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SYSTEM

CHEISTIAN ETHICS.

SYSTEM

CHRISTIAI^ ETHICS.

BY '\J

De. I?' A/fooRNER,

OBERCONSISTORIALKATH AND PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY, BERLIN.

EDITED BY

De. a. dorner.

TRANSLATED BY

Professor CyM;>ilEAD, D.D.,

FORMERLY PROFESSOR OF HEBREW IM ANDOVER THEOLOGICAL SEJI1KAR7,
AND

Eev. K. T. CUNNINGHAM, M.A.

NEW YORK:

S C E I B N E E & W E L F 0 E D.

1887.

\Sec other side.

^^Z-

M:il--^1yei^-

SCEIBNER & WeLFORII.

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

Isaac August Dorner, whose posthumous worl^ is here pre-
sented to the English-reading public, w^as born June 20,
1809, at Neuhauseu, in Southern Wilrteniberg, and died at
Wiesbaden, July 8, 1884. His father was a pastor, and he
was the sixth of twelve children. He enjoyed from the first
excellent advantages, and was trained in an atmosphere of
piety. After studying at home under a tutor, at a Latin
school in Tuttlingen, and at another in Maulbronn, he went
in 1827 to Tubingen, where he spent five years at the
University in the study of philosophy and theology. Having
passed the requisite examinations, he returned to his home
and remained there two years, assisting his father in his
ministerial work. In 1834 he was called to Tubingen as
rcpetmt (tutor, or fellow) in the theological department of
the University. In 1838 he was made extraordinary pro-
fessor; and in 1839 he was appointed ordinary professor of
theology at the University of Kiel; in 1843, at Ktinigsberg :
in 1847, at Bonn ; in 1853, at Gottingen ; in 1862, at Berlin,
where he remained till the end of his life.

Dorner's outward life was in general quiet and uneventfuL
It was mostly filled with the labours of the study and the
lecture-room. But his interest in the world in general was
lively ; his sympathies were broad ; and twice he travelled
beyond the limits of the continent : first, during his academic
career at Tubingen, when he visited Holland, England, and
Scotland ; and next, in 1873, when he attended the meeting
of the Evangelical Alliance at New York, where he read a
paper on the Infallibilism of the Vatican Council. He
was then 64 years old; but accompanied by his son, Pro-
fessor August Dorner, the editor of this treatise, he was able

vi translator's preface.

to bear the trying journey, and ever afterwards rejoiced in
the privilege of seeing again the old acquaintances and pupils
who there welcomed him, and in the new scenes and friend?
that he there found. Not many years after his return he
began to suffer from the incurable malady which ultimately
terminated his life. Gradually and reluctantly he relin-
quished the discharge of his official duties, meeting students
finally in his house, when he was no longer able to go to the
University. It was during the progress of this disease that
he issued (in 1879-81) his Glaulenslchre, and (in 1883) a
collection of his miscellaneous articles. And finally, he
laboured till the very end of his life in preparing for the
press the Christliche Sittenlehre, a translation of which is
herewith published. His mental faculties remained un-
clouded up to the last ; and in spite of severe physical
prostration he continued to manifest the liveliest interest
in the personal welfare of friends and in the religious and
theological movements of the day.

The last twenty years of Dorner's life were clouded by the
dementia of his youngest son — a youth of the brightest
promise, who, while pursuing his gymnasium studies, was
overtaken with the disease from which he has never recovered.
To those who knew the intensely domestic and affectionate
nature of the man, the manner in which he bore this trial
was a touching revelation of the depth of his Christian faith
and resignation. And when to this affliction was added his
own physical suffering, his Christian character still bore the
test. As Professor Kleinert says, in his memorial address
before the Berlin Faculty, " In all this no complaint passed
over his lips, no painful word concerning his bodily pain.
Scarcely a quiver of the hand, or a tear in the eye, betrayed
his mental suffering, when he had to surrender to other hands
one after another of the official duties and voluntary labours
of benevolence which had grown into his very heart. . . . He
suffered not like a Stoic, with a heart steeled against the
Medusa gaze of a brazen fate. He suffered like a child of
God that receives from the Father's hand, with unwavering
trust, even what is hard to bear ; like one that has peace in
the atonement and has hope reaching beyond death."

This calm fortitude displayed in the crucial hour was but

TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. VU

the natural expression of a character formed long before.
Even one who knows Dorner merely as the theological writer
will in his writings easily detect the fine Christian tone
which characterized the man ; but no one who did not
personally know him can get a true impression of the
Johannean tenderness and childlike simplicity which, dis-
tinguished him above almost any one of equal eminence
and intellectual power whom the world has ever known.
The most shrinking youth, the most timid foreign student,
embarrassed by the consciousness of imperfect acquaintance
with the German language and by the fear of encroaching
on the time of one who was full of thought and labour, was
at once put at ease when he felt that warm shake of the
hand, saw that indescribably sweet smile, and heard those
cordial, unaffectedly kind tones. Love beamed from his eyes
and all his features. Professor Heinrici of Marburg relates, in
the Deutsch-evangelische Blatter, his experience in first forming
Uorner's acquaintance. Armed with a letter of introduction,
he had found his way to the professor's room. " There I
stood for the first time before the man from whom I expected
so much. How differently I had conceived him ! I saw
no towering form, no boldly arched forehead. Simply and
kindly, with a ' Griiss Gott,' he offered me his hand, and
while he read the letter, a gentle smile gleamed on his counte-
nance. As he then, tipping his head slightly to the left in
his peculiar way, looked at me with his clear eyes intently
and full of kindness, and by his responsive questions drew
me 40ut from my embarrassment and encouraged me to talk,
I soon forgot, in inconsiderate familiarity, the value of his
time, and was not weary of telling him about my vague
ambitions and my zeal for knowledge." Further on the same
writer says, " Never have I heard from him a bitter word
about persons, even when he gave expression to his ' ecclesi-
astical pain ' and his apprehensions concerning certain ten-
dencies of theological inquiry." This testimony could probably
be confirmed by all who knew him. His was a saintliness
in which there was no trace of cant or of coldness. There
was that in his whole demeanour which commanded at once
confidence and affection. He realized in a rare degree the
evangelical conception of the Christian, as one who has

viii TEANSLATOR S PREFACE.

become as a little child. He retained to the last his fond-
ness for his native place, and for the relatives and friends
who still lived there. In the commemorative address which
was delivered at the funeral services at Tuttlingen by assistant
preacher Knapp, a charming picture is given of the visits
which Dorner used often to make at Tuttlingen and Neu-
hausen. " What a festive occasion it was for all his relatives,
when the revered ' Uncle Professor ' was again here, recognised,
in spite of his distance, as the noble head of the great family,
stooping down to the smallest child among his relatives here
with a kind word and a warm kiss ! What festive occasions,
when in the house or in the garden the relatives were gathered
around him, and took in the manna which gently dropped
from his conversation and instruction ! For everything he
had a sympathetic feeling ; every little word that he heard he
deemed worthy of a considerate attention and of a fitting and
helpful reply."

It is not strange, therefore, that when his death called
forth from his numerous friends and admirers their judgment
of the man, stress was always laid on his personal character as
being the most shining feature in him, though in the galaxy
of the intellectual and the learned he also shone as a star of
the first magnitude. Says Professor Kleinert at the close of
his address, " P>eside the torso of his last w^ork stands the
image of his life, labour, and suffering, a model for coming
generations of theologians to gaze at — an ethics, written and
finished by the Spirit of Jesus Christ who redeemed him."
And another of Dorner's colleagues, Professor Weiss, echoes
this sentiment, and adds, " Who could ever forget it, who
had once come into contact with him — the power of this
Christian personality which, just because in its unadulterated
simplicity it made no pretence to be anything, impressed one
all the more powerfully ? There rested something of child-
like cheerfulness on those dear features ; there beamed such
warmth of heart out of the kindly eyes ; his uniformly amiable
spirit had for every one a sympathetic word full of kindness
and gentleness. And yet there rested on his whole being a
consecration such as is lent only by the nobility of a thorough
sanctification of the inmost nature and by the dignity of a
matured wisdom." Dorner did not possess the aggressive

TRANSLATORS PREFACE. IX

nature which made Tholuck so great a power in influencing
the young. He had not the same Socratic power of drawing
them out. He had not the many-sidedness of mind, nor the
humour, now playful now grim, nor the facility of language,
which made Tholuck so successful in getting hold of both
natives and foreigners. But, on the other hand, there was in
Dorner a depth and an evenness of religious consecration, a
poise and symmetry of character, which showed itself without
many words, and which made him as a man even more power-
fully influential than his more widely known contemporary.
He uttered fewer of those epigrammatic and striking sayings
which Tholuck's friends can recall and quote as uttered by
him. But the impression made by his personality, even
when no utterance of his can be distinctly remembered, was
ineffaceable. Though he had not so wide a circle of acquaint-
ances as Tholuck, he had sympathies no less wide. He had
perhaps even a greater capacity to appreciate what was good
in other nations than his own. He loved to recognise and
admire moral worth and moral grandeur wherever they were
to be found. He reverenced the dignity of personality. His
theology is tinctured with this sentiment. His own life and
bearing witnessed to the reality and power of it. It made
him, on the one hand, almost unique in humility ; it made
him, on the other hand, untiring in his efforts, both philo-
sophical and practical, to exalt the individual character.

Although so quiet and unobtrusive in his manner, Dorner
was a most active man, making his influence felt not only in
his house and in his lecture-room, but in ecclesiastical bodies
of every sort, and in the missionary activities of the Church.
He was one of the leaders in the founding of the Church
Diet — a movement called forth by the revolutionary excite-
ments of 1848. He was also prominent in advocating the
organization of an ecclesiastical synod, with a view to the
development of the religious energies and independence of the
German Protestant Church. He was an influential member
of the Oherkirchcnrath, the highest ecclesiastical body in
Prussia. He took an active part in the work of revising
Luther's translation of the Bible. He was an enthusiastic
promoter of the cause of Inner Missions. He was connected
with, and deeply interested in, the work of the Evangelical

X TRANSLATOll S PREFACE.

Alliance. "When he was in the United States, he carefully
observed the beneficiary institutions designed for indigent
students, and perfected afterwards the execution of a similar
plan which he had at heart for students in Berlin; the
so-called Johanneum and the Melanchthon House are the
permanent fruits. If, as compared with nearly all his con-
temporaries, he stood in intellect and culture as much above
them as Paul above the other apostles, he could also, like
Paul, be said, in comparison with his fellows, to be "in
labours more abundant." Accordingly, though Domer can
now safely be reckoned among the wise " that shine as the
brightness of the firmament," it is not because he avoided
those conflicts which exposed him to opposition and even to
obloquy. He was gentle, but Jio had strong convictions.
And his prominent position in the practical direction of
ecclesiastical affairs brought him into collision with many
even of those who, in their theological position, were at one
with him. He was, and still is, by many regarded as having
failed to understand the best interests of the Church. But his
motives were respected, even when his measures were opposed.
If he sometimes seemed to be too indulgent towards error, it
was because he had a deliberate and sincere zeal for a large-
minded toleration. He deprecated resort to coercive measures,
whether political or ecclesiastical. He had an almost un-
bounded confidence in tlie power of Christian truth and Chris-
tian character to rectify and purify the Christian Church.
He believed in the words of Christ, " If ye abide in my
word ... ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make
you free." He believed in the presence of the personal
Piedeemer in the Church, and in His power to lead it onward
and upward towards perfection.

This faith in the personal Christ is the keynote, moreover,
of his theological thought and effort. When Strauss in 1835
issued his Life, of Jesus, in which he sought to undermine
Christianity by attacking the genuineness and credibility of
its records, Dorner in the same year began the publication of
his great work, the History of the Dcvclop^ncnt of the Doctrine
of the Person of Christ (completed in its second and greatly
enlarged edition in 1856), which aimed to show that, the
primitive Church being both the product and the portrayer

translator's preface. xi

of the person and work of Jesus, its foundations are secure
against being shaken by any criticism of the details of the
written record. " Dorner's theological labours," says Prof,
von der Goltz, in an address commemorative of Dorner and
of Dorner's friend and associate, Emil Herrmann, " had from
the outset two fixed starting-points, closely connected with
one another in the idea of personality — the theanthropic
person of Christ and justifying faith. Christ the centre of
piety, Christ the Head that animates the Church, Christ the
centre of the creation of God and of the world's history,
Christ the second Adam, as the essential and perfect vehicle
of God's condescending holy love to men, but also as the
prototype of a permanent humanity destined for fellowship
with God and transfiguration in God ; this, on the one hand,
and, on the other, justifying faith, as the source not only of
the doctrine, but also of the life, of the Evangelical Church ;
justifying faith, as requiring and finding the authority of
God's word which testifies of Christ, and as constituting the
perennial source, whence is derived the freedom and the
dignity of the Christian, the renewal and sanctification of
man, and the animation of all civilised life through the
divine forces that sustain and train it — these were the two
poles between which Dorner's research and production moved."
His motto was Col. ii. 3, " Christ, in whom are hid all the
treasures of wisdom and knowledge." To unfold those
treasures, all the energies of his mind and all the intensity
of his moral nature were devoted. He believed in the power
of the human soul to grasp speculatively much of the wealth
of divine truth. He had no sympathy with the pseudo-
modesty of those who affect to despise metaphysical specula-
tion, and to trace only the historical development of human
belief. He held that the intellect and the conscience are,
both of them, real sources of the cognition of truth. But he
did not therefore hold that we are independent of history.
It was not a merely ideal, but the historical, Christ, who
formed the centre and inspiration of his thought. And though
sometimes in his speculations he may have seemed to take
too daring flights, yet he was not seeking thus to penetrate
absolutely new realms of knowledge, but rather to make more
intelligible and impressive, both to himself and others, the

XU TRANSLATOR S PREFACE.

immutable truths of God's revelation of Himself, both the
natural and the supernatural. In the combination of meta-
physical subtlety with intense spirituality he was a second
Augustine. His theology was a part of his religion. In all his
speculations his heart was more deeply interested than his head.
It is, therefore, quite intelligible that Dorner's lectures on
Christian Ethics should have been those that were listened to
with the greatest interest. It was in the discussion of this
theme that he treated what was nearest his own heart.
Christian life was to him the best part of Christian theology.
Had he been able to elaborate the whole work for the press,
it would undoubtedly have exhibited more perfectly his own
conception of the foundation and development of morals.
But even without this advantage the book will be welcomed
by Dorner's many friends and admirers, not only as his last
published treatise, but on account of its own intrinsic merits.
It is not necessary here to characterize the work in detail.
It speaks for itself. As might be anticipated, neither the
empirical nor the utilitarian theory of morals receives any
support from the author. In spite of the loud-mouthed claims
of materialistic and semi-materialistic writers, that the d i^riori
and intuitional methods are obsolete, it will have to be con-
fessed by any one who carefully reads this treatise that the last
word has not yet been uttered.

But little need be said respecting the translation of the
Christian Ethics. There would doubtless have been a greater
uniformity of style, could a single translator have done the
whole work ; but it is to be hoped that in this respect the
reader will find no marked difference. The translators have
aimed to reproduce the thought in as literal a translation as
regard for idiomatic English would allow. In some cases it
has been impossible, without unpardonable freedom, to avoid
] ill rases which will have a somewhat foreign and obscure
sound ; but in such cases the connection will, it is hoped,
always sufficiently elucidate the sense. Dorner's style, as his
translators have always found, is anything but easy to trans-
late. But this does not imply want of clearness in the
original. What to a Cerman, especially one versed in the
schools of thought in which I>oiner was trained, would be

TKANSLATOUS PREFACE. xiii

quite simple and intelligible, may sometimes seem, especially
in a slavishly literal translation, to be little better than
nonsense. But in such cases the fault is not that of the
original author, but rather that of the translator himself,
whose business it is first to understand the original and then
to make it intelligible in the translation. If the Christian
Ethics, in its English dress, does not meet this requirement,
the translators will not undertake to evade their personal
responsibility, but will be thankful for kindly criticism.

The first part of the book, as far as p. 224, has been
translated by the undersigned, the remainder by Eev. Mr.
Cunningham.-^ The notes and additions by the translators are
enclosed in square brackets. As the editor's notes are like-
wise thus designated, those of the translators are further
marked by the addition of " Tr.," except in cases where they
would be readily recognised without this mark. The addi-
tions in the earlier part of the English translation consist
chiefly in an enlargement of the lists of books given by the
author and editor. It has been attempted, so far as possible,
to ascertain which of the foreign works have been translated
into English, and to give the titles of the translations. Also,
a considerable number of English and American works have
been inserted in the lists. Besides these additions, which are
designated by the brackets, many minor emendations, which
could not conveniently be thus marked, have been made in
the titles and date of publication of the books found in the
German original. It has been impossible, in the time and
with the means at command, to attempt anything like com-
pleteness or perfect accuracy in these additions. But it is
hoped that what has been done will in some degree enhance
the value of the book, the labour on which, much greater than
was anticipated, has been lightened by personal affection and

reverence for the lamented author.

C. M. MEAD.

Berlin, 1886.

^ The Publisliers consider it riglit to state that, owing to temporary
indisposition, Mr. Cunningham was nnable to revise his ]\IS. This work,
together with the revision of the proof-sheets and the completion of several
gaps iu the translation, has, however, kindly been undertaken by Miss Sophia
Taylor (translator of Luthardt's Apolo'jctk Lcclurcv, Schiirer's yew Testament
Times, etc.)-

EDITOR'S PREFACE.

In editing I. A. Dornev's Christian Etldcs I fulfil & duty
laid upon me by the autlior's death — a duty which I under-
took the more willingly, as the lamented author had com-
missioned me to do the work in case of his decease. Dorner
had intended to publish his Mhics, and a copy dictated by
him, extending from p. 1 to p. 264, was finished, as also an
older dictated copy which, with a few breaks, extended from
p. 275 to p. 463 (German ed.). In these portions I have made
only slight editorial alterations, where the copy, which could not
be revised by the author, contained errors or infelicities ; and
in doing so I have always followed the manuscripts of the
lectures as they lay before me. The remaining part of the
work I have taken from Dorner's lecture notes, making the
lectures of 1879 the basis, yet not excluding additions from
previous lectures. I have always confined myself to the
language of the text before me ; and where I deemed it
necessary to interpolate anything for the sake of perspicuity
(which was seldom the case), I have indicated the additions
by square brackets, and generally put them in the form of
footnotes. The principal additions belong to the department
of references to books, the author not having reached the
point of completing this part for the press.

The Mhics forms an indispensable companion piece to the
Dogmatics in Dorner's system ; and I hope that the publica-
tion of it will give satisfaction to the theological public,
inasmuch as the lectures on ethics were among the most
favourite ones delivered by Dorner, May the defects which
inevitably attach to a posthumous work be concealed by the
wealth of thought, and by the originality in the construction
of the ethical system, which the work presents.

The Editor, A. DORNER.
Wittenberg, Jiuie 20, 1885.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTIOK

§ PAGE

1. Relation of Christian Ethics to Faith and to Dogmatics, . . 1

2. Meaning of Morality, ...... 6

3. Relation of Theological or Christian Ethics to Philoso[iliical Ethics, 17

4. Method, 42

SYSTEM OF ETHICS.

5. Syllabus, 48

.4.— STAETING-POINT.

6. Connection between Morality in general and the Idea of God, . 58

7. The Nature of Morality, primarily in God, .... 68

8. Transition to the World, ...... !'3

9. God's Ideal of the Ethical "World in general, ... 06

^.—SYSTEM.

FIRST PART.

FOUNDATION.

FUNDAMENTAL DOCTKIKE. THE PREEEQISITES AND TKELIMINARY STAGES OF
CIULISTIAN MOr.AMTY.

9a. Syllabus, ........ 112

FIEST DIVISION.

THE OKDER OF THE WORLD AS FIXED BY GOD AT CREATION, ANTECEDENT TO
THE MORAL PROCESS. V^/\

FIRST SECTIOK

THAT 'WHICH IS COMMON TO ALL MEN IN THE MORAL FACULTIES WITH
WHICH THEY ARE ENDOWED.

CHArTER FIRST.
10, Man's Natural or Physical Endowment by Creation, . . 113

XVI CONTENTS.

CHAPTER SECOND.

PAOK

11. The Psychical Elciur-ut in Man's floral Constitution, ii respective

as yet of Reason. ...... 122

CHAPTER THIRD.

12. Tlie Rational Element in the Mo'-al Constitution, . . 134

SECOND SECTION.

INDIVIDUALITY IN' MAn's MORAL EXDOWMKXT.

13. On the Nature of Individuality, ..... 141

14. The Actual Genesis of the chief kinds of Individuality, . . 149
lib. Continuation. The TemperanK nts, . . . . 1.'35

15. The Races and Nationalities, , . . . .162
IG. The Talents, 174

THIRD SECTION.

THE I>IM?:i)!ATK OR NATURAL UNION OF THE DIFFERENCES IN HUMAN
NATURE.

17. Civilisation as originating in a natural Growth, . . .177

18. The Delects of the Civilisation which springs up by Natuie, . 183

SECOND DIVISION.

THE DIVINE ORDER OF THE UNIVERSE AS THE LAW OF ACTION FOR THE
WUR\L FACULTIES; OR THE FORMAL MORAL PUOCESS.

19. Synopsis, ........ 191

FIRST SECTIOX.

THE RINDING (UIARACTER OF THE OBJECTIVE LAW.

20. The ]Moral Law grounded in God. Its Fundamental Features, . 196

21. The Denial of the Formal Fundamental Attributes of the Moral

Law, ........ 202

22. Oneness of the ^Moial Law, and the Conflict of Duties, . . 213

23. Duty and Right, ....... 221

SECOND SECTION.

THE DOCTRINE OF CONSCIENCE.

[ The Nature and Significance of Conscience, . . . 225

24.
24a.

25. Degrees of Conscience, . . . . . ,237

26. Historical Forms of Conscience, ..... 248

THIRD SECTION.

THE DOCTRINE OF FRKUJuM.

27 29. The Historical Forms of the Antithesis of Determinism and In-

determinism, ....... 253

27. Absolute Physical Determinism, and Absolute Indcterminisni, . 25:;

28. Phvsieal Determinism and Determinism of IndilTcrence, . 2ii0

CONTENTS. XVil

§ PAGK

2ti. Theological PriHletenniuism. The Doctrine of Absolv\te Piedcs-
tination and Predeterminism of Freedom. Freedom, as the
Transcendental Freedom of an Intellectual Existence, , . 2G6

30. Positive Doctrine of Freedom, ..... 273

THIED DIVISION.

THE MOr.AL OKDEU OF THE WORLD AS THE PRACTICAL GOAL OF THE
MOVEMENT OF THE MORAL PROCESS.

31. The Contents of the Moral Ideal, . .... 283

32. The Way to the Realization of this Ideal, . . . .298

FIRST SECTION.

ADVANCE FROM THE EUD^MONISTIC STAGE TO THE STAGE OF LAW, OR OF

RIGHT.

33. The Absolnte Sphere of Right (Relation between God and Man), . 301
33a. The Secondary Sphere of Right, ..... 303

SECOND SECTION

THE IMPERFECTION OF THE STAGE OF LAW OR OF RIGHT.

CHAPTER FIRST.

Its IMPERFECTION APART FROM SIX.

34. Its Imperfection in the Absolute Sphere, .... 311
31a. Its Imperfection in the Secondary Sphere, .... 313

CHAPTER SECOXD.

35. The Stage of Right with reference to Evil, . . . .316
Note, ........ 320

35a. The Actual Existence of Sin in Hnmauity, . . . 320

356. The Historical Counteraction of Good against Evil, and the Pre-
paration for the Principle of Christian Morality, . . 325

THIRD SECTION.

'iHE STAGE OF LOVE OR OF THE GOSPEL AS ESSENTIALLY THE ETHICAL GOAL
OF THE WORLD.

36. The Necessity of the Stage of Love, by means of a Revelation on

the part of God, ....... 332

37. The Necessity of the God-man from Ethical Points of View, . 334

SECOND PART.

THE GOOD AS REALIZED IN CHRISTIANITY.

38. Syllabus, ........ 343

FIEST DIVISION.

CHRIST THE GOD-MAX, AS THE REALIZATION, IN PRINCIPLE, OF MORALITY IX
MANKIND. ETHICAL CURISTOLOGY.

39. Summary, ........ 343

xviil CONTENTS.

FIRST SECTION.
Christ the peufect kevelation of the law.

§ PAQK

40. Christ the Kevelation of the Law, . . . . . 344

SECOND SECTION.

CHRIST THE ALL-EMBRACING VIRTUE AND THE MAN WHO RENDERS
COMPLETE SATISFACTION TO GOD.

41. Christ tlie all-embracing Virtue, ..... 348

THIRD SECTION.

CHRIST AS THE PRINCIPLE OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD AND THE HEAD OF
HUMANITY.

42. Christ the Principle of the Kingdom of God (of the Highest Good), 351

SECOND DIVISION".

CHRISTIAN VIRTUE AS EXHIBITED IN THE INDIVIDUAL.

43. Introduction, ....... 355

43a. Syllabus, ........ 363

FIRST SECTION.

THE GENESIS OF THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER,

CHAPTER FIRST.

44. Faith, ........ 364

CHAPTER SECOND.

45. Love, 372

CHAPTER THIRD.

CHRISTIAN WISDOM.

4G. Christian Wisdom, ....... 382

47. The Christian View of the World, ..... 388

SECOND SECTION.

THE SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER BY MEANS OF CONSTANT
RENEWAL AND EXERCISE.

48. The Subsistence of the Christian Character, Fidelity, Stedfastnesa,

Sobriety — Ascetics, . . . . . .40]

THIRD SECTION.

THE SELF-MANIFESTATION OR SELF-DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHRISTIAM
CHARACTER.

49. Synopsis, ........ 412

CONTENTS. XIX

CHAPTER FIRST.

THE SELF-DEVELOPMENT OB" THE CHRISTTAN CilAllACTER IN ITS ABSOLUTE

llELATIONS.
§ PAOE

50. Christian Piety in itself, ...... 413

51. Christian Piety as Inward Activity in Contemplation and Prayer, 416

52. Contemplation, . . . . . . .417

63. Prayer, ........ 422

54. Times of Prayer and Contemplation, or the Order of Life determined

by Christian Piety, ...... 430

55. Christian Religious Zeal, ...... 441

CHAPTER SECOND.

THE NEW PERSONALITY, CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD, IN RELATION
TO ITSELF.

56. Christian Self-love ; the necessary Grounds on which it rests, . 445

57. Christian Self-love ; its Nature in general, . . . 449

58. Christian Self-love; its special characteristics both in itself and

with regard to Otiiers, ...... 452

I. Care lor Personal Worth and Well-being, . . . 452
Survey, ........ 452

1. Care of the Physical Life, ..... 452

59. Care of our Physical Existence, ..... 452
59a. Duelling, ........ 454

60. Care of the Body, ....... 456

61. Attention to Virtuous Happiness, ..... 458

62. Attention to Virtuous Purity and Beauty, .... 464

63. Virtuous Ownership, ...... 469

2. Christian Self-love with respect to the Spirit, . . 4S0

64. Virtuous Refinement and Stability of Character, . . . 480

II. Christian Self-love as Self-affirmation and Self-manift-station

with reference to Others, ..... 484

65. Survey. (Personal Dignity shown in Independence of Character,

in maintaining our Good Name and our legitimate Personal
Influence by means of Truthfulness, and in the Choice and

Exercise of a Vocation), ..... 484

66. Truthfulness, ....... 487

67. Oaths, ........ 492

68. Vocation, ........ 498

CHAPTER THIRD.

THE CHRISTIAN IX RELATION TO OTHERS, CHRISTIAN SOCIAL LOVE.

69. Christian Social Love, ...... 504

70. Social Intercourse, . . , . , . .514

THIKD DIVISION.

rilE ORGANIZED "WORLD OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY, THE MORAL COMMUNITIES
IN THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

71. Synopsis, ........ 516

XX CONTENTS.

FIRST SECTION.

THE (natural) FUXDAMKNTAL MORAL COMMUNITY, OR THE nOUSEHOLD.

CHAPTER FIRST.
§ r voz

72. JManiage, ........ 522

CHAPTER SECOND.

73. The Family, ....... 549

CHAPTER THIRD.

74. Extension of the Household by means of Friends and Servants, . 552

SECOXD SECTION.

TITE SPECIAL MORAL COMMUNITIES THAT ARE THE PRODUCT OF REFLECTION
OR OF HUMAN ART.

CHAPTER FIRST.

THE STATE.

75. Ideaof the Stale, ....... 554

76. Antithesis of Rnlers and Sulijects, . .... 562

77. The Constitution, ....... 568

78. Relation of the State to its Future and to other States, . . 578

CHAPTER SECOND.

79. Art, 581

CHAPTER THIRD.

80. Science, ........ 587

THIRD SECTION.

THE ABSOLUTE SPHERE, THE RELIGIOUS COMMUNITY.

81. Ideaof the Church, ...... 591

82. Cardinal Functions of the Church, ..... 598

83. Ecclesiastical Organization, ..... 604

SYSTEM OF CHRISTIAN" ETHICS.

INTRODUCTION.

§1.

CnrJSTiAN Morals or Ethics is the second main division of
Thetic [Positive] Theology. As such it has, in common
with Dogmatics, its source in Faith, which involves an
immediate knowledge not only of God and of His acts,
but also of man and of his relation to God and to the
divine will.

