constant re- lation between conscious, neural and physical processes which form a two-fold causal series within the unity of experience. The hypothesis of a realm of matter and motion beyond any experience, to which it is proposed to reduce the life of self -consciousness, seems unintelligible. SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 129 But, keeping *the empirical point of view, we may hold that conscious states are conditioned hy neural processes and one is as real as the other. 126 In like manner, Eb- binghaus says that even' the principle of the "conservation of energy," which, according to Mill, 127 is an hypothesis often misunderstood, is shown by experiments to apply to human life in that "there is absolute equality between the energy supplied (by food, etc.) and the energy given out" in mental and muscular activity and, consequently, the mind is subject to the laws of the natural world. It is, indeed, a parallelism between neural and psychical processes like two chains running parallel link by link which should not be held to mean "that one of these chains brings forth the other"; better is it to regard them as "being link for link identical." Then we may view mind and brain as a unity known in a subjective and an ob- jective way, mind knowing itself directly as a complex of sensations, perceptions, thoughts, feelings, volitions, con- stantly changing yet with something permanent, mind known objectively by other minds as brain or nervous system. 128 In much the same manner, Wundt holds to the empirical unity of the psychical and physical causal series as constituent factors of our consciousness. "There is but one reality in question ; and this when we regard it as it is immediately given to us, appears under the form of ideas ; when we consider it in the light of its conceptual transformation, is a series of movements in matter" a "notion which signifies our experience of the constancy of objects." 129 It is helpful, says Professor Watson, to ask for whom the supposed independence and correlation of body and mental states exist. Whoever asserts that the two series correspond must have a knowledge of both within the same conscious experience. "Therefore we have the result that body and mind are both contained within mind" ; in other words, I knowing the whole of my experience know my- self as object in distinction from my body and its changes 130 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION in relation to my sensations and perceptions, "Body and mind are then known as distinguished aspects which can- not possibly be reduced to identity, but yet are essentially correlative and are therefore different phases of a single known unity." 13 The failure to keep distinct differ- ent points of view which relate only to the unity of ex- perience causes the controversy concerning the physico- chemical conception of life and of consciousness. The physicist, chemist, and biologist properly apply their methods and postulates in the investigation of phenomena, whatever their nature. The psychologist likewise must treat psychical processes as subject to the principles of psychical causality supplemented, when necessary, by re- lating them to physiological and physical changes. But the scientific specialist should not become dogmatic in the application and use of his methods, principles and postu- lates and should remember that the true reality is the unity of self-conscious experience whose analysis and in- terpretation the sciences undertake, no one nor all of them together being able fully to embody self-conscious life itself. The same truth is forcefully expressed by Mc- Taggart in his interpretation of the Hegelian Dialectic : "Without the dialectic we might suppose Life to be an effect of certain chemical combinations ; with it we find that chemism is an abstraction from Life, so that where- ever there is chemism there must be Life also. With- out the dialectic, again, we might suppose self -conscious- ness to be a mere effect of animal life ; with it we are compelled to regard all life as merely relative to some self-consciousness." "The dialectic professes to show that the lower categories are contained in the higher in a manner . . . resembling that in which a foot is related to a body. The success of the dialectic, therefore, means no less than this that, for purposes of ultimate expla- nation, we reverse the order of science and the under- standing, and, instead of attempting to account for the SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 131 higher phenomena of nature (that is, those which prima facie exhibit the higher categories) by means of the laws of the lower, we account for the lower by means of the laws of the higher. The interest of this for the theoret- ical reason is obvious, and its importance for the prac- tical reason is no less, since the lower categories are those of matter and the higher those of spirit." 131 This would require that the parts be viewed in relation to the whole which gives to each its significance and value. Consequently, to say that we are only conscious automata and that the real agent is the neural mechanism is to re- verse the proper relation of parts to whole and to forget that the principles and categories of a lower part cannot explain the higher nor can all together fully embody the unity of self-conscious immediate life which makes them possible and is the true reality. The representatives of the physico-chemical explana- tion of life and of consciousness may not think that we thus grant all that can be legitimately claimed for their conceptions and methods which have their proper place in the unity of self-conscious experience from which they can- not be abstracted so as to make the self and its experience the effect of matter and motion regarded as non-empirical causes. As Professor Watson says: "Analysis and synthesis, in each of the special sciences, always proceed on a basis of abstraction. From the point of view of mechanics we cannot go beyond the elements determined for us by our primary abstraction just as in chemistry no combination of elements will yield any solution of the problem of biology. The at- tempt to explain the facts of life in mechanical terms is therefore foredoomed to failure; and with this fail- ure the whole foundation of naturalism crumbles away. ... It confuses the proposition, that there are no living processes without mechanism, with the very different proposition, that living processes are nothing 132 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION but mechanism. It is the former proposition that gives to naturalism its plausibility ; while it is the latter that it supposes itself to make good. 7 ' 132 We, however, gladly avail ourselves of this more ade- quate interpretation of such conceptions as cause, force, matter, motion, mechanism and teleology, for these and other categories have their proper place in our experience but are themselves in inseparable relation. The entire problem appears in full force in the relation of mechanism and teleology, which for us are concepts that imply each other and are necessary in the interpreta- tion of experience. They are two ways of regarding the same facts which Hoffding illustrates by the example of those who perish in a shipwreck brought about by a storm at sea. The ship simply could not resist wind and waves and the men died because they could not breathe under water. These natural causes explain the event. But at the funeral the disaster is referred to a dispensation of divine Providence. 133 Must one method of explanation be neglected in favor of the other, or are both necessary ? It is evident that one's mood and attitude are apt to de- termine the individual's reply, while only logical theory can decide their true relation and the question finally in- volves the conception of reality. It will now be shown that mechanism and teleology are not exclusive, for events may be the product of natural causes yet fulfill ends. Kant resolved the antinomy of mechanism and teleology, or natural and final causes, by showing that "nature is to be judged on two distinct principles, the mechanical and the teleological but these in no way con- flict with each other." In the scientific investigation of natural phenomena, "we ought in all cases reflec- tively to judge them by the principle of natural mech- anism. . . . But this in no way prevents us, if occasion is given for it, from following the guiding thread of SOME PEOBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEOEY 133 the second principle in our reflection upon certain natural forms, and even by instigation of these upon the whole of nature, the principle, namely, of final cause, which is quite distinct from that employed in the ex- planation of natural mechanism." There is nothing in the phenomena of nature to show that in its inner ground "conjunction by physical mechanism and con- junction by ends may not themselves be connected to- gether in the same thing by one principle," which, "by the constitution of our intellectual faculty we are com- pelled to seek in an original intelligence as the cause of the world." 134 It is not necessary to follow the history of thought since Kant concerning the inseparable relation of the concepts of mechanism and teleology, or natural and final causes. For Hegel, they are a pair of categories implying each other and finally leading to the conception of reality as Life and Spirit (Logic: sees. 121; 153-156; 204). Lotze in the Microcosmus charmingly shows how not only na- ture but the history of mankind may be understood as a mechanism through which, however, the good is being realized. Other examples of the subordination of the causal mechanism to ends might be given (See Miinster- berg: Eternal Values, 121 .), but these are sufficient to show that whatever is given may be regarded in two ways ; its scientific explanation by efficient causes and its inter- pretation in view of ends; in other words, there are two ways of answering the question : Why ? first, the reference of ,an event to its causes, which is relatively easy but is sometimes attended with doubt and the regression is al- ways limited; secondly, the assignment of the purpose of the same event, which may likewise be limited, and varies in certainty, but is either the ultimate, or embraced in the ultimate, end or final cause subordinated to nothing be- yond itself. Both answers are subject to the attitudes of the interpreter who stops searching for efficient and 134 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION final causes when he is satisfied with the relations estab- lished, and he may be too easily satisfied. The sinking of a ship with loss of life is scientifically explained by the difference in the specific gravity of the water and the vessel's material. There are other cooperating causes such as the explosion of a torpedo. But what was the purpose in this event in the history of the race and in the divine Providence? We believe there is some supreme end em- bracing all lesser purposes. If this belief becomes definite enough to be assigned, its content is always what is prag- matically most satisfying to mind and heart. But it is impossible to escape a painful sense of the limitations of our knowledge of both efficient and final causes whose ultimate unity is postulated. Human life and conduct fall, then, within both mechanism and teleology, scientifi- cally explicable by natural causes yet to be interpreted in view of ends, though it may not be possible to do more than formally postulate the Highest Good to be realized in personal experience. Care should be taken lest, in the interpretation of the supreme end, we draw too strongly upon our faith in a destiny befitting what we are pleased to call human worth and dignity. There is still another difficulty in the relation of mech- anism and teleology to which Bergson calls attention. It is that both involve the conception of reality as a closed system in which free will and the reality of time are im- possible, for freedom requires an "open" future not totally determined either by mechanical forces or an inclusive plan already complete in the consciousness of some su- preme designer. Hence, in order to save freedom and the reality of time as real duration in personal experience and in the world, the fixity and determinateness of mechanism and teleology have to be replaced by what Bergson calls "Creative Evolution." This is not the place nor is it necessary to explain in detail this creative evolution. Thought, the intellect, deals with the static, the inert, the lifeless, the spatial, with matter, a conception of sci- SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 135 ence essentially that of Descartes and Kant. Here all is fixed, determined, and to find the free life of will and the reality of duration, we must ascend from the objective, spatial and static to inner experience with its interpenetra- tion of qualitatively different states. This inner sense of duration and free life "blazing up" in ever new experi- ences, not subject to the objectives of reason, is true free- dom. Hence, in order to save the reality of time and free will, Bergson relegates both mechanism and teleology to the objective spatial realm with which the intellect deals from which we have to withdraw into the inner life to be in touch with true reality as it is in our living experience of will and duration with its "open" future. This position is skillfully met by Dr. Cunningham who says that Bergson fails to appreciate the fact that our "thought-will" experience is always in time and is teleo- logical, that these ends grow out of the past whiHh. is linked with the present and prepares for the future. These ends, however, take shape and are gradually defined in the grow- ing experience. Thought in its relation to experience has a proper place for the mechanical method of treating these objects, while the reality of time, involving a real progress towards ends, is assured by the fact that these ends themselves become defined as the experience pro- gresses. But Bergson's conception of teleology is the old idea of a plan completely predetermined and existent in the mind of the designer, and hence is irreconcilable with both freedom and the reality of time. Now, since "the organizing principle of reality is like- wise the organizing principle of conscious experience," we may substitute for "Creative Evolution" what Dr. Cun- ningham calls "Creative Finalism" whose purpose is to do full justice to mechanism and teleology as well as to the reality of time and freedom. Our experience is a vo- litional rational process in time creating and defining ends as the experience progresses. Thus by analogy, we may say that likewise 136 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION "Creative finalism views reality as an organic process which is through and through teleological. Its funda- mental nature is to create ends, to produce tendencies and to govern itself according to its own creations. These ends are progressively denned and revised with the advancing process in which they operate; they can never be finally and completely defined, and the process is, therefore, unending. Its homogeneous nature is necessitated by the fact that within it there is always an ideal dimension by means of which its past and future are inextricably involved in each other; this ideal di- mension, the dynamic imagination, functions in the present, and binds past, present and future into an organic whole. Though it can never be described as just this or just now, still it is always identical with it- self, and possesses a determinate content. In short, it is such a process as volitional rational beings know most intimately in their own living experience." 135 There is much to commend in Dr. Cunningham's effort to provide for the reality of time, ends and the mechanis- tic conceptions of science; still, there remains the sus- picion that he admits at the back door what he so skillfully elsewhere expels, namely, the fixity against which Bergson protests in his subordination of mechanism and teleology on the ground that they make real time and freedom re- quiring an "open" future impossible. The same diffi- culties, I think, seem to be in the critic's "ideal dimen- sion" "always identical with itself and possessing a de- terminate content" which "binds past, present and future into an organic whole." Is such an "ideal dimension" consistent with a real taking shape and defining of ends which "creative finalism" affirms? Does this "ideal di- mension . . . with a determinate content binding all into an organic whole" join our high resolve in moral action with the inhibited mentality of the feeble-minded whose development has been arrested by natural causes? At SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 137 best, difficulty remains, though the problem is not wholly impenetrable. 58 Personal development requires the community and the state, but it would seem to be easier to win moral victories in retirement. The mediaeval monk in his cell had his temptations to which he often yielded, as, for ex- ample, the Priest in Hugo's "Notre Dame," but his task seems easy compared with what the modern man en- counters in the struggle to realize the moral ideal. Is there not much to be said in favor of the cultivation of the virtues in the quiet and peace of a secluded life? Sup- pose one to live undisturbed by the ambitions and tempta- tions of the market-place, social functions and politics, or by the courts and even by the church. Let there be re- flection upon nature, literature and art with sufficient la- bor to maintain health and to provide the necessaries of life. Devotional writers exhort to private meditation and prayer, as, for example, S. D. Gordon's "Quiet Talks on Power" and "on Prayer." There are religious retreats for purifying and strengthening the soul. Under such conditions, there would seem to be some prospect of at- taining the virtues. But what hope of success is there, if personality and the moral ideal are such that the good life has to be gained, if at all, in the complex relations of modern society? Every person is subject to world-wide influences. The remotest foreigner is our neighbor. Need is everywhere. Poor and rich constantly irritate each other. Ignorance, superstition, stupidity, crime, vice, and the rest of the brood of wretchednesses prevail. How far do our obligations extend ? After generations of effort to improve social conditions, to plead the cause of poor and weak, war destroys its mil- lions. Are we still to believe, as Bosanquet says, that the nation-state is a faith, a purpose, a religion, a work- ing conception of life, whose beneficent function is to establish the rights to physical and mental freedom, to property, to education, and all the other civil and politi- 138 MORAL LIFE AND EELIGION cal rights which have been the result of generations of experience? Or, are our standards wrong and our dis- tress of mind and heart over the failure of cherished ideals unnecessary? It is at this point that Nietzsche makes the startling declaration that it is his mission to deliver the Western mind from the infection of morality and of Christianity because of their false ideals of worth. There should be a "transvaluation of all values" (Die Umwertung aller Werte), in the light of which our unhappiness over moral failures is without reason. If prevailing moral ideals should yield to their direct opposites, what is now good would be bad and bad good and our moral failures and sense of guilt would be illusions. Although Nietzsche's sayings are so unusual that there is little agreement among his interpreters, I think his "transvaluation of values" is an extreme expression of the psychological principle, already adopted, that standards and ideals of action need to be and are constantly re- constructed by the individual and society as social life de- velops and that it is only through these reconstructions of the norms of action that progress is possible (sec. 47). Nor does it require the trenchant pen of Nietzsche to show false standards of morals and of Christian living. If Christianity teaches "another-worldness" to the neglect of life in this world, or a suppression of instincts to the injury of the proper functioning of the powers we pos- sess, it is mistaken. It is, however, against such per- versions of true Christianity that Nietzsche inveighs when he says: "It was only Christianity which, with its funda- mental resentment against life, made something impure out of sexuality; it flung filth at the very basis, the very first condition of our life." Or again: "What is more harmful than any vice? Practical sympathy with all the botched and the weak Christianity." SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 139 "The sick animal man the Christian." "Christian- ity has set a ban upon all fundamental instincts of this (higher) type, and has distilled evil and the devil him- self out of these instincts: the strong man as the typi- cal pariah, the villain. . . . What I maintain is this, that all the values upon which mankind builds its highest hopes and desires are decadent values" (Twi- light of the Idols." 119 f. 130 f.). Christianity, however, properly interpreted has no "re- sentment against life" and would, I think, even with Nietzsche, glorify sexuality as the basis of the family and the home with their love, beauty and strength. In a re- markable passage in "The Will to Power" (tr. 132-135), Nietzsche exalts Christ, distinguishing between Him and the Christianity of creeds, dogmas, and beliefs which are anti-Christ. "It is," he says, "an unprecedented abuse of names to identify such manifestations of decay and such abor- tions as 'the Christian Church/ 'Christian belief/ and 'Christian life' with that Holy Name. . . . Jesus goes straight to the heart, the Kingdom of heaven in the heart . . . has nothing to do with superterrestrial things. The kingdom of God cometh, not chronologi- cally or historically, not on a certain day in the calen- dar ; it is not something which one day appears and was not previously there ; it is a change of feeling in the indi- vidual, it is something which may come at any time and which may be absent at any time. . . . Jesus bids us ; not to resist, either by deeds or in our heart, him who ill-treats us; He bids us admit of no grounds for separating ourselves from our wives; He bids us make no distinction between foreigners and felloAV-country- men, strangers and familiars; He bids us show anger to no one, and treat no one with contempt; give alms secretly ; not to desire to become rich ; not to swear ; not to stand in judgment; become reconciled with our 140 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGIOIT enemies and forgive offences ; not to worship in public. . . . Blessedness is nothing promised; it is here with us, if we only wish to live and act in a particular way. . . . All that which in the ecclesiastical sense is Christ- ian, is just exactly what is most radically anti-Christian; crowds of things and people appear instead of symbols, history takes the place of eternal facts, it is all forms, rites and dogmas instead of a 'practice' of life." Nietzsche, I believe, is here searching, like ourselves for the deeper meaning of life which is not to be found in bondage to the mechanism of material things and to eccles- iastical formulas but in the "practice of life' 7 which leads to the superior excellence of personality. It is this prin- ciple which makes it right to have new standards and "the will to power" over the self that shall make this supreme meaning of life effective. Surely the true follower of Christ should strive to remove the causes of poverty, dis- ease, intemperance and crime by making the weak strong in body and mind so that they may have true worth. Indeed, the Christian's duty and function are to embody and represent Christ's mind concerning the events of the present (Phil. 4. 7). For us, too, as well as for Nietzsche, it is a false mor- ality which forbids the fulfillment of the natural pow- ers and instincts, which should be brought into harmony with well-chosen ends. Thus far we too proclaim the Overman. But, when Nietzsche tries to describe his ideal he becomes vague and gives offence to many, for his lan- guage is easily interpreted to mean something different from the longing for exaltation, peace, and spiritual power which I believe he sought. We are prepared to agree, and yet to differ, when he says: "People live for the present, they live at top speed, they certainly live with- out any sense of responsibility; and this is precisely what they call freedom.' ' Whatever is true in this statement is a commonplace which does not represent the deep spirit of modern social life, nor does any people seek such an SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 141 impulsive immediate freedom. Certainly we have not presented any such conception of society and the state as realizing the freedom that belongs to personality (sees. 24, 52). The trend of social life is more nearly in ac- cord with his own conception of the strong Super- man than Nietzsche was aware. But he does not show what measure of strength is required to be the Superman. Certainly the Superman must not exceed his part in the whole in which no part is properly higher or lower than others but all have their just place in the unity, thus re- quiring that the term, Superman, should mean one who freely and adequately does his part in the common life of humanity. If Nietzsche had stated his meaning in simple, matter of fact language, I think that, while it would be wel- come, it would only show him to be one of the many who seek the Way of Life and, therefore, not especially not- able. In fact, his meaning seems to be like our own in many respects. The source of the moral is, indeed, with- in one's inner life. While this ideal requires us to be natural, it is not merely instinctive, for natural powers are to be subordinated to some self-imposed norm in the light of which truths are known and the good revealed. Nietzsche, like ourselves, feels the difficulty of reconcil- ing universality with the personally imposed moral ideal which can be universal only if the individual has his place in an order of values. The "will to power" does not mean only the might of muscle but also that power which belongs to excellence of soul. Just how this high- est power should be conceived Nietzsche does not explain, probably because no one can do more than state formally what man is to become. Mere duration of existence, or happiness, or satisfaction of the multitude, or the Soph- ist's "might is right," does not represent his ideal which is more like that of Plato or Aristotle. Indeed, it seems to me, that, in his effort to conceive the ideal of the Super- man, he tends to become a mystic who finds in the depths 142 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION of the soul, or in the mind of the race, the meaning of both life and reality. But this ideal man is strong with the power that belongs to purity, intelligence and well- rounded, full life. Eucken says it is a vague ideal with a trace of Romanticism that floats before his mind as he tries to attain a life sufficient in itself. His longing for an inner exaltation would naturally have led him to re- ligion had he not been hindered by his dependence upon the ideals of the time. He has the ancient ideal of a life of quiet peace and plastic beauty Which clashes with the modern idea of progress and power. This higher conception of life he identifies with the Superman whose chief excellence seems to be to will to have the will to power, that is, to will to have and make effective what- ever fulfills the meaning of life. Nietzsche rightly makes truth and goodness subordinate to life. It is through the excellence of persons, especially the superior individual, that true humanity is maintained and promoted. Just as some plants take nitrogen from the air to enrich the soil that produces them, so do cer- tain superior persons living in dependence upon ideals elevate the social order making larger, freer individuality possible. It is the sound and strong who keep alive our confidence in existence. Egoism is justified in the sense of strong, full life of the highest type. Altruism, even to sacrifice of life in order to preserve and promote those of superior worth through whom mankind is to reach still higher levels, is obligatory. It is not the gospel of might, but rather that the strong soul should take our burdens, as becomes the stronger. Nevertheless, Nietzsche does not adequately conceive the mission that falls to heroes and to great men to lead their brothers to light and life. The Superman, after he has attained his end, seems to hold himself aloof with a sense of his superiority to the masses who have made him possible. Sacrifice for the noble is justified but scarcely for the unworthy, and yet the Superman and SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 143 Christ who died for sinners have something in common. Both protest against following the crowd and yielding ad- herence to established customs and values. Neither is in- clined to overestimate morality. Both teach that the fun- damental characteristic of perfection is to rise above the world of sense and desire to a higher and inner life. But in Jesus' ideal there is no self-adoration, no haughtiness, no contempt for the masses, instead, a deep longing and sympathy for those who sorely need fostering care. In Jesus, high worth serves, bears burdens, grieves over sin and guilt and suffers vicariously, the just for the unjust. For Jesus, "to be good is to do good, and to suffer evil, and to persevere therein to the end." In Jesus, too, and in the Christian ideal, is also the longing for the trans- cendent, the abiding confidence that this world is inade- quate. A higher reality is to be found in the perfected ideal. The startling assertion of "the transvaluation of all values," which seems to mean that we have hitherto mis- conceived the meaning of life when we grieve over moral failures and misinterpreted Jesus and Christianity, is due, I think, to Nietzsche's imperfect understanding of moral- ity and Christianity. 136 But there is a truth in the ideal of the Superman which accords with the message of Jesus and with the deeper moral consciousness. But Jesus' ideal is equally strong and far more inviting who teaches that righteousness and obedience to the law of brotherly love, united with justice, shall ultimately pre- vail. Though startled by the proposed reversal of our beneficent principles inherited from generations of effort to increase human welfare, we still feel the obligation to strive for the improvement of social conditions, beginning the task by setting in order our own life, so that the many and not merely the favored few may attain well being. To surrender these principles would be to yield up our own reality, for they are the principles of life and con- duct which constitute our reality as ethical personalities. 144 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION If there are insoluble problems involved in these prin- ciples, they rise out of the mystery of human existence. Nor could, these principles have truth except they be valid- ated in experience, for truth is a veritable word made flesh, clothed upon with affection, will and thought; in- deed, the truth, in order to be, has to be lived. If truth seems hard to understand and apply, it is due to the nature of life itself a living duration which Bergson so vividly describes yet fails to reveal. This makes truth and reality empirical, and, so far as the teachings of Nietzsche can be lived, loved and willed, they are already accepted; otherwise they are neither true nor real. 137 59. The objection is made in various forms that the moral ideal, itself differently interpreted, is essentially incapable of fulfillment and hence imposes no obligation, for the impossible cannot be a duty. It is, therefore, necessary to show that not only presently but ultimately unfulfilled ideals are consistent with moral attainment and yet inseparable from the moral life. Some forms of this objection have already been considered, such as the differences in personal life, and the "transvaluation of all values," which would require another standard that might perhaps be fulfilled. Every pessimist is in favor of the objector. Hartmann, in his Philosophy of the Uncon- scious calls himself a pessimist in holding that the ideal of positive happiness cannot be realized and an optimist in believing that the true goal of moral effort is the ideal of universal cessation of the will to live, with its ultimate painlessness and the disappearance of the world. All men are exhorted to have "so deep a yearning for the peace and painlessness of non-being (all the motives hith- erto making for volition and existence being so far seen through in their vanity and nothingness) that that yearn- ing after the annihilation of volition and existence attains authority as a practical motive." Then it is conceivable that "the majority of the peoples of the earth" will fin- ally make a "simultaneous common resolve ... to give SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 145 up willing" thus causing "the whole cosmos to disappear at a stroke by withdrawal of the volition which alone gives it existence." 138 Hartmann was the disciple of Scho- penhauer whose "blind Will" he united with Hegel's Idea in the Unconscious Thought and Will. Schopenhauer declared pain and evil to be inseparable from the "will to be." As an incidental support of his pessimism, Scho- penhauer appealed to the Christian belief that struggles and sorrows in this world are only a preparation for an- other, since, if that other world is an illusion, as he be- lieved, the Christian's present life is an acknowledged fail- ure to realize its ideals. Another evidence that our ideals cannot be fulfilled is the belief that the present age is the reign of anti-Christ during which human affairs become worse until the coming of the Christ. The presupposition of the Christian doctrine of salvation is that men are lost, and by no deeds of their own can they be saved but only by God himself, which again seems to indicate that the moral ideal is, so far as human efforts are concerned, forever unrealizable. If so, men seem to be freed from obliga- tion to attempt the impossible, if, indeed, they are sin- ners at all. Other objections to the possibility of realizing the moral ideal are, for example, that it is becoming greater and more difficult to attain because it develops in proportion as man's achievements create the capacity to conceive ideals; that achievement and capacity to conceive do not increase in the same ratio but achievement lags behind growth of the ideal which can, therefore, never be over- taken ; that, since satisfaction and happiness depend upon the relation of achievement, or the actual, to the ideal self, if the ideal increases so much faster than achievement, it follows that the virtuous man has no prospect except increasing unhappiness which finally becomes the misery of conscious failure to realize the ideal self. The holy men of the Bible and of the Church are overcome with a sense of their unworthiness, 139 Job excused himself and 146 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION argued with his friends, but was humble and silent before God. It was the same with Isaiah in the temple, and with Daniel. St. Paul called himself the chief of sin- ners. The saints of the Church afford many examples of agonized crying to God, flagellations, penance, fasts and vigils, in an effort to gain respite from the sense of un- wiorthiness and guilt. Every prayer contains a confes- sion of sin and a plea for help, showing the absence of joy that is supposed to accompany the consciousness of progress in the moral life; or, if joy in progress ever comes, as it may in some degree, there is always danger lest the scope of the ideal be measurably forgotten which makes ability seem equal to its fulfillment, or the ideal becomes fixed through habit, ceasing to develop, which is an approximation to moral death. Is the moral ideal's fulfillment as an experience con- ceivable? Would not its prevailing sameness produce weariness, ennui? Would not a perfect spirit suffer mo- notony in forever succeeding in what is undertaken? Would not a partial failure be occasionally welcome? Would not prevailing success result in cessation of hap- piness because of the tendency of repetitions to issue in inattention and unconsciousness ? In our present life our keenness of attention, incentive to effort, and joy, are largely due to our struggles against obstacles which par- tially triumph over us, never permitting us to do any- thing perfectly. From this point of view, it would seem as though we had little to gain by becoming saints instead of sinners only to incur the monotony of goodness. Moreover, ethical theory not only seems unable to bridge the chasm between achievement and the ideal but sometimes distinctly affirms that it will remain forever, some theorists even basing the hope of immortality upon the ever present demand for the fulfillment of an ever increasing ideal. Accordingly, the ceaseless striving towards a better than any present state is held to be in- herent in human existence. At once it is suggested that SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 147 there can never be a permanently satisfying experience unless this striving for something beyond the actual is consistent with complete satisfaction, but this cannot be if the idea of a satisfaction on the whole is a an idea never realizable but forever striving to realize itself in the attainment of a greater command over means to the satisfaction of particular wants." What, then, is the "rest" for which there is such a longing ? 14 Probably the greatest obstacle ethical theory has to meet is the objection that morality strives to realize an essential contradiction, for it sets up as the end of action the good which requires the elimination of evil but the good has no meaning except in antithesis to evil. Hence, if the evil is eliminated, so is the good and the end oil moral striving vanishes. Or, again, if the universe is already perfect with the evil present in it, the evil is just what it ought to be, since it is the specific form the per- fection of the whole assumes and, therefore, to remove evil, were this possible, would be to do away with what is essential to the perfection of the universe. Nor is the difficulty overcome by calling evil an illusion and unreal, for, with equal reason, so may be the good, but both illu- sions are facts for which some explanation is required. If the objection holds, no effort to do our duty ever makes any real difference, for reality is already complete and eternally perfect. Besides, morality seems to belong only to man, and, if the race were to perish, the antithesis between good and evil, which seems possible only in hu- man experience, would vanish together with the present results of moral effort. There are still other objections to the possibility of real- izing the moral ideal, but the examples given are suffi- cient to indicate the obstacles to ethical theory. 60. To remove the difficulties in the way of ethical theory growing out of the relation of ideals to achieve- ment, it is necessary to show that unfulfilled ideals are consistent with moral attainment and with the realization 148 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION of goodness. Most of the objections just enumerated are based upon the abstraction of the moral ideal from experience and its substantiation as a factor in the uni- verse of reality regarded as apart from any experience. But these hypotheses are psychologically and logically untenable. The antithesis between the actual and ideal often as- sumes that the ideal is sufficiently real to rival the actual self much to its disparagement. But this antithesis is between two thoughts of the same thinker who, with different feelings for each, compares his conception of the actual with that of the ideal self both being the product of his reflection upon what he now is as the result of an infinite series of psycho-physical antecedents in his own history and that of the race, and upon his relation to his fellows. But, instead of being filled with hopelessness before the majesty of his ideal self, however much it may be the product of the deeper spirit of humanity in its onward movement, there is a sense in which the actual has the advantage over the ideal self. The very contrast be- tween the two conceptions shows that the actual self is a well-known achievement of the temporal order through which the subject has lived, something definite and felt, and, though still imperfect, what the subject is here and now has the advantage over that vaguely conceived ideal self towards which the subject has such peculiar feelings of approval, but which has no existence except as a con- ception. What this ideal self really means cannot be known till it is translated into definite experience. Our ideals are, therefore, only schematic, or, as Dewey says, they are like the stars, we steer by them, not to them. Our ideal self is thus only a working hypothesis of life, tentatively held, changing as we change, throwing light upon the way to better achievement which is never fully known except as an experience in the moment of achieve- ment. The ideal moral self is, therefore, psychologically only our thought of what our individuality means which SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 149 gradually becomes clearer and more definite in our grow- ing experience. Why should we take our failure to ful- fill our ideal of perfect moral goodness more seriously than our failure to possess all knowledge which is cer- tainly a vague ideal that remains unfulfilled without lessening the worth of the knowledge we do have ? Like- wise our moral deficiencies should not be permitted to destroy the worth of our moral achievements. The psychological nature of the actual and the ideal self makes it unnecessary to hold that the ideal, objectified by our spatializing thought as a goal towards which we run our moral race, can never be reached. Instead, we bear the ideal as a conception with us to cast light upon the way forward, it may be, only a little distance. NOT are we to become increasingly miserable with the develop- ment of our ideals, since achievement grows more slowly, for there is vast difference between a mere ideal and an achievement, though an ideal is an achievement of another kind best understood as the beginning of what might be a full deed of will. There is cheer in enlarging ideals, for they mean brighter light and plainer path before us. We may also have joy in our achieved selfhood and a happy anticipation of a larger and richer experience to be gained through further effort to fulfill our ideals. The fact that every achievement increases the capacity to conceive the ideal of what we ought to be, which con- sequently grows faster than achievement, should even cause joy, for it now means more light the farther we go. Besides, a static condition even of goodness with its threat- ened monotony, inattention and even unconsciousness, is now seen to be impossible. Hence to say that we must bring the actual and the ideal into an identity is to regard both as some sort of existences that may be fused into one, whereas they are two conceptions one of which has a corresponding actuality and the other has not. We may then admit that unrealized ideals are consistent with val- uable moral achievement and happy experience of the 150 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION good, for it is now evident that ideals mean we shall never in our "upspringing life," to borrow a term from Bergson, cease to need the light of our ideals whose full meaning we are to know only as we translate them into experience. These psychological considerations should have saved the moral and religious heroes of the past from distress and given them a reasonable joy in their moral and spiritual attainment. They also have much importance for the Christian doctrine of salvation which often presupposes an objective remote ideal as goal that human effort cannot reach. They also eliminate the metaphysical difficulties concerning the reality and per- fection of the universe as involving both good and evil, for now the problem is taken over into experience itself within which reality is to be found. It will be the pur- pose of the concluding chapter to show how good and evil are related to this empirically conceived reality in morals and religion. 61. The logical relation of the universal to the particu- lar and the individual also seems to be of use in over- coming the objections to morality on the ground that the ideal self is unrealizable which would, it is said, remove the obligation. Our ideal self may be treated as the uni- versal which is particularized in the individual acts we do, or as the genus which is fully expressed in the species whose sum equals the genus, or, as Aristotle's idea or form, energizing in individuals which would mean that every action we do is the energizing of our ideal perfectly fulfilling its requirements in that particular. Since logical categories are now best regarded as functional or habitual modes of mental behavior, our ideal is a rule of action, a point of view, applicable to varying moral situ- ations but the acts done are the individual forms assumed by the ideal at a given time and place, and all of them are required to set forth the ideal by which our activity is determined. It is evident that our ideal in its universal character SOME PROBLEMS OF ETHICAL THEORY 151 is, in a sense, larger than any single act in which we give it expression and by which it cannot be exhausted. Hence the ideal always appears vaster than anything we may be able to do at a given time and place ; nevertheless, our ideal of goodness may be regarded as completely realizing itself in the series of our acts without which as particulars the ideal as universal would be impossi- ble. In this sense, our ends continuously define them- selves. This view of the moral ideal seems to accord with our deepest experiences. In reflecting upon our own individ- uality, we feel that our varied activities must have a totality of meaning, or purpose, in whose fulfillment our individuality consists. This conception of the reality of the self is confirmed by many psychological, logical, and ethical considerations, and appeal might be made to phil- osophy and religion in its support. Making a personal application of these truths, there are comfort and inspira- tion in reflecting that no other has just the thing to do in the world that I have. This one definite end, which I may, indeed, only vaguely conceive, cannot be completely expressed in any single deed, although the individual act is the particular form that the end or purpose of my life assumes in the given circumstances. My ideal may, however, find its full embodiment in the total series of my experiences and my constant task as well as my inspiration is to bring into the light of conscious definite experience what my own selfhood means, indeed my pro- gressive experience becomes an adventure in self-discov- ery the full self being known only to the Infinite. My real selfhood is, then, more than I am or can be at any time, for it is the unity of the one definite end in the manifold of experiences. In the deed of any moment, I not only am conscious of what I do but there is a more or less clear apprehension, or forecasting idea, of a lar- ger selfhood a "something more" evoking feelings of fear, reverence and approval whose unity is the voice of 152 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGIO1T conscience, demanding obedience, and which is the source of that peculiar feeling of never being able adequately to realize the ideal. Expressing the above principle in another way, the self may be viewed sub specie ceternitatis, but, at any moment of the temporal series, I am a partial self and shall always be seeking my larger ideal self of which I am somehow conscious as being what I really am and which I may hope will be more fully revealed. If I think of myself as regarded by a Mind that sees the series of my experiences as a whole, that is my full reality of which I have only vague intimations in the form of aspirations which rise so unaccountably within me and which my ideals in a measure embody. Religion now enters to supplement these aspirations with the belief that my true reality and value are found only in the divine experience. This religious faith is to many a joy and an inspiration. We rejoice to believe that we are more than the narrow span of our consciousness with its memory and anticipations enables us to perceive. We rejoice that our developing life will permit us to know ever more of our true selfhood than we do, but the very- fact that our growing experience of what we are shall never cease to have its contrast between our actual and our ideal self makes it possible to be comforted by the belief that we are far more in the thought and purpose of the divine Mind than we apprehend. Thus the moral con- sciousness takes refuge in religious faith and philosophi- cal thought, whose function in the moral life it is the purpose of the remainder of this book to interpret. PART II THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS CHAPTER IX MORALITY AND RELIGION 62. The preceding chapters have treated the psycho- logical nature of morality. Religious conceptions have not been entirely avoided in this analysis. The religious consciousness is now to he studied in order to determine the psychological origin and development of religion, and its essential and practical relation to morality. The factors constituting the religious consciousness are the subject of controversy. Many place much em- phasis upon the psychological method and the collection of data to be analyzed in order to construct a definition of religion. While it is important to do this, the selection of data is itself exposed to the objection that it already assumes a conception of what religion is, for we have to decide when one is religious in order, on the behavior- ist's theory of the analysis of mental states, to assemble and classify acts as religious. The difficulty of defining religion with a specific con- tent is shown by the attempt to express the nature of religion as "belief in gods/ 7 as a "feeling of absolute dependence," an "attitude' 7 towards experience as a whole, a "function" of adjustment to a broadly conceived environment, a "tendency" to completion expressing itself in various objective forms. Such definitions of religion are not informing, though, of course, this "es- sence" of religion, having no restrictive content, admits of development in a variety of religions. A good exam- 153 154 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION pie of these definitions is Coe's description of religion as: "Any reaction may be considered religious to the ex- tent that it seeks 'life' in the sense of completion, unifi- cation, and conservation of values any value whatever. Religion does not introduce any new value; it is an operation upon or within all our appreciations. If we are to speak of religious value at all, we should think of it as the value of values, that is, the value of life organ- izing and completing itself, or seeking a destiny, as against the discrete values of impulsive and unreflective existence." 141 But every "reaction," I think, seeks life in its com- pleteness, even the reflex and instinctive, for every reac- tion expresses the fundamental conation or tendency to preserve and promote the well-being of the psycho-physi- cal organism. Cognition especially has an organizing function as the mind obeys its "logical rule telling us to get as near to completeness as we possibly can in the ascent to ever higher conditions, and so to bring our knowledge to the highest unity of which our reason is capable." 142 But cognition itself is a form of cona- tion. 143 The same is true of the aesthetic consciousness; it strives for unity of parts in the whole, and Plato made much of gymnastics and music to bring the inner life into that harmonious order in which justice consists. Be- sides, what moral value can be isolated from the whole of values ? f or the moral as well as the religious is "the value of life organizing and completing itself, or seeking a destiny, as against the discrete values of impulsive or unreflective existence." By the way, is there "a value of impulsive or unreflective existence?" I had supposed values implied an ideational discriminative process; Wright even says there must be comparison (sec. 20). TMs failure to distinguish religion from other aspects of experience is finally acknowledged by Coe in the state- ment: MOEALITY AND RELIGION 155 "If the question be asked, wherein, then, religious value is distinct from ethical value, the answer is that it is not distinct from etihical or any other value. When ethical value attempts its ideal completion in union with all other values similarly ideal and complete, what we have is religion in the sense in which the term is here used. The sphere of religion, as of ethics, is individ- ual and social life. In this life religion refers to the same persons, the same purposes, the same conditioning facts as ethics. In most ethical thinking, however, a difference is recognized. For ethics commonly limits its attention to certain values only, whereas religion is in- terested in all values, in the whole meaning of life." 144 It is sufficient to reply to this view of religion that no fact or value is anything apart from the whole meaning of life which it implies. How, then, has Co distin- guished religion from other features of consciousness? To say that "ethics commonly limits its attention to cer- tain values only" does not make it true that moral values are not related to "the whole meaning of life." Indeed, it is a moral obligation to view alternatives, between which a choice after deliberation is to be made, in all their relations which requires the moral consciousness to relate its choice to the whole of reality. What then is left for religion to do or be that the moral consciousness does not possess? 63. It is essential to determine whether moral distinc- tions inhere in the nature of religion. If we grant that morality and religion can exist separately, it should be possible to assign religion either to a pre-moral state or to a sphere that transcends" moral distinctions. But, if moral distinctions inhere in the nature of religion, there seems to be no essential difference between morality and religion adequately conceived, and, if so, they probably be- gin and develop together both in the individual and in the race. Historical investigation seems to confirm this hy- MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION pothesis. When we follow "the clue of the historical thread, we are not led into the presence of human beings that are either religious by primitive revelation or work- ing hard at its formation by dint of their own observa- tion and reflections, as a new and untried product; the rather do we come face to face with beings who are al- ready for an indefinite time religious. In no case does the tradition, much less the historically trustworthy record, reach back to the time when religion was not in existence, but just began to be." 145 If this be so, King's appeal to a "primitive man" who, according to Waitz, is a "pure fiction however convenient a fiction he may be" to "a time in the history of the race when a definite re- ligious attitude did not exist," 146 verges on mere specula- tion. 64. Since -man is a social being, his moral and reli- gious history is both individual and social in its origin and growth. The nervous system, instincts, emotions, cognitions and volitions act and interact in this develop- ment. At first, subject to fear of strange forces and events, man's curiosity and wonder impel him to form some con- ception of the causes of these phenomena in order that he may adjust himself to these agencies. Ignorant of me- chanical causation and familiar only with his own volun- tary action following upon certain feelings, emotions and desires, events not caused by himself are conceived as effects of personal agencies whom he fears and wonders at and before whom he humbles himself striving to know their will that he may obey. When such ideas are achieved and adopted by a community, they become disciplinary forces. Any calamity to the individual or to the commun- ity would be attributed to some offence of these powers and this offence would be apt to be understood as whatever was unusual and not customary. Hence the customs would tend to be enforced with greater severity. Besides, unusual acts followed by success or disaster would, through association of ideas, establish new customary ob- .!^ 1 X MORALITY AND RELIGION 157 servances or prohibitions. Thus the religious veneration of higher powers tends to conserve "Ihe customs and en- force obedience to social regulations in whose observance morality largely consists. It follows from the above that morality and religion are inseparable in their origin and growth. "Although many of the modes of conduct prescribed by primitive and savage custom and enforced by super- natural sanctions are not such as we regard as moral, and are in many cases even detrimental to the simple societies in which such customs obtain, and so cannot }>e justified by any utilitarian principle, yet we must class the observance of such custom as moral conduct. For the__ essence of moral conduct is the performance of social duty, the duty prescribed by spciety, as op- posed to the mere following of the promptings of ego- istic impulses. If we define moral conduct in this broad sense then, no matter how grotesque and, from our point of view, how immoral the prescribed codes of conduct of other societies may appear to be, we must admit conformity to the code to be moral conduct ; and we must admit that religion from its first crude begin- nings was bound up with morality . . . and that the two things, morality and religion, were not at first sepa- rate and later fused together ; but that they were always intimately related, and have reciprocally acted and re- acted upon one another throughout the course of their evolution. We must recognize also that a firm and harmonious relation between them has been in every age a main condition of the stability of societies. " 147 \jivJJL Religion, then, must take cognizance of moral dis- tinctions, for the powers that sanctify the social customs and codes will be regarded as jealously guarding the laws from infringement. These powers are quick to know the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. Kant held that morality becomes religion when the moral 158 MORAL, LIFE AND RELIGION laws are identified with tlie commands of the supreme Law-giver, the implication being that full obedience to the moral law requires this broader relationship. It is a case of the "ideality of the finite." It belongs, then, to the moral will to relate its choices to the whole of re- ality. This is, perhaps, the meaning of c ArjiaUils_jaying that religion is "morality touched with emotion" in the sense of what might be called a cosmic emotion. But Bradley and others seem to sacrifice moral distinctions in relegating religion to a sphere in which there is sup- posed to be a unity of the transient aspects of "appear- ance" unattainable by morality with its antithesis of good and evil. 148 To both the elimination of religion, and to its assignment to a sphere beyond the moral, it seems enough to reply that the moral does, indeed, become the religious consciousness and, instead of doing away with religion or separating it from morality, morality needs to complete itself in religion and then morality and religion are one. Just as in the transition from sensible experience to perception, and from perception to under- standing, there is a development in which the implicit be- comes explicit, "by an act of evolution, or creative synthesis as it has been called . . . so it is in the transition from morality to religion. Religion presupposes morality, and moral- ity contains religion implicitly ; but when the transi- tion has been made to religion, morality has no longer a separate and independent existence, but is trans- cended and preserved." 