1. The relation of systematic theology to the other depart-
ments of theology has been pointed out in detail by me in
another work.^ The peculiarity of systematic theology lies in
this, that it and it alone has for its province to exhibit and to
establish Christian truth as truth. Tliereby it answers to an
essential need of the soul, and to the inmost tendency of
Christianity as proceeding out of the self-revelation of Qxod.
When faith has accepted Christianity, it receives, indeed, at
the outset as its reward the satisfaction of a son who has
found again the lost house of his father. The believer knovv's
also, in a certain sense, what or on whom he believes ; and
that which Christianity contains, answering truly to his needs,
works out its quiet, healing, illuminating effect. But the
spirit of the faith which desires to grow up to manhood does
not stop short with knowing on whom it believes. It desires
to know also why it believes with a good conscience, and
Avith the stedfasuness and fidelity which, through the appre-
hension of the intrinsic truth of what is believed, assumes
' System of Christian Doctrine, i. pp. 21-24.
A

2 § 1. DELATION or ETHICS TO FAITH AND DOGMATICS.

the form of duty and of a self-assured, joyful aspiration.
Only when one has recognised that the Christianity delivered
to him is the truth, which nothing in heaven or on earth can
contradict, is he able properly to give an answer (1 Pet.
iii. 15) against doubts, whether coming from within or from'
without ; only from the recognition of Christian truth as truth
comes also the living impulse to champion victoriously the
sovereignty of Christian truth. For the truth must lay claim
not merely to be valid as truth for this or that individual, but
to find due recognition with all rational beings ; and from this
it is plain why the Christian knowledge, so highly commended
in the New Testament, is of the greatest importance for the
practical life of individuals and of the Church. Only thus
does Christianity do justice to itself as the divine revelation.
Before the Christian revelation God poured out upon mankind
a wealth of valuable knowledge, and even foretold the con-
summation of religion. ISTevertheless before the Christian era
men were not yet in the position of children of God, but still
in the position of servants (Gal. iv. 1). But it is the cha-
racteristic of the servant not to know what the master does
(John XV. 15). He learns indeed the master's will, and if he
be a faithful servant he puts confidence in the master's word
as wise and good ; but the servant as such has no insight into
the goodness and wisdom of the divine utterances. Tor this
reason, as the later books of the Old Testament show, he lacks
also the power to encounter arising doubts victoriously, and
not through mere resignation, such as is required, e.g., in
Ecclesiastes and in the Book of Job. It is true that mere
resignation is a waiting for the future solution of the doubts
and perplexities of thought; it is strictly, however, no real
progress towards a more and more comprehensive, harmonious
view of the world, but is at best only an exercise in humble
and quiet stcdfastness in a position already reached, yet still
imperfect.

2. Systematic theology, like theology in general, presup-
poses experience, outward, and especially inward, or faith ; for
faith brings Christian experience.^

Faith is, first, the eye, or the faculty, which takes Christian
truths and facts into the mind ; but it likewise includes in
1 Cf. my System of Christian Dodrine, vol. i. pp. 17-21.

FAITH THE SOUKCE OF ETHICS AND DOGMATICS. 3

itself these Christian objects in such a way that it delivers
them over to philosophic thought and apprehension, to be
elaborated and further appropriated. For it itself has an
impulse not merely to get possession of the truth, i.e. of
Christianity, but also to become conscious and sure of the
truth as truth, to which end science also essentially con-
tributes (2 Tim. i. 12; 1 Pet. iii. 15). Where faith is there
is a Christian person, to whom is presented a world of things
on which his powers of cognition and of volition are to be
exercised. Accordingly it might seem plausible, dogmatics
and ethics being derived from faith as a higher unity, so to
view faith as their common source, that dogmatics should
be looked upon as theoretical theology, ethics as practical
theology ; but this view would do justice to neither the one
nor the other. For ethics no less than dogmatics must
present a theory, a system of knowledge ; dogmatics, on the
other hand, could not be satisfied with being directed merely
by theoretical considerations. The difference between them,
while they in common claim to be sciences, lies rather in
their subject-matter.

Schleiermacher^ says that the Christian life is, on the one
hand, one of repose, and as such is the subject of Christian
doctrine ; that, on the other hand, it is a life of activity,
and as such is to be described by Christian ethics. But to
say nothing of the fact that on this view there would result
only a quantitative and therefore fluctuating difference between
the two, it is plain that since both would be only mutually
supplementary descriptions of a pious Christian's state of
mind, they would treat merely of that which is human and
subjective. Nay, since piety is something ethical, a virtue,
we do not get beyond the realm of mere ethics. And the
case is similar with Nitzsch, who, in his System of Christian
Doctrine, goes on to treat of dogmatics and ethics as a single
science. Nitzsch says the Christian personality is a totality,
a solid unity, and that therefore th^ completest form of
dogmatic and of ethical science is the presentation of the
one Christian life in its fulness, that is, the treatment of
dogmatics and ethics rather as one M ence, inasmuch as in
Christianity the religious and the moral are inseparably

1 Christl. Sine, pp. 12-24.

4 § 1. EELATIOX OF ETHICS TO FAITH AND DOGMATICS.

connected and are meant to permeate each other. But if
the task were merely to present the higher Christian life in
its unity, of coarse, therefore, according to its religious and
moral character, there would remain, strictly speaking, nothing
hut morality to be treated ; for dogmatics there would be left
no special ]3rovince. Christian personality is morally com-
plete only in so far as it includes Christian piety ; but in that
case there would be left as the subject-matter of systematic
theology only the human being, the Christian person ; about
God and divine acts it would have to keep silence. This
leads to the correct statement of the relation between
dogmatics and ethics.

3. It is true that if there were no objective knowledge of
God, not even in Christianity, the right of dogmatics to a
special existence would be out of the question. But it is
.only in the most modern times that some men have embraced
such a doctrine of absolute ignorance of God Himself and His
essence, and are preparing even to affirm that it is a higher
knowledge. It is not so much Kant's critical system from
which such a doctrine is derived, for his is not a system of
scepticism ; it proceeds rather from the assumption, imported
from France and England, that all knowledge is derived
merely from experience, that in the mind there is no
independent source of knowledge.^ But Christianity rejects
this theory, however much it may wrap itself in the garment
of a self-chosen humility. According to Christianity, it is the
heathen who know nothing of God ; but Christianity has
brought a revelation from God, and that not merely concern-
ing mankind ; rather the new disclosures which it has indeed
brought concerning men, their nature, and their destiny, have
their ultimate foundation always in this, that it brings dis-
closures concerning God and concerning divine acts which
point back to the divine essence. If this is certain to the
Christian mind, then we have, as the province of dogmatics,
distinguishing it from all other branches of learning, and
insuring for it an independent position, the description of
God and His acts. If this is so, then there remains as the
subject of ethics in general the normal, i.e. ethical, life of the

^ Reference is here had esiiecially to Auguste Comte, John Stuart Mill, and
Herbert Spencer.

ETHICS A EELATIVELY INDEPENDENT SCIENCE. 5

human creature. The ethical has, to be sure, its place in
dogmatics, namely, the ethical element in God, a knowledge
of which presupposes an ethical element in man. Spinoza's
ethics is an ethics of God and of the creature. But on the
very supposition that dogmatics, as it ought, treats of an
ethical conception of God, and accordingly sets forth the
ethical element in God, there remains to ethics in distinction
from dogmatics the ethical element in the creature, especially
mankind, as its peculiar domain. As surely as God and the
creature are different, so surely are dogmatics and ethics to
be distinguished. Thus, moreover, so much is at once deter-
mined concerning the relative place of the two departments,
that so surely as God is the supreme cause upon which
everything else depends, ethics cannot be called the founda-
tion of dogmatics, but stands to dogmatics in a relation of
dependence.

But this does not mean that ethics is only a dependent
appendage, or even part, of systematic theology. Ethics,
rather, is a relatively independent department standing side
by side with dogmatics. God's creative causality is not ex-
hausted when it has made a dependent thing without a causality
and life of its own. In that case there would be only God
and the divine act, nothing existent but this. Eather, on the
other hand, the will and the aim of the creative activity of
God is the production of life in His creatures, especially in
intelligent creatures — a life having its own independent action.
This is implied in the fact that there is no creative act of
God which does not pass over into preservation, that is, into
the realm in which there is room for secondary causality.
The delineation, however, of that human causality, which
merits the name of ethico-Christian, presupposes not merely
some one single dogma, but God and the totality of His acts,
i.e. the whole of systematic theology ; so that for this reason
also ethics is a science different from dogmatics and relatively
independent. On this point, too, we should not be confused
by the circumstance that certain doctrines indeed, as that of
sin, of regeneration, of sanctification, and of the Church,
demand a place in both departments, for they occur in them
under different aspects — in dogmatics, under that of divine
activity, of their relation to the divine decree, and of the

6 . §2. THE MEANING OF MORALITY.

realization of the decree ; in the science of morals, under the
aspect of human activity.

4. In the foregoing the province in general is indicated
into which our science falls. But since the activity of human
life is very manifold, the question arises whether everything
and anything which can be called a human function belongs
to our science, or whether only a narrower circle of human
activity is to be reserved for it. The word moral, it is true,
is used in a wider sense, embracing both the morally normal
and the morally abnormal. But ethics, as will soon be more
clearly shown, has primarily to do with the normal or the
good. But, in the next place, the word moral, even in the
wider sense, is not applicable to every kind of human activity.
There is a multitude of conditions and functions to which the
idea of morality is applicable in neither a good nor a bad
sense ; therefore we must advance to a stricter definition of
the subject of our science.

§ 2. The Meaning of Morality.

The subject of Christian ethics is, in the first instance, the
morally good, or the absolutely vjorthy, as existing for the
human personal luill, and as attaining reality through it,
i.e. by means of the self-determination of the will. As
the absolutely worthy, the ethical is to be distinguished
from the physical, the logical, and the resthetical, all of
which, although it cannot be denied that they have a
peculiar worth and even a certain necessity, yet, in
comparison with the ethical, have only a mediate,
secondary importance. But in the idea of the good,
and derivable from it alone, is involved, moreover,
the notion of evil as its opposite ; and to this also is
applicable the notion of self - determination of the
personal will. So then the two, the morally good and
the morally bad, although they constitute in relation to
each other an absolute antithesis, the absolutely worthy
and the absolutely worthless, yet, as moral, stand sensu
medio opposed to the physical.

MORALITY AS THE HIGHEST GOOD. 7

1. In order to attain to a definite conception of our science,
we start with the various names which in the course of
centuries have been coined for it ; for in the giving of names
the awakened rational instinct is accustomed to picture forth
the essence of the thing to which it has been devoting its
attention. The consideration of names is all the more
instructive when they express various conceptions of the
object, or various aspects presented by it. First to be
considered are the terms, science of the good, of duty, and
of virtue,

a. As to the first name, man, as a teleological being,
endowed with a power to judge of things according to their
worth, asks, so soon as understanding is awakened, what end
is worth striving after and can be attained by effort. Very
many things present themselves as possible ; but the intelli-
gent man will decide in favour of that which seems to him to
\)Q the greater good, i.e. seems to be most in harmony with
his nature and inclinations. So it is natural that one of the
oldest forms of the doctrine of morals is that of the good, or of
the good things which can make life worth living, or make it
happy, and to which human action, self-determination in doing
and leaving undone, should conform. There are, to be sure,
peoples to whom life itself appears to be an evil,as the Buddhists;
but even these have a doctrine of the highest good. Their
good consists in being delivered from this evil of life, by
withdrawing the consciousness and will from the multiplicity
of finite things, in order, after these have both been subdued,
to attain to an inactive blessed rest, if not to annihilation.
With the West - Aryan peoples, and especially with the
Hebrews, it is otherwise. Since they look upon life as a
good, their effort is directed to preserving and enriching it by
means of well-ordered consistent action ; for these races have
a historic sense. With them moral precepts or rules have
the aim so to regulate life that it shall be superior to all
evils, and thus become more and more worth living. It
was this that led the Greeks and Eomans to inquire after the
arfaQov or Ka\oKa<^/a66v, after the honum or summum honum ;
and in like manner the Hebrew ^^^^^^ (wisdom) promises
life through the knowledge of the true good and of the means
of attainino- it.

8 § 2, THE MEANING OF MOEALITY.

But the word honuni, a<ya6ov, like our " good," or like
KaKov and malum, is ambiguous. That can be called good
which is agreeable and yields pleasure. It can also mean that
which is in itself universally and absolutely good. If good is
taken in the first sense, then a doctrine of morals having
positive contents, and being valid for all individuals alike, is
not possible, since the difference of inclinations and of needs
in different individuals is endless, and since, so long as there
is no law universally binding, it must rest with the judgment
of the individual to determine what he shall look upon as the
pleasure congenial to him, or as the damage or pain to be
shunned. Furthermore, in this case virtue only signifies a
means ; it is only the ability or skill to unite the greatest
possible well-being with the least possible evil. But most
certainly a higher conception of good things is possible, and
especially of the highest good. Even Plato and Aristotle
could talk of a good which has ideal wortli and import, — Plato
especially, even of an a^aQov which is connected with the
oGiov. They find the highest good ideally in wisdom or in
the knowledge of truth ; they find it really in the State, which,
if it is just and endued with all virtues, provides for each
individual that which is best and due. But knowledge in
and of itself, as even Aristotle begins to see, cannot insure
a good will, or virtue ; it is an erroneous intellectual con-
ception of Socrates and Plato, that knowledge certainly
determines and moves the will. In the State, however, the
chief importance attaches to the outward act, the overt
work, by which the State continually renews itself; but the
disposition and the moral worth of the individual receive in
this case too little attention.

A higher claim to constitute the highest good is made by the
Biblical idea of the kingdom of God, which indeed bears a certain
analogy to that of the State (as is indicated in the phrase civitas
Dei), but contains a more comprehensive and higher meaning.
And, in fact, some modern moralists, as Schwartz and Hirscher,
have treated ethics as the doctrine of the kingdom of God. But
certain as it is, that objective reality belongs to morality as a
whole, yet the notion of the kingdom of God is not in itself
adequate to be an exhaustive description of morality. By it
one essential aspect of morality is expressed, namely, that it is

MORALITY AS OBLIGATION. 9

an entity. But so is nature, the physical world, an entity ;
and the essence of morality is not expressed unless at the
same time personality and its self-activity are taken into
consideration. In the notion of the kingdom of God in and of
itself the notion of personality, so weighty in morals, is thrown
too much into the background ; and yet morality must have
its first existence in the person : a thing does not first become
moral by means of society or the kingdom of God.

h. Others recognise that the peculiarity of morality does not
consist in its simply having an objective being. They see
rather that an Onght bearing upon the will, that is, the
notion of duty, or the moral lav), is an essential characteristic
of morality. The Stoics therefore define our science as the
eiricnrjixri rSiv KaOrjKovToiv ; and here belongs also Kant's
Categorical Imperative, upon which he seeks to build his
doctrine of morals. Does now this definition embrace the
whole realm over which ethical science must lay claim ?
Certainly nothing can be shown to be moral which may not in
some way be or become duty ; the whole realm of morals must
be brought under the aspect of duty ; and this is accordingly
an essential side of the matter. It must be acknowledged, too,
that in the very notion of duty personality is recognised ; for
this notion is determined by personality as a union of will and
understanding. The idea of duty indeed, although it itself
represents that which is morally necessary, presupposes
freedom, self-determination ; for the necessity of duty is quite
another necessity than that of compulsion or of natural law.
The law which is involved in duty is not characterized by the
necessity of immediately passing over into actuality so soon
as it is present to the soul ; rather, its characteristic is the
desire to become actualized through free self-determination.
It is an appeal to freedom ; it is a distinction between man
and all merely natural creatures, whereby he is ennobled.
And something so lofty lies in this consciousness of freedom,
that there are attempts at ethical systems which have as their
leading idea merely this freedom, the self-determination of
free personality ; thus, to be sure, we are unawares led back
again to a sort of more refined utilitarianism, and that which
is morally necessary is not secure as over against mere caprice.
Important for morality as self-determination is, yet not every-

10 § 2. THE MEANING OF MORALITY.

thing whicli proceeds from self-determination can be therefore
called morally good, unless the word moral is taken scnsu
Miibiguo. To be sure, as no definite moral element is involved
in the mere notion of freedom, and as at the best, if the self-
assertion of freedom is conceived to be morality, only the
negative requirement can be made, that everything impairing
freedom should be averted, without any positive moral process
taking place ; so also the notion of duty is in itself only a
formal one. It affirms indeed that only that is duty which is
absolutely obligatory ; but what that is which is absolutely
obligatory is not evident from the notion of duty in itself, and
can also not be derived from it. Consequently here, too, at
the best we reach only the negative result of excluding what
cannot pass as moral, and is therefore to be avoided, but without
knowing any the better what is to be regarded as really
accordant with duty. Furthermore, the notion of law
represents morality in the sense of that which ought to he;
but the mere Ought is a nonentity. If, therefore, the
whole of morality were included in law, it would remain
excluded from actuality. But that which is new and
essential in Christian ethics consists in just this, that Chris-
tianity is the power to transform moral obligation into
moral fact.

c. This is recognised in a third designation of our science,
namely, when it is regarded as the doctrine of virtue. Kant
also professed to treat of ethics in his doctrine of virtue ; but
he did not get beyond the demand for virtue, that is, he
substantially sticks fast in the law ; whereas Christian ethics
demands that morality become a reality, as it has been
manifested in Christ and is working on in the Church. So
much, to be sure, Kant rightly emphasized, that in order to
morality there must be an inward disposition as a constant
power, without which right conduct would be soulless and
mechanical. The right moral disposition, however, is power
for virtue. But however certainly the notion of virtue must
be included in the full definition of our science, yet the
designation of it as the doctrine of virtue would likewise not
embrace the whole realm of morality. Morality which, when
it takes a personal form, becomes complete in virtue, has
also essential reference to ethical good, or to the objective

DIFFERENT NAMES OF THE SCIENCE OF MORALITY. 11

system of good things in wliich the capacity for virtue finds
its appropriate activity. But just on that account there
belongs to morality an objective rule as a goal, or as a work
to be done.

2. From a survey of the three above-mentioned chief ways
of conceiving the ethical principle, it follows that it presents
a threefold aspect ; and we shall see how, under the designa-
tions, Doctrine of the Good (Doctrine of the Kingdom of God),
Law (or Doctrine of Duty), and Doctrine of Virtue, are com-
prehended three fundamental and connected forms of the
ethical principle. The most adequate designation of our
science will doubtless be that in which all three forms have
place. As such designation there present themselves further-
more the terms Moral Science and Ethics [the latter being the
preferable term].

Note. — [In the original, " Moral, Ethik, Sittenlehre," the
words in square brackets being added hy the translator, as
indicating the conclusion to which Dorner comes after an
etymological discussion, much of which would be of no use
to the merely English reader, inasmuch as it treats largely
of the etymological significance of German words. Moreover,
the objections urged against the use of the word " moral,"
however forcible they may be to Germans, do not equally
bear against the use of that word in English. And as tlie
word will be constantly used in the translation, it seems best
to throw the etymological disquisition into the form of a
note. — Tr.] The term " Moral," discvplina moralis, formerly
much used, is exposed to the objection that this word looks
more to the appearance than to the essence and inward source.
Mos as = " usage," " custom," may have nothing to do with
the ethical life ; mores designates indeed the ethical character,
but as the plural signifies, not as an inner unity, but as a
continuity of similar self-manifestations of what is within.
The terms Ethik, Sittenlehre, on the contrary, present the
possibility of comprehending all three of the fundamental
forms of morality. Etymologically, TiQoz is the Ionic form of
'ik; (which probably comes from £^w, to sit, as in similar
manner Sittc is connected with sitzcn, Geivohnheit with
tvohnen). ~Hdog, like Sitte, designates in the first place what
is current, as sanctioned by usage, and so there lies in it a
reference to rule or law; and, secondly, since TJdog, custom
[^Sitte'], has for its source not merely individuals as such, but
objective communities, the word r&og, Sittc, points to a social

12 § 2. THE MEANING OF MOEALITY.

circle in which the Sitte governs or has an existence, a home.
But, thirdly, by riSog is meant not merely an objective exist-
ence in a social circle, as this expresses itself in usages that
are possibly merely outward and mechanical ; but it is
essential to the word that it denote the inward character,
whether of a people or of a person. Ethos is to the Greeks
the fundamental mood, the disposition of the soul, or the
inner state of character.^ ''H^o; is thus the seat, or the moral
vital element, in which one has his home, therefore related
to ingenium, Geist ; but even if not exclusively, yet chiefly,
with an ethical meaning, in that rj&og is contradistiuguished
from rrd&og, mere passivity. So then it designates the inward
ethical (good or evil) life, and comprehends that which has
become an habitual state, an animating principle, in the
subjective fundamental trend which is the germ of virtue or
morality. Similarly Sittenlehre points to usage or law, and
to an objective circle in which it has validity ; and since
Christian " Sittenlehre " does not suggest doctrines of customs
(Sitten, mores), but of Christian Sitte as Sittlichkeit [morality],
our [German] language means by the word also the inward
aspect of virtue ; the term Sittlichhcitslehre, on the other
hand, would stamp ethics too one-sidedly as the doctrine of
virtue. Accordingly Christian Ethih or Sittenlehre is the
science of Christian morality [ties christlich Sittlichen] in its
totality, the science of that which in Christendom passes as
moral [das Sittlichc], and which therefore constitutes its
peculiar Ethos.^

3. If, now, we have the most adequate name for our science,
what, next, is the more exact meaning of morality, concerning
which the science treats ? It is, like the word " spirit," hard
to define, because the danger always is that in the definition
the very thing to be defined will be presupposed. The usual
method of definition is to go back to a generic idea, including
under it various species, which last are distinguished from
one another, and are thus more exactly defined. This method
fails here, because there are not several species co-ordinate

' Cf. Bonitz, Worterbuch zu Aristotelesf, article ?i6oi.

- [It may here be remarked further, that Dorner uses very frequently the
phrases ''das Sittlkhe" and "das Ethische" to denote morality in general,
as a fact and as an object of thought. The literal rendering, " the moral," or
"the ethical," would be un-English and harsh. They are accordingly com-
monly translated "morality," as, e.g., just above, "the science of Christian
morality" (German : "die Wissenschaft deschristUch SiltUchen"), but occasion-
ally, "the ethical (moral) element (principle, sphere, etc.)." — Te.]

MORALITY IN ITS FORMAL ASPECT. 13

with morality. Morality is itself the highest thing, the one
thing of its kind — ens sui generis. But yet, on the other
hand, it is a mode of spiritual existence, beside which
there are other things of spiritual worth which must be
definitely distinguished from it. Let us seek, then, by
distinguishing it from other things, in relation to both its
form and its contents, to come more nearly to the nature of
morality.

a. As to its formal aspect, we must indeed, with Eothe,
attach importance to the consideration that in ethics the
function of personality or of self-determination is essential.
But if from this the definition should be derived : That is
moral which comes to pass through the self-determination of
the person, this would, it is true, express a characteristic of
that which is moral, as distinguished from that which is
merely physical ; but the definition would be unsatisfactory
in a twofold respect. The playing of a child upon whom the
consciousness of an ethical rule has not yet dawned, is not yet
to be placed under the category of the ethical, although will,
self-determination, and consciousness need not be wanting in
it ; it belongs to the realm of the ante-ethical.

Again, tlie personal self-determination may be an abnormal,
immoral one; and in this aspect the definition which stops short
with formal personal self-determination would be satisfactory
only if moral science were the science just as much of immorality
as of morality. Xow we have indeed already acknowledged that
the word moral can be taken in an ambiguous sense, and that the
immoral no less than the moral necessarily presupposes personal
self-determination. Still, strictly speaking, the one cannot be of
as much importance as the other to ethics, for ethics is concerned
first and above all with the ethically normal or good. I'rom
this the notion of evil comes of itself, as the absolute contrary
of moral good ; the notion of moral good is not derived from
that of evil, but vice versa the former only is an original
notion which can be grasped without the notion of evil
having been previously given. True, Lactantius says, malum
intcrprctamentum loni ; and it is beyond dispute that this
distinguishing of the notion of the good as the contrary of evil
invests the former with a new and greater definiteness; but
the notion of evil is so far forth absolutely dependent on that

14: § 2. THE MEANING OF MOEALITY.

of Qood, that I must have beforehand a notion of what crood
is in order to know what evil is. We shall not be able,
therefore, in the deiinition of ethics to treat both sorts of
personal self-determination as equally essential.

On the other hand, in ethics itself evil cannot be disregarded,
as Schleiermacher in his Fliilosophische Ethih was inclined to do ;
but in ethical discussions the notion of evil will have to take only
a secondary position dependent on that of good. Empirically,
indeed, evil exists together with good, at least now. But as
it did not always have to be thus, so it will not always be
thus. When now it is considered that personal self-determi-
nation, ill order to be called morally good, must conform to a
rule by which caprice and hesitation between various possi-
bilities are excluded, then it is seen that the morally good,
whatever it may consist in, has somewhat in itself which is
wanting in everythmg else, namely, the power absolutely to
put under obligation and allegiance to itself. Kant stopped
short at this formal feature of the absolute obligatoriness of
the morally good, without expressing himself more definitely
as to its nature. He assumes that moral good is sufficiently
distinguished from everything else by the form which belongs
to it, and to it alone, of absolute obligatoriness ; and that what
is moral is to be distinguished from what is immoral by the
fact that the latter is destitute of that absolute originality.
Subjectively expressed, this means : The will is good, when it
acknowledges that absolute obligatoriness ; the good disposition
consists in respectful submission to the Categorical Imperative.
But it will not suffice to stop with this merely formal feature,
and to find the good disposition insured by the simple fact
that there is respect for the absolute obligatoriness of law in
the abstract. For if nothing is said about the contents of the
law, or about what that is which is absolutely binding, then
in order to a good disposition it would only be needed that
the law should be willed — should be conceived as absolutely
obligatory — although in itself it might be even not obli-
gatory, nay, might itself even be evil. It would be the
good intention alone through which anything would receive
the stamp of good ; there would be room even for the
Jesuitical principle. So, then, only that disposition is
entitled to be called "ood which is directed towards the

THE SUBSTANCE OF MORALITY. 15

right thing. Wisdom belongs essentially to the morally good
disposition.

Note. — Kant, in his definition of the meaning of morality,
does not find the bridge which leads over from the merely
formal, to the substantial, notion, and by means of which alone
the definition is precisely enough fixed.

l. The substantial element, by means of which ethical good
is constituted such, might be found stated in this proposition
of Schleiermacher's Philosophische Ethik : The ethical is the
union of reason and nature, — a proposition with which Eothe
substantially agrees.^ Since reason and mind are abstractions,
having no morals (only persons have morals), Eothe expresses
Schleiermacher's thought thus : " Morality is the appropriation
of the material (earthly) nature by the human personality as
accomplished by the determining influence of personality upon
nature." This leaves Christianity out of consideration, and
stops with morality in general. But the appropriation of
nature, as also the union between reason and nature, can take
place in a twofold manner : either so that nature, the material
world, is subjected to mind, or, vice versa, mind to nature. There
is, too, a false union of mind and nature. It may, indeed, be
said that reason as such is security for the good, and likewise
that personality, in distinction Irom individuality, is that
which has taken up into itself what is of universal validity,
so that an abnormal union of nature and reason (or person-
ality) seems to be excluded by the very notion of the latter.
But by common usage we speak of errors of the reason, and
of an evil tendency of the personality, so that by neither of
these is expressed what that is which is good, but rather this
still remains merely presupposed. When Eothe says, further,
that that personal self-determination is ethically good which is
consonant with the notion of personality,""^ it must be remarked
that the very thing in question is, what is consonant with
personality ? And if it should be said, it is that which
conforms to what is normal in personality, then, since nature
too has its law and its norm, we need first to be told what is
the characteristic feature of the ethical norm. Furthermore,
the union of reason with nature, even if this union were to
mean supremacy of mind over nature, does not as yet embrace
i Theol. EtJdk, 2nd ed. § 102 ; 2ud ed. p. 427 ; cf. § 87. ^ lUd. p. 431.

16 § 2. THE MEANING OF MORALITY.

all that is morally good. On the contrary, the primary
thing is the inward union, the harmonizing of the powers
of the soul, that is, the normal self-shaping of the person,
the right shaping of the soul, as being the power to
mould nature without us, as well as our own body, in the
right way.

We come a step farther, perhaps, by bringing in the notions
of purpose and of worth. It belongs essentially to the will, as
already observed, to direct itself towards an object. That
towards which it directs itself has for it a worth, or is held
by it to be a good thing. Now, while it can set before itself,
as its object, things of endless variety, it will always ascribe
a worth to that with which it is engrossed ; but these values
may be only of a finite, nay, merely specious sort. Now that
which has merely this character is not yet the ethically good.
Life, harmony, beauty, and intelligence, or knowledge, have
doubtless a value ; of none of these in itself, however, can it
be said that it is intrinsically of absolute value; for this
highest predicate belongs only to the ethically good, and
distinguishes it from all other forms of good, and exalts it
above them. Ethical good is not yet conceived of, unless it
is conceived of as the absolutely valuable over against all
other existing things ; but when it is conceived of, it is con-
ceived of in its unique sacred majesty. But casting, by way
of anticipation, a glance from this point at the distinctive
peculiarity of Christian ethics, we may say that, to the
Christian, what is morally good consists in this : that the first
creation, the material and the psychical, accordingly also the
natural person, is appropriated by the second creation, or by
the Christian pncuma, through the agency of the self-determi-
nation of the ego. Speaking comprehensively, and distinguishing
from all others Christian morality as the perfect morality, we
may therefore say : Christian ethics is the science of that
which is absolutely worthy, — of that which, as to form, is
worked out through continual personal self-determination ;
but, as to substance, is to be described as the appropriation,
by means of the divine jjnezwjia, of the natural personality,
and, with it, of the first creation.

ISfotc 1. — The bringing in of the notion of worth might seem
to lead to a utilitarian conception of morality. But that would

§ 3. EELATION OF CHKISTIAN TO PHILOSOPHICAL ETHICS. 1 7

be the case only if the worth in question were a worth merely
because it furnishes enjoyment or satisfaction to the person ;
but a thing having this kind of value would have its value, not
in itself, but simply in its relation to other things, as being
useful. But then ethical good would be only of limited and
not of absolute value.

Note 2. — It might be objected to what has been said above,
that to knowledge or cognition also an absolute worth must not
be denied. But that cannot hold of every sort of cognition.
Even thinking about God and His attributes, if it is exer-
cised only as about an object of mathematics, is not of absolute
worth, even if it does not, as is probable, lead to false proposi-
tions. On the other liand, sucli a cognition as, joined with
love, vitally knows God as the highest and original Good, and
thus thinking enters in thought into a responsive relation to
God, is indeed of absolute worth in itself, and is something to
be aimed at on its own account. Such knowledge, however, is
wisdom, a virtue belonging therefore to morality itself; and it
partakes of the character of self-determination, of personality.
And the case is similar with religion. We should not, to be
sure, make morality and religion identical, but religion also in
itself has absolute value, and is an ultimate end. But so far
forth as it is this, it too is a virtue, piety, and is included in the,
notion of the ethical.

§ 3. Relation of Theological or Christian Ethics to
Fldlosoijhical Ethics.

The relation between Christian and philosophical ethics is-
neither that of necessary opposition or contradiction,
nor that of identity, but that of difference, which is
destined to become continually less and less. This
adjustment advances in proportion as Christian ethics
appropriates to itself everything belonging to the first
creation, and as philosophical ethics recognises the
reasonableness or truth of Christianity, and so becomes
Christian. Yet this adjustment is accomplished by
continuing to treat the two separately ; thus separated
they tend towards union in the process of conflict.
The dissimilarity of the two, so long as it lasts (as also
the likeness), is partly one of form, partly one of sub

13 § 3. RELATION OF CHRISTIAN TO PHILOSOPHICAL ETHICS.

stance. But it points back to the difference between
natural and Christian ethics.

1. Tlie relation between philosophical and theological ethics
is the same as that between philosophy and Christian theology
in general, and points back to the deeper and more general
distinction between the first and the second creation. In the
first place, it is to be insisted that their relation to each other
is not that of an original inherent contradiction. True, the
doubt has often arisen in the Church, whether there can be a
moral philosophy, a natural moral knowledge not first emanat-
ing from historic revelation, be the obstacle to it the imperfect
intellectual equipment of man, or the disturbance occasioned
by sin. The first view appears in Socinianism, which, the less
its doctrine of revelation contributes to dogmatics, so much
the more traces our moral knowledge back to revelation. The
other view is more often heard expressed in the Church. Not
so much, indeed, in the Eoman Catholic Church, which, how-
ever, is inclined to depreciate natural knowledge in favour
of the authority of the only infallible Church ; to which must
be added that its notion of Christian morality comes into
collision with natural morality. But neither the authority
of the Church, nor the doctrine of a twofold morality, could
be made to work in the Evangelical Church. On the otlier
hand, here it was the doctrine of natural sinfulness and
obscuration of reason, which, when carried to the extreme,
led to a similar result, viz. to the doctrine that a true ethical
knowledge is to be denied to the natural man.

But by going too far in this respect the danger is incurred of
excusing sin and of making difficult the transition to sorrow
and repentance ; for the degree of guilt depends upon the
measure of moral knowledge to which the evil is opposed
(Luke xii. 47, 48). Were there in the natural man no
knowledge of duty at all, as there is not in the brute,
then a moral perception could not be implanted in him
supplementarily from witliout, either through the authority of
the Church or through revelation. He could be instructed
about moral requirements ; but that this instruction is abso-
lutely binding upon him, or is duty, he cannot know, unless
he at least possesses the natural knowledge that he is under

ALLEGED CONTKADICTION BETWEEN THEM. 19

obligation to do that which is good, — or that which proceeds
from God, the supreme source of all moral law, — and to avoid
the opposite. But the gravest objection is this, viz. that if
all natural moral knowledge should be denied, the transi-
tion to Christian faith could be made only by an act of
moral caprice. To reject redemption would be excusable,
yes, natural, if there were no such knov/ledge of good and
evil as enables one to perceive the necessity of redemption
and the duty of seeking help from it. But since, according to
Eom. ii. 13 sqq., John i. 5, v. 38, even in fallen man the light
of conscience is still to be recognised, and since, on the other
hand, it is obvious enough that to know" good and to do it are
two very different things, and that even by means of higher
moral knowledge the need of redemption is as yet not removed,
but only the consciousness of this need augmented, therefore
the objections against the possibility of a philosophical ethics
more and more subsided in the Church. And, indeed, it
would have been an unjustifiable loss to ethical knowledge,
if all the ethical labours, thoughts, and works of the ancients,
of a Plato, an Aristotle, the Stoics, Cicero, Seneca, Marcus
Aurelius, were to be counted for nothing. Even Melanchthon,
therefore, wrote a Philosopliia Moralis.

2, Since philosophy has raised itself to an independent
position, it has not seldom affirmed, that between philosophical
and Christian ethics there is an irreconcilable contradiction,
and that there remains for Christian ethics no special place.
We need not here consider those who, like the materialists,
defend an ethics of selfishness ; there are others, too, who
say that a historical element is essential to Christian ethics,
but that that condemns this ethics in advance to an un-
scientific form. Christianity, they affirm, impairs moral
autonomy and freedom, because it sets up the moral com-
mands as commands of God, and thus obedience to them
becomes service, and the motive for moral conduct is vitiated
through the fear of God, or through regard to future reward.
Finally, it is said, human freedom is violated by the doctrine
of grace.

But these objections, all of which are rooted in a false con-
ception of Christianity, would hold equally against all connec-
tion between ethics and religion, and consequently would lead

20 § 3. EELATIOX OF CHRISTIAN TO PHILOSOPHICAL ETHICS.

to the exclusion of the virtue of piety from ethics, and therefore
to the mutilation of this science. The above-mentioned objec-
tions are especially familiar in the Kantian philosophy, which,
however, on its own part does not avoid a self-contradiction ; for
if the contradiction between the moral ideal and reality is an
eternal and insuperable one, it leads legitimately to doubt con-
cerning the right, and the absolute obligatoriness of such a power-
less, impotent ideal. Therefore in the following period, which
threw itself into the arms of Empiricism and of natural science,
appeared Anthropologism, This doctrine, because it does not
recognise the existence of an ethical Absolute as the primeval
power over all, but gives up the idea of God, retains only that
of conditioned limited being, casts aside all absolute binding
legislation, and therefore does not get beyond mere caprice
and utilitarianism ; but thereby it impairs the very essence of
human nature. For the strength and security of the rational
essence of our nature lies in God.

3. Both these assumptions of an essential contradiction
between Christian ethics and natural or philosophical ethics,
Christianity refuses to admit ; on the contrary, it recognises a
certain relationship between the latter and itself which lies in
the very saying, " The law is our tutor to bring us unto
Christ." The first creation, although deformed by sin, is yet
the object of divine preservation ; it is implied in the second
creation and constitutes its basis ; it is perverted, but not as to
substance : the substance of the world has remained meta-
physically good. This afiiuity between Christian and philo-
sophical ethics appears in respect both to matter and to form.
Christian morality, like natural morality, requires a material
something on which to act ; even for Christian morality there
is no other, no purely spiritual, world, but merely one and the
same world, that of the first creation. The duties of the soul
towards itself and towards the body are binding in Christian
ethics also. Marriage, the family, civil and political com-
munities, had place before Christianity itself; an inner logic
inheres in their very essence, and approves what promotes
them and rejects the opposite ; and if a moral sense is united
with the perception of the inner nature of all these institutions,
then we have a moral law enriching itself more and more, — a
law which Christianity, too, cannot but recognise. Besides

THE DISTINCTION BETWEEN THEM. 21

this material likeness there is a formal one also. Natural
morals, like Christian morals, must operate on the rational
faculties of thought and will. Personal self-determination, as
both must acknowledge, is indispensable if anything is to come
into the department of morality, even though morality be taken
only in the wider sense.

4. jSTevertlieless it must be maintained that there is as
little a direct identity, as an essential contradiction, between
natural or philosophical ethics and Christian ethics. The
discussions on ethics from the theological and the philosophical
sides exhibit in fact great differences still existing. Theo-
logical ethics is wont to regard as its basis the inner ethics,
which occupies itself with the individual.-^ It considers the
inward healing, purifying, strengthening of the individual,
especially in the religious sphere ; and so accordingly ascetics,
which usually forms no part of philosophical ethics, occupies
an important place in it. Philosophical ethics directs itself
rather to the worldly side of morality, to what is wrought, to
social relations, possibly also to the consideration of moral
conduct towards one's self. So far as the individual is taken
into view, philosophical ethics pays little attention to the
religious element in the moral nature of man, and in general
to the moral inclination towards God ; all the more, on the
contrary, it lays stress on the natural moral power, on self-
imposed laws, and on the fulfilling of the law. Natural
reason is here commonly made the suurcc of ethical knowledge,
being assumed to be everywhere essentially the same. Natural
reason does not exact of its pupils that they first pass
through a moral and religious process, but taking for granted
that men understand and assent, it addresses itself without
any further concern to the general rational constitution.
Logically connected with this is the fact that philosophy is
wont to take less account of wickedness, and therefore also of
the atonement. It can therefore be said, in this respect, that
theological ethics sharjDcns the moral conscience of philo-
sophical ethics, taking the place of ascetics in relation to it;
as, on the other hand, it can be said that philosophical ethics
sharpens the logical conscience of theological ethics. They
support each other by their close connection.

1 Cf. Frank, System dcr Christl. SittUchkeit, i. § 5, p. 49 sq.

22 §3. EELATION OF CHPJSTIAN TO PHILOSOPHICAL ETHICS.

But the nature of the case also forbids the direct identifica-
tion of theological and philosophical ethics, although this has
been attempted on both sides. On the philosophical side, it
has been said that the ethical subject-matter is the same,
since there is only one kind of morality ; look away from
the breadth and fulness of the historical additions in theo-
logical morals, strip away this positive element which belongs
merely to the form of presenting Christianity, and then, it
is said, we see that the remaining ethical kernel of theo-
logical ethics is the same as is peculiar also to philosophical,
only that the latter adheres to a stricter scientific form. But
as for the strictness of the demands of science, theological
ethics, if duly regardful of itself, will not consent to be left
behind the philosophical, as Eothe's Tlieolorjisdw Ethik, 2nd
edition, evinces with especial force. And then as to the
historical element in Christianity, this is not merely an idle
scholarly addition to it, or a form of presenting it, and has not
merely the importance of external authority. It is itself of
ideal and real ethical significance, and is an essential factor in
making morality actual in humanity ; above all is this true of
the person of the ethical Mediator. An ethics which should
conclude its system without Christ would fail to preserve the
very kernel of that which in Christianity lays claim to be ethics.

Nevertheless not philosophers merely, but theologians also,
have assumed an essential identity between Christian and
philosophical or even natural morals. In the last century
it was a favourite mode of speech, that there is properly
no strife except about dogmatic points ; that in the ethical
sphere Illuminism and Christian theology are essentially at
one ; that both advocate the highest interests of humanity.
It must be acknowledged that the ethical element in Chris-
tianity is in certain respects more easily grasped than the
dogmatical, that it commends itself more readily to the uni-
versal reason, which is pleased with v/hat is praiseAvorthy and
of good report, and what tlie natural man inwardly approves.
Finally, too, Christian faith is conscious that it represents the
true universal reason. Nevertheless it cannot be granted that
natural and Christian ethics are identical. The most import-
ant difference is that the former never gets essentially beyond
the Ought, the moral requirement. Christianity affirms that

THE TWO NOT IDENTICAL. 23

it carries in itself the real, operative principle of virtue ;
and it has evinced this in a history of many centuries, in
which it has in part worked out, in part begun, a regeneration
of mankind. Christian ethics has its life in the Divine Spirit,
the source of the second, the perfect creation ; likewise also
Christianity discloses to faith a pure higher world of fellow-
ship, the kingdom of God, in which heavenly forces have
incorporated themselves into the world of created beings.
This has the more significance, inasmuch as Christian ethics
makes the kingdom of God proceed from the continual
overcoming of sin, of guilt, and of error, and makes earnest
work of the conflict with them ; whereas philosophy likes to
look away from this night-side of human life, but is therefore
accustomed to move in an abstract and unreal realm.

This relation to sin, which is essential to Christian ethics,
involves, as a consequence, that Eedemption, the historical
person of the ethical Mediator, is an integral factor of Chris-
tian ethics ; nothing but love to God transformed into love to
Christ is true Christian love. This historical element is
indeed a new element, whose place cannot be supplied by
lb priori thinking, but is yet not on that account a merely
accidental thing, outward and empirical, and unattainable by
the rational being. For reason, rather, Christianity exists ;
to reason it directs itself. The inward experience which
faith brings is clothed with the consciousness of inward truth.
The new historical element, as it is not contrary to reason,
must also not be beyond reason ; to faith it is the eternal and
abiding revelation of eternal truth and reality. But, it is true,
this union of the natural man with Christianity is possible
only by means of a religious attitude of mind. The self-
surrender that faith makes leads to an assimilation of Chris-
tianity on the part of the reason, which is made for Chris-
tianity. By faith reason is not suspended, but freed from
error and sin, and led on towards perfection. The same
Paul who says that the gospel is to the Jews a stumbling-
block, and to the Greeks seeking after wisdom a foolishness,
adds that it is nevertheless in itself a foolishness of God
which is wiser than men, yea, the power of God and the
wisdom of God.^

1 Cf. my System of Christian Doctrine, Pisteology, i. pp. 33-168.

24 § 3. RELATION OF CHRISTIAN TO PHILOSOrillCAL ETHICS.

5. And now, summing wp the foregoing, we can define exactly
the relation of Christian ethics both to natural and to philo-
sophical ethics. As to the relation between the first two,
identity can at all events not be affirmed; that would imply
that the second creation is to be derived from the first ; but
this is not admissible, even if we might leave out of account
the power of sin which has entered into the first creation.
But all true moral perception is- not thereby denied to the
natural man ; and when now Christianity is received in the
act of faith, the natural and the acquired Christian hnovdedge
of morality may very well, to the mind of Christian moralists,
floio together into one. For the human reason just as truly
■ obtains an inward certainty concerning Christianity as it
possesses such a certainty concerning the natural moral
cognitions; for without Christianity the general moral cog-
nitions of men would become uncertain, since a moral ideal
set up without the possibility of its being realized would for
ever be a specious illusion. But because it is not necessary
that the natural and the ethical, however different, should
remain for ever separate, or even contrary to each other,
therefore it follows, secondly, concerning the relation of
Christian ethics to philosophical ethics, that they need not
be opposed. As there is no necessity that theological ethics
be unscientific or blind towards the first creation, so there is
also no necessity that philosopliy he and remain irreligious or
even non-Christian. It is the aim of Christianity to bring the
first and the second creation to a mutual recognition and under-
standing. By this it is meant that theological ethics must
also endeavour to become veritably a science, and that philo-
sophical ethics can attain to its perfection only by becoming
Christian, and thereby embracing the whole realm of morals.

When certain modern thinkers reject natural theology,
either on the ground that Christian doctrine is vitiated by
it, or on the ground that there is no natural theology, they
must logically reject also all natural ethics for one or
the other of the above-named reasons. But to deny to the
natural man all moral cognition, is opposed alike to experience
and to the doctrine of the Bible. This would also leave no
point of connection for a knowledge which is to be communi-
cated from without ; especially would a revelation be unable

THEIR MUTUAL DEPENDENCE. 25

to attain its object; and on that account this opinion is seldom
heard. A more frequent notion, on the other hand, is that
natural ethics and Christian ethics are two irreconcilable
things. But Christianity claims the right to regard all ethical
truth, wherever it may be found, as belonging to itself. The
same Logos that appeared in Christ is also the prime agent in
the first creation, and cannot therefore be in contradiction with
Christianity. To be sure, abnormalness has entered into the
first creation, and thereby a contradiction of Christian morality ;
but even in the man inured to what is abnormal, there still
inlieres a secret ethical knowledge, that is, one capable of being
awakened, which condemns this abnormalness, and which can
itself be enucleated. Besides this, Christian ethics, since it
also embodies in itself natural ethical knowledge, can purify
the latter from its morbid adulterations, while yet this influence
need not be felt by the natural reason to be a foreign ordinance.
If, now, the first creation belongs to Christian ethics as well as
to general philosophical ethics, without there being, tlierefore,
any necessity that these two be brought into contradiction
with each other, then it must be possible for one and the
same person to produce (as, e.g., Schleiermacher has done) a
Christian and a philosophical ethics, the latter being confined
to the natural moral knowdedge derived from tlie reason.

Now it may indeed be said that reason, which is often appealed
to as to sometliing fixed and universally the same, is, on the con-
trary, something very variable, subject to history and to growth,
and that to this history belongs essentially also the influence of
Christianity; so that the difference between Christian ethics and
the ethics of natural reason threatens to become a fluctuating
one. But Christian morality is wrought out through a process
of redemption from sin and guilt ; and this forms a distinction
between it and the ethics of natural reason, which is essential,
and not to be obliterated. But by this it is not denied that
it is still the duty of philosopliical ethics to become Christian ;
as, on the other hand. Christian ethics has to demand of itself
that it be strictly scientific, and so at the same time the
expression of the philosophic spirit. Philosophical ethics can
become Christian, for the philosopher can recognise it as
reasonable that he subject himself to the ethico - religious
process which Christianity requires. But so, too, can Christian

26 § 3. EELATION OF CHRISTIAN TO PHILOSOPHICAL ETHICS,

ethics take on philosophic form ; for by accepting Christianity
the Cliristian gives up no whit of his rational nature, but, on
the contrary, he fructifies and enriches it. The union of
Christian and of philosophical ethics is therefore to be
designated as the goal ; but the way to this union is long,
and the attaining of this goal is nothing less than the whole
of the world's history.

We stand as yet in the midst of this process ; and, in order
that the union may become real and lasting, it is well-advised
for us here not to conceal and not to multiply the differences.
This does not imply that theological ethics, until this goal is
reached, should not seek to have a strictly scientific or
speculative character ; but it does imply that both systems
should have an independent position side by side, so long as
philosophical ethics necessitates and demands this. Further-
more, so long as a training process to bring men to Christ is
still necessary, there will be, even as seen from the Christian
standpoint, a place for philosophical ethics ; so far as it is
true, it at least represents the law. Theological ethics should
readily allow to philosophical ethics all freedom of operation,
yet without prejudice to the claim that in Christianity is given
absolute ethical truth ; only a free inward assent has moral
worth. Philosophical ethics may also commend itself to
human nature which prophesies a Eedeemer, although it itself
becomes no prophet ; and so it can serve as a guide to
Christianity, being accessible to the universal consciousness of
mankind. The progress of such philosophical ethics is there-
fore to be regarded by an intelligent theology as an advantage
to Christian science. On the other hand, theological ethics
must not contradict the natural moral cognitions, which on
their part form a barrier against possible false conceptions of
Christianity. While now both cultivate towards each other
such a free independent relation, the alliance can become
sincere and firm on both sides — between the first creation with
its capacities and its susceptible needs, and the second creation
with its fulness of life and of love.

The separation of the two involves conflict ; for the non-
Christian reason is still destitute of the Christian element, and
opposes it, since man is inclined at every stage to treat his
own mental world as a complete whole ; and so it is the work

eothe's view consideeed. 27

of Christian science to show that the want of the Christian
element is a defect in philosophy itself, and that philosophy
without Christianity cannot he rounded off into a perfect
whole. On the other hand, reason, after it has been laid hold
of by Christianity, is not at once so perfectly cultivated in all
directions, that universal human reason cannot be partially
right in opposition to it. But just by conflict, if the love of
truth be not wanting, mutual approach and understanding are
brought about. This love of truth on its theological side
makes advance in constant regeneration of itself by taking
more and more perfect possession of everything belonging to
it, that is, of the whole world of the first creation. In this,
work theology has one of the most important levers, and one
of the most efficient, even though often uncomfortable, allies,
in philosophical ethics and in the opposition which it can
present to every production that is not perfectly scientific.

Note. — Eothe distiDguishes between philosophical and theo-
logical ethics thus : For philosophical ethics the 3o? /xo/ vov
GTU) is the fact of man's judgment concerning himself — cogito
ergo sum; since man is a microcosm, all thoughts as such
are included in him, and the problem is to unfold the fact
of self-consciousness into an exhaustive intellectual system.
Theological ethics, on the other hand, has as its point of
departure the theistic sense, or the ego as religious, and
requires that the ego clearly understanding itself should know
itself as under the control of God, from the idea of whom as
the starting-point it then operates. But, we may reply, the
philosopher also can take as his starting-point the theistic
sense, inasmuch as religion belongs to the rational nature of
man in general, and so of the philosopher also. Spinoza and
other philosophers illustrate this ; but the product even in this
case does not on that account become Christian ethics ; and
conversely a Christian ethics as such can take as its starting-
point self-consciousness, and, if this is defined in a Christian
sense, can construct a system which is really theological, but
which, according to Eotlie, must be called philosophical.
Therefore we say, rather, philosophy also, it is true, can turn
to account the general theistic sense which inheres in reason,
and can, though it usually indeed does not, produce a religious
ethics. But Christian or theological ethics is not possible
merely through the general theistic sense, but only through
that sense as modified by Christianity. It is only the Christian
idea of God from which, as its premise, a Christian system of

28 § 3. EELATIOX OF CHPJSTIAN TO PHILOSOPHICAL ETHICS.

ethics can take its starting-point. This idea of God is disclosed
first iu Christianity, because tlie holy love whicli constitutes
the Christian idea of God becomes truly manifest only through
the deed of love ; the apprehension of God as love, however,
is faith. But although faitli is designed for all, yet not all men
have faith. If the philosopher embraces it, he loses nothing
of that which is special to him ; but he enlarges his circle of
vision and enriches his mental possession ; for the gospel is
fitted and designed to become the possession of the rational
mind, although only through an ethical process. But if the
philosopher does not embrace faith, then he has, of course, only
his natural ego and the general theistic sense ; no one can
forbid his seeing how far he can get on with these. But at the
same time he has no right to say that only his wisdom is
philosophical, and that there is no Christian philosophy. By
such an assertion he would, as, e.g., H. Eitter's celebrated work
on Christian Philosophy shows, involuntarily restrict and im-
poverish the realm of philosophy itself. Tliereibre we repeat,
philosophical ethics and Christian ethics are not essentially
different in form, for both can be specu]ative ; also, not in
their substance as such, as though the philosopher were neces-
sarily not a Christian ; but only the empirical character of the
philosophy of a given time makes the separation of the two
necessary. So long, however, as they are separated, a twofold
method is possible for each : either to start from human con-
sciousness (philosophical ethics from human consciousness in
general. Christian ethics from consciousness as modified by
Christianity), or from the idea of God, either the general idea
or the distinctively Christian idea.

Editor s note. — At this point the author in his lectures was
accustomed to give a survey of tlie history of ethics, but in the
manuscript which he had dictated for the press he omitted it.
[The titles, etc., in square brackets and some minor alterations
have been added by the translator. The parts in quotation
marks are taken from notes of the author. For the remainder
the rditor is responsible. — Te.]

Works on the Histoey of Ethics. — Schleiermacher, Grund-
linicn ciner Kritik dcr hishcrigen Bittcnlchre. Neander, Ucbcr
das Verlidltniss der hcllenischen Ethik zur christliclien ( Wissen-
schaftlichc Abliandlungen, edited by Jacobi, 1851). GeschicJite
der christliclien Ethik, 1864. De Wette, Sittenlehre (vol. ii.
Abtheilung 2, Lehrhuch der christlichen Sittenlehre), 1833.
Stfiudlin, Gcschichte der Moralphilosojjhie, 1823. L. von Hen-
ning, Eie Princiincn dcr Ethik in historischcr Entivickclung,
1825. Wuttke, Handhuch der christliclien Sittenlehre, 1861,
vol. i. pp. 21-299. [Christian Ethics, translated by J. P. Lacroix,

WORKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS. 29

Edinburgh and New York 1873, vol. i.] Wehrenpfennig,
Die VerscJiicdenhcit der ethischcn Princifien lei den Hellenen,
1856. Maurice, Moral and Metaphysical Philosophy. Vol. i.
Ancient Philosophy, new ed. 1872. Eitter, GeschicMe der
Philosophic. [In English : The History of Ancient Philosophy,
translated by A. J. W. Morrison, Oxford 1838.] Zeller, Philo-
sophic der Gricehcn. [In English : A History of Greek Philo-
sophy, translated by S. F. Alleyne, London 1881.] Erdmann,
Geschichte der Philosophic. Brandis, Handhuch der Geschichto
der gricchisch-romischcn Philosophic. Max JNIiiller, Essays, 1869
[original English : Chips from a German Worlishop\ vol. ii.
[G. H. Lewes, History of Philosophy from Thales to Comte, 5th
ed. 1880.] Striimpell, Geschichte der griechischen Philoso-
p/w'c (2nd Abtheilung: Die praldische Philosop)hic, 1854). I. H.
Fichte, System der Ethih, 1850, 1851. Vol. i. is historical.
Paul Janet, Histoire de la 2>hilosophie morale et politique dans
I'antiquite et Ics temps moderncs. James JNIackintosh, Disserta-
tion on the Progress of Ethical Philosophy [4th ed. by
Whewcll, 1872]. W. Whewell, Lectures on the History of Moved
Philosophy, 1862. Feuerlein, Die philosophisclic Sittcnlehre in
ihrcn geschiclLtlichen Havptformcn, 2nd Theil, 1856-59. Leopold
Schmidt, Die Ethik der cdten Gricehcn, 2 vols. 1862. Theobald
Ziegler, Geschichte der Ethih, vol. i. 1881, Vorliinder, Geschichte
der pihilosophischcn Morcd- Bechts- ttncl Staatslehrc der Franzosen
und Englilndcr. Cuno Fischer, Geschichte der ncueren Philo-
sophic, 3rd ed. 1878-84. Windelband, Geschichte der neucren
Philosophic, 2 vols. 1878-80. Jodl, Geschiehtc der Ethih der
neucren Philosophic, 1882. Eucken, Geschichte und Kritik der
Grundhegriffe der Gegenwart, 1878. Harms, Philosopliie seit
Kant, 1879. Die Formen der Ethik, 1878. E. von Hartmann,
Phdnomenolog ie des sittlichcn Beivusstseins, 1879. Geschichte
des Pcssimdsrnus, 1884. I, A. Dorner, art. Ethik in Herzog's
Pea l-cncyklojKidie.

Gottfried Arnold, Erste Liche, d. i. wahrc Albildung der ersten
Christen, 1696. Cf. Neander's Dcnkivurdigkcitcn, 1823 sq.
Jean Barbeyrat, Traite de Ice morale des Peres de Veglise, 1712.
Ceillier, Ap)ologie dc la morale des Peres, 1718. Stiiudlin,
Geschichte der Sittcnlehre Jesu, 4 vols. 1799-1823. Geschichte
der Lehre von der Sittlichkeit der Schctusjncle, vom Eid, Gehct,
Gewissen. JNIarheinecke, Allg. Geschichte der Moral in den der
Bcformcdion vorangehenden Zeitcn. Feuerlein, Die Sittcnlehre
des Christenthums in ihrcn geschichtlichcn Hauptformen, 1855.
Alex. Schweizer, Geschichte der reformirten Ethik. (Studien und
Kritiken, 1850.) Gass, Zur Geschichte der Ethik, in Brieger's
Zcitschrift, i. ii. Optimismus und Pessimismns, 1876. Die Mystik
des Nicol. Cahc(silas. Geschichte der christlichcn Ethik, i. 1881.

30 § 3. WORKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS.

H. J. Bestmann, GescMchtc clcr diristlidien Sitte, 1880. Niedner
in his KirchcngescMcMc, § 81, 106, 120-126, 150, 179, 193.
From the Eeformation on § 213, 249, 251, 254. Also Eothe,
Vorlcsungen ilher Kirchengeschichte, eel. Weingarten.

Monographs. — Hildebrand, Gescldchte und System dcr Bcclits-
und Staatsphilosophie, vol. i., describing classical antiquity.
Jul. Walter, Lehrc von dcr praktischen Vernunft in der griech-
ischen Fhilosophie., Jena 1874. Zeller, Vortrdge und Abhand-
lungen, vol. i. {Pythagoras, Dcr Platonischc Staat.). Blass, Die
attische Beredsamkcit, 1868. — On Heraclitus: 'BQi:nQ.yii,Heraclitea.
Hcraklitische Studien in the Bhcinische Museum, new series, vii.
90-116. Lassalle, Die Philosophic HeraMit des Dunheln von
Dphesus, 1858. Schuster, HeraMit von Ephesus. Schleier-
macher, Werke, iii. 2. Heyder, Ethices Pythagorem vindicia.
Lortzing, Die cthischen Fragmcnte Dcmokrit's. Friedrich Liibker,
Die sophokleische Theologie und Ethik, 1851-55. Beitr'dge zur
Ethik imd Theologie des Euripides, 1863. Harpf, Die Ethik des
Protagoras, 1884. — On Socrates : Schleiermacher, iii. 2. 287 sq.
Brandis, Bhcinisches Museum, i. 188, ii. 85. Also Luzac, Wiggers,
Delbriick, Dissen, v. Lasaulx. [Jan Luizac, Zectiones Atticce,
De Aiya/xia Socratis dissertatio, 1809. Oratio de Soerate cive,
1796. Gustav Fr. Wiggers, Sokrates als MenscJi, Bilrger, und
Philosoph, 2nd ed. 1811. Part of it in English : A Life of
Socrates, translated from the German by W. Smith, London 1840.
(In same vol. Life of Socrates, by Diogenes Laertius, in Greek,
and Schleiermacher, On the Worth of Socrates as a Philosopher,
translated by C. Thirlwall.) Fr. Fer. Delbriick, Sokrates,
Betrachtungcn und Untersuchungen, Cologne 1819. Ludolf
Georg Dissen, De pihilosophia 7norali in Xenopihontis de Socrate
commentariis tradita, Gottingen 1812. Ernst v. Lasaulx, Des
Sokrates, Lcbcn, Lchrc, imd Tod, etc., Munich 1857.] Siebeck,
TJcher Sokrates Verhdltniss zur Sophistik, 1873. — On Plato :
Schleiermacher's translation, with introductions. [In English :
The Apology of Socrates, the Crito, and part of the Phmdo,
with Schleiermacher's introductions, and his essay On the Worth
of Socrates as a Philosopher, 1863.] Also translation by Miiller,
with introductions by Steinhart. Koppen, Politik nach ])lato-
nischcn Grimdsdtzcn, 1818. Bechtslehre, 1819. Van Heusde,
Lnitia philosophic^ Platonicce, 1827-31. Bonitz, Platonischc
Studien, 2nd ed. 1875. Carl F. Hermann, Vindiciarum Plato-
nicarum lAhelli Duo, 1840. Die historischen Elemente des plato-
nisehcn Stacdsideals, 1849. Gesehichtc und System der plato-
nischen Philosophic, 1839. Also Susemihl, Munk, Krohn, and
others. [Franz Susemihl, Prodromus plcdoniseher Forsehungcn,
Gottingen 1852. Die genctische EntiDichelimg der platonischcn
Philosophic, Leipzig 1855-50. Ed. Munk, Die naturliche Ord-

WOKKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS. 31

nung dcr flatonischen Schriftcn, Berlin 1857. August Krohii,
Die plato7iische Frage, Halle 1878. Studien zur sohratisch-
jjlatonischen Litcratur, Halle 1876.] Baur, Das Christliche dcs
Platonismus, oder Sokrates und Christus. (Edited by Zeller :
drei Ahhandlungen zur Geschichte dcr alten Philosopliie, 1876.)
Stuhr, Voiii Staatsleben nach jJiatoniscJien, aristotelischen, und
christlichen Grundsdtzen, 1850. Kretzschmar, Der Kavipf dcs
Plato icm religiose iind sittlichc Principicn dcs Stctatslchens, 1852.
GYivadejyDe Platonis principiis ethicis, 1865. Justi, Die asthct-
isclien Elemente in der platonischen Philosophic, 1860. Von Stein,
Geschichte des Platonismus. Michelis, Die Philosophic Platds,
2 vols. 1859-60. Teichmiiller, Die Peihenfolge dcr plcdonischcn
Dialoge, 1879. Wildauer, Die Psychologic dcs Willcns hei
Sokratcs, Plato, Aristoteles, 1879. [English works : W. Whewell,
The Platonic Dialogues for English Beaders (Cambridge 1859-
61). TJic Dialogues of Plato, translated, with analyses, etc., by
B. Jowett, 5 vols. Oxford 1875. The Bcpublic of Plato, trans-
lated by J. L. Davies and D. J. Vaughan, 3rd ed. Cambridge
1866. Plato and the other Companions of Sokrates, by George
Grote, 3 vols. 2nd ed. London 1867.] — On Aristotle: Schleier-
macher, Ueher die ethischen Werke des Aristoteles, AVerke, iii. 3.
306 sq. Ueher die gricchischcn Scholicn zur Nikom. Ethik, iii.
2. 309 sq. Adolf Stahr, Aristotelia, 1830-32. Brandis, UcUr
die Schicksalc der aristotelischen Bilcher (Bhein. Mus. i. 236 sq.).
Spengel, TJchcr die nnter dcm Namcn des Aristoteles erhaltencn
ethiscJmi Schriftcn (Ahh. der hair. Akad. der Wissensch. 1841,
vol. iii.). Bernays, Aristoteles' Politik uhersctzt, 1872. Biese,
Die Philosophic des Aristoteles. Bonitz, Aristotelische Studien.
Wortcrhuch zu Aristoteles. Trendelenburg, Herhart's praktische
Philosop>hic und die Ethik der Alten, in the Ahhandlungen dcr
Berliner Akad. 1856. Also, Historischc Beitrdgc zur Philosophic,
vol. ii. iii. {Der Widerstreit zwischen Kant und Aristoteles in
der Ethik, vol. iii. p. 171 sq. Zur aristotelischen Ethik, vol.
iii. p. 399 sq., vol. ii. p. 352 sq. Nothiocndigkcit und Freihcit
in der griechischen Philosophic, vol. ii. p. 112 sq.). Sir A.
Grant, The Ethics of Aristotle [Greek, with copious English
notes and essays, 4th ed. London 1885]. Hartenstein, Ris-
torisch-philosophische Ahhandlungen : Ueher den ivisscnschaft-
lichcn Wcrth der Ethik dcs Aristoteles, p. 340 sq. Matthies,
Die platonischc und die aristotelische Staatsidee, 1848. J. Lom-
VLi&tzs,ch,Quomodo Plato et Arist. religionis ac reipuhlica3 p)rineipicc
conjunxerint, 1863. Teichmiiller, Aristotelische Forschungcn,
2 vols. 1867-69. Die Einhcit der aristotelischen Eudamonie.
Bulletin de la classe cle sc. historique de V Academic des sc. dc
Petershourg, xvi. 1859. Ncilc Studien zur Geschichte dcr Begriffe,
1879. (Heft 3, Die praktische Vernunft hei Aristoteles.)