149 This final identity of morality and religion implies that they have throughout the series of their manifestations posited each other, while their apparent separation at an}' time is due to the dominance of some factor in the complex unity of the moral and religious nature over others, 65. There is also a tendency to develop the concep- MOKALITY AND KELIGION 159 tion of the objects feared and revered and to elevate one of these to supremacy over others as having to do pre- eminently with human welfare. But development pre- supposes some end by which the order of development may be construed. If we assume that the ideal of Perfect Eth- ical Spirit is the goal, the process might be conceived ac- cording to the growth of the conception of personality. Only slowly did man become conscious of himself as ethical person. I shall not attempt to describe the process since it has often been treated by others. In his earliest stages, man identified himself closely with the objects amidst which he lived. This stage has been variously described as animism, or, perhaps, spiritism, to signify that man re- garded all things as having life like his own. There was what Reville called "great-nature worship" as of the sun, the wind, the rain, that have so much to do with comfort and well-being. "Minor-nature-worship" had, for the same reason, as its objects, rivers, springs, trees, lower animals, as such; for example, the Nile and the Ganges were themselves sacred, but not because of an in- dwelling spirit. 150 Gradually this vague unreflecting spiritism gave place to anthropomorphic polytheism in which the higher powers are more definitely conceived after analogy with the social ethical personality. A selective tendency pre- vails leading, under the influence of social and ethical ideas and practices, to an enriched and purified conception of the supreme Being. The logical culmination of this process is the idea of the Divine Personality. Then the culture of relations with this supreme Being becomes of much importance to human welfare. 151 66. If now we turn to the vexed question concern- ing the "essence" of religion, what has just been said of its origin and development suggests that everywhere re- ligion is a form of the conative aspect of human existence, a striving persistence of the life-process which posits its continuation and fulfillment. This positing is both cog- 160 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION nitive, affective, and volitional. Instincts and emotions are important. Fear, concerning the unusual, the creat- ive imagination trying to satisfy this curiosity, the rev- erence for existence to which the self is subjected, a wait- ing response to our limitations even an expectancy all unite in a great affirmation of life. Rapidly succeeding events are full of interest but create in us who watch them pass a feeling that we are just about to do or experience something worth while which will abide, but there comes sooner or later the consciousness that after all what we have done or can do or know is insignificant. If this were all, life would be a strange puzzle the sense of worth would be unfulfilled. May we not take the negation of sat- isfaction as implying the affirmation of full satisfaction? Is not religion evoked in us through the sense of the ab- sence of value in so much of what we experience which is at least significant of the all-satisfying, the adequately val- uable which not only ought to be, but finally is ? Just as "the continuous affirmative judgment of the waking con- sciousness' 7 152 is inseparable from our immediate aware- ness of reality, so the religious consciousness affirms the contradictory of its dissatisfactions which means that the implied reality must contain the fullness of satisfaction and completeness, else our present experience is unintel- ligible. !NTot that this affirmation is consciously logical or solely cognitive. It is rather the life-assertion of man's entire being. This, I think, may be the meaning of Hoffding's axiom of religion as the "conservation of value." 153 The same thought is evidently in Coe's view that "a value is anything experienced or thought of as satisfying, or the contrary," while religion is the "value of values," the "value of life organizing and completing itself or seeking a destiny" "an immanent critique (within one's particular valuations) which is also a move- ment towards completeness, unity, and permanence of the value-experience as a whole." 154 I, however, believe re- MORALITY AND RELIGION 161 ligion is the assertion of the whole man as rational in- clusive of feeling and will a view suggesting that of Hegel in the Logic (sec. 24. P. 47) and in the "Phenom- enology of Spirit.' 7 At any rate, I do not intend to re- duce religion to mere feelings of value, on the one hand, or to a blind persistence of will to live, on the other. Inevitably this great affirmation implicit in religion means that being is ultimately satisfying even to our- selves. It should be noted that both the negations and the affirmations are within our experience and imply that reality itself is a certain ordering of experience in which we find satisfaction. This seems to indicate that our ex- perience in its totality must be the possessor of these sat- isfactions that are affirmed which makes our self-hood much larger than at any moment it appears. What is religion, then, but a turning from present negations to affirmations implicit in the totality of experience \ Surely, if there are absolute values for us. they must be found somewhere in the totality of our experiences as self-conscious persons, that is, in our life as a whole, if you please, in our complete timeless whole. Another im- plication seems to be that our life will always have its negatives and positives in the unity of experience and yet we shall always identify ourselves with present and an- ticipated satisfactions as inseparable from our reality. If it be asked why we identify ourselves with the posi- tives rather than the negatives, in other words, why reli- gion is so confident that our reality as selves contains in its completeness our full satisfaction, there seem to be only empirical criteria to which appeal may be made, chief of which is the ceaseless conative impulse to life which ap- propriates whatever modes of thinking, feeling and acting have the most satisfying consequences. Nor are we able to give further explanation any more than we can .show why certain vibrations are responded to with sensations of light or sound, or why pleasurable feelings are on the 162 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION whole safer guides in action than unpleasurable. Prob- ably each is the issue of the age-long development which culminated in human life. It has been already implied that the assurance of the ultimately satisfying is logically prior to the experience of dissatisfactions. There could be no striving for pres- ervation and fulfillment of life without an implicit posit- ing of its possibility and final actuality. jDn other words^ before one knows dissatisfactions there is implied a prior attitude towards satisfaction. One has to be driven out of satisfactions to be aware of their negations. The nurs- ing child forcibly interrupted becomes vividly conscious of a posited source of satisfaction and the conative im- pulse becomes a conscious striving. It is not, therefore, quite true to say, as some do, that through our sense of weakness and limitation, we fear, and appeal to some power to supplement our efforts which grows in mysterious abil- ity to satisfy our needs, until our creative conception cul- minates in the idea of the divine Person whom we may love and trust. The particular form of religion at a given level would be determined by the most pressing needs and the ability to conceive their satisfaction which accompanies the growth towards full self-conscious per- sonality in the civilized state. As man becomes more able to provide for his physical Well-being, he gains in power to appreciate the more spiritual and remote ends, which suggests a more or less definite order in the mani- festations ^>f the religious impulse to life. To determine this order, even if I were able, would require a review of the religious history of mankind, which is rendered diffi- cult partly because man's early existence is so imperfectly known, and partly because of the complexity of human ex- istence. Nor does the stream seem to flow steadily for- ward. There are many stagnant pools and barren wastes, even a kind of devolution with signs of degradation from a higher religious state. This view of religion is, perhaps, more faithful to our MORALITY AND RELIGIOU 163 deepest experiences than some other conceptions of its es- sential significance; for example, religion, it is said, con- sists in "an innate se^^__)f_iLe--Jnfiaite*" 155 But this, I think, Ts onl^a form of the ever present conative im- pulse to life positing its own fulfillment and ultimate sat- isfaction which is for us the meaning of religion but which cannot be conceived in its fullness. "Not God, but life," says Leuba, 156 "more life, a larger, richer, more satis- fying life, is in the last analysis the end of religion. The love of life, at any and every level of development, is the religious impulse" which objectifies itself in relation to variously conceived objects of worship. Likewise James finds in the varieties of religious experience two ele- ments, first, an uneasiness, a sense that there is something wrong about us as we are by nature, and, secondly, "a sense that we are saved from the wrongness by making proper connection with the higher powers." The individual so far as he suffers from his wrongness and criticizes it is to that extent consciously beyond it, and in at least possible touch with something higher, if anything higher exists. But why should he identify himself with the higher? At first, the reason is not clear but one "becomes conscious that this higher part is conterminous and continuous with a more of the same quality, which is operative in the universe outside of him, and which he can keep in working touch with, and in a fashion get on board of and save himself when all his lower being has gone to pieces in the wreck."' 1 ' 57 This, however, only expresses the principle already set forth that religion rests upon the fundamental impulse to life which posits its ultimate fulfillment and satisfaction. 67. An appreciation of the interpenetration of psychio states in the fullness of human life takes away the desire to parcel out the religious experiences of the race into sharply distinguishable groups to be designated as reli- gious. As Ladd well says, there is a sense in which "every kind of religion belongs to all kinds. Strict clas- 164 MOBAL LIFE AND RELIGION sification becomes impossible." 158 The same interpene- tration and complexity of psychic states makes it impos- sible for morality and religion to be separate experiences. In showing their final identity, I have emphasized the fact that both are aspects of the same impulse to life, its fulfill- ment and satisfaction and to this end the entire self both in morality and religion, is committed. The end of moral effort is some form of self-realization in social relations. Duties are owed to one's self and neighbor, but the love of self, arid of neighbor, are finally identical because of their social unity. The end of religion is to love God with heart, mind and soul and one's neighbor as one's self. Such is the utterance of the highest religious con- sciousness. One member of this trinity of self, other selves and God may, as the object of a given act, be ascend- ant over the others which can never be entirely absent. Perhaps the problem of life consists in establishing a proper balance in the relations of self, other selves and God as the end of every act and of the total expression of the impulse to life. Neither morality nor religion is merely an attitude in the sense of being solely a subjective feature of consciousness, for there is always a variously conceived objective. Practically, in the common usage of the term, religion designates that fuller, wider relation of our activity to the rest of being; it affirms our self -hood in its entirety, thus bringing it into relation to other selves, to the whole of reality, to the Absolute Person, and constitutes us mem- bers of the Kingdom of God. These religious terms are among the highest expressions of the fundamental impulse to life that everywhere posits its fulfillment and satisfac- tion. When the awakening soul is able to appreciate the vital significance of these conceptions, spiritual strength is increased and the forces of body and mind are set free in a remarkable degree. The way is now open to consider the practical relation of morality and religion. CHAPTER X UNIVERSALITY OF THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 68. Religion as an attitude seems to relate not only to the moral but to every form of experience and to be supreme in life's activities. Universality and supremacy are not the same, for the supremacy of religion means that it is the highest in a given classification of experiences while its universality signifies that it is related to all experiences and may be supreme or vary its relative posi- tion. The universality and supremacy of religion, thus understood, are somewhat difficult to establish, though I shall try to show that both are true. An attitude is an aspect of the subject's response to sensations, perceptions and conceptual constructions what- ever they may be. The conative life-impulse expresses itself towards objective experiences in feelings of different intensities and varying qualities evaluating the objects considered. To designate religion as an attitude means that religious experience has these variable feelings of value toward objects, with special qualities of its own. As a response, religion is a form of adjustment to objects experienced. It is evident that, as the subject's evaluat- > ing tensive attitude in response to the totality of experi- ence, religion may well be regarded as both universal and supreme in the life. This provides for the possibility. Some evidences, though perhaps not complete proof, fol- low. Though the religious aspect of experience may subside, it does not seem to be totally absent even in mid-life's ambitions and successes in which there is a tentative at- titude, easily retreating from present undertakings to con- template in wonder the flight of time, seeking some un- 165 166 MOEAL LIFE AND RELIGION found satisfaction. In the moment of triumph and power, this background of religion, on occasion, springs into the fore-front of consciousness, though it may be only to ask the significance of life itself whose brevity is never quite forgotten. The ambition and toil of our most effi- cient periods have a certain haste to work before sunset comes. Towards night, the passions subside, perhaps be- cause of declining powers, activities become mechanized so that attention may be given with increasing concentra- tion to the approaching end. Old age is the most reli- gious period. The formulations of earlier days are not held with such absolute confidence, for there may be a still higher wisdom. There is a sober, steadfast trust, a living from day to day, an expectant waiting, a walking softly as though in a Presence that is to be feared, revered, per- haps loved, as having our destiny in its keeping. This attitude is also retrospective with a sense of having lived through experiences now somewhat vaguely remembered; the past is a far country in which we once had possessions, good or bad, but none of such value as to survive as when we first knew them. This retrospect is profoundly reli- gious uniting with present waiting for life's next revela- tion which must come else meaning vanishes from the whole. To this religious attitude, all the wisdom, dignity and worth of mankind are subordinated for religion is the final as it is the first resort of feeling, thought and will before the mystery of existence. It is the unquenched thirst for life. 69. From Earliest times it has been true that no task is well begun, no journey prosperous, no rule or custom authoritative, without divine approval and assistance. "Except Jehovah build the house, they labor in vain that build it. Except Jehovah keep the city, the watchman waketh but in vain' 7 (Psl. 127: 1, 2). Comte even called the worship of gods or God a survival of the infancy of the race, yet he had his "religion of humanity." The modern man, though regarding himself as matter of fact, makes UNIVERSALITY OF THE KEUGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 167 ventures with feelings and aspirations as full of reli- gious elements as the simpler acts of his primitive brother. "In the morning sow thy seed, and in the evening withhold not thy hand; for thou knowest not which shall prosper, whether this or that, or whether they both shall be alike good" (Eccles. 11; 6). The hope of harvest, trust in the authority of law and custom, fear of disaster, striv- ing for improvement guided by a forecasting idea of quiet enjoyment of vaguely conceived good, are only expressions of the impulse to life positing its fulfillment and satis- faction, which is to be religious. TO. Natural science is reverent in the search for truth viewing its truths as only rules of action trustworthy so long as the same conditions prevail which implies faith in the uniformity of natural processes, an unproved postu- late perhaps strictly impossible since there are no abso- lutely identical repetitions. Our perceptions of things and their interpretations are like "snapshots of the pass- ing reality" and presupposes an exhaustless flow of Cre- ative Life which we only fragmentarily apprehend. "The cinematographical character of our knowledge oi things is due to the kaleidoscopic character of our adap- tation to them." The scientist is not boastful but rever- ently conscious that hisi most useful conceptions, like atom, energy, gravitation, are hypothetical and acceptable only as they serve to systematize thought and permit de- ductions verifiable in experience. We still have to ad- mit, with Hume, that matters of fact, and scientific laws, wait upon the constancy of natural processes which they formulate. Faith in this constancy presupposes the moral trustworthiness of the universe itself. 160 In like manner, religious doctrines have a tentative character and wait upon the constancy of experience for confirma- tion and validation. 71. The response to the moral ideal is immediate without considerations of reward. This insistence upon obedience of conscience indicates the incompleteness of 168 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION morality which finds interpretation in religious experi- ence. It is the function of religion to extend the scope of moral ideals until they are viewed in the light of the whole of reality, that is, directly in relation to the Divine Being. Crito urged Socrates to escape from prison hut received the reply that conclusions, reached in favorable conditions, concerning right and good should not be given up in unfavorable circumstances, for these principles are eternal and Divine. Aristotle regarded the moral virtues as necessary to be attained since they were a pre-requisite to the dianoetic virtues in which the soul rises to mystic union with the Creative Reason. Even Christianity has an element of haste to set in order the moral life be- cause of the richer inheritance in the Kingdom of God. In certain moods, though having insisted upon fulfill- ment of moral obligations, religion casts itself upon the Divine, that is, the soul in its depths appeals from human distinctions of right and wrong, as poor and weak, to the Judge of all the earth who surely will do right. In health and strength, one may feel adequate to moral tasks, but long experience is apt to bring a sense of failure to fulfill moral ideals and to solve their problems. Then religion asserts its power within the soul afresh and looks to the di- vine Source of existence with trust that even these failures may be overlooked and forgiven, rejoicing in the sure ful- fillment of the divine purpose. Then the conflict of human passions and .ambitions, whether in the individual or among peoples or between nations, becomes endurable, for it is God who will be supreme in the heart and whose purpose will be fulfilled in humanity. It is in some such manner that religion prevails in ex- perience. The feebleness of human effort at its best is overwhelming. The hunger of soul increases with what it feeds upon, whether daily toil, science, art, morality, or the contemplation of the collective life of mankind. How could sin and evil incidents in the human struggle for good be avoided where there is so little to guide and UNIVERSALITY OF THE EELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 169 where there is so much darkness? Every prayer pro- claims the limits of will and intellect and questions whether the "feelings of absolute dependence" give as- surance of anything beyond what we now have, or spring only out of the processes within the psycho-physical organ- ism beyond which they have no significance. What of death ? The Stoic would make of it an orna- ment, Socrates hoped, in the presence of death, to the last. ~No man has power, even by suicide, to enter a better world, or any world. At the gate of death, all are naked and helpless. The other life has to be prepared and made ready. Everyone, if he enters at all, has to be taken into that world by the divine order of existence. If there were no other evidence of the supremacy of the religious attitude in experience, it is proved by the silent awe before the mystery of death and by the search for some light of hope in the tomb. The beautiful story of Jesus and the resurrection finds the empty human heart desiring to believe but trembling with fear lest its faith be only a dream with no waking. 72. An ancient rivalry exists between philosophy and religion which may be removed by fully recognizing that the religious attitude is a unity of thought, feeling and will in relation to the whole of experience. One's philos- ophy is in its turn a conceptual construction of the entire experience, and hence religion and philosophy must have much in common. Since religious experience and the yearning of the soul are always topics for reflection, re- ligious experience, in this sense, has the supremacy ; since the philosophy one believes is determined largely by moods, feelings, needs and their satisfaction, it cannot be in real conflict with the interests of religion. The awakening of the inner life is occasioned largely by the jov and sorrow accompanying impressions received from the outer world. Our expectations and efforts may, at one time, be deceived and hindered, at another, satisfied and favored, by circumstances. The death-dealing storm 170 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION at sea may bring refreshment to the village gardens, a fruitful source either of prayers, in the one case, for di- vine help and comfort, or, in the other, of thanksgiving. These prayers are often post factum endeavoring to fore- stall and perhaps prevent a dreaded future, or to ensure a future that is desired, leading either to a pessimistic or to an optimistic philosophy of life. This philosophy is, in some degree at least, the resort of faith to theories whose function is to confirm beliefs and hopes. At other times, curiously enough, faith seems to glory in the persistence of belief in the face of facts and well reasoned conclusions apparently having some secret source of confidence due, probably, to unrecognized psycho-physical predispositions. 73. When the inner life is awakened sufficiently to reflect upon the nature and destiny of mankind, it is possible only to affirm or deny, or affirm yet deny, human dignity and worth. A reverent conception of humanity tends to exalt man in the order of existence. "In the quiet presence chamber of speculative thought, it is what is good and noble and significant in human life that stands out as if it were the whole, and all the dross being refined away, the image of man is insensibly glorified into an ideal form which not only fits harmoniously into its place in the intelligible whole of universal order but merits a place so prominent that it seems hardly possible to describe worthily the significance of its destiny and the profound importance of its position in the world." It has been quite common for philosophy to regard man as the "isolated apex of the phenomenal world and to demonstrate that the human mind is the crown and end, the last link in the chain of self-developing Infinity. Human affection and moral and religious aspiration seem to require eternal life in which all desires shall be satis- fied, all hopes fulfilled."/ 61 The reverent conception of the dignity and worth of humanity receives a rude shock when brought into rela- tion with the average man and the complex and varied UNIVERSALITY OF THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 171 character of mankind, and, before we know it, our mood changes into an overwhelming sense of weak unworthi- ness to occupy any very prominent place in the order of things. We feel ourselves a feeble folk, often wearing out our hearts with doubt, bare of counsel and aid, and feeling nothing so keenly as the uncertainty of our origin, fate and aims. The calm figures of primitive men as tradition shows them to us at the beginning of history wandering over the still youthful earth, within the pre- cincts of Paradise or in patriarchal simplicity, quickly fade when we think of the measureless multitude of man- kind. He who enters into his closet and shuts the door to pray in secret feels the presence of God sheltering and guarding him, but, when he comes out into the light and realizes that this experience has a thousand-fold repetition in every corner of the globe, it becomes an ordinary occur- rence in the course of events, and loses its former worth. "As our hearts are not large enough to embrace all with equally active affection, so do we shun the idea of sharing with a countless number of other persons our own relation to the Infinite, and it seems to us that the strength of the tie, and indeed our very assurance of its reality, de- crease in proportion to the increase of the number to which it is extended." (Lotze). With what inexhaustible fertility has the earth pro- duced one race of men after another, widely differing yet alike in essentials, indeed, in the mode and condition of their life resembling to some extent those races of beasts which, in still greater multitudes, inhabit the most remote corners of the earth, and which arise and pass away in shoals. The more vividly all this is present to conscious- ness, the more certain is the mind to become gradually possessed of the belief "that mankind is but one of the transitory phenomena which an eternal primitive force, revelling in the work of alternate creation and destruc- tion, brings forth, only that it may vanish in its turn." Though this view has never been dominant or even uni- 172 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION versal, it casts its shadow over all human effort. It ap- pears, without much reflection, as a direct consciousness of their own lowliness and commonness in the vast majority of those who daily struggle with petty hindrances and can only be said to endure life as a burden imposed upon them. They know how men are swept away in shoals by the course of nature or by war. The hardships en- countered produce that passive resignation with which in all ages the bulk of the human race endures life and death. "They do not live their life but they tolerate it from its beginning to its end, having no comprehensive aims, and only intent upon warding off in detail immedi- ate ill, and winning in detail proximate small advantages ; in the same way, they tolerate death as a necessity which it would be hardly worth while to escape for the sake of continuing such a life as theirs." 16 ^ To those more favorably circumstanced, this dark sha- dow over mankind expresses itself in reverence for the dignity of humanity and for moral greatness and purity of life, which, it is held, can still be maintained, though one accepts the ultimately transient character of human life and denies the existence of a spiritual realm. But can a view which recognizes only a mechanical course of nature account for the feeling of reverence for the dignity and worth of human life? If we are merely a passing 1 phase in the activity of an Infinite Substance, is there \any reason to feel and maintain a sense of our dignity land worth? Is it sufficient to ask: "Do we, insatiable, desire to go on feasting forever, and never to retire with dignity, as satisfied guests, from the banquet of life?" Is it enough to extol with mystic rapture the absorption of the individual in the universal? However much one may attempt to persuade himself "that the self-conscious Ego is in fact only an event, a vanishing passage between atoms variously moved, still the immediate consciousness of our personal reality will always remain invincible to these attempts, and we can never think of ourselves as UNIVERSALITY OF THE RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 173 melting away in the great receptacle of universal nature," for we are never free from a presentiment of something supersensuous. We are, however, unable to raise these sentiments into a condition of certainty and authority except as we resort to faith. Both the denial and the affirmation of human worth are appropriated and combined in religious faith. The believer is sadly conscious of human frailty. "As for man, his days are as grass ; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth. For the wind passeth over it and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." There is no explanation of human misery. The mind is numbed and the tongue speechless before the awful darkness of hu- man life. Think of men, as Lotze says, tolerating death as a necessity which it would be hardly worth while to es- cape for the sake of continuing such a life as theirs! Think of miners or seamen perishing in a moment, of the feeble-minded, innocent because lacking in intelligence and will and yet an easy prey of bad environment, of the idiot and imbecile with scarcely mentality enough to be differentiated from the brute! But these are calamities due to natural causes. Think of the tragedy of war and of the rest of man's self-induced evils, of murder, of the "poor-sentenced-to-death" as one awaiting execution re- cently signed himself in his confession. It makes then heart sick and paralyzes thought. But still we cannot eradicate the presentiment of some abiding worth in our existence, though it be almost a blind assertion of satis- faction and fulfillment of life. Faith seizes upon this presentiment and transforms it into a veritable reality, a spiritual realm, a Kingdom of the divine Father whose beneficent purpose cannot fail. How victorious faith be- comes as it turns away from human frailty to the raptur- ous contemplation of the good of eternal life ! Is it mad- ness and folly, or the highest wisdom? Thus we beat against the bars of our necessity beyond which faith would go. 174 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION 74. The Christian religion has the most inspiring con- ception of human destiny, taking without argument the positive rather than the negative side of the problem con- cerning human worth, though human frailty and depend- ence are acknowledged. For Christianity, it is not sim- ply the realization of the moral ideals of a race that ulti- mately vanishes in the changing manifestations of an Infinite Substance. But men are children of the divine Father in whose kingdom they are enabled through love, forgiveness and assistance to fulfill the moral ideals. Jesus rose from the dead and we rise with Him, which means that eternal blessed life belonged to Jesus as it belongs to the human spirit whose presentiment of an abiding worth, despite the tragedy of present existence, is not in vain, for it is a practical ideal of great power. We may even use the words of Fichte: "Thou workest in me the knowledge of my duty, of my vocation in the world of reasonable beings. . . . Thou wiliest that my free obedience shall bring with it eternal consequences. ... I am immortal, imperishable, eternal, as soon as J form the resolution to obey the laws of reason; I do not need to become so." 163 For this larger and more living faith, our earthly life seems to be an educative probation, not an end in itself, "or of such binding force that every error of the school- life must have the influence of an irrevocable fate. From this mode of thought arise the conscientiousness, the ear- nest endeavor, and the patient love which the mind ought to bring to bear upon the tasks of earthly life, together with that still greater earnestness of mood and calm peace which come to us from feeling that the imperfection of earthly effort has the sting taken out of it ; for it is not the outward result achieved (which may be insignificant) so much as loyal honest labor, which is both the end of such effort and the vocation to which we are called." 164 It is, however, only for brief moments that we really feel this peace. We easily lose ourselves again in the UNIVERSALITY OF THE EELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 175 details and the conflicts of the present. Our days are not all Sundays. We vacillate between spiritual exaltation and the dull level of prdinary experience and, occasion- ally, the gloom of petty struggles. It is not easy to see the parts united in the whole and to share the divine vision of the meaning of our life and of the world. After all, we have only a presentiment, a faith, which often yields before the coarse vividness of concrete things pre- sented by the senses and fades before hard mechanical processes. Nevertheless, faith is near, ready to lead when sight fails to find the way to eternal life. Because religion accompanies human life from its beginning and is its final resort, religion is in a very real sense both universal and supreme. CHAPTEK XI THE PRACTICAL RELATION OF MORALITY AND RELIGION 75. In the preceding chapters, it has been shown that morality and religion are essentially related and that the religious attitude, as the deepest assertion of the impulse to life, holds a dominating position in experience. Re- ligion, and we think chiefly of the Christian, relates our activity to God the Father and to the divine kingdom so that acts are thereby transformed and illuminated with the consequence that insight into duties is promoted and the springs of action are strengthened so that a higher level of morality is attained with than without religion. Hence ' religious ideas and motives, being thus f unction^- ally beneficial, are validated as trustworthy guides in the effort to promote well-being. A more detailed study of this practical relation of morality and religion follows. At once an obstacle is encountered in the claim that the idea of God depends largely upon the moral develop- ment of a people, for a people's god or gods are like them- selves. Xenophanes said: "If oxen and lions had hands and could paint with their hands, and fashion im- ages, as men do, they would make the pictures and images of their gods in their own likeness." 165 Hence, if the conception of God is a people's product and has as its con- tent factors derived from their moral attainment, it would seem contradictory to say that to relate our duties to God tends to increase insight into their number and signifi- cance, and to strengthen the springs of action so as more certainly to bring about the deed. On a somewhat differ- ent basis but largely to the same effect, A. E. Taylor says that, while morality passes into religion "in which the 176 THE PRACTICAL RELATION 177 defects of the narrowly and strictly ethical experience) are, to some extent at any rate, made good," yet, in the religious experience the moral concepts such as obligation, merit, worth, are "so transformed as to be emptied of all significance"; in a word, you cannot become truly, "religious without at the same time becoming something more or less than moral." 166 In the light of the social origin and development of morality and religion already presented, it is true that the conception of the gods ,who guard the social order, in whose observance morality primarily consists, is deter- mined by the worshiper's idea of moral conduct. Wes- termarck even shows that many savages chiefly worship evil spirits "since the others are supposed to be so good that they require no offerings or homage." 167 But, since religion implies fear, admiration,- awe, and rever- ence, 168 men cannot long worship beings to whom they attribute moral qualities inferior to their own. 169 There is also a selective tendency operating in the formation of' the concept of God, interacting with moral development, and working toward the elevation of the idea of the divine Being which validates itself through its beneficial conse- ' quences in the social life. As a result, each stage in the development of the concept of God embodies the highest prevailing ideal in accordance with which the best life is to be attained. This ideal is the product of successive generations who collectively put into it their aspirations and hopes. The concept of God thus becomes a social in- heritance vaster in its scope, richer in content, and more abiding than any individual's idea can be a fixed social possession just as the material world may be regarded as social a common yet illimitable possession towards which certain modes of behavior are expected. 170 Just as the concept of the material world represents an Other to every mind fixed as a real existence towards which certain modes of behavior are required yet ever enriched through the sciences, so does the concept of God represent 178 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION an Other constant and enduring but enriched through the accumulating development of the social mind. Herein also lies the difference between the concept of God as social and so, spiritual, and the world-concept as material, but both God and the world are involved in our personal self-knowledge. The social reconstruction and development of the idea of God takes place chiefly through the initiative of the individual as he appropriates the! social inheritance. Especially does the moral and reli- gious genius or prophet express a standard or ideal to which the group gradually becomes habituated in thought and action. Thus a divine realm representing the best of human thought possible at the time in the light of the people's history surrounds each action that is adequately conceived. Hence it is not contradictory to hold that morality is promoted by relating our duties to God, since the idea of God derives its factors from a people's moral attainment, but the objection above referred to embodies an important truth, for now it means that to relate an act to God is to place it in its objective relation to the development of humanity itself. Nor is Taylor right in saying, as above, that to become religious is to become something more, or less, than moral, for to become relig- ious is in the highest sense to fulfill the moral. Plato recognized this truth by insisting that the young should grow up with right conceptions of the gods who love justice, truth and purity, for such ideas promote moral attainment. Likewise in the Hebrew and Christian religions. To the Hebrew, Jehovah is a consuming fire toward iiniquity, purifying the soul from sin (Malachi 3 : 2, 3). The God and Father of Jesus Christ is equally stern but it is the sternness, even the jealousy of love, that cannot endure to have men love evil rather than good, sin rather than holiness, and yet the Hebrew idea of God is, in a very real sense, a product of the peo- ple's moral and religious experience. The Kingdom of THE PRACTICAL RELATION 179 God is not only of righteousness but of saving love that would rescue those who are perishing because of their misplaced affections and misconceptions of the meaning of life. But the idea of the Kingdom also reflects the qualities of the people's social development. To act in vivid consciousness of God and His Kingdom cannot but give deeper insight into duties and arouse greater effort to fulfill moral ideals. 76. The religious nature does not always utter itself so acceptably as it does in the Christian conception of God which spreads before the moral consciousness such an ideal of the fulfillment of life that nothing seems lacking. Religion may identify the Infinite with the boundless ex- tent and power of nature. What, then, is man but a phase of the objective world? that is, of the Infinite? Then, with Spinoza, we may feel impelled to say, God is all, the one Substance. The next step would probably lead to the Nirvana of the Buddhist, the ecstasy of the mystic who, indeed, has an ethic but, after it has per- formed its function in connection with existence, itself an evil, is left behind in the antechamber when the devout soul enters into the Holy of Holies of the temple of reli- gion which is final identity with the One. There is, indeed, a religious element in the response to the beauty and majesty of nature which are only poorly represented by the formulas of the exact sciences. But, under the influence of biology and allied sciences, the conception of nature has been enriched and lifted up until it is scarcely distinguishable from the spiritual. These scien- ces themselves have done much to overcome the crude distinctions between the natural and the supernatural which presuppose the eighteenth century mechanistic conception of the universe. But the Infinite of Nature which may be impersonal, unconscious, and unloving, needs to be transcended and transformed by religion, if it is to inspire life. This is done by Christianity with 180 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION its idea of God as the Father in loving, protecting, saving relation to His children who are never to lose their indi- viduality. Another inadequate interpretation of religion regards the object of worship as the moral law in its absoluteness. Fichte held that this moral Law is not a personal Life, though he did designate it as Will. But, since the moral law in its abstract character is not a convenient object of worship, it assumes concrete form as the supreme Law- giver of the Jewish religion who, though in some sense limited by the refractory world, imposes upon it the Law which is often disobeyed; or, the idea of a personal God may be abandoned and a substitute found in the progres- sive realization of the moral ideal in a Religion of Hu- manity as instituted by Comte who represented mankind as a Great Being striving to overcome the opposing ten- dencies of nature. 171 Another substitute for the personal God is Matthew Arnold's "Power not ourselves that makes for righteous- ness" a view that seems to imply an irreconcilable dual- ism between the good and evil principle with no assurance that the good is supreme. Arnold, no doubt, believed himself in accord with the essential significance of Chris- tianity, but, practically, the Christian idea of God as Creator and Father of spirits and Ruler of the Kingdom of righteousness and love seems richer in content and more satisfying and efficient in relation to the moral life than this, or the other forms of religion mentioned. The Christian faith takes up into itself, and enriches such truths as : "Whatever is right, is" ; or, as Carlyle expresses it : "The soul of the world is just" ; or, with Plato, "The Good" is finally the only reality, though Burnet thinks this interpretation of Plato may be questioned. 172 Chris- tianity never loses moral distinctions in mystic ecstasy but confidently affirms the supremacy of the right and good with a faith that is. sorely needed. He who strug- gles with temptation sometimes exclaims: What is the THE PRACTICAL RELATION 181 use? Why not appropriate the present to the full and enjoy the forbidden fruit? Why be anxious for the evil consequences of the morrow ? Does not even the Scrip- ture say: "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof" (Mat. 6. 34) ? The evil of tomorrow can only be suffi- cient for the day, and the next will bring its own evil. All is vanity, and, where there is nothing steadfast or trustworthy, all things are indifferent. But conscience interrupts this short-sighted interpretation of life with the exhortation not to be deceived, the nature of exist- ence is not mocked. Well-being is not gained by evil doing. This deeper voice of human nature speaks forth in Jesus who perceived the need of saving men from the ruin that evil brings. His anxiety to save rather than condemn had in it the urgency that springs from the knowledge of the deeper meaning of life and the universe. So far as the Christian religion is faithful to its Founder, it has the same urgency to save, due not merely to love, but, to the knowledge that this world is founded in right- eousness and that whoever conflicts with these depths of being shall be broken; there is no bending the keel, as it were. The finally real is not matter, nor an un- known Substance but the Divine and finite spirits 7 satisfy- ing experience of the good, the highest form of empirical reality existent in self-conscious experience. Hence "the religious man does not look at life as a hopeless struggle, but as a struggle which must succeed because it is the struggle of spirit, and spirit is the explanation and revel- ation of existence." 173 77. It may be objected that, however much religion toay enlarge the scope and significance of moral ideals, it does not follow that the same person will reach a higher moral development with than without religion. This ob- jection rightly assumes that more is required in moral at- tainment than ideas for, as Aristotle said, there must be the application of knowledge through voluntary action. Does religion increase the force of the springs of action 182 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION so as to condition one more certainly to do what he ought ? In support of the affirmative appeal may be made to the psychological principle of the ideo-motor character of con- scious states according to which ideas that occupy the at- tention tend to be expressed in action. Since, in particu- lar, the Christian religion surrounds each duty with re- lations to man and to God, these ideal relations can but tend to determine conduct. It was explained in an earlier section (sec. 23) how feelings and emotions, experienced in response to conceptions, largely determine whether or not these seize attention and become ends of action. It is precisely at this point that religion contributes to moral attainment, for it not only adds to the significance of moral ideals by giving them a richer content and wider relations, but quickens and deepens the feelings and emotions towards the demands of conscience, thus tending to ensure obedi- ence. The ideational and affective elements of the moral and religious consciousness mutually promote one another. To increase the ideational content is accompanied by an affective attitude which tends to determine action accord- ingly. Moral and religious feelings have much in com- mon. Fear and reverence are experienced before the moral ideal-self and become religious when the moral ideal is related to the Divine Person. Morality says : Your own nature demands that you so act. Religion declares : Your act ought to be done, not only because your own nature re- quires it but because God demands it. / Kant said that the moral law, rising out of our rational nature, "completely destroys self-esteem and is an object of highest reverence" whereby "natural self-love" yields to "rational self-love." This reverence for the moral law is itself morality regarded subjectively as motive. But this motive is not complete till the will postulates freedom, immortality and God whose existence "it is morally necessary to hold" whereby moral- ity becomes religion through "tlie recognition of all duties as divine commands." 174 It is indeed true that Kant regards the conception of THE PRACTICAL RELATION 183 God only as a necessary postulate of the practical reason but his "postulates" are filled with the energy of will and mean that we are to live as if in the presence of the su- preme Law-giver who knows what the moral law requires and is its living embodiment, vitally interested in what we do, whereby the moral realm is transformed into the King- dom of God. Shadworth Hodgson agrees with Kant in dis- tinguishing the knowledge of the theoretical reason from the postulates of the practical holding that it is due to con- science that we attribute "personality and moral goodness * to the infinite Power which sustains the universe. . . . We give the name of faith to the belief which is involved in obeying conscience, which carries us over the boundary distinguishing religion from morality and which makes morality known to us as the necessary source and parent of religion." The reverse is also true, namely, that "re- ligion is the parent of morality in the practical sense, that, when accepted by faith, it becomes the most powerful of 'all the motives which can be constantly operative in sustain- ing the moral life of individuals, by keeping the sense of a mutually felt union with the Eternal and Almighty Being ever present to the mind. ... It is, therefore, equally true that without morality there can be no Faith, conse- quently no Religion, and that Faith and Religion, when once embraced, have an unique reaction upon the moral life, out of which they spring, and become our true point of departure in sustaining and invigorating it." 175 But, if the somewhat vague Kantian conception of God and of the relation of morality and religion be further en- riched by the more appealing and satisfying Christian idea of the divine Father and Savior, how much more certainly will the fear and reverence before the moral ideal become religious and express themselves in loving obedience! It may be, indeed, that religion sometimes strongly moves the heart towards the Divine with little apprehension of moral requirements, giving rise to the belief that religion may exist without morality. This, however, is only ap- 184 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION parent for the duties that are recognized are, as it were, flooded with emotion and ideas of the supernatural amounting almost to superstition, often mingled with aes- thetic feelings, suggesting that the religious nature is try- ing to make up for moral deficiencies by intensifying and consecrating the few moral distinctions that are made. There is abundant reason for this deep religious spirit, for the moral drama is enacted as if in the presence of the supreme Law-giver, and, if we heed the message of Jesus, in the presence of the holy but loving Father who watches with deepest con- cern the struggle of His children up the straight and nar- row way of moral attainment. Bunyan's Christian has hard work to find this pathway and to keep in it, but it is a way that has been prepared, there are guides, signs and refreshment to be found when most needed, indicat- ing that Christian has not been forgotten, and that his struggle forward has been anticipated. Thus it is that religion enlarges and glorifies the prosaic moral ideals by a kingdom of thought-relations and aspirations and intensifies and purifies the springs of action with the re- sult that a, higher degree of morality is attained with than without religion. A somewhat similar view is ex- pressed by Martineau who says: "Understanding by 're- ligion' belief in an ever-living God, that is, a divine Mind and Will ruling the universe and holding moral relations with mankind. . . the innermost seat of this belief is in the constitution of human nature; ... in the soul of religion, the apprehension of truth and the enthusiasm of devotion inseparably blend ; and in proportion as either is deserted by the other, the conditions of right judgment fail." 176 78. The power of religion to elevate moral ideals and to strengthen the springs of action is in proportion to the germinal character of the idea of the object worshiped. This conception of the object revered always marks the frontier of the self in its outreaching towards further at- THE PRACTICAL RELATION 185 tainment and fullness of experience which can be only faintly anticipated. Reflection upon the object wor- shiped will, therefore, tend to be fruitful according as its conception represents the needs of expanding life. Re- ligions might even be classified on the basis of the germinal character of their conceptions. The savage has some ink- ling of the higher good of which religion is the affirma- tion. Since the good concretely known is found in social relations, man tends to make this larger good depend upon the help of some being, or beings, in special relation to himself, and, as the social side of life develops the con- ception of this higher Socius gains in significance. Be- fore this 8ocius, the self feels fear and reverence and an impulse to fulfill duties which concern well being. The name assigned to the Deity is fruitful for con- templation. How powerful has been the Moslem con- ception of Allah, the one and only God to whom every human being is responsible with entire acquiescence in His decrees and obedience to His will ! The Koran on every page gives to God the title, "the merciful and compassion- ate" implying that God sympathizes with His servants who may look to Him with love as well as fear. Es- pecially when it originated, Islam might well rank as a universal religion and an admirable corrective of the pre- vailing idolatry of heathenism, for it brought all wor- shipers of idols to faith in the lofty, yet simple rule of the only God. Its weakness was that it was non-progres- sive; God was conceived as too remote, not directly enter- ing into human affairs. Its morality was that of the stage at which men emerge from idolatry and it is an admirable instrument for the discipline of populations at a low stage of culture, being well-fitted to teach them a certain measure of self-restraint and piety, but unable to carry them on to the higher development of human thought and life. It is repression of freedom. Allah is but the negation of other gods, steadfast on an exalted throne, not entering sympathetically into the manifold ' 186 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION growth of human character and progress of human affairs and hence cannot render to humanity the highest service. Mohammedanism seems, therefore, to call for a richer con- ception of the divine Being in closer relation to human affairs indeed, what is needed, is such a conception of God in relation to men as to be germinal, fruitful of beneficial results, expanding and deepening with the grow- ing life of mankind. 177 This deeper conception of the divine Being is provided by Jesus' conception of God as Father saving, loving, sym- pathizing with and helping men, thus supplying 1 those fac- tors to the conception of God that are fitted to render it fruitful. Here, it seems to me, lies the superiority of Jesus' conception of man, of Himself and of God. It is the most satisfying affirmation of the human impulse to life's attainment. The devout soul contemplates with wonder and love the riches of grace in Christ Jesus as the revealer of the saving power of the Father and Lord of all. It offers hope, too, it is germinal of ideals and as- pirations, stimulates to effort, makes it worth while to ful- fill duties which now become direct implications of the relations sustained to each other and to the spiritual society in whose total experience of the Good is the full- est reality. This, however, is not to say that other religions en- tirely fail, for they, too, are affirmations of the great human impulse to life but less sufficing and able to lift humanity to its best. Nor must we think that Christian- ity is finished, for it is not a dead religion; its germinal character forecasts still nobler levels of life and conduct both individual and social than have perhaps ever been conceived, much less attained. Striking proof of the fruitful character of Jesus' idea of man and of God in re- lation to morality is found in the early history of Christ- ianity. It is remarkable that in that corrupt age any were able to hold steadily to the ideal of moral purity and of active interest in the welfare of members of the THE PRACTICAL RELATION 187 household of faith with a sense of filial relation to God the Father. There was, indeed, plenty of corruption within the church, but these ideals were maintained and ^grew. The sacredness of family life, purity, and love of the brethren, were strongly contrasted with the standards of that time and these ideals were steadfastly held in hope and aspiration with the removal of fear, under the domin- ance of the new conception of life in Jesus Christ. 