32 § 3. WORKS ON THE HISTOKY OF ETHICS.

Ueberweg, Ucbcr das Aristofelische, Kantischc, Hcrhartische
Moralprincip. (Fichte's Zcitschrift, vol. xxiv. 1854, p. 71 sq.)
Eucken, Ucber die Mcthodc und Grundlagcn der Ethik des Ai^is-
toteles, 1870. A. C. Bradle.y, Siaatslehrc des Aristotelcs, transl.
"by Immelmaun, 1884. [The original: Aristotle s Conception
of the State, 1880.] Hildebrand, Die Stellung des Aristotelcs
zmn Dctcrminismus und Indcterminismus, 1884. W. M. Hatch,
Moved Philosophy of Aristotle, 1879. Bernays, Tlicophrast'' s
Sclirift ither die Frdmniigkcit. [English Works : The Nie. Ethics
of Aristotle, mainly from the text of Bekker, translated by
D, P. Chase, 4th ed. Oxford 1877. Also a translation by
F. H. Peters, London 1881. The Politics of Aristotle, trans-
lated, with introductions, notes, and indices, by B. JoM^ett,
1885. Tlie Politics of Aristotle, translated by J. E. C. Welldon,
London 1883. Aristotle, by Geo. Grote, edited by Alex. Bain
and C. G. Eobertson, 2nd ed. London 1880.] — On the Stoic
Philosophy: M. Heinze, Sloicorum de affectihus doctrina, 1861.
Diehl, Zur Ethih des Stoilxrs Zeno, Programm, 1877. Baur,
Seneca imd Paulus, das Verhdltniss des Stoicismus zuin Chris-
tenthum (edited by Zeller: Prei Abhandlungcn, etc., 1876).
Waldstein, Einfluss des Stoicismus auf die dlteste christliche
Zchrhildung (Studicn und Kritiken, 1880, iv.). Weygoldt, Philo-
sophie dcr Stoa, 1883. \Scnccas Works, translated by Thomas
Lodue, London 1614. Seneca's Morcds hy way of Abstract, bv
Pt. L'Estrange, London 1793 ; Hartford, Conn., 1807. F. W.
Farrar, Seekers after God, Sunday Library, vol. iii. London
1868. Bishop Lightfoot, Essay on St. Paul and Seneca (in
Commentary on Epistle to the Phili2)pians). W. T. Jackson,
Seneca and Kant, Dayton 0. 1881. W. W. Capes, Stoicism,
London 1880.] — On Epicurus : Guyau, La Morcde cV Epicure.
Gompertz, Neue Bruchstucke Epikurs, bcsonders ilber die Willens-
frage (Akademie der Wisscnschaften, Vienna 1876, No. 5).
Von Gizycki, Ueber das Lcbcn und die Morcdpihilosophie des
Epiknr, 1880. Heinze, Euddmonismus in der griechischen
Philosophic, 1883. [Epicurus s Morals, faithfully Englished by
Walter Charleton, London 1670. Also a translation by J.
Digby, newly edited by J. Tela, London 1822. W. Wallace,
Epicureanism, London 1880.] — On Plutarch: Moller, Pie
Pcligion Plutarch's, 1881. 0. Greard, La morale de Plutarquc.
Volkmann, Lcbcn, Schriften, und Philosophic des Plutarch von
Chdronca, 2nd ed. 1872. W. Mueller, Ethices Plotiniancc linect-
mcnta, 1867. [Plutarch's Morcds, translated from the Greek
by several hands ; corrected and revised by W. W. Goodwin,
with an introduction by E. W. Emerson, Boston 1870.
Hellenica : A Collection of Essays on Greek Poetry, Philosop)hy,
History, and Religion, edited by Evelyn Abbott, London

WORKS ON THE IIISTOEY OF ETHICS. 33

1880. Diogenes Laertius, The Lives and Opinions of Eminent
Fhilosophcrs, translated by C. D. Yonge, London 1853.] —
On Philo's Ethics : Wolff, Philos. Monatshcfte, Bd. xv. [ Worlc^
of Philo Judceus, translated by C. D. Yonge, Bohn's Eccl.
Library, 1854-55.] — On Old Testament Ethics : Oehler, Theo-
logie des alien Testaments, 2nd ed. 1882. [In English: Theology
of the Old Testament, translated by Ellen D. Smith and Sophia
Taylor, 1874: T. and T. Clark] Schultz, Alttcstamentlichc
Thcologie, 2nd ed. 1879. Jarrel, Old Testament Ethics, 2nd ed.
1883. — Yrie.6\^\\(\.QX,Darstellungcn aus der Sittengeschichte Boms,
3 vols. Keim, Horn und das Christcnthuin, ed. Ziegler, 1881.

Thoma, Geschichtc der christlichen Sittcnlehrc in der Zeit des
neuen Testaments, 1879. Ernesti, Die Ethih des Ajjostel Paulus,
ord ed. 1880. Weitzsiicker, Die Anfdnge christlicher Sittc
{Jahrh. filr deutsche Thcol. 187G, Heft 1). Zockler, ^yii!isc/ic
(reschichte der Askesc. Uhlhorn, Die christlichc Liclcsthdtigkcit,
2 vols. [2ud ed. 1884. Vol. i. translated by S. Taylor, Christian
Charitg in the Ancient Charch, 1883]. Huber, Fhilosophie der
Kirclioivdtcr. — On Justin : Semisch [Justin der Mdrtyrer, 1840].
Engelhardt, Das Christcnthum Justin des Ifdrtyrers, 1878. — On
Montanism : Schwegler [Der Montanismus unci die christliche
Kirclie des zwciten Jahrhunderts, 1841]. Eitschl, Altkatliolische
Kirchc, 2nd ed. 1857. Belck [Geschichtc des Montanismus'],
1883. Bonwetsch [Gesch. des Montanismus], 1882.— E. E. liede-
penuing, Origcnes, 1841. IMehlhorn, Origenes' Lehre von der
Frciheit, in Brieger's Zeitschrift fur historische Theologie, vol. ii.
Er. Jul. Winter, Ethik des Clemens von Alexandrien, 1882.
Th. Forster, Amhrosius, Halle 1884. A. Dorner, Augustin,
pp. 295 sq., 308 sq., 323 sq. Eeuter, Geschichtc der Aufklarung
im Mittelcdter. Werner, Alcuiii und sein Jalirhundert. Baur,
Die christliche Kirche im Mittelcdter. Plitt, Der hcilige Bernard,
A)isehauungcn vom christlichen Lchen, in Niedner's Zeitschrift,
1862, p. 194 sq. C. August Hase, Franz von Assisi, 1856.
[Sir James Stephen, St. Francis of Assisi, in Essays in Eccl.
Biography, vol. i. 4th ed. I860.] Eemusat, Abdlard. Braun,
De F. Ahcelardi Ethica. Deutsch, Abdlard. Bittcher, Die
Schriften, der p)hilosop)hische Standpunkt, tmd die Morcd des P.
Abdlard (Zeitschrift filr historische Theologie, 1870). Werner,
Thomas von Aqiiin. [E. B. Vaughan, The Life and Labours of
S. Thomas of Aejuin, 1871-72.] Jourdain, La Philosophic de
Thomas. Eietter, Die Morcd des heiligen Thomas. Baumann,
Die Staatslehre des Thomas, 1873. JDic klassische Moral des
jYcdholieisnms {Fhilosophische Monrdsheftc, xv. p. 449 sq.). On
Tliomas Aquinas's theory of virtue : Neander in the Wissen-
schaftliche Abhandlungcn, edited by Jacob!, 1851. On Duns
Scotus : A. Dorner in Herzog's Becdencyclopddie, 2nd ed.

34 § 3. worjvs ox the history of ethics.

Ullmann, Ilcformatorcn vor der Mcformation. [In English :
Beformers heforc the JReformation, translated by E. Menzies,
T. & T. Clark, 1855.] Lechler, Johann von Widif, 1873. [In
English : .loltn Wydiffc and Ids' Englisli Precursors, translated by
P. Lorirner, Eel. Tract Soc, London, new ed. 1884.] Wilhelm
Preger, Gesdddite der dcutsclicn Mystik, 1874. Sclnvab, Johann
Gcrson. On Eckart : Lasson [Meister Ecldiart der Mystil'er,
1868]. Martensen [Meister Eckart, from the Danish, 1842,
new Danish ed. 1851]. — Engelhardt, Richard von Sand Victor
und Joh. Buyshrock. Liebner, Hugo von Sand Victor. Eitschl,
Die christliehc Lehre von der Bechtfcrtigung und Versoh-
nung, vol. i. 2nd ed. 1882. [In English : A Critical History
of the Christian Doctrine of Jnsiifcation and Beconeiliation,
translated by J. S. Black, Edinburgh 1872.] G-eschichte dcs
Pictismus, 2 vols. Luthardt, Die Ethih Luther's in ihren
Grundziigen, 1867. Lommatzsch, Zitther's Lehre vom cthisch-
religiosen Standpirnkt. Lobstein, Ethik Ccdvin's. Herrlinger,
Die Thcologic Mdccnchthons. Luthardt, Mdanehthons Arhciten
im Gehiet der Moral, 1884. — On Thomas Venatorius : Schwarz
in Studien und Kritiken, 1850. On Lambert Daneau: P. de
Felice [Lanihcrt Daneau . . . . sa vie, ses ouvragcs, ses lettres
inedites], 1881. Henke, Georg Calixtus tmd seine Zeit, 1853.
[Abstract of the foregoing by C. M. Mead in the Bihliotheca
Sacra, 1865.] On the history of Pietism, c£ Nippold, Studien
und Kritiken, 1882, p. 347 sq. Sachsse, Ursprung und Wesen
des Pictismus, 1884.

Zeller, Geschichtc der dcutschcn Pldlosophie. V. Cousin,
Histoire de Ice Philosophic morcde au 18 sihclc, 1839-42. Leslie
Stephen, History of English Tho^ight in the Eighteenth Century,
1876. E. B. Hartung, Grundlimcn einer Ethik hei Jordano
Bruno, 1878. F. M. Heinze, Sittcnlehre des Descartes, 1872.
Sigwart, Spinoza's kurzcr Traktcd von Gotf, dem Mensehcn und
dessen Glilckseligkeit, 1870. Avenarius \_Ud)cr die heiden ersten
Phasen dcs spinozischcn Pantheismus], 1868. Theodor Camerer
[Die Ldire Spinoza's, 1877]. I*aul Wilholm Schmidt [Spinozct
und Schleiermacher], 1868. [W. II. White, Spinoza's Ethic,
translated, London 1883.] Frederick Pollock \^Spinoza, his
Life and Philosoj^hy, 1880. James Martineau, A Study of
Spinoza, 2nd ed. 1883]. Mayer, Tliomas Hohhes, Darstdlung
und Kritik seiner philosop)hisehen, staatsreehtliehen und kirchen-
politisehen Ldiren, 1883. Winter, Darlcgung unci Ivritik der
Loekeschen Lehre vom empirischcn Ursprung der siftlichen
Grundsdtze, 1884. E. Tagart, Locke's Writings and Philosoijhy,
1855. Cuno Fischer, F. Bacon und seine Nachfolger, 2nd ed.
1875 [Fischer's earlier work, Franz Baco von Vendam, Die
Becdphilosophie und ihr Zeitcdter, 1856, was translated by J.

"WOEKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS. 35

Oxenford under the title, Francis Bacon of Vcrulam, Bcalistic
Fhilosophy ami its Age (with appendices), London 1857]. E.
Pfleiderer, A. G-eulinx ah I-Iau2Jtvcrtreter der ohhasionalistischen
Mctaphysik tmd MJiik [2nd ed. 1882]. Gopfert, Geulinx cthisches
System, 1883. E. Ptleiderer, Fmjnrisinus unci SIccjms lei Hume.
Von Gizycki, Die Ethik Hume's, 1878. Zimmermann, Ucher
Hicmc's cnqnrische Bcgrunclung der Morcd, 1884. [J. D. Morsll,
Historiccd and Criticcd View of the Speculcdive Fhilosophy of
Europe, 2nd ed. 1847.] Lechler, GcschicMc des englischen
Beismus, 1841. — Eeuchlin, GeschieJite von Bort-Boycd [1839-44.
Sir J. Stephen, Tlie Bort-Boyalists, in Essays in Ecel. Biogr.
vol. i.]. On the Jesuits : Pascal, Bettres a un Frovineicd. [In
English : TJte Frovineicd Letters of Blaise Fasccd, Glasgow 1851 ;
another translation (in " The Golden Library "), London 1875 ;
another, edited by J. de Soy res, 1880.] Perrault, Morcdc des
Jesuitcs, 3 vols. 16G7, 1702. [In English : The Jesuits Morcds,
1670. Sir J. Stephen: The Founders of Jesuitism, I.e. vol. i.l
Crome, Fragmatische Geschichte der Monchsorden, 1774-83, vols,
ix. and x. Ellendorf, Die Moral und Folitik der Jesuiten, 1840.
Gieseler, Kirchcngeschichtc, vols, iii., and v. p. 42 sq. [In
English : A Text-book of Church History, translated by S.
Davidson, revised and completed by H. B. Smith, !N"ew York
1868.] Semisch, Der Jesiiiienorden, 1870. Steitz, article Jesuiten
in Herzog's Becdcneyelopddic. Also Wagenmann in Palmer's
Fddagogischc Eneyclopddic. A. Keller, Die Moraltheologie des
Fater Chtry, 2ud ed. 1869. Haiiess, Jesuitenspiegel. [Stewart
Pose, Igncdius Boyola and the Early Jesuits, London 1871.
W. C. Cartwright, Tlie Jesuits, their Constitution and Teachiruf^
London 1876.] — Hejipe, Geschichte der ciuietistischen Mystik.
Thomas Fowler, Shaftcshury and Huteheson, 1882. Von Gizycki,
Die Fhilosophie SJuiftcslury's, 1876. — On the Scottish School :
M'Cosh, Tlie Scottish Fhilosophy, 1875. — On Leibnitz : Trende-
lenburg, Beitrdge, vol. ii. p. 188 sq. Zimmermann, Das
Bechtsprincip lei Leibnitz, 1852. Pichler, Die Thcol. des Leib-
nitz, 1869. Caspari [Leihnitz' Fhilosophie heleuchtet vom
Gesichtspunkt der physikcdischen Grundhegriffe von Lvraft und
Stoffl 1870. E. Pfleiderer [G. W. Leibnitz als Fatriot, StacUs-
mann unci Bildungstrdger, etc.], 1870. — On his Optimism :
G. Jellinek \_Die Weltanschauung en Leibnitz und Schopen-
hauer s, ihre Griinde und ihre Berechtigung'], 1872. Engler,
[Darstellung u. Kritik d. Leibnitzisehen Optimismus'], 1883.
Leon Olle-Laprune, La philosoflvie de Mcdchranche. Eoseukranz,
Diderot's Leben und Werke, 1866. — On Voltaire: Strauss {Vol-
taire, scchs Vortrdge, 3rd ed. 1872.] Bungener \_Voltaire et son
Temps, 1851. In English : Voltaire and his Times, Edinburgh
1854]. — Zeller, Ueber decs Kantische Moralprincip und den

36 § 3. WOEKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS.

Gegcnsatz formcdcr und materialcr 3foraIprincipien, 1879.
{Vortrdge, vol. iii. 1884, p.. 156 sq.) Meurer, Das Ver-
hdltniss dcr Kantischen U7ul Schiller schen Ethik, 1880. A.
Dorner, Uebcr die Principien dcr Kantischen UthiJc, 1875.
Lelimann, Uehcr Kcmfs Frincijncn der Uthik und Schopen-
hauer's Beurthcilung dcrselbcn, 1880. Eoljert Adamson [On
the Philosophy of Kant^, German trans, by Schaarsclimidt.
Cantoni, Umanuele Kant, vol. ii. Zct piltilosophia Pratiea. —
On Fichte : Harms, Ahhandhmgen zur systcmatischen Philo-
sophic, p. 277 sq. A. Lasson [Fichte im Vcrhdltniss zur
Kirclie und Stcud, 1863]. — On Schleiermacher : Hartenstein,
Pic Principien der Schl. Philosojjhie. Schaller \_Vorlcsungen
iiber Schleiermacher, 184-4]. Strauss [Per Christies des Glauhens
und der Jesus der Gcschichtc, einc Kritik des Schleier-
macher schen Lehcns Jcsu, 1865]. Weissenborn [Vorlcsungcn
uher Schleiermacher s Dialcktik und Dogmatik, 1847]. Schenkel
[F. Schleiermacher, ein Lehcns- tmd Charcdderbdd, 1868].
Twesten, Pinleitung zur philosop)hischen Pthik, 1841, and
Zur Prinncrung an Schleiermacher, 1869. Vorliinder, SchVs
Sittenlchre, ausfiihrlich dctrgcstclltundheurfhcilt, 1851. Dilthey,
Pas Lehen Schl. vol. i. Bender, TJicologie Schl. 1878. [Painze,
Schleiermacher' s Glauhenslehre in ihrcr Ahhdngigkcit von seiner
Pldlosopihie, etc., 1877.]

Modern moralists: "From Kant's school emanated: The
Eationalistic moralists, Joliann Wilhelm Schmid [Uebcr den
Geist dcr Sittenlchre Jesii. und seiner Apostel, 1790] and Carl
Christian Erhard Schmid [Versuch ciner MorcdphUosophie, 1802]
and Krng, Lehrhuch dcr ehristl. Sitte. The Supernaturalistic
moralists: Staudlin [Philosop)hi$che und hihlische Morcd, 1805],
von Ammon [Handhuch dcr ehristl. Sittenlchre], in three
volumes, full of anecdotes, 1823-29, and Vogel, with a leaning
towards Jacobi [Henrich Vogel, Pie Philosophie des Lehcns der
Natur gcgcnilhcr den hishcrigcn speeidatiren unci Naturp)hilo-
sophien, 1845]. — Opponents of Kant : Eeinhard, Pie christlichc
Morcd, 5 vols. 1788-1815, containing much ethical material
with fine moral judgment, following Wolff's doctrine of per-
fection. Also von Flatt [Pricfe uber den onorcdischen Erkennt-
nissgrund dcr Pcligion nbcrhaupt, und hcsonders in Pezichung
anfdie kantischc Philoso2')hie, 1789. Vorlesungen Uher christlichc
Morcd, 1823]. Berger [Pie Sittenlchre des nc7icn Testaments
(Theil 4 of his Einleitung in das N. T.), 1797-1800]. Eepre-
sentatives of the Jacobi-Fries school : De Wette, Sittenlchre,
4 vols. 1819-23, Klister, Baumgarten-Crusius " [Lehrhuch der
christlichen Sittenlchre, 1826].

From the school of Hegel, wlio in his Pcchtsp)]iiloso'phie also
treated of ethics, proceeded : " Daub, Christliclic Morcd, 3 vols.

WORKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS. o /

1840-41. Marlieineke, System der christliclien Moral, 1847.
Somewhat more of Schleiermacher's influence is seen in Wirtb,
System der Ethik, 2 vols. 1841. Martensen, Grundriss des
Systems der ^forcdjyJiilosojyhie, 1841. H. Merz, System der christl.
Sittenlehre in seiner Gestedtung nach den Grundsdtzen des Protes-
tantismvs im Gegensatze zum Kcdholicismifs, 1841."

" To Schleiermacher's school belong : Eiitenick, who compiled
a popular work on Christian ethics [Der christliehe Glauhe,
Theil 2 also with the title, Sittenlehre], 2nd ed. 1841. Wyss,
Vorlesungen uher das Iwchste Gut. Gelzer, Die Religion irti
Leben oder die christliehe Sittenlehre, 1839. Jiiger, Die Grund-
legriffe der ehristlieJien Sittenlehre, 1856, has made some just
strictures upon Schleiermacher. — NitzscVi in his system imites
dogmatics and ethics from the Biblical, as Sartorius {Die h.
Liehe, ord ed.) from the Lutheran, point of view. [Nitzsch,
System der christlichen Lehre. In English : System of Ch. Doct.,
trans, from the 5th German ed. by R Montgomery and J. Hennen,
Edinburgh 1849. Sartorius, Die Lehre xon der heiligen Liehe,
4th ed. 18G1. In English: The Doetrine of Divine Ijore, trans,
by S. Taylor, 1884.] Schwarz, too, a friend of Schleiermacher,
treated Evangelical P^thics as a branch of the general doctrine
of the kingdom of God." [Schwarz, Handhueh der evangelisch-
chrisilichen Ethik, 1821 ; 2nd ed. with the title, Die Sittenlehre
des cvang. Christenthums cds Wissensehaft, 1830.]

" Bruch, Lchrhuch der christl. Sittenlehre, 1829-32. — Of
Neander's school : Bohmer, System, des christlichen Lebcns nach
seiner Bejahung, Verneinunij, Wiederherstelhmg wissensch. dargc-
stellt. Erom the Lutheran point of view, besides Sartorius :
Harless, Christl. Ethik, 1842 [7th ed. 1875. In English : System
of Christian Ethics, trans, by A. W. Morrison and W. Eindlay,
1868], condensed in form and rich in thought, but confined
to too narrow limits (freedom not treated particularly ; in
the sphere of objective things only the preservation of sav-
ing grace is taken into view). Hofmann, Schrifthevxis, ii. 2.
p. 263. He makes ethics the delineation of the essence of
Christian conduct, i.e. he views morality from the point of
view of moral exercise. The genesis of the moral disposition
is not treated, but only the manifestation of the Christian
possession of the disposition, in virtues and in communities
[Hofmann's Thcolocjische Ethik was published in 1878. Ed.].
Wuttke, Handhueh der ehristliehen Sittenlehre, 1861, 2 vols.
[In English : Christian Ethics, New York, Nelson & Phillips,
1873], makes large use of Eothe and Schleiermacher, but
makes little acknowledgment of his obligation. Vilmar's
Thcologisehe Morcd, 1871, is good in its delineation of sins and
vices and their ramifications. Bernhard Weudt, Kirchliehe

38 § ;J. WORKS ON THE HISTOHY OF ETHICS.

Etliik vom Standpunli dcr christlichcii Frciheit. The title of
the second part is : Das Reich Gottes unci das Reich der Welt,18Q5.
Cullmann, Die christlichc Ethik, 2 vols. 1864-66, treats ethics
from a theosophic standpoint. Alex, von Oettingen, Moral-
statistik, of which the second part constitutes a Christlichc
Sittcnlchre, 1873, 3rd ed. 1882, outlines a system of social
ethics. He occupies himself with the important problem, how
human freedom can be harmonized with statistics. His solu-
tion is, that man's freedom is by nature dependent on the race,
and that the power of sin preponderates, being subject to a
course fixed by law. Christianity alone breaks through the
natural law of sin. The co- working of the race and of the weak
freedom which existed before Christianity explains, he thinks,
the statistical regularity of the manifestations of sin in the
domain of nature. IMartensen, Die christliche Ethih, All-
gemeiner Theil, 3rd ed. (Specieller Theil, Die inclividuelle und
die socicde Ethik), 1878 [cf. my notice in the Jahrhilcher fiir
deutsche Thcologie, 1818. Ed.]. [In English: Christian Ethics,
translated from the original Danish by C. Spence, 1873 ; Chris-
tian Ethics, translated from the German by W. Affleck, 1881,
both published by T. & T. Clark, Edinburgh.] Chr. Er. Schmid,
Christlichc Sittciilchrc, edited by Heller, 1801, is one of the best
works, especially thorough in laying the foundations. [In
English : Gcnercd Principles of Christian Ethics, first part of
Schmid's work trans, and abridged by AV. J. Mann, Phil. 1872.]
Eothe, Theologischc Ethik, 3 vols. 1845-48, 2nd ed. 1867, 2
vols. (Holtzmann added to the two volumes of the new edition
[prepared by Rothe himself] the remainder according to the
first edition) ; lie is since Schleiermacher the most original
moralist." J. P. Lange, Grundriss der christl. Ethik, 1878.
Hermann Weiss, Die christl. Idee des Giden, 1877. 0. Pfleiderer,
Grundriss der Glaubens- und Sittcnlchre, 2nd ed. 1882. H. L.
J. Heppe, Christl. Ethik, edited by Kuhnert, 1882 [published
at the same time, with the historical section omitted, under the
title, Christliche Sittcnlclirc~\. J. T. Beck, Vorlcsunrjcn ilhcr
christl. Ethik, 1883, 2 vols. ed. Lindenmeyer. Frank, System
der christl. Sittlichkeit, vol. i. 1884.

" Modern philosophical moralists : Stahl, Die Philosophic des
Rechts, in 2 vols. 2nd ed. 1845, theologically deduced, but
unsatisfactory in its treatment of principles. Hartenstein,
Die Grundhegriffe der ethischcnWisscnschaftcn (Herbartiau), 1844.
Chalybiius, System dcr speculcdivcn Ethik, 2 vols. 1850. After
his statement of principles (phenomenology of ethics), he treats
of eudremonology, the doctrine of right, and religious ethics.
Trendelenburg, Ncdurrccht auf clem Grunde der Ethik, 1860
[2nd ed. 1868]. I. H. Fichte, System der Ethik, 2 vols. 1850-53.

WOUKS ON THE HISTOEY OF ETHICS. 39

Calderwood, HamVoooh of Moral Philosophy, 1872 [7th ed. 1881].
A. Leitch, Ethics of Theism : a Criticism and its Vindication,
Edin. 1868." — Schuppe, Grundziigc dcr Ethik und Bechtsphilo-
sophic, 1881. Seydel, Ethilc odcr Wissenschaft vom Sein Sollendcn
(disciple of Weisse), 1874. Von Havtmanii, Fhdnomcnologie dcs
sittlichen Ecvmsstseins, 1879. Baumanii, Handhuch dcr Moral,
nchst eincm Atriss dcr Rcchtsphilosophic, 1879. H. Lotze,
Grundziigc dcr praktischen Philosophic, 1882 [2nd ed. 1884.
In English : Outlines of Practiced Philosophy, translated and
edited by Prof. G. T. Ladd, Boston 1885]. Bergmann, Uchcr
das Piichtigc, Erortcrung der cthischen Grundfragen, 1883.
Fliigel, Prohlcme der Philosophic unci ihrc Losungcn, 2nd Theil,
187C. Ziller, AUgcmcinc ■philosoiohischc Elhih (Herbartian),
1880. — Works treating ethics from the standpoint of empiricism :
Von Gizycki, G-rundziige dcr 3Ioral, 1883. Herbert Spencer,
Thcdsaclicn dcr Ethik, translated into German by Vetter [Orig.
English : Tlic Data of Ethics], 1879. Carneri, Grundlegung der
Ethik, 1881. Leslie Stephen, The Science of Ethics, 1882.
Guyot, Zee Morcde, 1883.