178 Let us, then, says Professor Ladd, put the highest moral ideal of the self and the highest religious ideal together, since they both spring from the same "yearning of the Will for Perfection," to use the expression of Paulsen. The best moral ideal means the best moral self as a social being wise, prudent, truthful, sympathetic, kind, benevo- lent, indeed, filling every duty of every place and rela- tion in the complex life of the present. The best reli- gious ideal signifies "faith in one ideal Personality whose real being affords the source, the sanctions and the guar- anty of the best morality." These two ideals, the moral and religious, fuse together naturally to make the most inspiring, comforting, and hopeful attitude towards the problems of morality and the conduct of life. 179 79. It is now evident that life will become organized and conduct regulated in proportion as the ideas of human personality in its highest expressions, God and the divine Kingdom, hold the attention. The psychological prin- ciple of this process is the ideo-motor, idea,- will relation, the result of which is that whatever dominates the mind determines the whole life and fixes character. The same principles are operative in hypnotism, auto-suggestion, fixed ideas, mob-action. Any sort of end or concept thus allowed to prevail in the attention tends to organize and determine action. It is not, therefore, distinctive of re- ligion, as Coe seems to imply, to organize the self and revalue values. 180 Daily occupation and a relatively con- stant environment may so mould the life that peace and satisfaction prevail. Evil ends are capable of doing this 188 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION and of bringing relief from the distress of the divided self by the repression of the voice of conscience through the habit of refusing to hear it. The habitual transgres- sor is at peace with himself whereas the first offender suf- fers shame and remorse because of the conflict between the actual and ideal self. The organization of the self does not depend upon the end being good or bad so much as upon whether the end can be made to prevail over others. Usually, however, the unsatisfying results of certain ac- tions tend to direct attention to others accounted good, thus eliminating those that conflict with physical and social welfare. To become organized in harmony with these socially accepted modes of conduct is to become mor- ally good. Then any divergence from these standards is painful, keeping alive the sense of limitations and longing for the truer harmony with the deeper life of humanity and, thereby, of God. The term, religion, may well tie used to designate these deeper tendencies to a more com- plete organization of the self embraced in the great affirma- tion of life's fulfillment which is, for us, the essential significance of religion. In this sense, religion may well be regarded as the preeminently organizing power of the life just because attention is concentrated upon the great Socius, "the Great Companion/' and the divine kingdom - conceptions which represent the cumulative experiences of the race to which one belongs. This is what gives power to mystic contemplation in which the divided self be- comes unified. Especially is it the function of prayer to deliver the worshiper from distracted attention. In prayer, there is retreat into the self and yet a self-criti- ism in the light of objective social standards. Prayer is an "I-thou" relationship in which the inner life be- comes set in order according to the high ideals embodied in the conception of God as a member of the divine king- dom, the principle being that, in prayer, attention, in- volving thought, feeling and conative processes, is fixed upon the objects of worship which represent the ideals THE PRACTICAL RELATION 189 and aspirations of the individual and the people. Hence, as these conceptions are made to dominate attention, the moral life will be promoted and elevated and the self become organized. 80. The power of religion is especially evident in leading to moral reformation. It has been easy to show that religion supplements and completes a process which begins on a moral level, but it has not yet become clear that religion is instrumental in initiating this process of moral reformation. To himself, he who does what is ob- jectively wrong seems to be doing, at least, a good, and, I believe, for the agent in the act itself, the good. We saw above that the self might become organized about an evil end which would appear as that which ought to be done whose doing would bring peace. If so, how does the wrong-doer ever come to recognize that his deeds are evil ? The same question appears in another form : On what ground do others condemn the wrong-doer ? In each case, it is the social reaction upon the agent that makes him aware of the nature of his deed which is rejected because it is not in harmony with social welfare, and hence with his own. Then, too, reflective mind will sooner or later perceive the inner nothingness of evil-doing. The devil, with all his shrewdness, says Paulsen, cannot ultimately carry out his purposes. 181 The way of the trangressor is hard. Besides, a man's own rational nature implies that he will on the whole choose the better, broader uni- verse of desire instead of yielding to the enticements of immediate impulses and ends. Punishment also in its various forms, whether the penalty of civil law, public opinion, or physical and mental suffering, is the reaction of the nature of existence against the evil done, and to be- come aware of this tends to repentance and reformation. But, if the religious consciousness awakens, the motives to reform are multiplied and intensified both by the reflec- tion that "it is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God" (Heb. 10:31), and by the belief in the 190 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION pity and longsuffering patience of the Father who sent His Son to save His children. Such ideas of the Divine and human relationship do much to bring about the re- construction of motives and ideals of action and to restore the interrupted harmony with others and with the Father. 81. Religion goes beyond morality by providing for the eradication of evil and its consequences. This is possible because sin and evil, like good, exist only in selves and mean, on the one hand, interrupted, on the other, harmonious, personal relations. If sin and evil were impersonal things, there could never be a final elim- ination of them, and a restoration. But persons may offend one another; the hurt may enter deep into the soul causing misery. It would seem as though the injury could never be overcome. But love, forgiveness, sympathy, with constant intimate relations, are capable of building up these persons so as to make them better and stronger than before. The consequences of evil are thus transformed into good. Life develops under a variety of conditions some of which seem to hinder, whereas, more deeply con- sidered, they contribute to moral and spiritual growth. Likewise in the human and divine relationship. The Christian religion, especially, so relates man to the Father that he may hope for fullness of life, though he has sin- ned, since love and forgiveness make possible and tend to promote an attainment otherwise unlikely to occur. This conception of God as holy, loving, forgiving, and triumphing over evil, implies, I think, the ultimate win- ning to righteousness of those who sin. Must not the di- vine omnipotence and omniscience be carried into the moral sphere, in our reflections? Surely God has power to do, and will do, what wisdom discovers to be required by holi- ness, and love prompts to effect. This is the highest ex- pression of the religious impulse to life which posits its ultimate fulfillment and satisfaction. 82. The principle upon which the elimination of evil and its consequences culminating in the fulfillment THE PRACTICAL RELATION 191 of life depends is implied in Jesus' rejection of vengeance. Not a an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth," but: "Resist not him that is evil; but whosoever smiteth thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also' 7 (Matt. 5: 38, 39). Strong, good manhood seems to require the opposite. It is an hard saying which led Nietzsche, for example, to view Christianity as practical sympathy with the botched and weak and its morality as that of the slave moved by fear. But Jesus is here teaching the greatest strength and courage. Nor is it, I think, a new doctrine, for Plato spoke of "the uninstructed courage, such as that of the wild beast or slave" in contrast with the true courage which is a "sort of universal preserving power of true opinion in conformity with law about real and false dangers" (Rep. IV. Par. 430). This sort of courage is able to withstand "toils and pains and conflicts," and "always remembers and is not deceived and does not yield to enchantments and the enticements of pleasures" all of which try one "more thoroughly than gold is tried in the fire" (Rep. III. Par. 413). Jesus' saying is confirmed by experience. Suppose, for example, some strong, good man, honored by all, to be struck. We do not expect him to strike back, like a slave or a wild beast, but to remember the chief aim in life. If he becomes angry, he shows both fear and weakness ; but, if this just, good man, even though suffer- ing wounds, steadily maintains his purpose, he possesses the instructed courage of which Plato speaks. A dog' snarls and bites, if attacked. A child strikes the parent who interferes. Jesus is the supreme example of His own teaching. He had a clear conception of the meaning of His life in the world. Nothing could deflect Him from His mission. The love of the disciples, the adula- tion of the multitudes who would make Him King; pov- erty, homelessness, loneliness, desertiom, bufferings, in- sults, scourgings, crucifixion, only evoked the prayer: "Father, forgive them; for they know not what thev do" 192 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION (Luke 23:34). His purpose remained unchanged. Was not this supreme courage and strength ? "Resist not him that is evil;" he is already defeated in God's good world. The evil man cannot by evil injure the just good man. Faithfulness to the purpose in life in which reality as persons consists may require forceful treatment of those who war upon this supreme end, but this is not vengeance. Out of zeal for His Father's house that it should not be a house of merchandise, Jesus "made a scourge of cords and cast all out of the temple" (Jn. 2:14-16). This was faithfulness to His life-purpose, not vengeance, nor punishment, involving incidentally the scourge of cords and the overthrow of the money-changers. Vengeance is neither justice nor goodness, though it masquerades in their garb, for the principle, "an eye for an eye," waits upon evil as its condition and is restricted by the sort of evil done, while justice and goodness are positive and in- itiative of processes tending to the fulfillment of life's end whether or not offences come. Besides, justice and goodness are rational while sin and evil are not and can* not be unified, but, since acts of vengeance wait upon evil, they are irrational and cannot be unified. Since strength and goodness of character require unity of action and purpose, acts of vengeance can be neither morally good nor an evidence of strength. "An eye for an eye" also requires judgment of others to strike back according to responsibility, thus assuming the role of justice which Jesus never forbade. But ven- geance casts off the grab of justice since it gloats in ex- cess. But, if vengeance would return evil for evil, it would seem to require judgment in recognition of respon- sibility, but this is impracticable, for we do not know even our own hearts. "Judge not." Besides, if every one were to recompense evil according to variable personal judgments, social chaos would result, since vengeful acts would partake of the unorganizable nature of evils THE PRACTICAL RELATION 193 avenged. The only safe way is to "overcome evil with good" (Rom. 12. 17-21) by fulfillment of life's purpose in harmony with the supreme good of whose triumph faith assures. From this broader point of view, the offender is one who has turned aside from the chief end of his life which requires all his time and effort, and hence is to be pitied, helped instead of hindered, and won back to his proper business by those who are strong enough to move steadily along the true course of life and who have no time nor effort to spare from their own high aims in order to in- flict vengeance upon others. Besides, it is folly to break the already "bruised reed," or quench "the smoking flax" that gives so feeble a light (Is. 42 : 3). "Resist not evil" in the sense of taking vengeance for offences expresses exactly our relation to God, and shows how religion supplements and completes morality. Our neglect of duty, our wrong-doing, mean that we would assail God Himself. But shall God give blow for blow? Is God so small and weak, so afraid of us, that, "like a wild beast, or slave," He forgets who He is and what we are? Instead, like a father, He pities because He know- eth our frame. He remembereth that we are dust. What need of contending with us ? Still, like angry chil- dren struggling in the arms of a strong, loving parent, we dash ourselves against the majesty, power and wisdom of God whose loving-kindness and long-suffering patience continue to hold us in His beneficent purpose till we awaken to the vanity of our rebellion, understand His goodness and become quiet in loving obedience to His will. Of course we have suffered, but it has been good for us. The very patience and loving-kindness of God reveal the divine faithfulness to the knowledge that we shall finally love and obey Him. The moral law thunders its anathe- mas because of our evil deeds. There seems to be no hope of recovering our lost estate, or, perhaps more cor- rectly, of gaining our true estate, so long as we remain within the moral sphere. But, when we realize the Sav- 194 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION iorhood of God whose purpose to save is not turned away through vengeance because of our evil deeds but remains? steadfast in the strength of love and mercy, new hope comes and we turn into the way of life. 83. The discussion has placed much emphasis upon the social relations of personal experience. A few words may now be devoted to the fact that religion tends to as- sume objective form in social organizations purposely in- stituted for moral and religious culture. Religious so- cieties have had a long history. The Pythagorean and Orphic communities, the Essenes, the Christian church, the monastic orders, all spring from the need of mutual assistance in moral and religious attainment. The term, church, though Christian, may be used to designate the social organization of the religious life whose purpose is to cultivate the virtues and to deepen the religious spirit and which finds its normal expression in the service of others. The weak and sinful still have the abiding worth of personality. The religious good man feels the obli- gation to virtue for the sake of the welfare of mankind. State, church and family are the social centers about which a large part of the life of mankind moves; perhaps they are, within Christendom at least, units within a whole. The order which has prevailed longest has been the church supreme over state and family. Since the various social institutions are an outgrowth of human needs and minister to them (sec. 48), the church whose function is to cultivate and promote moral and religious life is a necessity in every community. Catholicism would make the church supreme over the state because it provides for the more important part of man. Other ideals are those of the state-church and the church as a local voluntarily supported organization. But, whatever the relation of the social institution's to each other, the church has a place among them minister- ing to the common welfare and founded upon the essen- tially religious nature of mankind, a fact that should not THE PRACTICAL RELATION 195 be forgotten in the discussion of ways and means of sup- port. The existence of- the church as a social institution obligates the members of society to make a due response to it as an institution whose function is to promote moral and religious culture. As a matter of fact, the majority in every community recognizes an obligation to perform certain acts as religious duties important for individ- ual and social welfare. A vast amount of religious faith of one kind or another renders it practically impossible for one to live uninfluenced by the religious ideals of the mul- titude and the chances are that one will make some form of these faiths postulates of his own morality. The church, however, should guard against its peculiar temptation to seek spiritual culture in retirement from the evolving life of the people. Its place is in the midst of the world's labor and turmoil where there are desperate earnestness and vivid reality, and where people scarcely have time to think before they are overtaken, as Socrates said, "by the swift runner, death." The message of the church should be uttered where men and women live and work. But the church and its representatives are often made to appear to disadvantage by clerical rivalries and mannerisms and by religious literature and addresses pre- senting familiar thoughts in a form intended to appeal to the emotions while the stream of the world's life flows by unheeded. Instead, the church should cultivate its morals and religion in the midst of the day's work, and be to it a strength and refuge, confident that the other life is to be found in this life with the assurance that this life passes into the fullness of another.* *E. S. Ames: The Psychology of Religious Experience, Ch. XV., which presents the essential identity of morality and religion, also F. Tracy: The Psychology of Adolescence, pp. 160-205 shows the development of morality and religion in early life. J. B. Pratt: The Religious Consciousness. PAET III PHILOSOPHY OF MOEALS AND EELIGION CHAPTEE XII EEALITY AND THE MORAL AND RELIGIOUS CONSCIOUSNESS 84. Morality and religion each imply views of reality which it is sometimes difficult to reconcile. On the one hand, religion affirms the moral antithesis of right and wrong, good and bad, hut, on the other, believes that right and good finally triumph. With morality, religion de- clares that the issue depends upon what we do, yet faith has its atonement which maintains the perfection of the whole in spite of our sin which cannot defeat God. We feel morally responsible for evil deeds, yet, in our deepest sense of guilt, turn swiftly to the divinely perfect purpose in the world. It is only relatively that we dare stand by our bad conduct as determining final issues, for we insist that the perfection of the whole shall abide. Amidst the clash of arms, faith prays to the God of battles. Though the heathen rage, God reigns and all is well on the earth. However great the moral and intellectual darkness, God gives the light that lighteth every man that cometh into the world. A like fear and reverence are felt towards the moral ideal and towards the Being whom faith calls God. Thus morality and religion unite in recognizing the abiding differences between good and evil and pro- claim that our acts determine final issues, yet, at the same time, both postulate the ultimate perfection of reality in which all discords are overcome. In our more hopeful moods, we seem to require that 196 REALITY AND THE MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 197 our moral effort should have eternal value, but the moral consciousness knows only the one thing to do which is re- quired by the concrete situation. Morally all I am sure oi is that I am required to act, or, to do what I expect of my- self, nor do I know how this expectation has arisen. To ask for an issue is to p]ace the emphasis upon something besides the act where morally it properly belongs. Nor is the act done in order to gain morality, but simply for the act's sake. Xor does the moral require that I be saved or contribute to the world's salvation, except so far as my present deed is just now my salvation as a moral being. Morally, I am like a soldier on the battlefield. All talk of peace is out of place; perhaps there never will be any peace nor any issue, the fight being continuous, or termi- nating through the annihilation of the contestants and then there would not be left a trace of the moral carnage : "A strange picture we make on our way to our chinv seras, ceaselessly marching, grudging ourselves the time for rest; indefatigable, adventurous pioneers. It is true that we shall never reach the goal ; it is even more than probable that there is no such place ; and if we lived for centuries and were endowed with the powers of a god, we should find ourselves not much nearer what we wanted at the end. O toiling hands of mortals ! O unwearied feet, traveling ye know not whither ! Soon, soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on some conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way further, against the setting sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel hope- fully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true suc- cess is to labor." 182 The moral consciousness, however, opens the way for religion, as, for example, in the belief that what we do brings us farther on our journey, and determines our des- tiny which is a word of religious significance. Even the 198 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION terms descriptive of conscience as what one expects of himself assume a good or value to be realized and a sense of deficiency or sin with the accompanying striving for salvation in the attainment of good. To speak as we do of the development of the moral consciousness in the indi- vidual and in the race postulates an end by which to meas- ure progress. To say conscience changes from generation to generation and in the individual is not to say conscience develops, for change and development are not the same. The biologist notes the changes that have taken place to produce plants and animals but does not measure these changes by a scale of values determined by an end. In- deed, progress, decay, development and end are categories which an evaluating subject uses to express his apprecia- tive attitude towards observed changes. In like manner, the changes in the conscience of men from generation to generation are not necessarily regarded as a development from lower to higher which would imply that the observer has already determined the end by which to estimate this development, the end in some measure being known. When we have gone so far as to assign this end, it becomes not only the goal but the starting-point in the sense of what is to be and is implicit in each change that occurs. In this end also the good is assumed, the well-being which is now thought to give meaning to human activity and to reality itself. Religion now enters to confirm this implication of the moral consciousness and attaches itself to the positive ele- ment in the hesitation that arises in connection with the claim that our moral deeds determine final issues. Do we ask that what we do in response to the voice of con- science should be a determining factor in the significance of reality ? Are we sure that we want this ? And yet how can we give any present value to what we do if values are ultimately ineffective or lost? Religion tries to hold both sides of the antithesis and is ambiguous, for it says, values are not lost, yet our deeds cannot change BEAUTY AND THE MOBAL CONSCIOUSNESS 199 the divine issue. The everlasting hills sooner change than God's abiding will, let man do what and as he does. Do any of us, then, do anything that makes a particle of difference in reality ? "The consummation of the infinite aim/' it has been said, ". . . consists merely in removing the illusion which makes it seem as yet unaccom- published." 183 Are values anything at all except unique feelings of satisfaction joined with ideas in some passing conscious states called personality abiding for a moment or two in the eternal measures of time ? Are values lost ? Or, do values contain the secret of truth, life and reality ? The contradictions inherent in the moral and religious consciousness become more evident when our acts are thought of in relation to the universe as a whole. For example, it seems as though the relations of right and wrong, good and bad, were what the universe requires, for they are certainly in it. Why, then, make any change? Besides, if our acts determine our destiny, they must be destined to have such a consequence. The relation be- tween act and consequence has been established in the order of being and everything is as it ought to be to pre- serve the perfection of the whole. The Christian doc- trine of salvation as instituted by divine love and holiness to vindicate and maintain the kingdom of God seems to rest upon the postulate of the Perfection of Being so that, whatever our deeds, the whole remains unchanged and we cannot escape salvation if we would. But, mindful of the present, religion unites its voice with that of conscience to urge the faithful discharge of duties with the warning of the possibilities that neither we nor the world shall be saved, for we are creators of new factors which may make final salvation impossible. The conception of sal- vation also seems to imply a like contradiction. To be saved implies a standard to be saved to. Does this mean that there are good and reasonable standards, or standard, too weak ever to be carried out, which must be the case if anything is ultimately lost ? Does not the supposition 200 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION of not being saved mean a standard that exists only in thought too impotent to be transformed into reality ? An ultimately defeated standard or ideal simply could not be, reality being what it is, hence it is a false standard, and self-contradictory. But, if the standard or ideal of salva- tion is valid and effective, however far short anyone may fall in conduct, he can and shall ultimately accomplish what belongs to his personality to be and thus the concept of salvation is inapplicable. As we follow these reflections which seem to reveal contradictions inherent in moral and religious concep- tions, we feel that we have somehow been unfaithful to experience and to reality, and we have. Properly under- stood, issues do depend upon us and upon what we do which makes a difference in reality, and the concept of salvation is not inherently self-contradictory. But the solution of these problems is found, I believe, in what I have ventured to call moral and religious realism to be set forth in the following chapter. 85. Before leaving the present topics, it is best to note briefly some of the unacceptable ways out of the difficulties above enumerated. One is to regard the moral and reli- gious consciousness as merely a subjective disturbing fac- tor inherent in our finiteness with its divided self-hood. The animal with its wants satisfied has no mysteries, no conflict between the actual and the ideal, nor has a god. Bergson assures us that the instincts of animals guide them safely and wisely with no discord. Only we with our striving blundering thoughts have ideals unrealized, the postulate of whose realization is the chief factor of religion. Indeed, man takes himself altogether too seri- ously. Theories of morals and of religion occur in most specu- lative systems. But many of these do not do justice to personal life, nor to the permanence of moral values nor is their conception of the supreme reality satisfactory. For example, the moral drama shall sometime end, the REALITY AND THE MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 201 curtain fall, shutting out forever the stage upon which our moral tragedies are enacted. As long as the play lasts, there will be a moral life, a moral republic of hu- man beings competing with each other. For the present, our life with its ups and downs is a fretful collision of forces soon to be dissipated. If a heavenly body were to collide with the earth causing it with its living human beings to revert to the primal nebulous form, the moral realm would cease. In the place of the Christian con- ception of God, Schopenhauer puts the blind Will, Hart- mann the Unconscious Thought and Will of which he says: "Let the Unconscious change the combination of activi- ties or acts of will which constitute me, and I have be- come another ; let the Unconscious intermit these activi- ties, and I have ceased to be. I am a phenomenon, like the rainbow in the cloud. Like it, I am born of the coincidence of relations, become another in every sec- ond, and shall dissolve when these relations are dis- solved. What is substance in me is not I. In the same spot another rainbow may at some time or other stand, which perfectly resembles this one, but yet is not the same, for temporal continuity is wanting; so in my stead an ego perfectly resembling me may also at some time or other stand, but that will not be me. The sun alone is always shining transiently reflected from yon- der cloud, giving the rainbow ; only the Unconscious for- ever rules, which is also mirrored in my brain" forming my fleeting, ephemeral self -hood. 184 From this point of view, moral conflicts are as tran- sient as the lives that bear them, and yet between human beings there is still a moral drama and an ethic ; the strife with evil and the effort to realize the good go on with their ancient vigor, but the far vision of religion affirms that both cease in the eternal, primal unity. There 202 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION is, indeed, a religion of the redemption of man and the world, not so much from sin as from the misery of ex- istence. This redemption rests both upon the distinc- tion between man and the supreme Being and yet upon their essential unity. The individual reaches redemption in natural death, but redemption in its fullness includes that of the world from itself and of the supreme Being from His immanence in consequence of which He as absolute Subject in finite subjects bears the suffering of the world. Then God will be all in all. Meanwhile, God acts all roles in the tragedy of the world-process, both good and bad, and when the tragedy is finished, He will give Himself up to rest. This is eudsemonistic pessimism united with teleological optimism. 185 86. The ethic and religion of redemption above pre- sented lead into the presence of the mystics who have always affirmed the transient, illusory character of what appears to the senses and in conduct. Only the supreme One is real and in that One there are no distinctions, no antitheses. The mystic is profoundly religious. He exhorts us to pass beyond things seen and heard; beyond strife for ideals, though this itself is an ideal; beyond even the distinction of self and not-self, into the perfect One so that there is no sense of difference from God. In fact, the mystic is to lose self by losing consciousness of self in the One which allows no distinctions and hence is not self-conscious; knowledge and moral attainment have value to this end but must be left behind together with their value, like the images of the gods in the ante- chamber, while the soul passes beyond knowledge and the distinctions of good and evil into the Holy of Holies, into identity with the One like the identity of circles with the same center. Our moral strife, however important as an introduction to the religious redemptive ecstasy of the soul, is thus nothing, for the goal is beyond the good and the evil and can never be expressed in thought. The mind seeks satisfaction by likening it to a vast ocean of BEALITY AND THE MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 203 Being with a smooth but limitless surface, or to an eternal silence from which no utterance ever comes. The views of the mystics are widespread in the history of morals and religion. Their true, perhaps original home is in India. Hints of the same spirit are in Platonism. Plotinus, the Neo-Platonist, has been called "the mystic of the mystics," and, through Neo- Platonism, the mystic spirit passed into Christian theology and was an influential motive in the philosophy of the Middle Ages. Mysticism has prevailed longest in the thought and religions of India where it still holds a commanding place. The conception of this life as an evil burden, "like a horrid corpse bound to the neck/' of the Path or Way, and of Salvation, are the three cen- tral ideas. Salvation is the goal to which the Way leads, Nirvana, absorption of the soul of the individual into the World-soul from which it came, the cessation of that otherwise endless succession of conscious states rendered miserable by unsatisfied desires. The Path, the Way, is purity of heart, wisdom, courage, kindness, chastity, re- nunciation, and the other virtues, with prayer and medi- tation, all of which bring the soul nearer to its destina- tion. This is the pathetic meditation of the Buddhistic faith : "Subject to birth, old age, disease, Extinction will I seek to find Where no decay is ever known, Nor death, but all security." 186 Mysticism as a philosophy of life and reality has an element of fascination. Are not moral strivings but for a moment, a troubled dream to be dispelled in the morn- ing's ecstatic vision of the Divine? Are not our lives like an inlet of the sea ruffled by a land breeze but losing itself in the calm ocean depths ? Our reality is God's reality. Why not, then, lose consciousness of self in God ? We forget that we are but the passing mode of the Infinite when we take our strivings to know and to do 204 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION the good, and to avoid the evil too seriously. Our goal is beyond the good and evil, beyond self -hood, in the Source of Being where all is calm, unutterable peace. "Believe not those prattlers," says an often quoted mystical word, "who boast that they know God. Who knows Him is silent." 187 87. In more hopeful moods, a reaction is apt to occur against the mystic's views in behalf of greater faithful- ness to experience, for we seem to require, though the mystic would count it an evidence of our imperfection, that our self-conscious individuality should not be re- solved into the primal elements or fused indistinguishably with the Divine and that our moral effort should have some permanent value. It is just because mysticism separates morality and religion, in the manner explained, that it loses all definiteness of religious thought and indi- viduality, for the true ethical personality is inseparable from concrete social relations. Besides, religion is social and cannot be isolated from the ethical (sec. 64). It seems, therefore, necessary to reject all those views of morality and religion which would solve difficulties by holding the cessation of our individuality as self-conscious evaluating persons. Instead, it seems more satisfying to think of God as Perfect Ethical Spirit and of man as potentially a son of God capable of moral and spiritual union with the divine Father, "in a kingdom of redeemed and blessed spirits, which furnishes the highest type of the soul's immortality and which becomes the object of the soul's highest endeavor." 188 There still remains, among others, such a position as that of Shadworth Hodgson who accepts these lofty con- ceptions of morality and religion but regards them as symbolic only of "the confidence that the power which we exert in the active and habitual obedience to conscience is identical in kind and continuous in fact with the inmost nature of the infinite and eternal Power which sustains the universe" and "of which the real conditioning of REALITY AND THE MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 205 every human and individual consciousness is an infinites- imal portion and derivation." 189 Nor have we any knowledge of this Power as a divine Person to be praised or blamed or to recognize moral distinctions or to cause the triumph of good over evil, for "it is wholly beyond the reach of speculative reason itself to even grasp the full idea of the Power in question, seeing that it is infinite and eternal, much less to determine the question of its consciousness or of its personality." Hodgson represents many who, like himself, reduce moral and religious con- ceptions to symbols of faith in a really unknown Source of which we cannot be said to have knowledge. Fully conscious of the difficulties involved, I shall now undertake to defend the realness, even in its final signifi- cance, of our moral struggle and of the permanent worth of its results, for, practically, we do not seem able to live without the assurance that something vital and worth while depends upon us and that we have a share in deter- mining ultimate issues. CHAPTEK XIII MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 88. The contradictions that seem to inhere in moral and religious conceptions as well as the problems concern- ing their relation to reality are, it is held, resolved by cer- tain forms of idealism. There is much in the neo-Hegel- ian idealism to satisfy the moral and religious conscious- ness. Some of its conceptions are particularly acceptable and yet it, too, proves inadequate impelling us to adopt a modified form which I shall venture to call empirical realism in morals and in religion. The neo-Hegelian idealism regards reality as grounded in self-conscious Spirit whose thought and will are ex- pressed in the manifold forms of nature and finite person- alities a unity of differences a view that seems to sat- isfy many of our requirements. The mystic's undiffer- entiated One is avoided, while the finite self is a member of a community of selves in and through whom the divine Being realizes His beneficent purposes. Our life is in God. Each one's reality consists in the experienced pro- gressive embodiment of a unique portion of the divine meaning of existence; we are, to use the language of religion, working out God's purpose whose fulfillment gives eternal significance and value to our existence. Our freedom is but the will of God in us who wills that we should be individuals, that what we do should be unique, distinct from others, yet all are one in God. We are seeking God when we most seek our real self which is found only in God. Our developing conscious- ness implies an increasing clearness and widening of the scope of our ideals which seem constantly to require more 206 MORAL ATTD RELIGIOUS REALISM 207 of us, yet the whole fulfills the self-hood that it is the divine Will we should possess. There is much comfort in this idealistic interpretation of our life. To be at all implies being of significance and value to ourselves and to the Source of our existence through fulfilling a meaning in personal experience. Hence the real is a name or category applied to certain forms of experience in contrast with others judged un- real, both being within experience. There cannot be two types of reals, but there may be degrees of realness of a common type. Besides, the nature of the real makes clear what the unreal is which, therefore, has some sort of character such as not to satisfy the conditions of reality, but the unreal is a factor in experience. The real is not the imaginary, and yet we experience various fancies. Do we not sometimes have a vivid sense of the nothing- ness, the unreality of things, events, or persons, though these are facts of experience? Affectation causes us to say of a person, he is so unreal. The Preacher of the Old Testament was convinced that "all is vanity" which he could not have declared had he not had a positive stand- ard of genuineness and realness by which to measure his experiences, but this he did not define, although its rela- tion to feelings of satisfaction is proved by his longing for something other than the vain and unreal which he so thoroughly knew. There is also in this idealism the assurance that the real abides and that values are not lost. Permanence and change are properly categories applied by a thinker to certain forms of immediate experience. But here a tend- ency, a "transcendental illusion/ 7 leads to an improper use of these principles whereby we speak of reality apart from experience, a system of truth and reason in which "the real is the rational and the rational the real" a statement which, properly understood, means experience and is true. Under the influence of this peculiar tend- ency, particular objects of our experience are made con- 208 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION tinuous with each other and, forgetting that continuity is also a principle of thought, a world of truth and reality soon appears to exist apart from any experiencing subject. It is the same with values. If we say, values are not lost which means something of vital importance, though what is not now evident we are in danger of thinking of these values as some sort of existence having spatial relations, a certain quantum that accumulates as the re- sult of our efforts and abides through generations, per- haps forever. Bosanquet, for example, speaks of the value of the whole of reality existing in the parts each having its value; Hoffding, of "the conservation of val- ues," directly suggesting the physical law of "the con- servation of energy," which again shows the tendency to abstract values from experience and regard them as existences. 190 Doubtless Hegel, with those who sympathize with his teachings, intended to be faithful to experience, but there seems to be a tendency, at least on the part of his follow- ers, to think of a system of reality and truth apart from experience, although I cannot persuade myself that such was Hegel's meaning. When this step is taken, difficul- ties are encountered, as, for example, if the world-whole is perfect, it must be already saved and the parts what is required; what I do, even in my sin, is precisely what the perfection of the whole enjoins and not to sin, were this possible, would lessen the divinely perfect work ; equally what I do of good or evil can make no difference with reality whose perfection is unalterable (Sec. 75, 84). But this point of view seems to cause our moral life to disappear, for we had thought it depended upon us what we do and are and what consequences of our deeds are to enter into reality as new and determining fac- tors. 89. There is, then, need of giving up abstractions and recognizing, as Hegel said, that universals exist only in thought, in order that we may be faithful to experience. MORAL A:NT> EELIGIOUS REALISM 209 Many attempt to do this "only again to become prey to the discarded abstraction. Bergson demands in behalf of freedom an "open future/' which would be closed by such an all inclusive system of reality as some would hold. The pragmatist (and there are at least thirteen kinds of him), 191 ' for example, protests against the absolute and perfect whole of idealism on the ground that experience is always of concretes and partial unities; there are real possibilities; the world may or may not be saved; we contribute to final issues which are not predetermined. Professor James, however, allows himself the illustration of a game between an expert and a novice who is at liberty to make any one of a number of possible moves, yet in the end, the expert, who knows all the plays that can be made, wins the game. The protest against the idealist's perfect world-whole seems insufficiently supported, for the expert surely wins. 192 90. Many of the difficulties concerning moral and re- ligious conceptions are due to the same error to which Kant referred when he said: "If phenomena were things-in-themselves, freedom could not be saved." It is almost impossible to avoid assuming a world of real things, events, and persons independent of any experience that we as knowing subjects have. Conscious states such as perception and mediate reasoning are assumed to be somehow between us yet possessed by us, on the one hand, and these objective apparently independent existences, on the other. When once we have taken that position, what happens in us by way of knowledge, ideals, feelings, and volitions, is shut within our subjectivity and this unex- perienced world of real things, persons, events and values, even God Himself, becomes foreign, not only inaccessi- ble but unmodifiable and indifferent. We might, indeed, like Reid and other Scotch realists, appeal to an "imme- diate awareness" or a "common sense intuition" due to the "original constitution" of the mind, which is assumed by D. C. Mclntosh to be so attached to yet other than the 210 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION sensational, perceptual, cognitive state that it links the subject directly with the extra-mental reality. 193 But I think this is too easy a way out of the difficulty, for it leaves the real still beyond experience excepting this "im- mediate awareness'' or "intuition" which seems to me to be empty of content, for it is by hypothesis other than sensation, percept, concept and value which are the fac- tors of the conscious state and in which the variety of con- tent exists. What, then, is the true significance of this "immediate awareness," since it does not carry over the phenomenal within us to the supposed independent reals whether things, persons or values? Further discussion is unnecessary for him who, like myself, believes that Hegel irrefutably showed that the immediate involving an intuitive apprehension of reality, and the mediate, are in- separably related, which means that the self, other selves and things including the body are immediately experi- enced as real, yet, by mediation through reflection, ea,ch is given its determinate place in the objective unity of reality which exists for the thinking, feeling, willing sub- ject of the experience (Logic: sees. 61-74). It is even helpful to recall Berkeley's protest who says that he could not conceive a "nicer strain of abstraction" than to dis- tinguish between things perceived and their existence apart from being perceived (Principles of Knowledge, Sec. 5). Surely we have no interest in bare existence apart from us as though it were to say: "Here am I the ultimate mysterious Real." How stultifying just to sit down before such a foreign, indifferent Reality and do it reverence ! We evidently mean by this term something vitally related to us perhaps a permanence of satisfac- tion in a living experience. It would be something very helpful if we could always remember that reality is em- pirical, indeed, the term, reality, is a category used by the subject in response to certain forms of experience; likewise, permanence through time, identity in change, and also value. These are the keys to the difficulties MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 211 that arise in connection with the contradictions that seem to inhere in moral and religious concepts and their rela- tion to reality. A category signifies a typical assertion of a subject about specific forms of experience, and, if the term, reality, designates such a typical response of the subject, it must mean that a present experience, for example, a perception, is to be thought of and acted upon as a real existence and related to other real objects. Whatever is real is, there- fore, a subordinate form of self-conscious experience and properly has no existence elsewhere. Kant, however, treated the empirical reality of natural objects as if unre- lated to values, a deficiency for which he tried to provide in his moral and aesthetic theories. But psychological analysis shows more simply that reality, truth and value are empirically united through the subject's attitude and action. In the moment of affirming the real, the subject has towards it an agreeable feeling of satisfaction, or, its opposite, issuing in the predication of value as a property possessed by the real. \ 7 alue may be called a category, in the sense of a mode of response, a typical assertion, to be applied by the subject to an objective form of experi- ence of which reality is predicated. Hence every empiri- cally real existence has also a value either immediate, or mediate as a means to a value to be sought. 194 But the subject acts towards real objects guided by ideas of their value, and the idea in turn acquires its truth according as the act in response to the real is successful in maintain- ing and promoting well-being. Hence the real, the true, and the valuable or good are identical and objective in a unity of reality for the subject, in that they are predica- tions of the same experience, but different in that they are the subject's distinguishable responses towards these spe- cific forms of experience. Action is involved in all these categories. The reality of a stone, for example, calls for a certain type of actions. The stone will not float in water but may be used for building docks, and ideas are 212 MOEAL LIFE AND RELIGION true about the stone according as action under their guid- ance is successful in fulfilling the purposes that ultimately promote welfare. Hence the real, the true and the valu- able or good are unified in the same object through the subject's attitude and action, and the object has its de- terminate place for the subject in a unity of reality. If the empirical nature of reality, truth and value or goodness is forgotten, conflicts arise which can be re- moved only by restoring their empirical character. For example, it is easy to affirm a universe of reality with its own laws apart from experience, a perfect but closed system conceived as material or spiritual or unknown. Likewise, truth may be regarded as an absolute existence in an eternal realm. So may values. Having substanti- ated these abstractions, there seem to be different realms of the real, the true, and the valuable or good whose unity may be assumed but cannot be established. But this unity is provided for, as above shown, when their empiri- cal character is maintained. Kant named the tendency to confuse these two points of view an inevitable "trans- cendental illusion" which could be corrected only by per- sistent recognition of the empirical use of the categories. It is still difficult to avoid this "illusion" by being strictly faithful to experience, as will frequently appear in what follows. Conflicts between conceptions of reality and of moral and religious values can be overcome only by prop erly maintaining their empirical character. 91. The application of the above principles recalls our study of the differentiation of the unity of consciousness into self, things, and other selves (sec. 46). This analy- sis showed that things are perceptual states judged as real, referred to by ideas and responded to in action with varying feelings of agreeableness or disagreeableness to which things owe their value or worthlessness for the sub- ject, A world of reality and value is constructed by the subject which becomes increasingly impersonal and even material assuming an independent character as the experi- MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 213 ences are repeated in the subject's adjustments who be- comes proportionately self-conscious and distinct from the "external world' 7 and its inexorable laws. In this pro- cess, social cooperation is important. But here is the parting of the Ways, one towards transcendental realism, the other towards a consistent recognition of the empiri- cal character, of natural objects. We live in a world of truth about real things of such a character that we al- ways expect to act in a specific manner towards them. But how easy to forget the empirical nature of reality, truth and value which can then only be regarded as for- eign to the self! 92. With Parmenides and Plato, we are ready to say, "Being Abides" and neither increases, diminishes nor passes away. A similar but more significant view is that of Spinoza who held that reality, activity and perfection are one. But what is so confidently affirmed to be and to abide is only that, whenever the category of reality is applied to certain forms of experience, identity with permanence is implied as the basis for successive states, itself abiding as long as the experience endures. There is nothing therefore to prevent withdrawing the applica- tion of the category of reality or refusing to apply it to these forms of experience if they seem no longer to require it. Besides, whatever is real has to be lived through in such a satisfying manner as to lead to the judgment that the experience is just then the real, but we pass on to a new and different experience in which a new real is experienced in addition to what was before, or modifying it, or existing with the old or taking the place of the former reality which may perhaps survive as belief in the possibility of repeating the experience. It is the same with what is true for the truth is a ver- itable word made flesh, clothed upon with the warmth of affection, appreciation, thought and will, indeed, it has to be lived through to be true which makes the truth closely related to, if not identical with, reality. 214 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION Every judgment is accompanied by a certain feeling of satisfaction in positing the recognized relation which, ac- counts, in part at least, for the sense of being in touch with reality through mediate thinking. But we move on to new experiences which develop new truths to modify or to add to or to replace the old. Likewise values, which are inseparable from these changing experiences. If now we ask that the true, the real, and the good abide unchangeably the same, we are striving to give expression to a deep element of our experience but what we ask is not what we want. As a matter of fact, the true, the real and the good are only concepts referring to certain experi- ences. If we were obliged to repeat these experiences in- definitely so as to keep the true, the real and the good per- manent, habituation would occur tending to indifference and even unconsciousness with the result of their disap- pearance. Evidently the longing for the permanence of the true, the real and the good grasps after something not expressed perhaps a continuously satisfying experience which is equally difficult to conceive. But the moment we try to represent that for which we seek, it becomes ob- jective, spatialized as Bergson says, a fixed system of truth, reality and value, a world-in-itself, apart from experience, something to be "discovered." But this is to become again victims of "transcendental illusion." 93. The reality of the self has been shown to con- sist in fulfilling a definite meaning whereby we become individuals distinct from others who likewise give expres- sion to some specific purpose (sec. 46). But these ends realized in persons, constituting them ethical, form a unity of meaning embodied in the social community. Hence the real, the true and the good exist in the form of community life. Feelings of satisfaction accompany the fulfillment of life's purpose about which activity is organized and character built up by transforming duties into virtues. The realness and goodness of the self are one, and admit of degrees, for it is an experienced reality MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 215 and goodness, not a "discovery" as Coe says/ 95 for there is no self to be discovered but only to be experienced it is an application of the categories of reality and value, or an awakening, to certain forms of satisfying experi- ence. Such a self is possible only in relation to the ob- jective but empirical world of things, events and other selves which in their turn are of different degrees of real- ness and worth to the subject experiencing them. If now there are reasons as I think there are, for believing in an all-embracing Self dwelling in us, our own real- ities and values are not copies of but identical with those of the divine experience. This identity does not mean, of course, that what is real and valuable to us is fully known and appreciated by us, for it has a far wider sig- nificance and worth than we apprehend, in that larger Self in whose life ours is embraced. To show the grounds of this affirmation would lead be- yond the scope of my present purpose. It is sufficient to indicate the lines of thought that might be followed. The idealist, for example, interprets the world-process including our life as the objective realization of the abso- lute Mind and Will through finite existences each of which embodies some form of the divine meaning. The inter- pretation of the unity of reality, truth an.d goodness in human and divine experience gives fresh significance to Plato's Idea of the Good as the supreme reality, to Leibnitz's conception of the world as the best possible be- cause most satisfying to the Creator, 196 to Lotze's attempt to ground metaphysics in ethics, 197 and to the Christian doctrine of the kingdom of God as the ultimately real, the abiding truth and good. Fichte seems to have had a simi- lar idea in relating the sensuous forms of experience to moral duty and goodness and identifying the human with the divine experience. It is easy to believe that the universe is the objective expression of the divine Being, but this expression is often regarded as impersonal spatial existence. When 216 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION this step is taken, the world of things, events and persons, seems fixed, as a closed system with changeless laws. It is against this view that Bergson protests, and returns from without inward to the subjective enduring self in whose immediate experience, there is an identity with the supreme Life in and through all. Bergson's view sug- gests, I think, Spinoza's conception of finite minds as modes of the thought-attribute of the one Substance form- ing an infinite world of consciousness, but Bergson, like Spinoza, seems to lose the reality of the ethical person in mystical union with the Absolute. We may, I be- lieve, heed Bergson's message not to become the victims of an abstract spatialized truth, reality, and goodness, yet remember, as he does not seem to do, that we are as long as we are at all just this subject-object experience of the real, the true and the good with space and time relations, and that in our living duration we are merged in the supreme Life-Source preserving our self-identity as per- sons in ethical union with the Divine Personality. An- other lesson to be learned from Bergson is that this living enduring union cannot be described in pictorial spatial terms and yet it is the deepest truth of life indeed, life itself. It is important to emphasize the empirical character of the realm in which our ambitions and efforts of will turn upon temporally fixed points of value, reality and truth, leading to still further but enriched and more complicated experiences. Plato and Aristotle suggested that the Ideas existing in themselves, energize, realize themselves in the world of nature and spirit, 198 but now we regard these ideas as related to ourselves as subjects who gradually ren- der them more definite as ends by which we guide activity and experience their fulfillment as reality which in its turn develops. The empirical reality of time is also implied in this realization of ends, a point which Bergson does not seem to grant (sec. 57). Sometimes we turn from our work with a sense of its unreality, showing that reality MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 217 is a form of living, appreciating experience. In the mo- ment of experiencing anything real, each is able to say: "This now is real and no sham. I am now living through the real, true, and valuable beyond which I do not need to look/' It is well to notice, however, that this satis- faction is never such as to quench the conative impulse to further activity towards a more abundant life. This ever present conative impulse has much to do with the psy- chological origin of the belief in something beyond im- mediate experience which is variously interpreted as some sort of superior and fixed reality ultimately identified with the supreme Being yet inclusive of our own present experience. 