Catholic moralists : " In the 18th and 19th centnries the
ethics of Catholic as well as Protestant writers was shaped
by the philosophical systems. Following Wolff's philosophy
there were: Stadler [Mo^rdische Grundsdtze, 1791] and Schwai'z-
htiber [System der christlichcn Sittenlchre, 1794]. Following
Kant : Hermes [Einleitung in die christkatholisrlic Tlicolocgic,
1819], Braun, Vogelsang \LehrljUch dcr christlichcn Sittenlchre,
1834-39], Elvenich [Die Morcdphilfjsop)hie, 1833]. Following
Fichte : Geishiittner [Thcologischc Morcd, 1805]. Following
Schelling: Cajetan von Weiller [Tugend die hochstc Kunst,
181()]. Thoughtful, moderate, and pious are tlie works of
Michael Sailer (Handhuch der christlichcn Morcd, 1834),
Hirscher, Christliche Mored, 1851. More strictly Catholic,
yet not Jesuitic, but Thomistic, is Werner's System dcr christ-
lichen Ethik, in 3 vols. 1850-53." — Stapf, Christliche Moral,
1841. Schwane, Spczicllc Morcdtheologie, 1878. Linsemann,
Lehrhuch der Morcdtheologie, 1878 (influenced by Moiiler). E.
Mliller, Theologia moralis, 4th ed. 1883. Lehmkuhl, Theologia
morcdis, vols. i. ii. 1884. Gury, Casus conscicnticc, 1881. Com-
pendiuni thcologicc morcdis, 1881 (Jesuitic).

[The following additional English and American works on
ethics may also be named ; but no attempt is made to give a
list complete either in number or in analysis.

Hugo Grotius, Dc jure belli ac pads lihri tres (1625, later ed.
1751), in Latin with abridged translation, 3 vols., and in English
alone, 1 vol., Grotius on the Bights of War and Peace, by W.
Whewell (Cambridge 1853). Francis Bacon, Advancement of

40 § 3. WORKS ON THE HISTORY OF ETHICS.

Learning (1605). Do. M'itli Bacon's Essays (in Beeton's Books
for all Time, 1874). Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan (1651, re-
printed, Oxford 1881). Moml and Political Works (1750).
Englisli Works, ed. by Sir AVm. Molesworth (1839-45). Opera
Fhilosophica, ed. by Molesworth (1839-45). Ptalph Ciidworth,
The True Lntellectual System of the Univei'se (1st. ed. 1678), with
a treatise on Eternal and Lmmutahle Morality, and with
Moslieim's notes and dissertations translated by J. Harrison
(London 1845). Tlie Ethical Works of Ecdph Cudworth: a
Treatise on Free Will, edited by J. Allen (London 1838).
Henry More, Enchiridion Ethicum, p7weip2ca Moralis Philo-
sophic rudimenta co7}iplectens (1669, new ed. 1695). Eichard
Cuinberland, De Legihics Naturm (1672). A Philosopihical
Lnquiry into the Laws of Nature (1750). John Locke, Essay
on the Human Understandmg (1690, 32nd ed. 1860. New
ed. World Library of Standard Works, Ward, Lock, & Co.,
London 1881). Samuel Clarke, A Demonstration oftlic Being and
Attributes of God (London 1705, 8th ed. 1732). A Discourse con-
cerning the Unchangeable Ohligcdions of jSfaturcd Pel igio7i (London
1706,in Watson's collection of Theol. Tracts, 1791). Shaftesbury,
Characteristics of Men, Manners, Ojnnions, Times (1711, 5th ed.
1773. New ed. by W. M. Hatch, London 1870). Bernard de
Mandeville, The Fable of the Bees ; or, Private Vices Public Benefits
(1714, 9th ed. 1755, Edinburgh 1772). William Wollaston,
The Religion of Ncdure Delinccded (1725, 8th ed. 1759). Joseph
Butler, The Analogy of Peligion, eic. (1736. Numerous editions
have been published, of which may be mentioned that of the
Eeligious Tract Society, London 1881, edited by J. Angus, which
also includes fifteen of Butler's sermons). Bishop Butler's
Ethiced Discourses, prepared as a text-book in IMoral Philosophy
by Dr. Whewell, edited by J. C. Passniore (Philadelphia 1855v
Both these include Jyutiev'sDisscrtatio^i on the Nature of Virtue).
George Berkeley, A Treatise concerning the L\inciples of LIuman
Knowledge (1734). New edition with prolegomena and annota-
tions by C. P. Krauth (Philadelphia 1874). Francis Hutcheson,
A System of Moral Philosophy {Vloo). David Hartley, Observa-
tions on Man (1749, 5th ed. 1810, London). David Hume,
Treatise of Human Ncdure 1739. The Philosophical Works of
David Hume, edited by T. H. Green and T. H. Grose (London
1874). PJchard Price, A Pevicw of the Principal Questions and
Difficulties in Morals (1758, 3rd ed. 1787). Adam Smith, Theory
of the Moral Sentiments (1759, 12th ed. 1809). Works, edited,
with a life of the author, by Dugald Stewart (London 1812).
Essays, Philosophical and Literary (World Library, etc., London
1880). Joseph Priestley, The Doctrine of Philosophical Necessity
Illustrated (London 1777). Disquisitions relcding to Mcdtcr and

WOEKS ON THE IIISTOBY OF ETHICS. 41

Spirit (including the foregoing, 2nd ed. Birmingham 1782).
Worhs, edited by J. T. Eutt (London 1817-31). Jonathan
Edwards, Two Dissertations : I. Concerning the End for u-Jiich
God created the World ; II. The Ncdure of True Virtue (Boston
1765, Edinburgh 1788). On Freedom of Will (Boston 1754).
Works (London 1817, Edinb. vols. ix. x. 1847, New York 1879).
William Paley, Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy
(1785). The Morcd Philosophy of Paley, with notes and disserta-
tions by Bain (1852, Chambers's Instructive and Entertaining
Library). Paley's Morcd Philosojihy, with annotations by Eichard
Whately (London 1859). Jeremy Bentham, An Introduction
to the Principles of Morals and Lcr/islatioii (London 1789, new ed.
1823, Oxford 1876). Thomas Eeid, Essays on the Active Powers
of the HuwMn Mind (1788). TFo^'/.'-s, edited, with notes, disser-
tations, etc., by Sir William Hamilton (Edinburgh 1846-63).
Dugald Stewart, The Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers
of Man (Edinburgh 1828). Works, edited by Sir W. Hamilton
(1854-58). Tliomas Brown, Lectures on the Philoso2}Jiy of the
Human Mind (1820). Do. with Ijcctures on Ethics, and
preface by T. Chalmei'S (20th ed. London 1860). James
Mill, Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind (1829).
Do. with notes by A. Bain, A. Findlater, and Gr. Grote ; edited
by J. S. Mill (London 1869). S. T. Coleridge, The Friend
(1812). Do. new edition, revised by D. Coleridge (London
1863). Aids to Pieflection (1825). Do. edited by D. Coleridge
(7th ed. 1854). Do. edited by T. Fenby (London 1873).
Works, edited by W. G. T. Shedd (Xew York 1853, reprinted
1884). Jouffroy, Introduction to Ethics, translated from the
French by W. H. Channing (Boston 1838). Francis Wayland,
Elements of Moral Science (1835, 95th thousand, Boston 1868).
Jonathan Dymond, Essays on the Principles ofMorcdit)/ (London
1829, 4th ed. 1842 and 1851). Ealph Wardlaw, Christian Ethics
(London 1833, 5th ed. 1852). William Whewell, The Elements
of Morality (1845, 4th ed. Cambridge 1854). L. P. Hickok, A
System of Morcd Science (Schenectady 1853). Do. revised with
the co-operation of J. H. Seelye (Boston 1880). Joseph Haven,
Morcd Philosophy (Boston 1859). Archibald Alexander, Outlines
of Morcd Science (New York 1852, new ed. 1876). Mark Hopkins,
Lectures on Moral Seiencc (Lowell Institute Lectures, Boston ; New
Y^ork 1862, new ed. 1870). The Law of Love, cmd Love as a
Law (New York 1869, revised ed. 1881). John Stuart Mill,
Utilitarianism (London 1863 2nd ed. 1864). Pissertations
and Discussions (particularly on Bentham, vol. i., and Dr.
Whewell on Moral Philosophy, vol. ii. London 1859). E. H.
Gillett, God in Human Thought (New York 1874). The Moral
System (New York 1874). Alexander Bain, Mental and Moral

42 § 4. METHOD.

Science (London 1868, 3rd ed. 1872). TJie Emotions and the
Will (1859, 3rd ed. 1875). F. D. Maurice, The Conscience:
Lectures on Casuistry (London 1868, 2nd ed. 1872). Henry
Sido-wick, The Methods of Ethics (London 1874, 3rd ed. 1884).
J. H. Fairchild, Morcd Philosophy ; or, the Science of Obligation
(New York 1869). C. G. Finney, Systematic Theology, particu-
larly the part on Moral Government (Oberlin, Ohio 1878, edited
bv J. H. Fairchild). Kant's Theory of Ethics, translated by
T. K. Abbott (1873). Third edition under the title, Kanfs
Critique of Practiced Reason, and other WorJcs on the Theory of
Ethics (London 1883). T. 11. Birks, Si'perncdural Eevelation ; or,
First Po-ioiciples of Morcd Theology (London 1879). E. G.
Eobinsou, The Eelations of Moral Law to Science and to Religion
(Boston 1881). Stanley Leathes, The Foundcdions of Morcdity,
lieini:; Discourses on the Ten Commandments (London 1882).
F. Pollock, Essays in Jurisjyrudence and Ethics (London 1882).
T. H. Green, Prolegomena to Ethics (Oxford 1883). Wm. Arthur,
Eifference Ictivccn Physiccd and Morcd Law (Fernley Lecture,
London 1883). Paul Janet, Theory of Morals, translated by
Mary Chapman (New York, C. Scribner's Sons, 1883). James
Martineau, Types of Ethiccd Theory (London 1885). Noah
Porter, Elements of Morcd Science (New York, C. Scribner's Sons,
1885). Kant's Ethics (Chicago 1886).

Historical: Ilobert Blakey, History of Morcd Science (2nd ed.
1836, Edinburgh). W. E. H. Lecky, History of Eurojjcan
Morals (1869, "3rd ed. 1877). Henry Sidgwick, article on
Ethics in the Encyclopedia Britannica, 9th ed. Also Out-
lines of the History of Ethics (London 1886). John Stuart
Blackie, Four Phases of Morals : Socrcdes, Aristotle, Christianity,
Utilitarianism (Edinburgh 1871).

On Biblical morals : C. A. Ptow, Tlie Morcd Teaching of the
New Testament (London 1872). J. A. Hessey, Morcd Difficulties
:onnectecl with- the Bible (l>oyle Lectures, 1871). J. W. Haley,
Examination of Alleged Discrepancies of the Bible (Andover,
Mass. 3rd ed. 1876). J. H. Jellett, An Examination of sovie
of the Moral Difficulties of the Old Testament (Dublin 1867).
Newman Smyth, The Morcdity of the Old Testament (1887).]

§ 4. Method.

The immediate source of knowledge for Christian ethics is
the mind enlightened by Christianity ; standing, therefore,
in inward accord with the Bible, and regulating itself .by
it ; educated, moreover, by the Church and by the history
of the moral sentiments of the Church. The material

THE SOUKCE OF ETHICAL KNOWLEDGE. 43

given by this source of knowledge is to be brought
into systematic form, in which the classification shall
correspond to the divisions of the subject as objectively
presented.

1, It was recognised originally that the Christian, through
the Holy Spirit, has in himself an independent source of
ethical knowledge in harmony with the doctrine of Christ and
the apostles, which was at first transmitted orally. Yet this
did not involve a sharp definition of its limits as over against
non-Christian teachings of philosophy or morals, and especially
did not secure it against spiritualistic extravagances such as
showed themselves in Gnosticism and the beginnings of a self-
mortifying asceticism. The fixing of the canon and, in con-
nection with it, the organization of the Church in episcopal
and synodal form put a check upon caprice, it is true, but
only too quickly was Christianity transformed within the
Church into a nova lex, a new sort of legal religion. This
degeneration increased after the synods arrogated to them-
selves, with reference to both dogmatics and ethics, a right of
legislation under divine authority ; and the hierarchy in the
Middle Ages ruled the consciences and the moral conceptions
of men by means of the confessional.

By the Reformation immediate access to the Bible, yes, to God
Himself, even without a mature ethical knowledge, was restored,
and the Christian conscience reinstated in its rights. Yet
frequently a new legal position was taken, the principle of
faith not being sufficiently used as a means of promoting
ethical knowledge ; and therefore individual assurance of the
intrinsic truth of the things recommended by Biblical
authority was too little cultivated. Furthermore, the prin-
ciple of the Eeformation at first spread its clear light
predominantly only upon the inward, personal side of ethics.
The relation to the worldly side remained still fluctuating
and unsatisfactorily defined, since rather only the getting and
keeping of salvation through faith and sanctification was
looked at as one's ethical duty. On the other hand, the duty
was neglected of leavening the whole world of the first
creation with the Christian spirit, and thereby building up a
temple in mankind which comprehends every department of

44 § 4. METHOD.

morals : the individual, marriage and the family, social, civil,
and political life, art, science, and the Church. The view of
things became broader and freer by means of the philosophical
movement beginning with Kant, which, to be sure, at first
hostilely opposed Christian ethics as well as dogmatics, but
turned agaiu, especially through Schleiermacher's influence,
towards religion and Christianity. More recently theological
ethics recognises, as a source of ethical knowledge, Christian
experience or faith, and the Bible, i.e. the material and the
formal aspects of the evangelical principle.

2. That universal human reason by itself cannot be a
source of knowledge for Christian morality, is plain from what
has been already said of the relation between natural and
Christian ethics. On the other hand, however, ethics is no
historical science ; it is neither a part of Biblical theology nor
of symbolics, but a positive science, and as such has for its
province to set forth Christianity as the truth, and to show
the grounds of it. Therefore no merely external authority,
however venerable, can be the immediate source of know-
ledge for it ; not the Holy Scriptures, still less the Church.
The material given by the Church and by the sacred Scriptures
must first be appropriated spiritually, i.e. in faith, before it
can be systematically stated. Christianity requires that men
come to a knowledge of its truth through faith (John viii.
31, 32), and so to a union of reason and of Christianity, which
is, to be sure, at first of an ethico-religious sort, but which must
be capable of being developed into scientific certainty. Just
in the department of ethics it is of especial importance to hold
faithfully to the Christian doctrine of the Holy Spirit, who
gives personal knowledge, because otherwise even the sacred
Scriptures could not be rightly understood. This is shown in
Church history by the numerous errors whose origin is due to
a literal instead of a spiritual apprehension, e.g. of the Sermon
on the Mount. Furthermore, to that Christian good which it
is the part of morality to attain belongs also the implanting of*
a moral knowledge and judgment of one's own (Heb. v. 14;
Eom. xii. 2) ; for the ethical is willed perfectly only when it
is willed as that Avhicli is in itself good, because willed by
God. But, in order to this, one must use his own knowledge
as the light of the will. Wisdom is a part of the actualized

THE BIBLE AS AN AUTHORITY IN ETHICS. 45

Christian good itself. Suppose an external authority enjoined
the right and the good ; still if one did not recognise it as
what is in itself good and divine, then, at best, he would come
to a legal obedience ; but this is not as yet that which is good
in the Christian sense.

3. Nevertheless in theological ethics the Bible has a
radically important place ; it is to the Cliristian an authority,
— not merely an outward one, however, but an inward one.
He is inwardly bound to it by the bond of reverential love.
He finds in it, in the circle of the apostles and prophets,
his spiritual home, his vital element ; for faith itself, born
of the word and the Spirit, is an espousal with the sacred
Scriptures, which, through the Holy Ghost, become again
living in man. Moreover, faith is no finished thing, so that,
if only it once exist, it always continues of itself according to
the law of inertia, as it were ; rather, it continues only by
means of perpetual reproduction, in daily self-renewal, by use
of the same means which served to originate it. Then, too, it
is an unfinished thing in the further sense, that it is as yet
continually imperfect, and is in need of growtli, which is
effected by more and more incorporating into one's fibre the
contents of the Scriptures. The original, objective Christianity,
as it lies before us in the canon and is to be set forth by
Biblical theology, as the science of the contents of tlie canon,
remains at every stage the norm, which must not be con-
tradicted by that which wishes to pass for Christian morality.
On the other liand, .since ethics, like eveiy science, is a
progressive one, it is only natural that the ethical contents of
Scripture, which Biblical theology presents historically, should
at a given period not be exhausted by our knowledge ; and so
also that the same ethical idea, later, in other relations, should
have to seek another form of expression than at the outset.

To the Old Testament belongs an authority mediated and
conditioned by the New. If ethics includes the origin of
morality, and does not merely presuppose that origin, then
the Old Testament, the Law and the Prophets, acquires a
permanent significance ; for it indicates negatively and posi-
tively the normal progress towards Christian morality, partly,
to be sure, in national Israelitish form. But in this very
respect two things are noteworthy. On the one hand, it is

46 § 4. METHOD.

a divinely purposed limitation of the Old Testament, that
religion clothed in national form is in the theocmcy intimately
interwoven with the State, from which limitation the catholicity
of Christianity would hold itself free. But, on the other hand,
there is in the Old Testament also something already made
actual, A'vhich in the New forms a problem to be solved only
gradually, namely, a national life slui'ped hy the 'princvplc of
■religion. In this respect there is in the Old Testament
something typical, something which in Christianity could not
at the outset exist. The Old Testament, in this respect, has
yet to await a resurrection in transfigured Christian form.
Especially, too, ' the history of the Old Testament, as well
as the law, contains in this relation a wealth of guiding
suggestions. For the rest, it is indeed to be said that nothing
in the Old Testament could stand unmodified in the New,
that everything, even the Decalogue, has in the New
Testament a new sort of validity (Matt. ix. IG ; Heb. xii. 26;
cf. Hag. ii. 7). On the other hand, it should be said that of
the revelation in the Old Testament nothing is lost, but that
in Christianity it has no termination other than its completion
or its fulfilment.

4. In the Church, so far as it is led by the Holy Spirit, we
see the developments of the morality of primeval canonical
Christianity, not without many aberrations (as we know
indeed), so that the Church can no more serve as an
immediate source of knowledge for ethics than for dogmatics.
But an enlightened faith, in harmony with the sacred
Scriptures, and governed by them, serves as the critical
element over against ecclesiastical morality, and is able to
make Christian morality secure. With this restriction the
other side must also be taken into view. In Christendom
there is an evolution of Christianity ; the Church possesses
Avisdom and works of wisdom which it is essential as a means
of culture to contemplate. As dogmatics must not disregard
the work of framing doctrines which has been accomplished
by the Church, and act as though before now nothing had been
done, so, too, ethical knowledge is a common work of the
Church ; and every moralist who enters upon it, should be
exempt from the fancy that he is to begin from the very com-
mencement. For every one who wishes to take part, as a

AUTHOKITY OF THE CHUKCII IN ETHICS. 47

member, in this history of the evolution of the truths of the
Church must he simply a member. But further, ethics in
general, as well as its single departments, has a variable side,
and we must work for the present time. To the present
duty one is equal only in case he knows what already exists
of the kingdom of God, and what does not. Isolation from
the social life of the Church would engender eccentricities,
which through intercourse with others would be worn off.
In general, ethics, even more than dogmatics, has immediate
reference to society. This necessary relation of ethics to the
Church implies, finally, that theological ethics cannot over-
look the difference of confessions, especially between the
Evangelical and the Eoman Catholic. The doctrine already
laid down concerning the source of knowledge, and con-
cerning authority and law, places us on tlie Protestant side ;
but no less also does the ethical subject-matter.

THE SYSTEM OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS.

§ 5. Sijllahus,

The fundamental objective knowledge contained in the faith
of a mind enlightened through Christianity is, primarily,
knowledge of God, and is consequently of a dogmatic
character ; but as knowledge of the ethical God, or of the
aboriginally moral Being, it is at the same time the
source of the true knowledge of morality in the world,
which forms the proper subject of ethics./ From the
ethical God, as He is made known to faith l>y the whole
system of the facts of revelation, morality in the world,
and therefore also Christian ethics, has its scientific
point of departure. Now in order to get a knowledge
of Christian morality, it is needful, first, to present
everything that serves theoretically and practically to
establish it ; and, secondly, to set forth how Christian
morality has been unfolded, or has branched out into
the kingdom of Christian good. Hence Christian
ethics, as derived from the idea of God, is divided in the
following way : —

A. Starting-point : The ethical idea of God as found iu the

enlightened Christian spirit. (Lemmas borrowed from
Dogmatics.)

B. Topical Arrangement of the System.

I. Foundation ; or the divinely -ordained ideal and real
2werc(iuisites for the realization of the ethical end for which
the world was made, i.e. of the kingdom of God ; and the

THE DESCRIPTIVE AND THE PSYCHOLOGICAL METHOD. 49

process by which a moral world comes into being. [Things
presupposed in Christian morality. — Ed.]

II. The development of Christian morality into the wealth
of good which is found in Christianity, or in the kingdom of
God. Special ethics. The world of Christian good.

1. If it be acknowledged that we are called upon to recognise
the intrinsic truth and necessity of Christian morality, then
the system of ethics must be connected with the Christian
idea of God. This may seem unnecessary, if one has in
view Schleiermacher's Christliche Sittc, or the psychological
method which is so common, and which especially suits a wide-
spread taste of the times. Schleiermacher treats the subject
in a purely descriptive way ; lie aims to portray the existing
ethico-Christian world, its excellences, its virtuous forces, its
conduct. What he calls the expansive action of man also
exhibits, it is true, the conquest of the world by the Holy
Spirit ; but the history of mankind, as it is raised from
elementary beginnings, through the stage of law, up to the
stage of Christian morality, is not j)ortrayed. As contrasted
with a merely imperative legal form of ethics, the descriptive
has certainly the advantage that it indicates that morality
does not exist merely in the form of obligation, but, since
Christ's time, also in the form of reality. But if ethics is to
be not merely an empirical or historical science, if it seeks
rather to answer the longing of the conscious Christian mind
to apprehend the intrinsic truth and necessity of moral good,,
then we cannot stop with a merely descriptive form of ethics..
Furthermore, Schleiermacher does not depict the origin of
Christian morality and the regeneration of the individual, but
only presupposes them. We, too, in our treatment of ethics,
assume Christian faith as already existent ; but we assume-
this in such a way that the very task is put upon us of
learning how this faith in form and substance is justified.

The psychological method may seem, now, to accomplish
this end, in that it describes the moral constitution, freedom,
and conscience, and the normal development of that constitu-
tion, and yet in doing this at the same time proceeds genetically.
Yet merely seeing the genesis of a thing does not involve
seeing its intrinsic truth and necessity ; this becomes possible

50 § 5. SYLLABUS OF THE SYSTEM.

only by connecting it with tlie Christian idea of God. To be
sure, a man with a Christian moral sense has a feeling of the
truth of Christian morality ; he has an immediate inward
certainty of it ; still, this is not objective scientific certainty,
but rests rather only on subjective feeling,

2. Necessity of connecting the ethical system with the
Christian idea of God. If it be recognised as the aim of
the moralist scientifically to apprehend the intrinsic truth and
necessity of the ethical principles of Christianity, then the
ethical system must be appended to dogmatics, or, more precisely,
to the doctrine of God and His revelations. It is true, faith
involves consciousness of the world and of self no less than
consciousness of God ; and hence it might be supposed that
ethical and dogmatical truth are co-ordinate, and that it would
be equally admissible to derive the dogmatical from the ethical
as its foundation. But God is beyond doubt the supreme
source of morality in general, although as a matter of fact
the moral sense may apprehend self before it apprehends
God. The moral sense would even be insecure and without
basis, if ethical truth had its ultimate foundation only in the
fact that conscience, especially the Christian conscience, feels
something to be true, and has an inward immediate conviction
of its own about it. Indispensable as this individual inward
apprehension of morality is, as a way or means to objective
moral knowledge, yet this purely psychological procedure
would plainly not be suited to the nature of the subject. For
by such a representation our conscience, and in general our
moral knowledge, would be made to be that in which the idea
of good in general, as well as that of Christian good, has its
ultimate ground ; whereas the order must rather be reversed.
For either the ethical idea has no objective basis, but only a
subjective one, or the ethical idea is objective, as every
Christian assumes it to be ; and in that case conscience, even
the Christian conscience, rests on it. But ethical knowledge
not grounded in objective ethical truth would, when con-
fronted, e.g., by unbelief or materialism, come to suspect itself
of being only a subjective fancy, even though shared by many.

Those who would stop short with laying a merely psycho-
logical foundation of morality neglect the scientific duty of
inquiring after the objective reality which forms the principle

ETHICS RESTS ON THE CHl'JSIIAN IDEA OF GOD. 51

of moral being and knowledge. They give to that which is
not the imnciioium cssendi, but only the subjective princijjmm
cognosccndi, a position as if it were at the same time the
ultimate principle, — a confounding of things which leads to
a false autonomy. The Christian's subjective moral sense,
joined with conscience, forms only the point of mediation
which the ethical idea that is in God posits for itself in order
to give subjective certainty of itself, viz. of the objective idea,
as objective. The very nature of conscience vouches for this.
For conscience is not a knowledge of a free positing of moral
law through the al;)Solute autonomy of the individual ; but
it is a knowledge that one is bound to a spiritual power not
posited by us, which, even without our knowledge or existence,
would have right, worth, and truth in itself. Because the
moral knowledge in the conscience raid Christian conscious-
ness is knowledge of something objective, and knows too that
this something is objective, it is not merely subjective know-
ledge, but subjective and objective. But this directs us to
the idea of God as the source of ethics. For morality in
general does not first come into existence through thouiiht :
but, on the contrary, it is recognised by reason through a
necessity which is antecedent to all subjective activity, — a
necessity, moreover, which we have not made, but which lays
hold of us so soon as we come to specifically hnman conscious-
ness. Since this is so, we must go back to the cause which
created this being of ours, constituted and acting as it does ;
which cause must be recognised also as the ultimate cause
of our moral knowledge ; that is, we must go back to God.
This going back to God harmonizes also with what has been
previously said of the relation between dogmatics and ethics
(§ 1). Proceeding from dogmatics, ethics branches off into a
department by itself. Although, therefore, ethics does not
have to furnish its own doctrine of God, it must yet be derived
in an introductory way from the specifically-Christian idea of
God, which is disclosed to faith by means of the world of
revelation, and is brought to systematic statement in dogmatics.

3. Synopsis. This starting-point being now presupposed,
the ethical system is to be divided into &. fundamcntcd and a
co7istructive part.

The First Part has to do with the world of the first

52 § 5. SYLLABUS OF THE SYSTEM. SYNOPSIS.

creation, but with this in its connection with the idea of
God's moral aim for the world, as disclosed in the Christian
revelation. To Christian ethics belongs the consideration of
the first creation, because this is regarded by Christianity as
the work of the same agent, the Logos, whose personal
appearance is Jesus Christ. In it the Logos has His pre-
existence ; it was arranged from the beginning with reference
to the moral purpose of the world ; and the Logos created it
with a view to tlie second creation for which it is to be the
basis. This fundamental part has to consider the totality of
the things presupposed in an ethical world, that is, the whole
arrangement of the world made with reference to morality
as the world's goal. It has to consider the preparatory stages
of perfect morality and its factors. It has three divisions.

The First Division treats of the natural 'world, of man
physically and mentally, also of nature around him, of the
order of the world as created by God, irrespective of the
moral process itself properly so called. (Sphere of Eudtemony.)

The Second Division treats of the order of the world, so far
as through it there is made possible a moral process, and
therewith through human agency a second higher creation on
the basis of the first. The world bears in itself an ideal
purpose, and is therefore endowed with conscience and
freedom. This ideal purpose is the law for the action of the
moral forces.^

The Third Division delineates the practical end aimed at
in the moral process, or the ideal cosmos towards whose
realization the world is advancing by means of the moral
process. The realization of this end is made possible, in spite
of sin, by the God-man who forms a part of the plan of the
actual world.^

1 [This Division treats, therefore, of the formal conditions of the ethical
process : of the objective law of God, of the subjective law or conscience, and
of freedom. — Ed.]

2 [This Division describes the law in its contents : first, the practical goal
itself, as it is fixed in God's order of the world ; at the same time, however, by
means of that goal the way to it is also fixed. Hence this division considers,
in addition, the moral stages leading to the goal ; the stage of law, the imper-
fection of this stage, both apart from sin and on the assumption of its reality ;
and, finally, the stage of love, wliich, without the God-man, can neither be
conceived nor realized, and which, therefore, before Christianity, was only an
ideal, a requirement. — Ed.]

ETHICS A COLLATERAL DErARTMENT OF DOGMATICS. 53

The Second Part will exhibit the Christian moral world as
an organism, with its various members, in which law, virtue,
the highest good, have become united and blended, and
become so more and more. The starting-point of this Part
is with the actual God-man Jesus Christ, who in His true
manhood presents the law in living form, and who is personal
virtue, and who for this very reason becomes also the prime
source of the realization of the end for which the world was
made, that is, of the kingdom of God. This Part next
describes, in its origin, its continuance, and its activity, the
human personality restored to the image of God. Finally, it
treats of the ethico-Christian world as divided into the several
moral communities which, taken together, constitute the king-
dom of God.

4. By this arrangement we obtain ethics as a collateral
department for dogmatics, and thus secure for ethics a firmer
structure. For, following the dogmatic starting-point, i.e.
Theology strictly so called, which treats of God's ethical
nature, we obtain an ethical Cosmology and Anthropology,
Ponerology, Christology, and an ethical doctrine of the king-
dom of God as the ultimate ethical goal (ethical Eschatology).

The end for which God created the world is not an
impotent thought, but an earnest one, incessantly striving to
become actual in the world ; for which reason it cannot be
thwarted by actual sin, which is to be treated of in ethical
ponerology. Accordingly it is to be shown that, conformably
to the eternal divine idea of the world, i.e. conformably to
God's moral purpose for the world, the original thought of
love proceeding from divine wisdom is, on account of sin,
accomplished only in the following way : The divine-human
power which belongs to the divine idea of humanity, and
which has appeared in Jesus Christ, evinces itself as a
restoring and atoning power. This power inheres in the Son
of man, who is Son of God, and is applied by him for the
benefit of our race ; and by this means He builds up His
kingdom in the individuals who are appropriated by Him, and
who appropriate Him to themselves. This kingdom we are
then to consider according to its divisions in detail, showing
how it is no longer merely a Platonic ideal, an imperative
possibility or law, but a real power in the present time in

54 § 5, SYLLABUS OF THE SYSTEM. SYXOPSIS.

which we stand, and an object of Christian knowledge ;
though a reservation must be made of eschatology, which
views the idea of the kingdom as needing to be transformed
into reality by means of an ethical process.

5. The classification here given is adapted to the ethical
material. It has long been recognised that morality can exist
in three forms, and is not fully viewed without them all,
namely, as Law, also called Duty, as Virtue, and as the highest
Good, of course as the highest moral Good in the world. For
the absolute Good is of course God, who, far from being a
result, is rather the living prerequisite of the highest Good in
the world. Now in the given classification all three concep-
tions find their due place, and in such a way that at the same
time it is made evident how the idea of Good in the three is
systematically and completely unfolded, and so, how these
three taken together contain the whole.

First, the law is to be considered in itself, namely, as the
moral ideal, or the Ought-to-be, for which the world exists,
arranged as it is. Since this Ought stands opposed to a
natural condition or fact, which does not yet correspond to
the Ought, or even contradicts it, therefore through the
impulse of the Ought, which has to do with the will, there
is brought about a process in which morality comes to he.
Every Should-be demands an Is ; it requires, not merely
single acts, but a state of being ; and hence the subjective goal
of the process is virtue. But the things which in the process
are as yet separate and only striving to become one, seek to
become, and do become, blended in the highest good; and
just this union is the fact of morality. Law and virtue, from
which the highest good in its different aspects is framed, are
thus treasured up in the highest good. For the forces of virtue
are themselves a part of the highest good, which maintains
itself only through continual reproduction from those forces,
whose vitality promotes and maintains all forms of moral
good. Moreover, in virtue the law is realized. Finally, the
ethical institutions, such as the family, the State, the Church,
not only have the quality of being products and acts of virtue,
but they are also powers objectively existent, which through
their t/^o? help to produce virtue itself, and confirm the law.

But this consummation is only the result of a moral process

PART FIEST ANALYZED. 55

or of a growth ; for at first this union does not exist, but the
objective law or obligation, and the actual state of man with
his world, still stand apart from each other. A divinely
ordained natural state of the world and of man exists, to be
sure, with a wealth of capacities and of susceptibilities, which
constitute integral factors of the idea of the kingdom of God,
and without Mhich as prerequisites the various phases of
Christian good could never be attained ; but in their natural
unmodified form these faculties are not yet the highest good,
but only materials for it which are to be elaborated.

The Fii'st Part considers, therefore, the necessity of these
factors, and defines, on the one hand, what by nature is, and
on the other, what ought to be, — these two, each by itself
And so there come into particular consideration, first, man
and his world in their natural state, which are designed to be
incorporated into the highest good tlirough an ethical process
(Division 1) ; and next, the law, as to its form (Division 2)
and its contents, i.e. the world's moral goal (Division 3),
What ought to be and what is, law and nature, however,,
must not be left separate from each other ; their union is
absolutely required by the law and by the human constitution
itself So by means of the law comes a moral process or
development, of which likewise the Third Division of the First
Part has to speak. The process can indeed be disturbed by
evil, but has therefore nevertheless as its fixed goal the task
of uniting the obligatory and the actual, which task is con-
summated essentially in personal virtue.^ The notion of virtue
is the middle term wdiich unites the obligatory and the actual ;
which helps the law, that hitherto is only ideal and not
real, to its realization, and which on the otlier hand lifts
up what is merely natural, and gives it an ethical character
or ideality. For this reason also the true highest good, as
to its principle, takes its starting - point in this notion.
Therefore as the moral sense matures, the requirement of the
law more and more concentrates itself, not in the requirement
of definite things to be done or not done, — of works or pro-

^ [Until the process readies the Christian stage, it does not get beyond the
antithesis of requirement and fact, and accordingly belongs still to the legal
stage, and ends with a requirement which finds its fulfilment only in Chris-
tianity.— Ed.]

56 § 5. SYLLABUS. PART SECOND ANALYZED.

ducts, — but in the requirement that the whole man, this unit,
be virtuous ; or, more strictly speaking, since sin has entered
in, in the requirement of regeneration, tliat is, of the union
of nature and law, by means of the Divine Spirit or Christian
Grace.

The Second Part, embracing the realm of Christian good, is
on that very account also a presentation of the highest good.
It is proper to place this at the end, since it is the highest
good only as being a moral product, which presupposes the
morally productive povrer, or virtue, the ethical SvvafMi<; with
the virtuous actions. To be sure, the ethical institutions,
such as the family, the State, the Church, not only have the
property of being products of virtue and of virtuous acts,
but they also help to produce the virtuous force itself, and
thus help to maintain the Good. Otherwise looked at, the
virtuous forces are themselves a part of the highest good.
Hence it appears that the Second Part is not merely the
■doctrine of the highest good, but, as the doctrine of the
kingdom of God, is also the doctrine of the virtuous forces in
individuals and in communities. When the stage of per-
fection or of Christian good is reached, virtue and the highest
good are inwrought into each other, neither exists v/ithout
the other. At that stage the law, too, has to be noticed,
namely, as something in process of fulfilment, not as mere
oUigation, inasmuch as virtue is nothing else than the law
itself translated into personal life, taken up into the will and
the being ; virtue is a transition into a new mode of existence
which is required by the objective law itself. The acts of
virtue also show their intimate relation to the law ; for they
are, and are termed, acts of duty. Thus it is clear that at
the Christian stage these three fundamental conceptions are
preserved, but they are blended together, the moral law itself
requiring that they be thus blended.

If the First and the Second main Parts are taken together
it is at the same time evident that our method makes possible
a genetic presentation of the moral element and of the moral
goal in the world's history, and does not stop merely with
a description of the actual moral state.

In short, the First Part presents morality as a requirement
not yet realized, as law. In order to this, however, not

SUMMARY. 5 7

merely must the moral ideal be presented, but also the way
in which this moral ideal is to be realized, especially in view
of the entrance of sin into the world. Since morality is
designed to be realized, it must also be shown what process
morality must pass through in order to be realized. This
process also is included in the moral requirement. But it is
peculiar to this process itself that the idea of good first comes
to consciousness in the form of a requirement. Therefore we
must not merely set forth the abstract ideal or the require-
ment, but at the same time must show how morality in the
form of requirement sets the process on foot, and how it
finally points beyond itself to something more than a require-
ment. The Second Part, on the other hand, presents the
requirement as realized first in Christ, He being the perfectly
actual and virtuous personality and germinal principle of the
kingdom of God ; and it depicts next Christian personality
and ethical communities.

^.— STAETING-POINT OF ETHICS.

§ 6. Connection of Morality in general tvith the Idea of God.

The dogmatic source of ethics, by means of which the concep-
tion of moral good in general is scientifically gained
and established, is the idea of God ethically conceived.
God is the Good whose ultimate reason is in itself, or
the aboriginally good Being.

Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, i. § 26, pp. 305-323.

1. In recurring, as we do in our thesis, to Christian dog-
matics, particularly to the idea of God and His acts, we are
only concerned, out of the many attributes of God, or objective
limitations of the concept of God, to fix upon those which
pertain to the scientific grounding of morality. Therefore
especially the so-called physical and logical attributes of God
fall for our purpose into the background. Three questions
are of decisive importance with reference to the basis of
morality in general. (1) Is the idea of morality a necessary
idea ? (2) Does an absolute reality belong to it ? (3) How
are the ethical features in the concept of God related to the
other so-called divine attributes ?

When the idea of morality is conceived, there is involved
in it the conception of that which is absolutely worthy and
supreme ; for while things without number come to our know-
ledge which have worth, yet in comparison with morality every-
thing has only a limited or subordinate worth, e.g. life, power,
beauty, fitness, and utility. Even knowledge or intelligence,
though indeed a good, yet is not superior to morality, but
likewise must take towards it the attitude of servant or
means. But certain as it is that morality as such is really
conceived of only wlien it is conceived of as thus eminently
unique, still this decides nothing as to the question whether

MOEALITY A NECESSAr^Y IDEA. 59

it is a necessary thought, and whether the object thought of
is a reality. We ask, therefore, is this idea of moral good an
absolute necessity in rational thought, or is it only a subjec-
tive, accidental fantasy ? Must the reason as such conceive
of the morally good, which, when conceived of, is conceived of
as that which is strictly the highest, the absolutely worthy ?
Certainly it is possible for man not to conceive of this idea ; it
is possible for him not to think at all, or to be employed with
only finite notions. But in either case the reason is not con-
ducting itself as active reason ; on the contrary, it may be
shown that only by means of this idea is reason actual reason ;
for without it there would exist for man only what is finite,
physical, or natural. But in this case he himself would be
only a finite being ; shut up to the mere world of nature, he
would be perhaps the cleverest among animal beings, but not
rational. Kant correctly discerned that, in relation to the
natural world, morality is supernatural, a miracle. For a
miracle, in the strict dogmatic sense, is constituted by every
specifically higher stage, as distinguished from the lower.

It might now, however, be objected : Man himself also is a
finite being ; hence it cannot be said that he is not rational
until he conceives of something having infinite worth, viz. tliat
which is ethically good ; rather, the pure conception of this
seems to be something transcending even the powers of man.
But we reply : Man's finiteness consists in his being not self-
existent, but a creature of God ; by no means, however, in
the fact that the infinite is inaccessible to him, tliat he
is excluded from it. By the very fact that he can be the
vehicle of the infinite, he is a reasonable being. If it be
asked whence the idea of moral good comes to the human
mind, the answer is as follows : This idea cannot have a
finite origin from nature ; in nature is only finite adaptation of
means to ends. But the absolute cannot be derived from the
relative ; that would be a reducing of the ethical to the physical,
and would therefore be a denial of its characteristic essence.
Just as little can the ethical idea (cf. § 5. 2) be derived from
the ontology of the human mind. For, again, it is not really
conceived of, if it is conceived of as a merely subjective
product, as only a subjective notion. The ethical is only then
conceived of when validity and worth, independent of our

60 § 6. CONNECTION OF MOilALITY WITH THE IDEA OF GOD.

thought, or even of our existence, are adjudged to the idea
of it. When it is considered that the idea of morality can
neither originate from nature below us, nor be a mere pro-
duct of reason (since rather we become rational beings only
throu'rh participation in this idea), the true doctrine must
be that man as finite cannot make himself rational, but that
when something infinite takes form in him, primarily in his
intelligence, he becomes a rational being. The eternal ethical
idea itself lets itself down into the animated dust, primarily
into the consciousness ; and ethical knowledge has in this
very idea its origin. Considered historically, indeed, morality
comes to us only through the medium of our own thought.
Conscience, however, does not make a thing good ; but that
\vhich is good, the ethical idea, apprehended by thought,
makes our knowledge ethical knowledge. Having this ethical
knowledge, we recognise ourselves, not as creative, but as
bound by a higher power, by the ethical idea positing itself
in us, and thus making us rational beings. On the ground
of this fact, the idea of moral good is necessary for the self-
developing human mind. This appears, too, especially from
the fact that the ethical lies at the root of all knowledge, so
that to renounce it is to renounce all knowledge. Thought
results in knowledge only if it icills to become knowledge, i.e.
strives to gain wisdom as a good (this being what the very
word (})i\oao(pia expresses), and has confidence that it can be
attained. But in both these things lies an ethical conception :
on our side, the love of truth ; on the other side, the assump-
tion of its accessibleness, communicableness, its wish, as it
\vere, to be known, its love of being known by us. Only such
thought as involves that love and this confidence, and is
therefore ethical thought, can become knowledge and attain
to the high quality of wisdom. Therefore without the opera-
tion of the ethical element there is no knowledge ; this element
belongs to the necessary conditions of the possibility of all
knowledge, that is, of the rational character of man.

But if now thought, in order to correspond to its rational
object, must count on an ethical element and incorporate it as
an impelling factor, as love and confidence, into the cognitive
process, then it must also be possible to conceive and to
define the ethical as such. If this is done, the idea of

MORALITY ESSENTIAL TO THE DIVINE BEING. 61

morality {vid. above, pp. 58, 59) is recognised as something not
merely subjective, or derivable from nature and finiteuess ;
as something not indifferent, which can come or go without
affecting the rationalness of the mind ; and finally, as some-
thing not merely valuable along with other things, — but as the
good, the absolutely valuable. It is a thought which, if it is
once conceived, cannot at pleasure be forgotten or ignored,
but demands to be thought again and again, — to work on per-
ennially, in order to communicate itself to the whole mental
life. If it is once thought, it is a possession which can never
again be rationally given up, but which is summoned to be
omnipresent in human life ; it is a factor authorized by a higher
inner necessity ; and to ignore it or want to forget it would
be, not merely imperfection of discernment, but culpable
neglect. Where the ethical idea asserts itself, there, too, is
present the consciousness of the duty to remain heedful to
it ; this is not a physical or a logical necessity, but a sacred
necessity adapted to the realm of freedom. Thus moral
thought can be renounced only at the price of renouncing
true rationalness, yes, all knowledge. The ethical idea, as
soon as it has appeared, puts its preservation or reproduction
into the care of a peculiar necessity of its own — duty, which
is necessity addressed to freedom, and therefore the highest
form of necessity.

2. Of this thought, now, we say that it is also to be made
a part of the idea of the necessary and absolute spiritual
Being, or of God. For since the ethical idea vindicates for
the absolutely valuable the highest place, it must also have
a necessary place in the divine intelligence. Nevertheless there
still remains the question whether the ethical idea must be con-
ceived of as also real (in itself or in God), — ^just as necessarily
existent as it must be necessarily conceived. There are not
wanting those who recognise the idea of morality as merely
necessary to thought, but not as also necessary in reality ; who
conceive it only as a necessary obligation, as a law or regulation
for the world. In support of their view that morality is only a
necessary ideal, but no reality, they might seek to argue thus :
It is a contradiction of the notion of the ethical that it should
be directly connected with reality; for rather it becomes
actual only by means of the will after it has been appre-

62 § G. CONNECTION OF MOKALITY WITH THE IDEA OF GOD.

hended by cognition as a duty. A certain existence, to be sure,
the law must have, at least in thought or knowledge, but this
implies that it has at first no existence in the will. To this,
now, is to be answered : It is indeed indisputable that morality
may also take on the Ibrm of obligation which is not yet
realized. With men it must at first he duty ; and yet even
this points back to a real existence of morality, — not merely to
an existence in the intellect which at the same time is a non-
existence in the will, but to an existence of it at least in the
cause by which the rational moral consciousness is produced.
For to such a cause out of itself the human reason points,
reason being not posited by itself, but given to itself by the
absolute cause. But that we must actually posit the real
existence of morality in God, and this, too, not merely in His
knowledge, but also in His will and being; that therefore
morality cannot be conceived of as merely an ideal without
existence, and God not as mere universal law, is shown by the
following considerations.

Existence, reality, is no indifferent matter for the idea of
morality, so that it would remain what it is, even whether it
remains eternally deprived of existence outside of the intellect
or not ; as, say, for mathematical truths, e.g. for the laws
of the triangle and its angles, or of the circle and its radii, it
is indifferent whether there is a triangle or a circle in reality.
For rather the characteristic feature of the idea of morality is
just this, that it has essentially a tendency to existence, to
become actual in existence ; and the meaning of absolute obliga-
tion is just this, that for the obligatory thing a real existence
is demanded. The good is the thought which seeks to move
the will and sway the being. Schleiermacher justly says,
that, if we thought the law of morality would remain eternally
an unfulfilled although unconditional requirement, we should
have to doubt its intrinsic right to make an unconditional
requirement, — that absolute impotence would not consist with
the right to unconditional validity. But if, now, it lies in the
thought of morality in general, that it unconditionally re-
quires for itself existence also ; if there even inlieres in it,
as that which is absolutely most worthy, the right to rule
over all reality, — then the ground of this can at all events
not lie in the ethical principle itself, in case it has no reality

MORALITY NOT AN ARBITRARY CREATION OF GOD. 63

in God. If it is in the divine intelligence, it cannot desire to
remain confined only to it. But there can also be no hostile
power conceived of, whether in God or out of Him, which is
able to debar morality from the existence that it desires ; for
then the Divine Being would no longer be a unity in itself,
but would be duplex.

Since the divine intelligence must include in itself morality
as something necessary, and positively requiring to be real,
it follows that the doctrine of Duns Scotus also is unteuable,
namely, that morality, although for us obligatory, originates
only from God's free absolute power {supremum liberum arhi-
trium), but that God's own essence has nothing to do with it.
He thinks that it would be a limitation of the divine freedom,
if God cannot command, as good, what He will. But this
would be making power, this physical attribute, outrank the
ethical attributes. The Scriptures say not merely, " Be ye
holy," but also, " for I am holy ; " not only do they speak of
a divinely-given law of righteousness, but according to them
God also Himself loves righteousness. He who has conceived
the thought of ethical good, e.r/. of love, cannot do otherwise
than think of this good as in itself good, hence also good
absolutely for every one, even for God. The view of Scotus
would lead to the conclusion that there is nothing good in
itself, but that although we know this, yet in our subjective
way of viewing things we look upon that as good which has
been commanded us, and because it has been commanded us.
But behind such an appeal to the divine power or arbitrary
will lurked ethical scepticism. God could at any moment
without a contradiction of His nature call even evil good ; His
nature would be indifierent to the distinction between good
and evil. Both would be outside of His sphere and would
belong only to that of the world ; His own nature would then
be mere power, and while there would be a semblance of exalt-
ing the notion of God by putting Him above morality. He would
be merely conceived of physically, i.e. as below morality. More-
over to man also, for whom alone there would be any morality,
conscious virtue would be an impossibility. For virtue must
choose the good, because it is good and not the opposite. But
if there is nothing in itself good, then also the good cannot
be chosen as such, or because it is good and not the opposite,

64 § 6. CONNECTION OF MORALITY WITH THE IDEA OF GOD,

but only because it has been in fact commanded, of which
command the Church has information. Thus it becomes
manifest how Scotism, which, in order to exalt God's authority,
keeps the good out of God's nature, condemns man to a merely
legal status, in contradiction to John viii. 32, xv. 15. Unless
the ethical is to become subordinate to the physical, it must
claim admission into the very essence and being of God.

But morality has, moreover, not a merely potential existence
in God.^ For then cither it would become actual only through
the development and growth of the divine perfections, e.g.
Avisdom and love. But this would be a contradiction in God,
because the eternal actuality of those 'perfection's ivliich must
he 'prcclieatcd of Him wonUi tc wanting to Hvm ; and this
would be inconsistent with His absoluteness. Also, over a
God thus conceived of, morality would have to be conceived
of as a law or rule to which He would be subject and
under obligation gradually to approximate. Or, God would
have to be designated as the moral law ; but this has been
above already refuted. Since the good is of absolute worth
and tends by its very essence to existence, then if God M'ere
not in His whole actual being absolutely good, as ctcrncdhj as
He exists, only the impotence of His will could be to blame
for His being deprived of absoluteness, whether a restraining
power, dualistically conceived, be outside of Him or within
Him. So this position must be adhered to : not only that
God knows and wills the morality which is for us, but that it
makes a part of His very essence ; and, moreover, that morality
belongs to God's being as an eternal fact, although in human
morality obligation must precede the real perfection. The
ethical principle itself requires to take this course in the
temporal world, and disclaims having immediate perfect reality
in order to the existence of a world really distinct from God,
and capable of a moral progress. But in God such a dis-
claiming of perfection is not conceivable ; there is no moral
growth in Him. If morality is at first not perfect as a fact
in the world, so much the more must it be such in God. The
idea of morality cannot have an empirical subjective origin,
but points back to an origin in eternity. In God morality

i As Rohmer thinks, Gott und seine Schopfung, 18fi7, and similarly Eduard
von Hartmann.

EELATION OF GOD'S ETHICAL TO HIS NOX-ETHICAL ATTRIBUTES. 65

Las an aboriginal existence, it has a place where the actual
is eternally perfect ; and therefore it can become for the world
obligation or law. As law, moreover, the good does not float
and flit around in the universe without a vehicle or real
substratum, but eternally rooted in God it seeks to spread
out and to become fruitful in the world also by means of a
process of growth.

3. The third point is the relation of the ethical nature of
God to the other distinctions which we ascribe to Him. These
are in part physical or metaphysical, as omnipresence, eternity,
life, and omnipotence ; in part logical, as intelligence. This
question, too, is important, because the order of these attributes
in God mnst be archetypal for man made in the image of God,
and for the order of man's faculties. But there are three
possibilities conceivable : either the ethical distinctions in
our idea of God are subordinate to the non-ethical, or all the
divine attributes are co-ordinate with one another, or finally,
the ethical element in God is superior in rank to all the non-
ethical attributes, and at the same time is to be regarded as
the bond of union for all the divine attributes.

It might seem to tell in favour of the priority of the non-
ethical attributes, that if God did not have first of all absolute
being, life, intelligence, and so forth, we should have no
vehicle for the ethical qualities, and that without this pre-
requisite an ethical God would be out of the question. But
it is quite consistent to hold, that what in one respect must
be thought of as a prerequisite of morality, is yet not on that
account the source or principle of morality, and must not be
conceived as higlier than it. The non-ethical distinctions in
the nature of God are related to the ethical as means to an
end ; but the absolute end can lie only in morality, because
it alone is of absolute worth. The ethical principle is the
ultimate reason for the fact that God eternally wills Himself,
or is the ground of Himself, in all His attributes.

It is probably most frequent to conceive of the divine
attributes as co-ordinate. But in that case there would
remain unlimited room for an arbitrary order ; conceived of
as real potencies, the attributes would be atomistically sepa-
rated from one another. Where then would be their intrinsic
connection with one another ? where the unity of God ? There

66 § 6. CONNECTION OF MOKALITY WITH THE IDEA OF GOD.

must be in God a dominant principle which embraces them
all, and brings them into harmonious relation one to another,
in that it makes them all relate to itself. This regulative
principle is presented in morality, which alone is an ultimate
end, and hence is paramount to everything else.

The only supposition remaining, then, is that all the other
attributes of God are sichordinate to the ethical. By the fact
that the ethical principle, or the divine mind's absolute mode
of existence, presupposes them and uses themx as means, they
themselves are also in their way necessary, and participate,
at least mediately, in the teleological system ; they have a
secure place and an eternal foundation in the fact that the
absolute ultimate end desires and demands them eternally
for its own sake. These other attributes are thus also in a
sense necessary ; but ultimately they are so for the sake of
the ethical in God, who, in order not to be a lifeless ethical
being, but to have eternal possession of Himself as an ethically
living God, eternally wills them, and through and in them
all eternally asserts Himself as ethical.

Note. — Fruitful results of the foregoing for Christian ethics.
If morality is that which is good in itself, and not made good
only through the absolute authority of God, and if, moreover,
man is made for morality, then he is also made for that which
is in itself good ; and the same good which is in God is such
for us also, although it has only in God aboriginal existence or
aseity, and the manifestation of this morality in us, who are
created by God, is other than in God Himself. Furthermore,
if morality occupies this predominant position, all attempts to
regard it merely as a product or blossom of nature are definitively
excluded. But the consequence following from the foregoing
which is of especial importance concerns the relation of the divine
omnipotence to human freedom. If the ethical nature of God
requires a free world, omnipotence cannot hinder this ; the
meaning of omnipotence is not that it does, or must do, every-
thing without exception wliich it can do ; rather omnipotence
itself is subserviently subject to the ethical nature and will of
God. The above-described subordination of the other divine
attributes to the ethical, is already taught in the Old Testament.
While the heathen stop short with the immortal life of the gods,
with their power, beauty, or intelligence, as their highest pre-
dicate, according to Prov. viii. God's power is subject to the
divine wisdom, which, however, wills good ends — ends which
in their ultimate reference are moral. The ethical element

SUPKEMA.CY OF MOEALITY IN GOD. 67

itself is in the Old Testament as yet predominantly conceived
of as holiness, and the power of God as the arm of this holiness
or righteousness ; and since man is conceived of as the image
of God (Gen. i. 26, 27), in God is given also the prototype for
the relative rank of the faculties of man. That the good which
is valid for man is likewise the good which is valid for God,
is made, still more than in the Old Testament, prominent in
the New Testament, where the person of Christ in a holy human
life completes the revelation, and reveals the inner character
of God. The difference remains nevertheless, that God alone
has absolute and also ethical self-existence ; that man exists
only on the ground of being created by God.

4. What has hitherto been said gives to morality, as an
independent good, towering in its height and grandeur above
everything else, a firm position, and that in God Himself. It
is a necessary thought of reason as such ; it is really conceived
only when conceived as also existent, and as existent in the
divine essence ; yes, in this essence it is the centre, the inmost
lyrinciijle, God in the Godhead. For at the same time with it
the personality of God is conceived of, since in an impersonal
being morality cannot exist. Thus originally the good is
God ; and God is both that which is aboriginally good and
He vjho is aboriginally good. Now, too, it may be said that
morality, according to the idea of it as realized in God, is not
merely one reality among others, but the power above all
realities, the highest measure of all worths, therefore the
reality of realities ; it is that which is intrinsically fixed and
eternal, of immovable permanence ; and in this sense Fichte
names it the " substantial." How much power and reality,
what form, things other than itself shall have, ultimately
depends solely on itself.

JVote. — Against the proposition that God in Himself, and even
irrespective of the world, is the ethical being, objection is made
on the part of those who grant indeed that God is to be con-
ceived of as ethical, but only in relation to the world. Morality,
they say, requires that something else be existent; for love
consists in an impartation, an act ; but impartation cannot take
place without a world; God can give nothing to Himself; but
if God is one who imparts Himself to others, then He is not
love in Himself, but only in relation to the world. So Kothe,
and similarly Schleiermacher. This question can be fully
answered only through a closer consideration of the nature of

68 § 7. NATURE OF MORALITY IN GOD.

morality in God and in the world ; here only the following need
be said in confirmation of our proposition, that morality belongs
to the inmost nature of God, It cannot be in Him mere
accident or caprice, that He wills to be self-imparting love ;
but loving impartation is not possible without a loving dis-
position and will, which makes the recipient its end ; hence in
God, independently of other existences, there is already a loving
dis2)osition. To be sure, actual impartation presupposes another
being, but actual impartation is not the only form of real
morality. Even without another object already existent, the
inward willingness or inclination to impart — in short, the loving
disposition — can already exist. The mere gift w^ould not be at
all appreciated as love, if the disposition did not put itself into
the gift. Morality, therefore, cannot exist, either in God or at
all, merely in the form of acts ; it must have, before all else,
the form of the personal power of a good and conscious will,
in other words, the form of a real existence.

§ 7. The Nature of Morality, primarily in God.
(Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, i. § 24-27, oU, 32.)

The essence of morality in God consists in an unchangeable,
but also eternally-living, union of a righteous will and
of a loving will, in the narrower sense of love ; in other
words, of divine self-assertion or self-love, and of a self-
imparting and participating will. The two together
and inseparably one constitute holy love. God is per-
sonal ; He is not merely that which is aboriginally good
and the absolutely highest Good, but also the aboriginally
good One, who eternally wills and asserts Himself as
. the One that He is. But this self-love, as holy zeal
for His majesty, — His ethical majesty also, — and for
all which this demands in Him and out of Him, is not
selfish. Eather, God in loving Himself, the aboriginal
seat of goodness, also loves goodness in general, which
by its own nature requires to have universal validity
and sway. Since, then, God's self-love loves the good
in general and as such, and not merely so far as it
remains His own possession, it is not contrary, but corre-
spondent, to His self-love, that He is also the love Avhicli

LOVE THE ESSENCE OF GOD'S MORAL NATURE. 69

multiplies the life of love and propagates the good. By-
virtue of His holy love He is the absolute personality,
absolutely ethical — the power and the will to be Him-
self while in others, and M'hilc Himself to be in others
through participation and impartation.

1. In indicating the nature of morality, we cannot aim at a
definition which would derive it from a higher generic notion,
for there is no such higher generic notion from which it could
be derived. Yet, on the other hand, we are not without an
intuition, a provisional notion of it, which is capable of descrip-
tion. Only the ethical God is truly God, and thus is verified
that saying of the Bible (1 John iv. 8), o de6<i djaTrr], which
again is not a definition, but aims to express merely the
highest Christian knowledge of God. The Scriptures do not
say that God is the absolute, infinite being, omnipotence, or
wisdom, but that He has in Himself power to have being
and life from Himself; He has wisdom, but He is love.
Hence love has self-existence, power, wisdom, and so forth.
But if it be further asked, what is love ? human words indeed
will not suffice ; they seem to us tame and bald in comparison
with that which we have in the ethical intuition of love.^
Let us consider, first, the main attempts to express its nature.
But, before doing so, let us listen to those also who look upon
it as absolutely incapable of being mentally conceived and
comprehended, because it is, as Kant thinks, only something
affectional ; or something poetical indeed, but only an indistinct,
though emotional, state, to which the fancy has access; or some-
thing so high that only vague feeling, but not clear thought,
can grasp it. If Christian ethics, however, must find its life in
the principle of love, it would at once abandon its claim to be
science, by assenting to one of these judgments. Chalybams
justly says : Love is the stone which the builders (especially
the philosophers) have rejected, but which is destined to
become the corner-stone, since logic and metaphysics can only
be perfected by means of the science of final causes.

2. There are especially three views of love, which we will
consider before coming to our positive statement. It is

^ A poet (Wolfgang Menzel) says of it : "Tlip more thou seek'st to strip the
rose of leaves, the more it seems ^Yith leaves to iill itself."

70 § 7. NATUEE OF MOEALITY IN GOD. LOVE AS

conceived of as amor concujpiscentice, complaccntice, and hene-
vokntice.

(a) The «mor concwpiscentice seeks to supply some deficiency
corresponding to which there is a desire for the lacking good,
and seeks by supplying it to gain the agreeable feeling of
completeness. But if another person is employed only as
a means of enriching or supplementing one's self, this is
possibly only a mode of seeking one's own, — a sort of selfish-
ness ; and the same would be the case if the person having
the desire wished to be not a receiver, but even a giver,
provided he only gave in order to rid himself of an oppres-
sive superfluity. For then also the other person would be
only a means, whereas the end would be for the giver only
he himself. Plato in his Symposion has invented a beautiful
myth concerning Eros : He makes him the child of iropo'i
(plenty) and of irevla (poverty). But if, on the one hand,
7r6po<i or giving, on the other, irevLa or receiving, were only
selfish, then from the double selfishness, however contrasted in
its manifestation, there would not as yet issue love. Where a
relation of love is to be brought about, an abundance on the
one side, a deficiency or an unsatisfied suceptibility on the
other, may be necessary as irrcrcg_uisites. But the prerequisite
is not the thing itself; love is something which exists for its
own sake, and only uses the prerequisites according to its
own nature. What is, then, the love itself, which must have
a place both in him to whom the wealth, and in him to whom
the want belongs ? It is at any rate something else than mere
care for one's own interest, whether for a lower or for a higher
interest. So long as it is a matter only of one's own interest,
we remain confined to the natural realm, in which self-love,
the being centred in one's self, holds sway, and makes self
its end, and into which only adumbrations and premonitions
of love fall. This mistake is avoided by the conceptions of
love as amor comjjlacentioi and heoicvolentia;, by which some-
thing other than one's own self is treated as the end and
aim, and of which the first relates to the intelligence, the
second to the will.