94. Applying the above conceptions to the moral sphere, I now perceive that I am constantly producing or hindering, even lessening, my own reality as a person ac- cording to what I do. Wrong-doing now means such acts that I experience dissatisfaction, disappointment and a sense of revulsion against their nothingness which caused the Preacher to say: "All is vanity." Nor is this a trifling view of sin and evil. An act is not wrong, even sinful, to myself, except as I have towards my deeds a humiliating sense of their utter vanity and nothingness. Sin and evil are not existences apart from acting subjects ; if they were, they with their consequences could not be eradicated by any power human or divine. Instead, my revulsion to- wards my acts is revulsion towards myself as moving in a direction that causes retraction and loss of the power of the self. But my good deed means that I ex- perience in my acting a sense of realness, expansion and promotion of power. This shows how the good may elim- inate the evil and its consequences, since to do the right and good is to get away from the abyss of nothingness, that is, away from the disappointing, inhibit- ing condition of myself which is experienced as the false, the evil and the unreal, to that growing, larger self whose experience in the moment of acting is satisfying, giving 218 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION a sense of realness and growth. Such is the good act which overcomes the had. Such acts make a difference in the reality of the self and the more such deeds there are, the more reality does one gain in their doing and the more certainly are evil and its consequences eliminated and swallowed up in reality. 95. Pragmatism merits approval for its effort to be faithful to experience. But Professor James seems to affirm reality apart from experience but somehow includ- ing persons, a "reality pursuing its adventures' 7 and pro- ducing the new, a world that may or may not be saved. It would be difficult to show how such a reality could be brought into relation to the knowing mind, but we are al- ready relieved from the need of trying to do this, for, as we have seen, we would be looking for reality where it cannot be found. Faithfulness to the actual experience of the true, the real, and the good reveals the supposed for- eign realm of reality as only a network of abstractions which disappears when we recognize that the only reality we know is within experience and that certain forms of ex- perience are characterized by such unique feelings of sat- isfaction that we judge them to be realities, more or less permanent, in view of which we act and whose realness may even be modified by our action. Concepts developed in connection with perceptions introduce new points of in- terest and value into experience and form a system of ideas whose truth depends upon their functioning help- fully as guides in action and which may be made an ob- ject of profitable reflection and study. 199 If, however, a world of reality with inexorable laws is assumed distinct from ourselves, it becomes impossible, for us at least, to make any change or to contribute any- thing to issues in this foreign realm however earnest our efforts. But, from the empirical point of view, there is abundant opportunity for reality to begin, develop and even pass away yielding to new realities and for moral acts to make vital differences and to determine issues MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 219 in our empirical world whose moral salvation can only consist in reaching a satisfying form of experience which will maintain and fulfill the reality and worth of the self. 96. The contradiction which seemed to inhere in the concept of salvation is now overcome by the empirical char- acter of the reality and worth of the self (sec. 93). Sal- vation seemed to imply a standard into harmony with which the self must be finally brought if saved, and if not saved, then the standard would be too impotent to be car- ried out, reality being what it is. But, if the standard can- not be realized, then it is false and the concept of salvation contradictory ; if the standard is valid, however short one falls, one can and shall ultimately fulfill what belongs to his personality to be and so the concept of salvation is unnecessary and inapplicable. It is at this point that the psychological nature of stand- ards or ideals in the moral life affords the solution of a serious problem. We have seen (sec. 60) that an ideal or standard in harmony with which we are to be brought, if ever redeemed, is only like a light which we bear with us to show the way forward in the path we are to take. The brighter the light the plainer the way. But it belongs to an ideal to be vague and in this sense, the achieved self- hood has advantage over the ideal-self which does not exist, never can exist, and is meagrely conceived, till lived out and thus defined in actual, definite achievement. Then we know what this ideal means as never before. Hence we may properly have joy in our achieved self-hood with a happy anticipation of a larger and richer experience to be gained by guiding our activity by the light of the ideal we bear. The supposed contradiction in the concept of salvation was due to failure to recognize the empirical na- ture of standards of conduct and their functional signifi- cance as guides to achievements by which the vague ideal is not only rendered definite but transformed into reality by being embodied in personal experience through deeds of will, 220 MOEAL LIFE AND RELIGION 97. The discussion thus far has led to the conclusion that self-hood consists in empirically realizing a defin- ite end. If so, this end or ideal is personal and each has his own norm or moral law. There can, therefore, be no universal moral law any more than there can be a general self. If personality consists in . fulfilling some unique end, these ends are different from one another and all that is required is that each work out his own life-mean- ing. There is no universal moral law like a straight line with which all must agree, for this would destroy individuality. There is, however, something which may, perhaps, be called a universal common to individuals, for every meaning or end depends upon other meanings just as any sentence implies the whole discourse. The one implies and affirms while it negates the many. In like manner, to strive to fulfill the meaning of my life is to seek the supreme meaning of reality which as a meaning can be understood only as embodied in the Divine Life. Thus I seek God in seeking myself. I am partial and, indeed, fragmentary, yet my individuality is also infinite and divine as is every other. From this point of view, there is a supreme end or law, even the mind and will of God, which each individual is not only under obliga- tion to seek but does seek in all that is done. My com- plete self is in God and to seek myself is to seek God. An apology needs to be made for attempting to illus- trate ultimate relations since the illustrations depend upon these relations. However let us think, for example, of Shakespeare's Hamlet whose individuality consists in expressing a definite meaning to which all that he does is subordinated and by which he is distinguished from others. To himself, Hamlet is a very definite person with unique experiences, but he feels that he has a larger self before which he stands in awe and which he seeks, impelled to act out what he feels he ought to be, if he is really to be at all. This is the voice of conscience, with its forecasting idea of the larger self and its feeling MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 221 of obligation to realize it. But Hamlet sees in part only ; the rest of himself is a more or less clearly apprehended ideal which constitutes the norm of his life. But Ham- let would not be Hamlet if there were not others, particu- larly Ophelia, whom his individuality both affirms and excludes. But the complete Hamlet is what he is to Shakespeare who experiences the significance of all the characters in their unity. But this complete Hamlet is a consistent, even beautiful, whole, which the striving, loving, desponding individual of the passing hour does not, in fact, never can know as he is known. 200 The same truth was expressed by Aristotle when he said that a hand severed from the body is not a hand. Its individuality affirms the whole organism while it ex- cludes other members of the body. 201 ' In like manner, St. Paul spoke of the believer as a member of the body of Christ, each of whose organs has its special function which requires the functioning of the other organs, but, in its action, it seeks, not only its own good but that of the whole body. If one member suffer, all suffer. Like- wise, every believer has, as his supreme end, to seek his own self-hood by fulfilling his own law of life and by doing his own duties which are distinct from, yet imply, the duties of others; but to do this is to affirm and to seek the body of Christ, even Christ Himself. The same truth is found in the familiar words: "Seek first the kingdom of God," "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God . . . and thy neighbor as thyself" (Mat. 22: 37-38). 98. The belief that there must be another life which shall supplement and complete what is so imperfectly done here finds confirmation in the views above presented concerning the fulfillment of the moral ideal, indeed, the argument leads directly to the hope of immortality. Since the ideal moral self is realized not in any temporal act but in the whole series of experiences of personality, and since the end, in whose fulfillment the reality of the self consists, forms part of the kingdom of ends which may 222 MOEAL LIFE AND EELIGION be identified with the kingdom of God and the divinely experienced meaning of reality, the hope of immortality seems to be well grounded. This is the significance of Kant's postulate of immortality as the condition of the fulfillment of the moral law, of Green's belief that the moral ideal is "forever striving to realize itself" which is inconsistent with the extinction of the personal medium in which it has its realization, 202 and of Royce's convic- tion that no one will ever at any moment of time be able to say: "There is no more for me to accomplish; my work is done; I may rest forever." Indeed, "the indi- vidual is real but under our finite conditions of dissatis- fied longing, the individual is never found." "We are never without something to do for God and fellow-men. A consciously last moral task is a contradiction in terms. For, whenever I act, I create a new situation in the world's life, a situation that never before was, and that never can recur. It is of the essence of the moral law to demand, however, that whenever a new deed of service is possible, I should undertake to do it. But a new deed is possible whenever my world is in a new situation. My moral tasks spring afresh into life whenever I seek to terminate it. To serve God is to create new opportunities for service. My human form of consciousness is indeed doubtless a transient incident of my immortal life. Not thus haltingly, not thus blindly, not thus darkly and ig- norantly, shall I always labor. But the service of the eternal is an essentially endless service. There can be no last moral act." 203 Nor can the believer think of himself a.s a member of the body of Christ without iden- tifying the permanence of his existence with that of Christ in what is yet to be, and some would even say, in what has been. 99. Just as natural objects are empirically real and valuable, so are the objects of faith. At least, the starting point of their discussion should be what these objects are within our experience. The least that we should say MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 223 is that the natural and spiritual worlds, meaning by spiritual the moral and religious, are distinguishable but not finally separable aspects of experience, forbidding us to affirm an ultimate Reality or Power inaccessible to our knowledge. We have seen how natural objects and the ethical reality of the self develop through reflec- tion, evaluation and action of the subject. In like man- ner have the reality and worth of the objects of religious faith developed for our thought and belief into a spiritual world. Just as a tendency to forget that natural objects are empirically real causes us to regard them as forming a closed system of material objects with inexorable laws apart from us, so do we tend to forget the empirical character of the objects of religious faith which in turn are regarded as a world apart. Just as the assumed ex- ternal, non-empirical natural world with its fixed laws is inaccessible to and unchangeable by us, so does this realm of religious objects and values become a world, far re- moved beyond the "island of experience," to which man- kind longingly looks for some message out of the gloom and thick darkness. When the revelation comes in an- swer to human needs and desires, suggesting that the desires create the mystic words of light and truth, the historical religions arise and are regarded as supernat- ural. Once started on this course, no obstacle is encoun- tered because it is beyond our empirical truth and reality. From this point of view a few words may be said concerning Christianity. It will suffice to mention the concepts of God, the Father, Son and Spirit, of man as a free moral agent, sinful but to be redeemed through faith in the saving work of Christ. But what do these and other familiar conceptions of the Christian faith mean? There are two ways of regarding them. One abstracts the objects of these conceptions from experience. Then there appears a realm whose laws are the commands of the supreme Lawgiver. A heaven and hell, a kingdom of God and a kingdom of Satan, Life and Death, are 224 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION set before every man. Through faith in the redemptive work of Christ sinners are enabled to become children of God by appropriating the excess of merit won by Christ and placed at their disposal to equate their sin and thus justify God in their forgiveness and acceptance. Otherwise their most earnest efforts avail nothing, for the laws of the spiritual world are unchangeable, and man stands helpless at the closed gate of heaven. There seems to be an unutterable mystery in Christ's overcoming the consequences of sin and procuring human redemption. For centuries, the religious thinker has marveled at this mystery and tried to explain how Christ redeems, only to awaken afresh to his limitations. It is evident that this mode of thought moves in a realm of abstractions where the objects of faith are transformed into metaphysical realities. The other way of treating the objects of Christian faith is empirical. It deals with immediate personal ex- perience and seeks to determine in what the reality and worth, for example, of Christ, consists for the one who believes in Him. Just as the subject applies to certain forms of experience, for example, a perception, the cate- gory of reality and responds with agreeable or disagree- able feelings which lead to the predication of value and to action according to this reality and value, so does the subject apply the categories, that is, the judgments, of reality and value to certain forms of religious experience and acts towards these objects of faith so as to promote well-being. The reality, value, and act, presuppose the conative impulse to life everywhere present in human ex- perience. Just as ideas are true concerning natural ob- jects only as they are valid guides in adjusting activity to these realities and values so as to lead to further satis- fying experiences, so the ideas of the reality and worth, for example, of Christ, are true according as they may be successfully used in the conduct of life in its complex social relations. Ideas concerning the objects of faith, MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 225 therefore, become unified with other truths, since all ideas concerning both natural and religious objects are alike validated through successful application in experience. Hence the empirical reality and value of Christ and the Other objects of the Christian faith. The believer knows nothing about a non-empirical Christ in a remote super- natural realm any more than he knows of Kant's nou- menal thing-in-itself, but, just as Hegel said that the common mind was right as against Kant's "divorce be- tween thought and thing ... in the firm belief that thought coincides with thing" whereby we do know real- ity (Logic: sec. 22), so is the believer able to know the objectively real Christ and the truth known accords with what He is. The same is true of the reality and knowl- edge of God. It is a "social immediacy," to use Coe's terms but with a fuller recognition of Hegel's treatment of the categories immediate and mediate (Logic: sees. 61- 71) a "social immediacy," in which we know our own reality as conjunct with that of other selves and with Christ and God, and mediate in that we know all in a social unity. And when we immediately apprehend the being of God as supreme Lord of all, it is the religious way of experiencing the "notion" as the divine self-con- scious Spirit indwelling and active in finite personalities. Analysis of experience confirms the above conclusion, but emphasizes the functional character of ideas in rela- tion to activity. Hence, instead of trying to reach, for example, a remote Christ only to have a helpless sense of mystery, Christ is to us real and we do know Him and His truth and the more we act out our belief in our objects of faith, the more true and functionally important do our ideas about them become. This view throws light upon the province of theology which now becomes the systematization of religious ideas validated by their func- tionally useful guidance of conduct whereby life is con- served and fulfilled. If it is said that this is subjectivism to be corrected by the "immediate awareness" of objective 226 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION reality and by the "historicity of Christianity and of Christ/' let the objector state the content of this "imme- diate awareness" of objective reality in terms of experi- ence (sec. 90) and show what is meant by this "histori- city" more than the functioning of personal wills guided by ideas of values, validating themselves in experience, whose identity throughout the ages amidst their differ- ences of expression, it is the aim of historical research to make clear in an orderly connection. Christianity is thus a temporal and an eternal religion, temporal in that its ideas of the value and significance of life have been and are being lived out in successive generations, eternal in that the same ideas are applicable to any age, and uni- versal because capable of being appropriated by all people. 100. It is necessary again to emphasize the fact that there can be no final separation between the reality, truth and value of the objects of nature and those of religious faith. The natural and spiritual realms are distinguish- able but inseparable aspects of the unity of experience. No more need be said, were it not for the inevitable "transcendental illusion" already referred to which ab- stracts the objective aspects of experience from the sub- jective and constructs the content of each into two worlds, the natural and the supernatural both with distinctive laws. Then difficulties arise which no intellectual skill can overcome. Ritschl, for example, makes such an ab- straction with the result that scientific truths of nature seem to be unrelated to those of morals and religion. Influenced by Kant's distinction between noumena and phenomena, he is the victim of things-in-themselves both natural and spiritual, and, in order to bridge the chasm between them, he resorts to Lotze's theory "that in the phenomena which in a definite space exhibit changes to a limited extent and in a determinate order, we cognize the thing as the cause of its qualities operating upon us, as the end which there serves as means, as the law of MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM 227 their constant changes." This is to say, there is no sepa- ration between the cause and the effect which we experi- ence in our response to that which operates upon us, but our response is not the cause, nor is it necessarily like the cause. Hence, only to the extent that it is directly experienced in our conscious states do we know the nature and being of whatever acts upon us, be it things, persons, or God. The sum-total of conscious states capable of being objectified is now differentiated into the natural and supernatural worlds by means of the principle of "value-judgments" which is the soul's response to the ob- jects of knowledge, that is, to objective states of conscious- ness, in pleasurable or unpleasurable feelings according as the experience of these objects tends to promote or hinder the life of the subject. These "value- judgments" are of two kinds, "concomit- ant" which refers to what is, and "independent," to what ought to be, that is, to moral and religious ideals. But there seems to be no rationally discoverable principle of unity between these two orders of experience, the worlds of fact and of the ideal, of nature and of spirit. It has always been the function of religion to mediate between these two realms, and Christianity, the highest of the reli- gions, does this, Eitschl believes, through the revelation of Christ to whom we respond with such unique feelings of His worth in our effort to realize the highest ends of life in the world as it is, that we are assured of His real- ity and of the truth of His revelation. Thus in Christ and His redemptive work are the natural and spiritual world finally unified. 204 Ritschl's skilful method fails to overcome the difficul- ties that arise when we abstract the objective from the subjective and both from the unity of experience with the result that we seem to have two foreign worlds of things- in-themselves separately existing, the natural and super- natural or spiritual. But, since the abstraction is so plainly opposed to the facts of experience, it may be left 228 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION to itself, while a word may be said of Hitachi's use of Lotze's principle of cause and effect so fundamental to Lotze's system. It is vital to the whole Ritschlian the- ology. This principle Lotze explains in harmony with Jiis monistic theory whereby two things, in this case the soul and whatever acts upon it, are finally modes of the World-Ground so that the changes produced by the cause, C, acting upon the soul, E, are found to be immanent sim- ultaneous changes in the World-Ground, M, that is, the acting cause and the responding soul are direct modes of God and His immanent action in view of which things and souls, the natural and the supernatural are, indeed, relatively different but are finally processes within the di- vine Life. Such is the significance of Lotze's argument which seems to become something different when appro- priated by Ritschl who abstracts subject and object from the unity of personal experience thus creating two worlds with a chasm between them which he seeks to bridge by an elaborate metaphysical theory of the causal relation a theory by the way which does not do what it is intended to accomplish, either for Lotze or Ritschl who are both to be criticized for misusing the causal relation whose prop- or sphere is within experience. The "natural" and "spi- ritual" and their truth, reality, and value belong, there- fore, in the unity of experience and are indissolubly united through action in adjustment to the complex rela- tions which every one sustains in order to conserve and promote well-being. There is now evident a truth of much practical im- portance expressible in language suggesting, but different from, that of the mystic: each may say, "I do know the real nature of things, of God and of Christ, though not exhaustively. My life is in God and God is in me, yet I am really just what I know myself to be, though my being may be larger and of greater value than I am able to comprehend and so may that of other selves and of the world of things. If, for me, Christ is supreme, I MORAL AND RELIGIOUS REALISM may also say, both with truth and devotion, all things are mine and I am Christ's and Christ is God's" (I Cor: 3: 22, 23). This surely is the more excellent way for daily life and faith as well as for speculative thought to pur- sue, if they are faithful to experience. 101. As there is a tendency to abstract reality from experience, so is there to view reality as unchangeably permanent. Religious faith likewise tends to abstract its objects of belief from experience and to regard them as eternally the same. "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and to-day; yea and forever" (lieb. 13: 8). But what more is meant than that these objects of belief cannot be thought as real without also affirming their perma- nence or duration through time? There is nothing, how- ever, to prevent ceasing to regard these objects of reli- gious experience as real if they no longer seem to require such a judgment on the part of the experiencing subject any more than there is in the case of the objects of nature (sec. 9), but, if they do require such a judgment the greater their significance for the welfare of life it- self. Because the objects of religious experience are empiri- cally real, they may change through new and different experiences in which a new real is found or some modifica- tion of what was before occurs. The steadfast permanence of an object of faith is, therefore, due to a uniformity of satisfying experiences which enables the subject to act towards and think of the object of belief in the same man- ner. In this sense we may say : God is more real to me to-day than yesterday; even our prayers may modify for us the very being of God and the world over which he rules. Hence God's reality changes for us, but the change is that which is implied in our progress towards a con- stant end. Thus God is the beginning and goal of our life. Our experience of Him is in time and so is the reality we assign Him. His reality becomes greater and richer as our experience develops and the deeper the ex- 230 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION perience, the more wonderfully do His reality and im- mediateness seem to exceed understanding. This is directly in harmony with experience, for, every- where in the natural and spiritual worlds, the intellect goes only a little way halting before a mystery that pass- eth knowledge, but becomes clearer as experience grows. Consequently, it is imposible to affirm the reality and worth of God, the Father, Son and Spirit without also believing in their unchangeable permanence, while at the same time one is filled with the sense of the unsearchable* depths of the divine nature as, in mystic fashion, one ex- periences union with Christ and God the Father. But here thought is turned from without into the secret cham- bers of the heart of the believer in whom, as in all things, the Fountain of Creative Life springs up, for a in Him we live and move and have our being." * * On the relation of man to God and in what sense wo know God and eternal life, compare: Haldane: The Reign of Relativity, p. 381-416. C. C. J. Webb: God and Personality, p. 151f. Pringle-Pattison: The idea of God, p. 256-296. NOTES AND REFERENCES 1. Wundt: Ethics. Introduction. 2. Tiele: Science of Religion. II. p. 233. 3. King : Development of Religion, p. 43. 4. Fichte: Vocation of Man. Bk. III. 4. 