(h) Amor complaccnticc. Tlie love of complacency, whether
aesthetic or intellectual complacency, gives itself up to an
object in recognition of its worth. It can pass over into the

AMOR COXCUriSCENTLEj COMPLACENTI^, BENEVOLENTL-E. 71

concupiscential love which would possess the object, or also
into the amor hcncvolenticv ; but as such, the amor compla-
centice reposes in mere contemplation of its object, and simply
appreciates the intrinsic worth of the object, without letting
the will, in the form of desire, participate. Of this sort is
intellectual love as it appears in many forms of mysticism, and
as treated by Spinoza, where the losing of one's self in contem-
plation and in self-surrender to God is put as the highest love.
As applied to God, that style of thought would belong here
which accounts for the origin of the world thus : God,
absorbed in the image of the world as it stood before His
mind, lost Himself in it and imparted His essence to it in a
sort of falling away from Himself, or an e/co-racri?, which is
described as superabounding love. But such loss of self in
self-surrender could not be called real love. If the world
which originated in such loss of self should also on its side
have love resembling God's, then it again must lose itseK
in God, and so on both sides love would consist only in
self-annihilation, or in an absorption of the loving one by the
loved object ; and this would involve the end, or self-
destruction, of love. But that would just as little be love
as the absorption of the object by the subject deserves the
name of love.

(f) It sounds better, therefore, to describe amor as henevo-
lentia. Tor well-wishing expresses the inclination of the one
person to make tlie other an end, in order to cultivate with him
an active operative relation of love, especially in impartation.
This is not merely a contemplative giving of one's self to the
other, but a practical making of one's self a means for the
other, — a voluntary relation. This explains why it has become
almost customary to regard the essence of love as impartation,
or self-impartation. So Schleiermacher, Eothe, et al. Against
this, now, Schoberlein urges that love is to be conceived of,
not merely as impartation, but likewise also as participation
in joy and sorrow ; that it is not described till both togetlier
are included. Certainly in each there is an essential function
of love ; in participation, however, not in the sense that parti-
cipating love, like the amor concuinscentice, is concerned with
getting possession of the good things which belong to the
other person, and with sharing with him. Loving partici-

72 §.7. NATUKE OF MOKALITY IN GOD.

pation, on the contrary, is, strictly speaking, a giving, an
imparting of one's self to the other person in sympathy, for
the sake, as it were, of continuing and enlarging his per-
sonality, which is treated as being an ultimate end. Loving
participation therefore belongs properly to imparting love,
and both are included in the seeking of fellowship, in self-
disclosure made for others, and in devotion to them as an
end.

But is now henevolentia, as communicative love, the adequate
description of love itself? Impartation would be an act in
which another being would have to be already presupposed in
order that there may be love ; whereas (see above, p. 67) love
as an inward faculty and disposition can already exist quite
irrespective of its manifestation towards the objects of the
love. Otherwise God could not out of His eternal love call
a non-existing world into existence. The description of
morality, or love, as mere impartation, would furthermore not
secure it against the conception of an unethical loss of self.
For the impartation would have to be in some sort self-
impartation. The bare impartation of gifts, while the ego
holds itself back, would not amount to love. If, on the
other hand, the divine love were conceived as disclosing itself,
but onhj in the form of self-impartation, that would bring us
back to the notion of a pantheistic self-loss of God ; God
would be, so to speak, selflessly dissolving goodness, and this
again would be unethical. True love, therefore, must not fail
to have the seriousness, sternness, and inflexibility of self-
assertion, in order that it may not become selfless expansion
or profusion, — in a word, become of a physical nature, like
the elements, fire, light, heat, water, air, which have a natural
tendency to expansion. This sternness and seriousness, how-
ever, is not expressed in henevolentia as such. Summarizing
Ave say, therefore : Self-impartation and participation, by their
nature closely allied to one another, stand on the one side,
the side of self-disclosure or self-devotion ; but these in their
one-sidedness, or of themselves, would not amount to real
love. Love conceived of as amor conc^'pisccntue, however, has-
the opposite defect, in that it serves only the ego, making
itself its own centre. The two taken together will help tO'
put us on the right course.

POSITIVE STATEMENT OF TEE NATURE OF MOLALITY. 73

3. Positive statement of the nature of moralitii.

The definitions already considered are directly opposed to
one another. For, according to the first, love is only a seek-
ing of one's own, a making one's self the centre and end ;
and this was its defect. According to the other two, love is
conceived of as only devotion to something else, either in an
intellectual or a practical way, this something else being the
objective good or end, for which the agent is only the means ;
and this was their defect. This indicates that, in order rightly
to understand the nature of love, these two elements must
be united, and must be viewed as forming together a solid
unity of blended opposites, viz. the choice of self, which we
may call self-love, and an opening out to others in participa-
tion and impartation. Morality, true love, is not something
merely single ; there is in it a union of opposites which
it brings into co-operation with each other. It is a thing by
itself, a unique essence, ens sui generis, as much so as any
other distinct species of existence. But it unites microcos-
mically in itself what otherwise appears only isolated, or in
one-sided preponderance, — existence for one's self and exist-
ence for others. In nature, in the case of the single material
forms or bodies, the ruling impulse is self-concentration,
the force of gravitation, reference to self; in the case of
other things, as especially light, it is expansion, — an existence,
as it were, for others. Xow love is a more composite thing,
an infinitely higher power. It does not consist merely in
acts, which are only its outward manifestation ; we must also
at the same time fix our eye upon its inward power and
essential activity ; for the manner of love is to reveal the
inmost and best, to make it transparent and accessible. In
morals the outward manifestation has import only when it
points back to an inner source in love. Accordingly we shall
indeed have to consider love in relation to its immanent law
of life, and to the essential functions whereby it is what it is ;
but in doing this we must not resolve love merely into a
kind of action, and deny to it the possession of an inward
reality, a state of being, which, as a living disposition, also
reveals itself in action. This is the mystery and the marvel
of love, that, on the one hand, when we fix it by itself, as
being in itself an inward reality, it insists on revealing itself;

74 § 7. NATURE OF MORALITY IN GOD.

for it would not be love if it did not seek to show itself.
And in this aspect of it we behold, just in the depths of its
inwardness, the purest propensity to the apparent opposite,
to the most energetic outward manifestation. But, on the
other hand, just this full revelation, into which, as it were,
it has put itself, and in which it has come forth from its
inwardness, points most surely back into its unfathomable
depth that, even in self-manifestation, remains unexhausted,
not losing, but asserting itself. Just by means of its intense
outward expression we are most surely guided back into its
inner depth, its pure free essence. Thus we have present at
the same time both its distinctly marked manifestation in its
single acts, and its fulness and depth neither circumscribed
nor exhausted by these single manifestations. Both, however,
are held together by love, which is the true bridge, tlie living
bond, between the ideal and the real, between the eternal and
the historical. There is no power outside of love which can
imitate it in this. Of the forces of nature it may be said that
they lose themselves in their manifestation ; they have no
inward being, no depth, even though they may have secrets
still unknown; they exhaust themselves in their activity.
Mind, on the other hand, as only a thinking and feeling power,
has merely an existence in itself ; though, as will, it has at other
times only a striving to get out of itself in the direction of
action or deed. In love alone is the real and most thorough
blending of these opposites ; in a word, it is the "power of heing,
at the same time, within one's self and out of ones self in another ;
it unites, as it were, transcendence, or self-assertion, and imma-
nence in the world, or self-surrender and impartation ; and by
the union of these two it becomes holy love. The pan-
theistic and the deistic conceptions of God are thus left
behind. For in God self - assertion and self - devotion are
absolutely united, but are not therefore identical, as we shall
presently see.

4. Distinction letween self-assertion {or self-love) and self-
impartation, with the inward conjunction of the two in holy
love ; or the distinction and the connection between righteousness
and love in its stricter sense.

The distinguishing between self-assertion and self-imparta-
tion, together with the recognition of their inner connection,

DISTINCTION" BETWEEN SELF-LOVE AND SELF-IMPAETATION. 75

is a vital point in order to an understanding of the full con-
ception of holy love ; therefore we are first of all called upon
to maintain that distinction against objections, and to establish
its necessity.

a. Against distinguishing hetween the two there are objections
raised from respectable sources. These are directed against
the propriety of associating the notion of self-assertion and of
self-love with that of self-impartation, while no one disputes
the rightfulness of making love involve self-impartation. It is
said that the love of God wills continually to become active, but
that God Himself cannot be the object of His own love ; that
love is only conceivable as love of another ; that self-love does
not at all deserve the name of love. If this were correct, we
could speak of love in God (as indeed is so frequently the
case) only as self-imparting, but not also as righteous, love ;
righteousness would be no objective attribute in God, but at
the most a subjective conception. The reasons urged against
our position, that righteousness and love (in the narrower sense)
belong essentially together in the true conception of love, yet
without therefore being identical, are reducible to the suspicion
that self-love must be something selfish. Hence some would
have only the ^oorld regarded as the object of the love of God,
i.e. of the self-imparting love, which is all that they regard as
tenable ; so Eothe and Schleiermacher. Others, as Sartorius,
think by resorting to the idea of the Trinity to be able to
avoid the notion of self-love. But if the divine distinctions
or hypostases belong to the divine Being or self, and do not
exist each for itself separately, but only when taken together
constitute the one absolute divine Person, then the love of the
triune hypostases to one another is also divine self-love ; and
only Tritheism, which regards the three as constituting no
imity, could regard the love of the Father to the Son, for
instance, as not being self-love. As to the world, however, it
cannot be the primary object of God's love. It can be
worthy of love only as destined for love, or because love is
worthy of love. But why now should love be worthy of love
in the world indeed, but not also in God, while yet it can be
worthy of love only through its prototype, the God worthy of
love, and through love to Him ? If God is worthy of love in
Himself, He is also worthy of love for Himself, and thus in

76 § 7. NATURE OF MORALITY IN GOD.

His self-love there is nothing to be seen except the righteous-
ness of His love.^ The a'pi^carancc of selfishness, which
Sartorius finds in divine self-love, would be more than a mere
appearance only in case God in loving Himself thereby loved
merely a particular being. But as God is distinguished
personally and from everything possible and actual by His
self-existence, which is, however, at the same time the ground
of universal possibility and existence, He is also the aboriginal
and necessary seat of good in general — of the KaOoXov a'yadov.
With the eternal universal idea of good of which, as of
all eternal truths, He is the aboriginal seat. His absolute
personality has consciously and voluntarily, eternally and
indissolubly, joined itself Hence if God loves Himself, He
loves not merely an individual personality, but His own
unique personality, with all its potencies and attributes, all,
however, as above described, in harmony with the dominant
principle in Him, the ethical, and for the sake of that. He is
thus in self-love not merely love to His own self, irrespective
of the ethical principle, but He is at the same time amor
amoris ; He loves the ethical principle in general, both
righteousness and communicative love. And thus selfishness
in the divine self-love is out of the question, because in loving
Himself He also loves and wills what is universal, wdiat is in
itself and necessarily good. This of course is original in Him,
and must eternally fall within the circumference of His being ;
but to this universal ethical principle belongs likewise
necessarily the self-assertion which we call righteousness.
Even without self-impartation, God is love to the goodness or
the holiness, which He Himself is.

If righteousness be not regarded as a particular aspect af
the full conception of love, the gravest consequences result.

^ [The argument liere may perhaps be made more clear by a little expansion.
God's love, Dr. Dorner argues, cannot consist merely in a going out of Himself
towards another distinct object. For why should He love the world, except as
it is worthy of love ? And what is worthy of love except that which can exercise
love? The world can be the object of divine love only in so far as it contains-
personal beings capable of loving God. And there can be such beings only as
God creates them. Their capacity to love is the product of His capacity to love.
He is the prototype, they the copy. God, therefore, cannot be conceived as
loving the world unless He recognises His own capacity to love as worthy of love.
Consequently self-love in God is necessarily involved and presupposed in love to
the world.— Ti:.]

SELF-LOVE ESSENTIAL TO ETHICAL SELF-IMPAETATION. 77

This is the case if righteousness, even as retributive or
punitive, be regarded only as one form of love, love itself
being conceived of as consisting only in self-impartation and
self-devotion. It is equally the case if the divine love be
more consistently regarded as a force productive of that which
is good, and if in righteousness nothing else is seen but the
consistency and persistency of this love which aims to produce
and impart good, that is, to realize the end for wdiich the
world was made. The consequence of denying that the
divine justice is a particular clement of God's ethical nature,
would be the destruction even of ethical self-impartation, yes,
of the ethical principle in general. If, that is to say, God
should be conceived of as self - communicating love, but
without the self-assertion which constitutes righteousness,
then God would be wanting in power over Himself, and so in
power to control His self-impartation according to the intrinsic
susceptibility or worthiness of the object. But in that case
there would remain in Him only the irresistible impulse to
self-devotion which would have to operate in a physical way ;
and this would no longer be voluntary love, but God would be
pouring Himself out into the world, to use Philo's figure, like
an overfoaming goblet, till He had lost Himself in impartation
or self-impartation. In that case, further, the freedom of the
creature, the distinction between good and evil, in the world
would be disregarded. Consequently such profuse goodness
would tend to obliterate all distinctions of worth. We should
have therefore only the heathen conception of goodness, even
though this conception might conceal itself under the Christian
name of an overflowing abundance of self-forgetful love. The
New Testament speaks, indeed, of self-forgetful love, and
requires that we should lose life in order to gain it (Matt.
X. 39 ; Mark viii. 35) ; but that means that we ought to
renounce, not our personality, but only the making of our
finite selves the centre, the shutting of ourselves up against
God and our neighbour. There is, therefore, a place in God
for conscious ethical reference to Himself, or for self-love ; and
God's assertion of Himself as the absolute personal Good, this
guarding of His honour, is God's immanent righteousness.
Even the Old Testament conceives of God's righteousness as
His self-assertion and the protection of His honour. "Who-

78 § 7. XATUllE OF MORALITY IN GOD. GOD IS LOVE

ever would pass over justice, and emphasize the importance
of love, imagining this to be the 'New Testament conception,
unavoidably falls back below the plane of the Old Testa-
ment ; there remains for him only a physical goodness of a
utilitarian sort, that is, a heathen counterfeit of love.

/8, The foregoing discussion serves to prove the necessity of
conceiving the divine self-assertion or righteousness as a dis-
tinct thing, as a particular objective quality of the divine
nature. Yet definitely as this has been shown, it may seem
difficult, yes, impossible, to maintcdn this separateness and
distimxitness as over against self-imyartation in the oneness of
God's ethical nature. It might seem as if self-assertion and
self-impartation would have to become one again, because
each must include the other. For suppose now it should be
asked, As what does God's holy love assert itself ? what is
the object of its self-assertion ? In reply, it could not be denied
that God wills and asserts Himself even as self-imparting;
and vice, versa, God wills so to impart Himself as to impart
also the power of self-assertion which is in Him to living
beings, although in most diverse measure. But the divine
will of self-impartation has nevertheless its limits ; for not
everything in God is communicable ; the self-existence which
runs through all the forms of our conception of God belongs to
Him alone ; and so the very aifirmation of His aseity or self-
existence is a kind of self-assertion in God which is not at
the same time self-impartation. The will to impart Himself
does not, in God, come merely from His self-assertion ; self-
impartation has in God a living source of its own, which is,
however, protected and cherished by the divine self-assertion.
God, further, in willing and asserting Himself, wills Himself
not merely as self-imparting. His self-assertion is the main-
tenance or preservation of all His attributes, but of these
attributes as means for ethical ends. It is a maintenance
both of His self-existence and of His glory and majesty — of
all eternal truths, but also of righteousness, of Himself in the
distinction which, to thought and in fact, exists between Him
and the non-self-existent world, tlie creation. It is a guarding
of the difference between Him and the world, even while He
imparts Himself to it, and wills to be self-imparting. Agree-
ably to His uniqueness, God is not merely the general.

EVEN IRKESPECTIVE OF AN OUTWARD MANIFESTATION OF IT. 79

universal being, the source of everything possible and actual ;
He is, by virtue of His self-existence, also a particular being,
distinct from everything possible and actual. But this. His
particularity, does not make Him finite ; for the very essence
of it is that He, and He alone, is the absolute source of all
other things possible and actual. According to this, it is
quite possible, without confounding self-assertion, or righteous-
ness, with self-impartation, to conceive of both together as
elements of God's inner essence, so that God wills and asserts
Himself even in self-impartation, and so that, in asserting
Himself, He tends to impart Himself ; only the self-imparta-
tion must not be so indiscriminately conceived of that thereby
His self-assertion is impaired.

7. And no less is it possible to conceive of God as holy
love, or capacity of love, even irrespective of any outward mani-
festation of it. As the capacity of holy love, God is the actual
aboriginal love, the actual Good and the highest Good. He
is in Himself the absolute Good, not merely in that He is
infinite fulness of life and of powers, that He is will,
intelligence, and the union of all potencies in the form of per-
sonality, but also in that this His personality has eternally
and absolutely grasped the ideal Good and, as it were, clothed
and identified itself with it. All the divine powers stand in
eternal perfection and unity by the very fact that the Good,
or the love, for which they all exist, is the inner law of life
in God, His conscious and chosen condition of life. By virtue
of love the divine life is perfect symmetry or eurythmia —
absolutely worthful, self-satisfied, blessed harmony, and eternal
Sabbatic repose. God, as the eternally perfect, actual, aboriginal
love, is the blessed God. But God's blessedness is, even irrespec-
tive of the world, not to be thought of as inactive rest, but as
living reality ; not as mere potency, and also not as coming to
be, but as perfect reality, having command over itself, and
being eternally active ; in His activity He is evermore the
blessed God. The first activity (actus primus), however, is not
a cosmical working, hut inner activity, or ethical life. For
God, in so far as He is goodness, does not conceive of Himself
merely as goodness fixed and perfect once for all ; but the good
which He is He is conscious of being, and wills consciously
to be. He is not merely a physical good, but what He is

80 § 7. NATURE OF MORALITY IN GOD.

He is eternally through His will ; He affirms and asserts the
goodness, the holiness, which He is, and the inviolable
symmetry of all His powers. So also God eternally asserts
His love both as a ccqxicity and as a disposition. This self-
assertion is the immanent righteousness in God, which must
be conceived of as not merely our subjective notion, but as
an objective existence. But the loving disposition, the hcnt
to self-impartation, is in God different from rigliteousness,
although not separate from it. This bent, too, must not be
indulged at the expense of self-assertion or righteousness,
otherwise it would lose its ethical character. The divine
self-love is the impregnable basis and the necessary pre-
requisite of self-impartive love. The divine self-love, too,
wills to maintain the immutable distinction between God and
every possible thing outside of Him — His infinite majesty,
rooted in His self-existence, which is not communicable, but
is a well-spring of life, of communicable good. This self-love
wills also His personality eternally distinguished from every-
tliing which He is not. The self-assertion guards the possi-
bility of self-inipartation, hut is not the so2ircc of its rccdity}

5. "We have seen, then, that absolute self-love and self-
communicative love, like two opposite poles, reciprocally
and indissolubly connected, but not confounded or identified,
together constitute absolute morality in God. This being so,
we have now more particularly to consider the essential self-
manifestations of the impersonated good which God is.

First, (a) The self -manifestation of the divine holy self-love :
the assertion of His intrinsic honour, "ii23, ho^a, holiness, or
ethical goodness absolutely maintaining itself in its absolute

^ [The author's meaning is to this effect : 1. There must be self-love, self-
assertion in God. 2. By virtue of this self-love God asserts the distinction
between Himself and all other things possible, and at the .same time Avills to be
the source of impartive love, yet so that He maintains this distinction in love
itself. 3. Impartive love, which, even irrespective of the world, is in God as
a loving disposition, is not derivable from self-love, but is a principle of its own
in God. But it is also not without an clement of self-love : (a) so far forth as God
wills Himself as a loving being, wills His loving disposition ; (i) so far forth as
the loving disposition does not fail to maintain the incommunicable distinction
between Him and every other possible thing. Thus in the inmost being of God
there is found the union of righteousness and love as the capacity or disposition
of love, as also in the actual self-impartation the loving disposition is the vital
■ matter. See below, 5 (/3). Ci'. Syst. of Christ. Dtjct. i. p. 456.— Ed.]

HISTOIIY OF THE NOTION OF JUSTICE. 81

right.^ This is especially prominent in the Old Testament as
the zeal of God, 3'es, as jealousy for His honour, Ex. xix. ;
Isa. xlii. 8.

Before we treat of the essential functions of righteousness,
it is in place, considering the difficulties in the conception of
it, to premise some historical observations.^ In the whole
ante-Christian world, the Hebrew not excepted, justice is the
leading moral conception ; it even sometimes embraces all
morality, according to the saying of Theognis which Aristotle
quotes: " Verily justice embraces the perfect circle of virtue."
And justice occupies a similar position in the Old Testament.
Yet it is easy to understand that the ancients directed their
attention more towards the manifestations than towards the
essence of righteousness. Furthermore, a law is presupposed
as a standard of what is to be regarded as just ; and this law
is at first conceived of in a purely empirical and positive way.
Eight is what the laws of the commonwealth regard as right
(v6fio<i rrj'i TToXewi), although they, as is known, may be even
Itad. Through the Sophists this formal definition of justice,
adapting itself to accidental laws, became filled with immoral
elements ; for according to them, if one has only possessed
himself of the highest power, which gives the laws, he can
also determine what shall pass for just, and make his own
advantage become the supreme law. Then might — this

^ Cf. on this. System of Christian Doctrine, § 2.3, 24.

^ Cf. Hildebrand, Geschichte cler Bechts- unci StaatspliUosoplde, vol. i. p.
123 sqq. Leopold Schmidt, GescMcMe der griechischen Ethik, 1881. Trende-
lenburg, Ilistorische Beitrii<je, iii. 399 sqq. AUihn, Z>e idea just i qualis fuerit
apud Homerum et Hesiodum. Ed. Platner, Ueher die Idee der GerecJdigkeit hei
SophoUes und Aeschylus, 1858. Hirzel, Ueher den Unterschied der aiKaiotrinn nnd
crappurCvt) 171 der plafonisclieu Repuhlih, in Hermes, \o\, viii. 1874. Ogienski,
Welches ist der Sinn des platonischen rk avrav "rpamiv ? 1845. [On Plato's view
of justice, see also W. Sn\\\\?,\^De jusiitia in Platone], Breslau 1851. Fechner,
Ueher den Gerechtifjlcfitshegrtff des Aristoteles. Prautl, in Bluntschli's Staats-
worterhuch, i. 342. Diestcl, Idee der Gerechtigkeitimalten Testament, in Jahrh.
Jiir deutsche Theologie, 1860. Heft 2. HeiVujkeit Gottes, ibid. 1859, Heft 1.
Zimmermann, Das Bechtsprinzip hei Leibnitz. Hartenstein, Bechtsphilosophie
des Hugo Grotlus, in Abhccndlungen der scichsischen Gesellschaft der Wissen-
schaften, vol. i. 1860. Stahl, Die Philosojjhie des Bechts. Hinrichs,
Geschichte der Bechts- tind Staatspjrinzipien. Trendelenburg, Naturrecht auf
dem Grunde der Ethik. F. Dalin, Bechtsphllosophische Studien. Vernun/t im
Becht, Grundlagen der Bechtsphilosophie. Schuppe, Grundziige der Ethik und
BechtsphHosophie. Cf. the literature on p. 28 sqq. — Ed.]

82 § 7. NATUEE OF MORALITY.

physical thing — would be the source of right, a doctrine
which still later is defended also by Hobbes and by Spinoza
[and with reference to the derivation of right from God, by
Duns Scotus, according to whom also right can have only a
positive character, since it has its origin merely in the
arbitrary power of God — Ed.]. Tliis is the definition of
Thrasymachos in Plato's licpnUic, in which work the philo-
soplier makes Socrates investigate the notion of justice, and
not stop short with merely formal definitions, because, lie
says, there is something that is good in itself, accessible to the
reason of the cognitive person through self-knowledge. The
definition of Simonides is also rejected, who advocates the
suum cuique. For here the question remains : What is
that which belongs to each ? The sophist, who makes
might supreme, could also talce advantage of this definition.
Besides, the suum cuique could also be interpreted : To
your friend, good ; to your foe, evil ; even though the
friend be bad, and the foe good. The description of
righteousness as truth in speech and faithfulness in requital
is evidently too narrow. Worthy of mention also is tlie
definition of Pythagoras, who makes the essence of justice
consist in the fact that an avrnre'TrovOo'; takes place ; in this
an important function of justice is pointed out, namely, the
retributive, or punitive. The thought is : for a suffering
that one has caused a counter - suffering is the just thing.
Yet Pythagoras took avTnreiTovOo'i in a wider sense also ;
in the case of benefits the avTiire'irovOo^, or justice, is the
recompense made by gratitude. So with him justice is the
restoration or completion of harmony, and that in a pro-
ductive way. For beneficence demands gratitude ; gratitude,
again, is active, works well - doing towards the benefactor ;
and so there is formed, as it were, in living mathematical
movement, according to the principle of a proportionate
reimbursment of one good deed by another, a circuit of
active benevolence. In this is shown the connection of
righteousness with the mathematical basis of the world ; and
it seems that Pythagoras applied his principle also to the
matter of traffic or exchange. Ptight is represented as some-
thing elastic which, when it has sustained an injury or
pressure, puts forth a counter - pressure or impulse. If an

Plato's notion of justice. 83

injury sustained by the right is to be bahmced by means of a
corresponding compensation made by tlie violator, this leads
to the jus talionis ; and therein is shown the connection
between justice and mathematics.

Plato takes especial pains thoroughly to confute the view
of Thrasymachos. He maintains in opposition : If justice
were only what is imposed as law by the stronger, what is
pleasant or proiitable to him, then there would be nothing at all
that is in itself just ; right would not be right in and of itself,
but only something absolutely indefinite and mutable. Thrasy-
machos having made use of the comparison that the sheep
are for the shepherd, who can therefore shear and slaughter
them at will, Socrates replies that this comparison does not
fit the case, and does not answer to the relation of the govern-
ing to the governed ; that the shepherd as such protects, but
does not slaughter, the sheep ; that every art exists for the
benefit, and not for the injury, of its object. He further
urges that, according to Thrasymachos, the right of the strong
would be wholly different from that of the weak ; that for
the former to rule, for the latter to suffer, would be just ;
whereas, rather, right exists just as much for the weaker as
for the stronger, and makes one care for the advantage of others,
under some circumstances even at the cost of one's own. He
says that the thesis of Tlirasy machos is to be reversed : that
justice is the necessary condition of power and strength,
while injustice engenders strife and works dissolution. And
so Plato seeks to represent justice as the bond of the world.
To the State, which is for him like one great person in the
well-ordered membership of its parts and in their harmonious
co-operation, justice serves as the universal rhythm, the music,
which runs through the whole and keeps each part in its
time and measure.

In opposition to the derivation of justice from might, and
also in opposition to the vague definition that it represents
the suum cuique, Plato contrived to come to a definite point
by saying that justice is harder to be discerned in individual
life than in the State, but must be one and the same in
the State and in the individual, for which reason he would
have it learned, as if written in large letters, from the nature
of the State as being a magnified individual. The civil

84 § 7. NATUEE OF MOKALITY.

community is brought into existence by means of division of
labour on the ground of variety of capacities or virtues. Three
classes are requisite thereto : the labourers or tradesmen, the
Avatchmen or M'arriors, and the rulers or philosophers — the
classes to which belong the three functions of nourishing,
guarding, and governing. Each of these three classes has, ia
exercising its function, a particular virtue to represent : the.
three are moderation, bravery, wisdom ; the fourth cardinal
virtue, justice, is, according to him, not the virtue of a particular
class, but belongs to all. It is the virtue whereby each filLs-
his post, is what he ought to be in his place in the whole,
— ra aurov TrpdrTeLV in opposition to 7roXv7rpay/j,oveiv or
aXKorpLoirpajfiovecp. It consists, therefore, in the individual's
living and acting in accordance with the character of his own
circle, but in the spirit of the whole ; it is for him, as a part
of this whole, the subjective principle of virtue, which there-
fore becomes the bond or living soul for all the members of
the body politic. The groundwork for this picture of the.
State, however, is the Platonic psychology, which distinguishes,
between the three things, the corporeal life, the 6vfM6<i, and
the vov<;, and by means of this distinction makes it possible
to speak also of a justice and an injustice even in the indivi-
dual as such ; for the subjection of the physical to the vov^,.
e.g., is just ; and the violation of the vov<i by the supremacy
of one of the others is unjust.

Aristotle, on the other hand, understands by justice only
the virtue which is suited to the commonwealth and to its
positive laws ; in his view the just is the vofxLfxov. To be
sure, the laws in one State are different from those of another ;
therefore justice does not agree with actual morality ; only in
the perfect State will justice and morality coincide. By
reason of his empirical starting-point Aristotle does not get
so far as to investigate what is just in itsdf, but only so far
as to eliminate from the given material mutually contradictory
things, and to hold fast those which agree together. Tlato
goes beyond him in this respect also, that he connects justice
with the Godhead ; the ALkt] he places by the throne of Zeus,
which calls to mind the word of the Psalmist : " Eighteousness
and judgment are the foundation of Thy throne " (Ps. Ixxxix.
14). Finally, it is peculiar to Aristotle that, in the Nico-

AiaSTOTLE'S NOTIOX OF JUSTICE. 85

rnacliseaii ethics, lie is willing to speak of justice only in
relation to others/ but not like Plato in relation to one's self ;
he quotes the saying of Bias : Justice is a good which belongs
to others, that is, it points out the rights of others and one's
duty toward them. And it is to the same effect when he says,
that no one can do himself an injustice. On the other hand,
Aristotle, as compared with Plato, shows some advance in the
-apprehension of justice ; first, in relation to its classification,
and secondly, especially in relation to the laov. He dis-
tinguishes justice as BLopdo)TtK7] and as ScavefxeriKyj. The
former is the justice of equali/;ation or restoration, and includes
the justitia commutativa, or the justice of trade, where for the
•surrender of property the indemnification lies in a correspond-
ing increase of property by what is received from the other
person. Here the moral character of the person is indifferent.
But to this SiopdcoTLKij belongs, according to him, punitive
justice also. The ZiavefieTLKi'} is the j'list it ia distrihutiva. In
the State inheres the right of distributing property. The
■question arises now whether, in order to be just, tlie distribu-
tion is to take place according to the principle of the laov,
which Plato stops short with. Aristotle denies this. First,
because, according to him, the State has to recognise such a
distribution of things as has become historical by the nature
of the case, or by custom ; and secondly, because also in rela-
tion to the things which the State disposes of, as honours and
offices, the principle of the tcrov is insufficient, since according
to it all would have equal claim. He censures Plato for
stopping short with the notion of the laov as constituting
distributive justice, according to which there would result an
abstract equality of all men (to taov caique), — which would
lead to democracy or ochlocracy. The 'laov, he says, is only
the opposite of wanting to have too much and to endure too
little, and so denotes only the supreme rule, that every one
anust receive his own according to justice ; and consequently
there remains room for great differences. If all persons,
A, B, C, were related alike to all things good and bad, a, /3, 7,
then democracy would be the result, and every human being
would have to claim the same as every other. But this mere
mathematical equalization is to be rejected, because it dis-
^ Otherwise in the Magna Moi-alia, i. cap. 33.

86 § 7. NATURE OP MORALITY.

regards the difference in merit in A, B, C. To apply simple
equalizing lets the ZUaLov be lost in the 'laov, and that
would be a sort of tyranny. Eather, instead of a mere
equalization a proportion is to be laid down : By so much
as A has greater moral worth than B and C, by so much
must he have also a greater share of good things and a
smaller share of evil. On the other hand, Plato excels Aris-
totle in that he makes it a vital point to investigate what is
just in itself, depicting the just man stripped of all power,
honour, and wealth, laden with disgrace and obloquy, in order
to portray the irresistible impression of justice in itself con-
sidered. He excels him also in that he connects this justice
with the idea of God ; whereas Aristotle stops short with
experience, which can set up as justice very different, or even
opposite, things, according to the customs and laws of different
people.

Nevertheless Plato too has confounded the juridical and
the ethical, and identified justice and goodness ; and as with
Aristotle logical and mathematical conceptions are especially
prominent in justice, so with Plato morality is not yet distin-
guished from knowledge. He holds that after the knowledge
of good, after the apprehension of the idea of it, the
doing comes of itself. At the same time also justice is sub-
stantially made to appear in the form of beauty, that is, it is
looked at from an aesthetic point of view. In this is seen
a resemblance between him and Leibnitz in their treatment
of the subject of justice.

Leibnitz makes justice rest on a logical or intellectual
foundation. According to him, justice is the wisdom of the
governing person ; and that is just which is wise, but that is
wise which is salutary for the whole. What, now, is salu-
tary ? If it be said, it is that which promotes well-being,
this view may result in utilitarianism, so that justice again
receives its standard only from experience, which ought
rather to be regulated by justice. It is no wonder, therefore,
that the philosophy of Leibnitz in the eighteenth century
became the forerunner of popular philosophical utilitarianism.
He attempted to classify justice according to degrees. 1. The
jus stridum prescribes only : neminem Iccde, in order that
every one may not lay claim to the right of the state of

LEIBNITZ ON THE NOTION OF JUSTICE. 87

nature or of war. On this first and lowest stage justice in
commercial relations lias its place {justitia conwiutativa) ; this,
too, is strict justice ; under it there is exchange of the idem
or the tantundem. Justice in private traffic rests on an
equalization, according to the principle that the thing bought
is of as much value as the price paid, and vice versa. But
in this kind of justice the moral world of personal beings
does not yet come to view ; all are regarded as equal ;
only those differences come to view which flow out of
the question of right in the transaction itself. 2. On
the other hand, the justitia distrihUiva has to proceed
on the principle of suum cuique ; hence it does not stop
short with simple equalization, but advances to a pro-
portion according to the formula : As A is related to B
(moral worth to lot in general), so in concrcto is C related
to D. The lot of Cains is to the lot of Titus as the
worth of Gains is to the worth of Titus. 3. The third
grade of justice, according to Leibnitz, is that of the divine
jurisprudentia, whicli leads over into theology. The
voluntas suijerioris is to be reckoned as justice. But God
is by nature the highest Being ; hence His positive laws are
to be held as of force. From this he further infers that
what is stipulated by compact is to be reckoned as justice,
and likewise as 2^'i'Ctas. His mcthodas nova jurisprudentice lays
down, as the three grades of justice, strictum jus, a:quitas, and
pietas, or juridical, political, and ethical justitia (the last
embracing morals and religion). He would let theology pass
only as a species of the genus jurisprudence, as treating of
the equity and the laws of the republic of God — in the case
of ethical theology, of the divine law which is valid in private
relations, whereas the first two belong to the realm of public
justice, but remain included in the highest of the three grades.
In his codex juris diplomaticus, however, he makes legal and
political justice also find their ideal in God, who is absolute
justice. There he describes justice as the leading virtue of
the affection of love, or of the benevolence which makes our
neighbour's happiness our own. In this way justice is identi-
fied witli practical wisdom. The proper object of love,
according to him, is the beautiful — that which in itself it is
agreeable to contemplate even when it yields no advantage.

88 § 7. NATURE OF MOEALITY. KANT, HEGEL,

It is true, morality and beauty have this in common, that
both are pleasing in themselves ; but this would bring us only
to the realm of eesthetics ; nor are we brought beyond it by
the fact that lie distinguishes love to dead works of art from
love to beauty in living beings which are capable of happi-
ness, so that they can become objects of benevolence. The
definition of love, that it is delight in the happiness of others,
or that it makes this happiness one's own, likewise makes the
enjoyment of happiness, i.e. an aesthetic affection, the supreme
thing ; and ethics thus remains the science of eudremony,
in which love holds the position of means, without being
recognised as something good in itself — as an ultimate end.
But justice is regarded as only the determination to main-
tain a wise government, not as the choice and maintenance of
that which is intrinsically worthy.

In more recent times Kant has manifested a particularly
strong sense of justice, as is shown especially with reference
to atonement in his " Eeligion within the Limits of mere
Eeason " [and no less in his theory of punishment : The
offender ought to be punished "because he is an offender;"
the office of justice is the protection of moral freedom, which
in itself is a valuable good. — Ed.]. Hegel, too, has a strict
notion of justice, which shows itself particularly in his defence
of the so-called absolute theory of punishment [and though
this theory is grounded ultimately on logical necessity, which
is the central point with Hegel, yet it is characteristic that
the logical necessity leads him to the absolute theory of
punishment. — Ed.]. Schleiermacher, on the other hand, hardly
finds room for justice as distinct from love ; justice, with him,
is not an objective attribute in God. And also with reference
to the world, to which he denies moral freedom and, with it,
guilt in the stricter sense, the notion of punishment is for
the most part subjectively applied, and thereby weakened.
Yet he posits a counection between collective sin and
collective evil, a connection which Pdtschl wholly denies,
since according to him everything which might be regarded
as punitive evil is rather to be regarded as only natural evil
Eitschl does not recognise objective justice as a divine attri-
bute. Justice, in his view, has significance only in relation
to the State. But one has no right to say that retributive

SCHLEIERMACHEK, EITSCHL, ON THE NOTION OF JUSTICE. 89

justice, especially punitive justice, has value for the State,
but can have no application to God and His action. Eather,
the State itself does not have the right and the duty to
administer justice, even punitively, except as right is itself a
divine idea, and is divinely necessary. It is both logical
and just, that morality be not powerless and weaponless,
but that the physical creation, which as to its very origin
occupies the position of a means for moral ends, should be
subservient to morality. Let it be granted that, in order not
to vitiate moral motives, it is requisite in rewarding and
punishing to use only with caution physical means for pro-
moting that which is good ; still the idea of morality does not
tolerate that the malefactor who defies it should not have to
expect a punishment corresponding to his responsibility. The
denial of punishment would call in question, with the imnish-
ahlencss, also the blameworthiness, of evil. If the divine
justice did not lack the power, yet if it lacked the 7'jill, to
punish the malefactor, then we should have to infer indifference
to the honour, and even to the validity, of the good. It is
said, indeed, that God is not indifferent to good and evil ;
that although because prevented by His love He does not
punish sinners, yet God, being faithful or just to Himself, will,
as a logical consequence, overcome evil through good. The
annihilation of sin, it is said, moreover, answers better to the
idea of good than an annihilation of the sinner does, even
though it be only a partial one. So might one speak, and so
might one be able to conceive of the divine agency, if there
were not in man moral freedom of choice, which can oppose
a continual resistance to the production of positive good
and to the annihilation of evil. Also God cannot treat
alike the persons who are good and those who are bad.
It would be a depreciation and disparagement of goodness,
if the end of the matter were that the world of reality
could belong to evil just as well and safely as to goodness.

[Note. — The conceptions of justice mentioned by the author
are, as he has presented the subject in its main points in his
lectures: 1. "The physical view, in which justice appears as
an outcome of power (the Sophists, Hobbes, Spinoza, Duns
Scotus)." 2. The one-sidedly cesthetic view, which appears in
Pythagoras in connection with mathematics, and is in some

90 § 7. NATURE OF MORALITY.

measure, too, represented by Plato and Leibnitz. Here justice
is the source of harmony, and serves it as the ultimate end.
3. The logical or intellectual view, found to some extent in
Aristotle, in empirical form ; also in Leibnitz, to whom justice
is the wisdom of the ruler, i.e. the means for the end to be
attained by wisdom, viz. happiness (cf. the pnidentia dei
redoria of Hugo Grotius) ; and in Hegel, who makes it a form
of the revelation of the immanent logic of the Absolute. 4. The
resolving of justice into love, so that it is no longer something
by itself (Schleiermacher), or is made the logical consequence of
love (Ritschl). 5. The conception of justice as a good valuable
in itself, found to some extent in Plato ; also in Kant, and not
less in the Old Testament. Here justice is no longer merely
good for the sake of something else — a means of power, or of har-
mony, or of logic or wisdom — or resolved into love. But, on the
other hand, a connection subsists between the physical world and
justice, inasmuch as the former is serviceable to the manifesta-
tion of the latter ; justice uses power as its means. " Justice
has also relation to the natural 'world, so far as everything in
it is conceived of according to rule and order, and that which
belongs to each is assigned to it. This thought is carried out
in that there is created in the things of the world an immanent
order, an inherent law of life for each according to its kind,
from which they cannot wholly break away, because it con-
stitutes an essential part of their existence, and which man
alone becomes conscious of. But in man there is not merely,
as in the natural creation, a law of his being through which he
continues to be what he is. Man has a law for what he is to
become, for what he ought to be. He exists for a history and
a historical goal, and in this even nature takes part through
the human spirit. In man there is a law for his freedom, a
moral law different from natural law ; and this moral law
especially it is which is rightly traced back to the justitia dei
legislativa. In his dissertation on the relation of natural and
moral law, Schleiermacher says indeed, that even in nature
there is an analogy to the moral law, since nature produces its
formations according to a type which represents a sort of
obligation, from which likewise there can be, as in the moral
realm, a falling short. But to none of the occurrences of this
sort in the natural world shall we be able to apply a moral
judgment. The possibility of such a judgment does not begin
till a law exists which by its nature is under the necessity of
making absolute claim to validity, and till actions are presented
that are to be judged according to this law. Such a law or
olijective right has its unconditional worth and its claim to
validity by virtue of its contents, which are, in general, the

THEOLOGICAL CONCEPTION OF JUSTICE. 91

good, absolutely worthy in itself and therefore holy. But if
righteousness is in itself worthy, because it represents the self-
assertion of the good, it is not thereby denied, but rather
implied, that the physical world should receive its fitting 'plcice.
Thus righteousness becomes also the source of order ; and it is
likewise most intimately connected witli logic, since it is
logical that everything should be determined by the ultimate
end." Cf. GlcmUnslehre, i. pp. 262, 263, 270, 283, 284. In
Eng. Sys. of Christ. Doct. i. pp. 276, 277, 283, 296, 297.— Ed.]

In Theology justice is ordinarily divided into justitia
Icgislativa, distrihutiva, and rcpcndcns. The foundation is
legislative justice, which has its source not in God's mere
omnipotence, or even arbitrary volition, but in His holy
nature, in which all powers are eternally willed in their
mutual distinction and order. The two other divisions of
justice are only applications of legislative justice ; the justitia
rcpcndcns is subdivided into the vindicativct and the remunera-
tiva. The most objections are raised against the vindicativa.
If, however, God should not regard evil as punishable, but
should assume towards it merely a reformatory attitude, the
consec|uence, even if it were not a total obliteration of moral
ideas, would be to make the distinction between good and
evil a matter of indifference — to destroy the intrinsic worth
of the good.

From the foregoing follows a principle of great ethical
importance, namely, that justice is the indispensable con-
dition (conditio sine qua non), the necessary prerecj^uisite, of
the reality of positive morality or of self-imparting love ; and
in general, that the duties of right precede the duties of love.
The reason is, righteousness is that which makes possible a
self-impartation that is ethically normal and does not con-
found moral distinctions. If love is to endure, that wdiich
makes it possible will have to endure also. Nitzsch rightly
calls righteousness the bulwark of holy love ; there can
consequently be no love without righteousness or contrary to
it. On the other hand, there can doubtless be an exercise of
righteousness without loving impartation. These two, wliich
in the ethical nature of God are inseparably joined, in the
world are separated. A susceptibility for the divine imparta-
tion of love may be wanting, and the consequence cannot be

'92 § 7. NATUEE OF MOEALITY IN GOD. LOVE AS SELF-DEVOTION

loving impartation, but, according to circumstances, a refusal
of it, or even punishment. A loving impartation made contrary
to righteousness would bring everything into disorder, might
turn the moral world upside down ; the supremacy of
righteousness, therefore, must not be suspended ; it guards
the foundations of the whole moral order of the world.

^. We come now to consider the second essential manifesta-
tion of divine love, namely, as self-devoting love. We have
already seen {vid. above, Nos. 2, 3) that love is a power whose
very essence it is to will to reveal itself. But its self-
manifestation tends to take the form of impartation ; pleasure
and delight in this constitute the love ; it would not amount
to love, however, if the person merely bestowed something
else, but did not reveal himself, giving himself up for others.
The other gifts are indeed symbols of love ; but the most
precious gift, the aroma, as it were, of the gift of love,
is the loving person himself, who gives himself with the gift.
l!^ot every act of giving amounts in itself to the bestowal of
love (1 Cor. xiii. 3) ; it is such only when the bestowal is
attended with pleasure in bestowing upon another, for whom
love makes itself a means, or whom it puts as its end and
takes into itself, in order to have companionship with him,
and in order to offer itself to him for the expansion of his
personality, and in order also in turn, for its own sake, to draw
him out. Therefore love can be said to be in gifts only
when love already precedes the giving ; the very heart of the
love is the giving of the heart. This self-forgetfulness in
devotion to the loved object is the magic of love, as every one
knows from the experience of family love and of friend-
ship. In that it devotes, and, if needful, sacrifices, itself in
self-abandonment, lies its wondrous, conquering power, as has
been shown in the love of Christ. Such love makes the
impression of having original divine life, of being a power
stronger than even death ; and it is capable of transfiguring
everything about it.

Even Greek mythology conceived of Eros as a primeval
power and as a hypostatic, that is, substantial being.
This self-subsistence [Sdhststdndigkeit], or, to borrow Jacob
Eohme's phrase, aboriginal subsistence [Urstiindiglceit], of the
love which God is, cannot be destroyed by loving. Eor

§ 8. TRANSITION TO THE WORLD. 93

though love is impartive, yet, as above shown, it asserts
itself even in loving ; the self-forgetfulness of holy love forgets
neither righteousness nor love, and self-assertion and self-
impartation are not two separate acts, although distinguish-
able. The one divine, holy love consummates in inipartation
the act of self-assertion also, and, so far as in it lies, even in
self-assertion tends towards impartation. In short, it is the
characteristic seal and privilege of love, that it is what no
other force besides it can imitate — not nature, not thought, not
will — namely, the power and the desire to be one's self while
in another, and wliile one's self to be in another, who is taken,
into the heart as an end.

§ 8. Transition to the World (cf. Christian Doctrine, § 33).

God, as being holy love, wills that there be, distinct from
Himself, a world designed for morality, as also morality
is designed for it.

1. Our thesis makes the transition to ethical cosmology and
anthropology. Against the proposition of the thesis it is
maintained, to be sure, that if God is already perfect and
blessed in Himself without the world, and does not need it in
order to the perfection of His being, then there is no longer
any reason for the origin of the world. For if perfection
already exists without the world, why should the world be
added as a bad copy or imperfect likeness ? Therefore, it is
said, the world is to be arrived at only by assuming a defect
in God, which is supplied by means of the world, wiiether
this defect consist in a superfluity or in a deficiency. This
error of pantheism, that there is a deficiency in God and a
growth towards perfection, is, from our point of view, confuted
by saying that aboriginal morality is to be conceived of as
an existent reality, ontologically, not as mere obligation ; and
God, therefore, not as a process, but as being eternally
perfect.

2. But must we not agree now with those who, because
God is to be conceived of as self-sufficient and perfect, regard
the world as purely accidental, and deny that there is any
rational ground to be given for its origin ? This opinion loves

94 § 8. TEANSITION TO THE WORLD. GOD's LOVE

to put on the garb of appearing to defend God's honour and
majesty ; the world, they say, proceeded from the free good-
pleasure, the groundless arhitrium, of God. But to make
such a groundless good-pleasure the supreme thing in God
would be assuming that arbitrary will, i.e. a natural attribute,
mere absolute power, is the highest thing in God ; but this,
ethically considered, stands on the same plane again as
pantheism. In that case, too, the world would be without
worth for God ; it would not have been made by God as a
worthy end, but would occupy only the position of a means,
serving as the sport of His caprice.

3. To be sure, there belongs to the world a relative
fortuitousness ; first, in the sense that the reason for its being
lies outside of itself ; secondly, because it is not necessary to
the being and independence of the perfect God that there
should be a world. But it is not absolutely fortuitous, for if
so, it would have also in God's eyes absolutely no worth
(contrary to Gen. i. 31) ; and it would have to be for us also
absolutely fortuitous, provided we have the true apprehension
of the case ; moreover, we should have to treat it as something
indifferent, worthless in itself, i.e. treat it unethically. The
correct solution lies in the recognition of God as holy love ;
neither from a physical necessity of His being, nor from the
mere arbitrary will of His omnipotence, is the world to be
derived, but from the divine freedom, which is in itself ethical,
and is a true divine freedom, by virtue of the fact that it is
united with that which is ethically necessary or good. Thus
also it becomes possible that the world should be not a mere
means, devoid of selfhood, attaining, as related to God, only
a seeming reality. For because God is already in Himself
perfect and blessed, and does not need the world for the sake
of His own existence, He can will a world which in itself
has a worthy object. But in His love He is perfect and
blessed. The love is, indeed, primarily directed towards Him-
self, but so that God as love, or because He is love, wills
Himself. By virtue of His self-love He necessarily loves love
in general ; and, wherever it is found, loves Himself as the
original seat of the absolute amor amoris.

The self-love of God or His righteousness, therefore, since
it loves love as such, does not exclude the possibility of God's

THE SOUECE OF THE CREATED WORLD. 95

creating a good distinct from Himself. On the contrary, God
cannot love Himself without also loving Himself as the
possibility of something else, provided this can exist as an
object of love. And the case is similar respecting God's self-
consciousness. To distinguish His self-consciousness perfectly
from everything which He is not, must also be to distinguish
it from every possible thing which He is not; it therefore
implies something else as possible. To be sure, we have so
far only the abstract 'possibility of another being besides God.
But this world of abstract possibility, at the impulse of love,
and through God's intelligence or wisdom, which is love's
master- workman (Prov. viii. 30), becomes the image of the
world, the idea of the cosmos ; and, upon the same impulse
of love, omnipotence, joined with wisdom, calls the world out
of non-existence, or mere possibility, into existence.

Furthermore, the divine love, in accordance with its singleness,
makes the loved object a worthy end, in that it destines the
world for love, and thus for what is highest and perfect,
although this can be attained only by a gradual process, inas-
much as God alone has aseity. But by virtue of this moral
destination there is guaranteed to the creature a relative
independence, a vital force, and a causality of its own. God's
self-impartation does not overflow the creature, as it were, in
an unrestrained giving of Himself away ; for then the creature
would be swallowed up and would not come to a being of its
own. Eather, the first thing is that to the creature is lent a
capacity of existing by itself and of asserting itself, whereby it
becomes a relatively independent copy of the divine self-
assertion. Thus the world becomes for God Himself a new
reality. Only by virtue of the distinction between God and
the creature in its living independence and self-assertion is
there given the possibility of a real interchange of love
between God and the creature.

On the basis now of this relative independence a continued
impartation of divine love is also possible, so that not only
has the creature a moral destination, but also the aboriginally
ethical, the divine, is designed for it. Although the divine
love imparts many and various blessings, yet the ethical God
has made the creature an end worthy of love only by assigning
to it the best thing, viz. by imparting to it the spirit of love.

96 § 9. god's ideal of the ethical would.

So then God decrees the world for a moral end, to realize the
idea and honour of the good, which He loves absolutely in
Himself, which, however, must not remain exhausted in His
person, but which is in Him a potency for something else
distinct from Himself. He decrees a world outside of Him-
self for the establishment of an intercourse of love and for
the diffusion of the life of love; but just on that account He
wills morality as the world's law of life, and as its nobility
and its honour, by means of which it can be an ultimate end
for God, the very image of God. In the divine will that
there be a world are inseparably joined the willing of the Bo^a,
of God, i.e. idtimately, the glorifying of the good which is
identical with God, and the willing of the 8o|a of the world,
in particular, of the rational creature on the earth, man.

§ 9. God's Ideal of the Mhical World in general.

In order to will an ethical world, God wills a natural world,
and a rational or personal world, including a multi-
plicity of persons, who are distinct and relatively
independent, but connected together by the idea of
morality. The natural and mental multiplicity of the
individuals does not annul the common element in their
moral endowment, but gives to this endowment the
double character of universality and of individuality.
Accordingly, in order to constitute an ethical world
there must be, first, nature ; secondly, rational person-
ality, both of these in the double character of likeness
and of individuality ; thirdly, the union and blending of
the natural element with the reason, which is designed
to be dominant. The attainment of the last, which is
the goal, will be conditioned upon a moral 2>rocess, in
which, by means of riioral agency, nature and spirit gain
their perfection and strength each for itself, and also
their right relation to each other, or their union, which
is inseparable from their normal outworking. But in
order to the possibility of a moral process, the factors of

ANALOGY BETWEEN GOD AND THE WOKLD, 97

the moral world can be united at first only in a separ-
able form, in order that there may remain room for a
growth of this nnion. An ideal sundering of the
elements thus loosely bound together is brought about
by the consciousness of an obligation, or of the work
to be done ; yet this sundering as such does not involve
an opposition between the two factors, neither an actual
separation nor a spurious combination, but only the
possibility of an abnormal development.

Note. — In the thesis religion is not expressly mentioned,
but it has its place in the rational nature of man. From
this point of view it will appear that the ethical goal is
the union of subjective reason not merely with nature or
with other rational natures, but also with God, the objective
universal reason.

1. The thesis aims to give a survey of the factors which
constitute the fundamental part of ethics, and which, collec-
tively taken, involve the divinely-decreed possibility of the
realization of an objective moral world. First, in the three
main points which go to constitute the moral world, answering
to the Christian idefl of man as made in the image of God,
the analogy with the nature of God will be evident. For in
God there are physical categories or attributes, and on the
other hand spiritual, which, however, by the righteous self-
love of God are maintained in liarmonious unison, in such a
manner as eternally to mediate God's holy and blessed life of
love. So, likewise, the world can be meant to be a moral
world, only as it has in itself (1) a natural side ; (2) in
relative opposition to this a spiritual, personal side ; but (3)
the destination and capacity perfectly to imite the two, or, in
other words, to reach the point where the ethical power more
and more gets the mastery of the whole man, although, to be
sure, only by a process mediated by cognition and volition.
Morality in God cannot be essentially other than the morality
designed for the world (§ 7). The derivation of the latter
from man's resemblance to God, which was argued in § 7
and 8, is confirmed by the general conception of morality as
we have defined it in § 2.

2. In the first place, a necessary factor of morality in a

9 8 § 9. TEE ETHICAL WORLD IN GENERAL.

world is nature. This is so not merely in the wider sense
that man is first of all a being made or born through natural
forces, that even man's first form of existence is itself nature,
since he is not yet an ethical product (except as proceeding
from God), but possesses only the possibility of producing what
is ethical, and also of becoming himself an ethical product.
Eather, this also is meant, that a nature external to man must
be given him for his ethical purposes, a nature, as just said,
not already made ethical, but yet a nature capable of being
moulded and put to ethical uses by the mind. If the mind
did not have in nature a material on which it could act, if it
were without nature, then minds acting on one another would
have to be treated as mere matter; and that would encroach
on freedom. By the fact that created minds have also a
nature in themselves, it is possible to exert an influence on
them which does not simply determine them and reduce them
to passiveness. For now the influence is directed immedi-
ately only upon the natural side of the mind, and is deposited
in this as in an indifferent medium, which is not the centre
of the personality, but only its periphery. And so the
impression from without can indeed work upon the spirit by
way of solicitation and incitement, but without determining it
compulsorily.

The same law also governs the relation of God to men :
God's Spirit works upon the human spirit through outward
objective things ; the means of grace have a sensuous element
in them ; this is for Protestantism an important principle, in
opposition to all the subjectivism of so-called enthusiasts or
fanatics. Furthermore, if there were only minds and no
nature, then minds could objectify themselves only in minds ;
and ivorks, as the aim of action, could not come to an outward
independent existence ; work and worlcman would not come
to be clearly, permanently distinguished. On the other hand,
nature furnishes the concrete basis for a world of objective
works, of products of an impersonal sort, but service-
able to personal beings — for a connected series of works,
and for a systematic exercise of love. Nature accomplishes
this, to be sure, only by its capacity of expressing what is
spiritual, both in that it influences man, and conveys to him,
to his intelligence and fancy, something to occupy and

NECESSITY OF NATUKE IN THE MOEAL WOELD. 99

stimulate him, and also in that it is a susceptible material
which can be wrought upon by the plastic faculty of the
mind, by its representing and organizing activity.^ Although,
therefore, in relation to morality, nature is to be always
merely a means, yet, from what has been said, it is evident
how the domain of morals is enriched by it. And although
nature, in its empirical character, cannot be deduced a ■priori,
yet it is plain both that, in order to ethical activity, an object
on which the mind can work, a material substance, is necessary,
and also that the nature which we know from experience
answers to this need. Ethics long remained dry and lifeless
in relation to everything which goes beyond interior ethics,
because a spiritualistic depreciation of nature and of the body
was dominant. If the real facts of moral life are to be
profitably portrayed, ethics must also take in the material
world, as one element in relation to what morality has to
accomplish, — in relation to moral action and work on earth, —
although we must not go so far as to regard ruling over
nature, or the transforming of matter into spirit, as the thing
which morality is to accomplish. Nature is itself an ethical
product of God, good, that is, metaphysically good ; and this
its metaphysical goodness stands in intimate alliance with the
ethical good which is to be worked out with its help. In
nature the ethical element in mind can at any time make
itself a conscious reality, in that mind elaborates, organizes,
assimilates it, and makes it subserve ethical ends, according to
its divinely-ordained purpose.

' [These terms are borrowed from Sclileiermacher, wlio classifies all moral
activity as reinigend or wiedcrherstellend (purifying or restoring), verbrtitend or
eriueiternd (extending or diffusing), and darsiellend (representing, exhibiting).
So especially in his Chrisfliche Sitte. The phrase organisirend , used here b)'
Dorner, is also taken from Sclileiermacher, who employs it in his Philofiophische
Ethik in a sense similar to that of verbreitend in the other work. Dorner
elsewhere uses verbreitend and erweiternd also. The reinigende Handeln refere
to the activity whose aim is to purge away the impure elements that inhere
in the moral life. The verbreitende Handeln denotes the activity by which the
ethical community Avorks by way of propagating the moral life. The darstel-
lende Handeln denotes that sphere of activity whose aim and eflfect is to
manifest the inward moral life ; this embraces, e.g., outward acts of worship,
religious art, etc. Bildend, above rendered "plastic," is used also by Schleier-
macher in his Philosophische Ethik as = organisirend, and as contrasted with
the erkennende (cognitive) function. It embraces the verbreitend and the
darstellend. Cf. § 82.— Tk.]

100 § 9. THE ETHICAL WORLD IN GENEKAL

Note. — Sclileiermacher, in Lis Monologues, enthusiastically
eulogizes the independence of nature and the outer world which
Lelougs to the mind in its moral self-culture, and holds that
the mind can for its development dispense with the outward
world, if the latter is unpropitious, since it is able, by means
of its fancy, to represent to itself the most manifold moral
relations, inwardly to take a position with reference to them,
and thus to increase its moral strength. In this it is to be
recognised, as a merit, that he emphasizes mind as an inde-
pendent thing over against nature. But the fancy, without
experience, would not be able to imagine a multiplicity of
moral relations. Again, such an inward attitude taken towards
imagined relations could scarcely be called real moral activity.
The will directed to this would hardly be distinguishable from
mere thought or purpose. But inward purpose can by no
means be made to take the place of real outward action.
Moral strength is put to the test in the world of reality quite
otherwise than in that of fancy ; and so also the obstacles of a
real sort to be overcome are of a wholly different nature from
tlie difficulties which are merely conceived of.^ In order that
the good may not be a mere appearance, may not have a
sliadowy existence, but that the ethical spirit may be able to
frame for itself a fitting body, yes, shape an actual moral world,
tliere must be given to it an actual reality, an existent thing,
which at first is not yet ethical, is not yet determined by man's
will, but is ccqjablc of being determined — a pre-ethical substance,
matter in the wider sense, which includes not merely the
materia hruta, but