5. Spinoza: Ethics: III. Props. VI, VII, IX. 6. Wundt: Outlines of Psychology. Sees. 22, 23. Judd: Psychology, p. 81-93. Stumpf: Leib und Seele. p. 18f. Lickley: The Nervous System, p. 83f. In order to avoid more ultimate problems, we may, with Wundt, regard the relation of conscious and neural processes as an "empirical psycho-phys- ical parallelism" between factors in the same unity of expe- rience which may be treated in two ways, one mediate inves- tigating empirical objects in their mutual causal relations, and the other immediate treating the same objectives in direct rela- tion to the knowing evaluating subject and in their relation to the other contents of experience. For example, physical pro- cesses known as vibrations of the "external world," which is objective within the unity of experience, are responded to in different color sensations with varying affective attitudes. 7. Judd: Psychology, p. 33f. Angell, Psychology, p. 48. 8. Lickley: The Nervous System. Ch. II. 9. Dewey: How We Think. 116f. 10. Angell: Psychology, p. 51. 11. Ibid. : p. 51. 12. Burbank: Century Magazine. Vol. LXXIII. p. 127. Art. The Training of the Human Plant. Mill: Utilitarianism: Ch. II, on the trustworthiness of human nature in its devel- opment under proper conditions. Stout: Analytic Psychology. I. 33-35 calls attention to the need of caution in view of our ignorance of what really takes place in the neurones in the simplest sensations. 13. Angell: Psychology, p. 27. Judd: Psychology, p. 27. Lickley: The Nervous System. Ch. II. 14. Goddard: The Feeble-Minded. p. 4f. 15. Yerkes: Psychology, p. 224. 16. Spinoza : Ethics. II. Prop. 13. Aristotle : Ethics. II. 1. 17. H. Goddard: The Feeble-Minded. p. 2 and 573. 18. Besides the theory of the relation of the affects to the 231 232 MOEAL LIFE AND RELIGION organism presented, there are, for example, Marshall's view that the affect is pleasurable when energy is in excess of demand, unpleasurable when it is less, and Stout's conception that pleas- ure marks the relation of psycho-physical processes to the end of well-being. It also seems to follow from the functional nature of consciousness as supplementing and directing primary activities so as to secure the attainment of ends promoting the life of the subject that consciousness should experience just such a sign as pleasurable or unpleasurable feeling to serve as guide to action. 19. Dewey: How We Think, p. 109f. 20. Dewey: The Study of Ethics, p. 14f. 21. A. E. Taylor: The Problem of Conduct. Ch. III. 22. Dewey: The Study of Ethics, p. 16, 17. Green: Pro- legomena to Ethics. Sees. 91-96; 154. Palmer: The Nature of Goodness. Ch. VIII. 23. Angell: Psychology: Ch. IV. Judd: Psychology. Ch. Attention. Wundt: Outlines of Psychology. Sec. 15. Stout: Analytic Psychology. I. 122f. Titchener: The Psychology of Feeling and Attention. Lects. V, VI. 24. Wright: Phil. Review. XXIV. 165f. "Evolution of Values from Instincts." 25. Stout: Analytic Psychology. II. 84f. 26. Herbert Spencer: Ethics. Sec. 29. Miinsterberg: Ur- sprung der Sittlichkeit. Ch. II. Shand: Foundations of Char- acter, p. 172. 27. Wundt: Psychology, Sees. 14, 15; Ethics, I. p. 6-10. Jastrow: Character and Temperament, p. 59. 28. Titchener : Psychology of Feeling and Attention, p. 289- 293. 29. Rashdall: Theory of Good and Evil. I. 106f. 30. Wundt: Outlines of Psychology. 3rd Ed. p. 207. The entire section is important. 31. Wundt: Outlines of Psychology, p. 211f. 32. Stout: Manual of Psychology. Bk. IV. Ch. IX. p. 562. 33. Green: Prolegomena to Ethics. Sec. 85. 34. A. E. Taylor: The Problem of Conduct. 81, 168. 35. Watson: The Interpretation of Religious Experience. II. 281f. 36. Watson: Selections from Kant. 250, 253. 37. Aristotle: Ethics. Bk. III. Ch. V. 38. Plato : Republic. Bk. IV. Par. 421. 39. Wright: Philosophical Review. XXIV. p. 171. "Ev- olution of Value from Instincts." NOTES AND REFERENCES 233 40. H. Sidgwick: Methods of Ethics, p. 383. 41. Rogers: History of Ethics, p. 189. 42. Muirhead : Elements of Ethics, p. 74. 43. This view of the inseparable yet varying relation of the feeling and cognitive elements in conscience forbids that the essentials of the moral consciousness should be found in feeling and emotion primarily, as with Shand and Westermarck, or that, with Rashdall following the Kantian order, we should assign supremacy to the a priori intellectual process in order to escape subjectivism. The inseparable relation of feeling, emo- tion, and intellection in conscience is practically adopted by Shand and Westermarck as well as by Rashdall who attacks their supposed foundation of morality in mere emotion. Compare: W. K. Knight: Philosophical Review. XXV. "Con- science as Reason and Emotion." 44. Wundt: Outlines of Psychology. 3rd Ed. 243. 45. G. W. Crile: Man An Adaptive Mechanism. Ch. II. p. 44f. 46. Is not this inability fully to grasp the conditions op- erative in our volitions the basis of Green's conception of the act of will as timeless and hence identical with the timeless Divine Will? "The act of adoption (of a represented object or end) ... is not in time in the sense of being an event deter- mined by previous events; but its product is a further step in that order of becoming which we call the formation of a char- acter, in the growth of some habit of will." Prol. to Ethics, sec. 101. Is it not also the basis of Bergson's attempt to preserve the reality of time as experienced duration, a qual- itative multiplicity in which successive states interpenetrate, but at the cost of rejecting teleology in the evolution of the self which is supposed to choose its course "even against every rea- son" (see below, sec. 27) whereas the view we are presenting finds the reality of the self in the increasingly definite realization of ends, progressively unifying the self, and requiring the reality of time as involved in the experienced fulfillment of these ends? If the self is a process of evolution at all, it can only be relative to an end for only "a process relative to an end can be a process of development" as Green himself says (Pro. to Ethics, sec. 189), who should have seen that these ends, being progressively defined by the self, are conditioned in their selection by its life-history, requiring the reality of time in their choice and fulfillment. 47. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 55-56. 48. James: Psychology. II. 536f. Miinsterberg. Psychol- ogy and Life. p. 7. 49. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics, p. 323f. 234 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION 50. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 38. 51. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 10. 52. J. McK. Stewart: Critical Exposition of Bergson's Philosophy, p. 247. Bergson: Time and Free- Will. p. 169f. 53. Wundt: Ethics. I. p. 23f. 54. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 36f. 55. James: Some Problems of Philosophy, p. 73. 56. James Ten Broeke: A Constructive Basis for Theology. 254-5. 57. Fraser : Philosophy of Theism. 2nd series. Leets. I. V. 58. Watson: Selections from Kant. p. 241; 290-291. 59. Watson: Selections from Kant. p. 249. Kant's Theory of Morals: Abbott Trans. 17-20. 60. E. Caird: Evolution of Theology in the Greek Thinkers. II. 122f. 61. Dewey: Outline Study of Ethics, p. 5. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics. 334. 62. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 65. 63. James: The Will to Believe. 216. Coe: Psychology of Religion. Chs. IX, XL 64. Palmer: The Field of Ethics. 116f. 65. Compare the development of Hegel's categories in the Logic: form and matter, sec. 126; whole and parts, sec. 135; means and end, sec. 206 ; leading to the Idea expressing itself in Life, Cognition and Will, in short, in self-conscious spirit re- alizing the good, sec. 213f. 66. Paulsen: System of Ethics. 373f. 67. Emerson : Essay on Illusions. 68. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 83f. 69. F. H. Bradley: Appearance and Reality, p. 436. 70. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics, p. 339-352. 71. Bakewell: Source-Book in Ancient Philosophy, p. 60. 72. A. K. Rogers : Phil. Review. XXV. "Reason and Feel- ing in Ethics." p. 163. Also: C. D. Broad: Inter. Jour, of Ethics: XXVI. p. 377f. "On the Function of False Hypoth- eses in Ethics." 73. Westermarck: Origin and Development of Moral Ideas. I. p. 20. 74. Ladd: Philosophy of Conduct, p. 214. 75. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics, p. 401. 76. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics, p. 399-423. 77. Palmer: The Nature of Goodness, p. 165. 78. Paulsen: System of Ethics. 379-381. 79. Palmer: The Nature of Goodness, p. 153f. 80. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 27, 28. NOTES AND REFERENCES 235 81. Wundt: Ethics. III. lOlf. Paulsen: System of Eth- ics. 338. G. H. Palmer : Altruismi p. 9, and Ch. V. 82. Paulsen: System of Ethics, p. 389. 83. Palmer: The Nature of Goodness, p. 176. 84. Paulsen: System of Ethics. 393. Wundt: Ethics. III. 152f. 85. Herbert Spencer: Ethics. Preface to Ethics. 86. H. H. Scullard: Hibbert Journal. Jan. 1917. Art. "Originality and Finality of Christian Ethics." 87. Lotze: Microcosmus. I. 250. 88. Bergson: Matter and Memory, p. 44, 295. 89. James: Psychology. I. 294. 90. Green : Prolegomena to Ethics, sec. 154. Fraser : Golden Bough. Part IV, Bk. Ill, Ch. XI. "Mother Kin and Mother- Goddesses." 91. Hobbes: Leviathan. I. Ch. XIII. 92. Parkman: The Jesuits. Sumner. Folkways. Ch. XI. "Social Codes." 93. W. H. Smith : All the Children of All the People. Mac- millan Co. 1912. A most excellent treatment of the subject. 94. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics, p. 441. Wundt: Ethics. III. p. 151. 95. Hobbes: Leviathan. Chs. 13, 14. Green: Works. II. 366f. 96. Bosanquet: Philosophy of the State, p. 71. Spencer: Man vs. State. 88f. 97. Wundt: Ethics. I. 134-139, 177. 98. Plato : Republic. Bk. II. Par. 372. Bk. IV. Par. 433. 99. Bosanquet : Philosophy of the State, p. 35. 100. Cooley: Social Organization, p. 21. 101. Kant: Critique of Pure Reason. Dialectic. Bk. I. Sec. I. 102. Lotze: Microcosmus. II. 508. 103. Ibid. : p. 512, 514. 104. Ibid. : Bk. VIII. Ch. V. 105. Bosanquet: Phil, of State, p. 89f. Green: Works. II. 386f. 106. Bosanquet: Philosophy of the State, p. 321. 107. Nietzsche: Beyond Good and Evil. p. 192-196. Trans. Dewey and Tufts: Ethics, p. 447. 108. Ellsworth Faris : Inter. Jour, of Ethics. XXV. p. 54. "Origin of Punishment." 109. Ponsonby: Inter. Jour, of Ethics. XXV. p. 143. "In- ternational Morality." Also p. 317. Burns: Moral Effects of Peace and War." 236 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION 110. Cooley: Social Organization, p. 53-56. 111. Ibid. : p. 15, 17. (L12. Bosanquet: Philosophy of the State, p. 223-227. 113. S. G. Smith: Inter. Jour, of Ethics. XXVI. "The Rights of Criminals." 114. Delisle Burns: Inter. Jour, of Ethics. XXVI. "When Peace Breaks Out." 115. Hegel: Philosophy of Right. Sees. 257, 261, 274, 436. 116. Lotze : Microcosmus. II. p. 533, 549f . Trans. Scribner. 117. Bertrand Russell: Inter. Jour. Ethics. XXVI. p. 26. "The War and Non-resistance." 118. Dewey: Inter. Jour. Ethics. XXVI. Art. "Progress." 119. W. M. Salter: Inter. Jour. Ethics. XXVII. "Nietzsche and the War." Also "Nietzsche the Thinker." 120. Goddard: The Feeble-Minded. p. 533-590. 121. Nietzsche: Beyond Good and Evil. Tr. 227f. 122. James: Psychology. I. Ch. V. Hodgson: Metaphys- ics of Experience. IV. p. 19, 223. 123. Jacques Loeb: Popular Science Monthly. Jan. 1912. 124. Hibbert Journal. XIV. 550f.; 799f . : Discussions by Hugh Elliot: Mercier: 286. Carr, Lodge, Hyslop, XV. 150. 125. G. W. Crile: Man An Adaptive Mechanism, pp. 18- 19; 47, 53, Ch. V. 220f. 126. Judd: Psychology, p. 63. Wundt: Outlines of Psy- chology. Sees. 5 : 10 ; 22, 10. 127. Ebbinghaus: Psychology. Trans. 46. Grunziige der Psychologie, sec. 4. Mill: Logic. Bk. III. Ch. V. 10. 128. Ebbinghaus: Psychology, p. 11 19. Psychologie. Sec. 4. Stout: Analytic Psychology. I. 8-35. 129. Wundt: Ethics. Part III. Ch. I. 3. (d). p. 44. 130. Watson: Interpretations of Religious Experience. II. 185-7. 131. McTaggart : Studies in Hegelian Dialectic : p. 98-99. 132. Watson: Interpretations of Religious Experience. II. p. 154, 157. 133. Hoffdinsr: Philosophy of Religion. 134. Kant: Critique of Judgment. Pt. II. Sees. 70, 77. 135. Cunningham: The Philosophy of Bergson. p. 165-166. Watson : The Interpretation of Religious Experience. II. 162- 177. 136. See, for example; Beyond Good and Evil: p. 118: "Morals as timidity"; "fear the mother of morals," 128; "The democratic movement ... a degenerating form of political organization equivalent to a degenerating, a waning type of man, as involving his mediocrising and depreciation" . . . "The dem- NOTES AND REFERENCES 237 ocratic movement as the inheritance of the Christian movement," "herding animal morality," (127, 128) ; "slave-morality" which rests upon fear of the strong and is the seat of the distinction of "good and evil" beyond which is "master-morality" with its distinction of "good and bad" equivalent to "noble" and "des- picable" p. 227. 137. Indebtedness is acknowledged to: W. M. Salterns ex- cellent papers on Nietzsche as follows: Inter. Jour. Ethics: XXV. Pages 226, 372f., with valuable notes and bibliography; ibid. : XXVII. p. 357. "Nietzsche and the War." Also Paul- sen: System of Ethics. 150f. Eucken: The Problem of Hu- man Life. 559-564. Watson: The Interpretations of Religious Experience. II. 271f. 138. Hartmann: Philosophy of the Unconscious. III. 125- 137. 139. James: Varieties of Religious Experience. 127-188. 140. Green: Prolegomena to Ethics. Sec. 85. 141. Coe: Psychology of Religion, p. 70. 142. Watson : Selections from Kant. 140. 143. Stout: Analytic Psychology. Bk. II. Ch. VII. 144. Coe : Psychology of Religion, p. 74f . 145. Ladd : Philosophy of Religion. I. 136. 146. Waitz: Anthropologie der Naturvolker. I. p. 340, quoted by Ladd: Philosophy of Religion. I. 136. King: Development of Religion, p. 43. Fraser : Golden Bough. Part I. Vol. I. Ch. VII. Instead of attempting to go back histor- ically to a primitive state, Wundt holds that the pre-historic man did not differ essentially from the present day savage and that by psychological interpretation of the data furnished by ethnology we may arrive at the stage of culture characterizing primitive life in accordance with the principle that "a culture would be absolutely primitive if no antecedent mental devel- opment whatsoever could be presupposed. Such an absolute concept can never be realized in experience, here any more than elsewhere. We shall therefore, call that man primitive in the relative sense of the word our only remaining alternative whose culture approximates most nearly to the lowest mental achievements conceivable within the limits of universal human characteristics. The most convenient measure of these achieve- ments ... is that afforded by external culture, as expressed in dress, habitation and food, in self-made implements, weapons and other products serving to satisfy the most urgent needs of life." These on examination show that the relatively primitive man has already the beginnings of culture and that these elementary acquisitions differentiate him from the animal; also that within 238 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION the narrow sphere that constitutes his world, the intelligence of primitive man is not inferior to that of cultural man. There may, of course, have been a time, inaccessible to us, when man occupied a lower intellectual level and approximated more nearly the animal state. Wundt: Folk-Psychology, p. 20-21, 32-33, 113-114. The moral condition of primitive man is better called negative or merely innocent - being frank and honest because of limited wants and lack of incentive to immoral acts. But when hard pressed by tribes of another culture, he possesses no moral rules or established principles. If, as Wundt holds, "religion itself begins with the belief in gods" and the god-idea has been produced by the fusion of antecedent ideas of demons and heroes primitive man must be thought of as passing through stages of development which are preconditions of the rise of religion as belief in gods. Everything depends here upon the definition of religion and morality whether they are separate in their origin or finally identical. 147. 'McDougal: Social psychology. 313f. Wundt: Ethics. I. p. 31f. 148. Bradley: Appearance and Reality. 438f. Sidgwick: Methods of Ethics. 501-506. Taylor: Problem of Conduct. Ch. VIII. 149. Watson: Interpretation of Religious Experience. II. 122. 150. A. Reville: Les religions des non-civilises : quoted by Ladd : Philosophy of Religion. I. 135f . 151. It may be noted that according to Wundt there are no peoples without certain conceptions that may be regarded as precursors of the later god-ideas such as ideas of demons, fetishes, animal or human ancestors. The idea of a god develops from the fusion of the ideas of the demon and the hero whereby the god acquires the power of the demon and the personal char- acteristics of the hero. (Wundt: Folk-Psychology, p. 361f). In "fetish-worship," which seems to be a phase of religious phenomena unique in character difficult to understand, any object may be reverenced, not because of its intrinsic quality but because it is regarded as embodying a spirit which may be used to accomplish the worshiper's desires. If these change, or the enterprise does not prosper, the worshiper may either cast the deity aside as useless, or even beat it to make it serve him Ifetter. It should be remembered, however, that it is the spirit supposed to be connected with the object that is worshiped. But it is difficult to understand whence "Fetishism" has the idea of a god that is supernatural yet dwells temporarily in a stick NOTES AND REFERENCES 239 or a stone and is capable of working wonders. It is not clear how such a belief could arise from any experience of the objects themselves, and, for this reason, it has been supposed that the savage gained the idea of a spirit or god from some other source and applied it to the visible object to render the god more acces- sible and serviceable. This view would make "fetishism not so much the lowest as a degraded form of religion" a view held by Max Miiller. Wundt, however, rejects the theory of degen- eration from earlier or contemporary religious cults of a higher character and holds that fetish ideas go far back into the period of soul and demon beliefs, finally gaining a relative independence (Folk-Psychology, p. 255f.). 152. Bosanquet: Essentials of Logic, p. 33. 153. Hoffding: Philosophy of Religion, p. 10-12. 154. Coe : Psychology of Religion. 20, 70, 74. 155. Tiele: Science of Religion. II. 233. 156. Leuba: quoted by James: Varieties of Religious Expe- rience. 506-508. 157. James: Varieties of Religious Experience. 508. 158. Ladd : Philosophy of Religion. I. 164. 159. Bergson: Creative Evolution, p. 306. 160. W. N. Rice: "Degree of Probability of Scientific Beliefs" in New Englander and Yale Review. Jan. 1891. Fraser: Philosophy of Theism, 2nd series. Ch. I. 161. Lotze: Microcosmus. Bk. VI. Ch. V. p. 107f. 162. Ibid. : II. p. 207. 163. Fichte : Vocation of Man. Bk. III. Sec. III. 164. Lotze: Microcosmus. II. p. 116. 165. Bakewell: Source-Book in Ancient-Philosophy, p. 8. 166. Taylor: The Problem of Conduct. 426f. 167. Westermarck: Origin and Development of Moral Ideas. II. 667. 168. McDougal: Social Psychology, p. 302. 169. Coe : Psychology of Religion. Ch. VI. 170. Royce: The World and the Individual. II. Ch. IV. That the development of the conception of God embodies that of a people is well shown by Wundt in his Folk-psychology, p. 351f. According to Wundt the idea of god or gods is a fusion of the ideas of demon and hero both having a long history. It was believed that the soul leaves the corpse in the form of a demon possessed of threatening sometimes of beneficent powers but impersonal, really embodiments of fears and hopes. The heroic element of the idea of God begins to assert itself as soon as the hero appears. "The god is at once hero and demon ; since, however, the demoniacal element in him magnifies his heroic 240 MORAL LIFE AND RELIGION attributes into the superhuman, and since the personal character which he borrows from the hero supersedes the indefinite and impersonal nature of the demon, he is exalted at once above both; the god himself is neither hero nor demon because he combines in himself the attributes of both, in an ideally mag- nified form" (p. 369). Hence the god ideas are neither of a sudden origin nor unchangeable but undergo a gradual devel- opment determined by the relation of the demon and hero elements to each other. The earliest god-ideas are demoniacal, personal characteristics are few while magical features are all the more prominent. Then the heroic with the personal comes to the fore. Wundt also holds that a pure monotheistic belief probably never existed among any people, not even in Israel. There are other gods. It is philosophy alone which exhibits an absolute monotheism. Then comes the problem whether the absolute of philosophy can properly be regarded as Personality and how related to finite personalities. It seems to me most satisfactory despite all objections to regard the Absolute Philo- sophically as Personality inclusive of finite or partial personal- ities, a conception which I believe the Christian religion confirms and exalts. This view is developed in what follows. 171. Comte: "Catechism of the Positive Religion." 172. Burnet : Greek Philosophy. I. Sees. 129 and 176. 173. Watson: Interpretation of Religious Experience. II. 122. 174. Watson: Selections from Kant. 285. Abbot's Trans. Theory of Morals. 226. 175. Shadworth Hodgson: Metaphysics of Experience. IV. 216-221. 176. Martineau: Study of Religion: Introduction. 177. Menzies: History of Religion. 235-239; 409f. 178. Wernle: Beginnings of Christianity. II. p. 327. 179. Ladd: Philosophy of Conduct. 419f. Paulsen: Sys- tem of Ethics. Ch. II. See also above note 170. 180. Coe: Psychology of Religion. Ch. VI, XVIII. 181. Paulsen : System of Ethics. Ch. II. 182. R. L. Stevenson: Works. VI. 236. 183. Hegel: Ency. Sec. 212; quoted by McTaggart: Studies in Hegelian Dialectic, p. 3. 184. Hartmann : Philosophy of the Unconscious. II. 243. 185. Hartmann: Die Religion des Geistes. Pages: 209, 210, 227, 231, 235, 257, 258. 186. Ladd: Philosophy of Religion. II. 483. 187. Royce: The World and the Individual. II. 148. KOTES ATTD REFERENCES 241 188. Watson: Interpretation of Religious Experience. II. 276. Ladd: Philosophy of Religion. II. 493. 189. Hodgson: Metaphysics of Experience. IV. 206, 209. 190. Bosanquet: Principle of Individuality and Value, p. 307, 342. Hoffding: Philosophy of Religion, p. 10-12. 191. D. C. Mclntosh: The Problem of Knowledge. 408, quoting A. 0. Lovejoy : Pragmatism and its critics, p. 1. 192. James: The Will to Believe, p. 181. Also, Pragmat- ism, and, The Pluralistic Universe. 193. D. C. Mclntosh: The Problem of Knowledge, p. 311, 321f. 194. Hoffding: Philosophy of Religion, p. 12. 195. Coe: Psychology of Religion. Ch. XIV. 196. Leibnitz: Monadology: sees. 53-55. 197. Lotze: Metaphysics. Sec. 307. 198. Hegel: Logic. Sec. 142. 199. James: Some Problems of Philosophy, p. 73. 200. Royce: The World and the Individual. I. 323. 201. Hegel: Logic. Sec. 135. 202. Green: Prolegomena to Ethics. Sec. 189. 203. Royce: The World and the Individual. II. 430, 444- 445. 204. Ten Broeke: A Constructive Basis for Theology, p. 233f. Ritschl: Justification and Reconciliation, p. 9-10; 200- 212. Theologie und Metaphysik. p. 7-15, 37-43. INDEX Altruism, 84f, 87, 142. Ames, E. S., 195. Anarchy, 108. Aphasia, 18. Apology, 47. Approval, 30f, 37, 45f. Aristotle, 20, 41, 76, 89f, 92, 96f, 150, 181, 221. Arnold, M., 158, 180. Attention, 23f. Autonomy of Will, 40. Baldwin, J. M., 13. Ballot, 114. Beautiful, and the moral, 68f. Bentham, 108. Bergson, 14, 38, 56-58, 134, 200, 216. Berkeley, 210. "Better," 37. Binet, Alfred, 21. Biological concepts, 13. Bosanquet, 50, 52, 111, 208f. Bradley, F. H., 158. Brotherly love, 75, 90. Buddhistic faith, 203. Bunyan's Christian, 184. Burnet, 180. Caird, Edward, 66, 69. Capacities, 16, 18, 39, 109f. Category, 15, 207f, 211f. Catholicism, 194. Character and Choice, 21, 30f. Choice, 35-40; as logical issue, 50f; of means, 68. Christ, 223f. Christian doctrine, 199. Christianity, 139, 168, 174, 223f. Church, and morality, 194f. "Circumstances alter cases," 64. Clarke, Samuel, 44. 242 Coe, G. A., 61, 86, 187. Comparison and Value, 26f, 42. Comte, 160, 180. Conative Principle, 16f. Conduct, 36, 66. Conscience, 43, 44, 198. Consciousness, degrees of, I7f. Conservation of energy, 129f. Conversion, 40. Creative finalism, 135f. Crile, G. W., 50, 127. Crime, 116f. Cudworth, 44. Cunningham, G. W., 135f. Customs, 59, 106f. Darwin, 101. Death, 169. Decartes, 101. Decision, as logical consequence, 50. Deliberation, 40. Democritus, 76. Deterioration, 41. Dewey, John, 123, 148. Duties, 70f. Ebbinghaus, 129. Egoism, 84f. Elimination of evil, 190f. Elliott, Hugh, 127. Emerson, 71. Emotion, 15, 182. Eucken, 142. Faith, 90, 183, 195. Faith-cures, 128. Family, 101, 194. Feeble-minded, 20f, 54, 110, 124. Feeling-tone, 38f. Feelings, 30f, 44, 55. Fichte, 11, 174, 215. INDEX 243 Freedom, 5 If; and necessity, 52, 103. French peasant, 21. Freud, S., 16, 58. Friendships, 76, 89. God, 47, 66, 96, 164; germinal concept of, 184, 187, 188, 206, 239f. Goddard, H., 20, 55, 124. Good, 39, 62; highest, 39, 71, 96, 134. Goodness and self-sacrifice, 84f. Gordon, S. D., 137. "Great-nature worship," 159. Greeks, 67, 68, 80, 96. Green, T. H., 12, 96. Habit, 21f, 63; of choice, 82, Haldane, 230. Hamlet, 220. Hartmann, Ed., 144, 201. Hegel, 61, 65, 113f, 208, 225. Heredity, 21. Hierarchy of ends, 93, 104, 133. "Hinder hindrances," 110, 117. Hobbes, Thomas, 85, 104f, 114. Hodgson, JShadworth, 126, 183, 204. Hoffding, H., 132, 160, 208. Hugo, Victor, 137. Hume, David, 12, 43, 167. Hutcheson, 43. Huxley, 13. lago, 68, 91. "Ideality of the finite," 158. Ideals, and achievement, 144f. Ideo-motor, 187f. Immortality, 76, 174, 22 If. Individuality, 60, 76. Instinct, 14, 21, 86. Intuition, 43, 44, 48, 63, 101, 210. Irons, David, 15, 48. James, W., 163, 209, 218. Jastrow, 5. Jesus, 90; joy of, 93; and the Superman, 143. Justice, 75, 82. Kant, 5, 13, 40, 44, 57, 65, 66, 71, 73, 89, 111, 157, 182, 225f, King, I., 156. Koran, 185. Ladd, G. T., 163, 187. Law, 59f, 67. Leibnitz, 61, 215. Leonidas, 92. Leuba, 163. Life-ends, 26. Livy, 96. Locke, 112. Loeb, J., 127. Lotze, 61, 133, 171-173, 215, 226f. McDougal, W., 14, 61. Macintosh, D. C., 209f. MacTaggart, 130f. Martineau, James, 184. Meaning, 22f. Mechanism and teleology, 126- 136. Memory, 18f. Mental power, 18f. Mill, J. S., 12, 43, 48, 129. Milton, 68. Misologist, 8. Mohammedanism, 185f. Moral, action, lOf; realism, 8; sense, 47; situation, 36. Morality, a reaction, 2 If. Muirhead, J. H., 44, 45. Munsterberg, Hugo, 28, 133. Mutuality, 88. Mystic union, 100, 168. Mysticism, 203. Natural rights, 108f. Neo-Hegelianism, 206. Neo-Platonism, 203. Nietzsche, 124f, 138f. Nihilism, moral, 70. "Notion," 225. Obligation, 23, 65, 70f. Othello, 68, 91. "Ought-to-be," 11, 27f. Palmer, G. H., 87, 88. 244 INDEX Parmenides, 213. Partial self, 72. Passion, 54. Paulsen, 70, 93, 189. Personality, 52, 83. Philosophy, 4; and religion, 4. Physico-chemical theory, 126f. Plato, 41, 43, 75, 88, 96, 111, 180, 213. Pragmatism, 209, 218. Pratt J. B., 195. Prayer, 146; of Socrates, 97. Primitive man, 103, 156, 171, 237f. Pringle-Pattison, 230. Progress, 87, 102f. Providence, 132. Psychology, 6; moral and reli- gious, 14; of age, 19f. Punishment, 117; theories of, 117, 180. Rashdall, H., 16, 61. Rational intuition, 49. Realism, moral and religious, 8, 9, 196f. "Realizing-sense," 45f. Reason as value, 4 If. Recapitulation, 28. Reid, Thomas, 209. Religion, essence of, 159f. Religious reform, 189. R6ville, 159. Rights and obligations, 107f. Ritschl, Albrecht, 226f. Romans, 112. Romanticism and Nietzsche, 142. Rousseau, 112; and Kant, 113. Royce, J., 222. Rudimentary, moral, 23. Sacrifice, 84f, 92f. Salter, W. M., 124. Salvation, 199f, 219f. Schopenhauer, 14, 50, 57, 84, 201. Sciences, classification of, 1. Self, assertion, 92; conscious- ness of, 59, 86; reality of, 100, 214; revelation of, 50. Sense of duty, 74. Shaftesbury, 43. Shand, 13, 61. Sidgwick, H., 44. Sin, 68; of youth, 20. Smith, Adam, 43. Social, immediacy, 86; institu- tions, 98; self, lOlf. Socrates, 39, 43, 45, 64. Spencer, H., 12, 28, 201. Spinoza, 14, 20, 64, 101. State, function of, HOf. Stevenson, R. L., 78, 97. Stoic, 96. Stout, G. F., 58. Taylor, A. E., 40, 176f. Theology, 203, 225. Theories of Knowledge, 8. Titchener, 32. Tracy, F., 195. "Transvaluation of values," 138f. "Unfreedom," 53f. Uniqueness of individuality, 60; of duties, 76. Value, 18, 22, 26, 42; and com- parison, 49f; a category, 211. "Value-judgments," 227f. Vengeance rejected, 19 If. Vices, 10, 20. Vineland Training School, 105. Virtues, 10, 20, 59, 70, 79f ; unity of, 82, 90. Vital force, 128. Volition, 14; its forms, 30f. Waitz, 136. War, 117f. Watson, John, 129, 131. Webb, C. C. J., 230. Westermark, 15f, 61. Will, 30f. Wundt, W., 34, 71, 129, 239. Xenophanes, 176. Zeno, 66. IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. ,11 I fl 1^ P^ REC D LD ....-, -. -t f\r* f R^-C'D LD MAR zi i9ol %J 21061** 4 Nov t 63BB RFT^'n i n> D ^iV-* LJ JL.L/ HPT "7 /~\ TJ~ ^ r^ rM * * - . ... OUT ^ O'b3 -3 PM JftS^Wfilt ' ^fccTv^ . DEC27'B6-3PW ^ uc T - s** RFCTO l.D APR 519B? LD 21A-50m-4,'59 (A1724slO)476B General Library University of California Berkeley YCI 13521 498375 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY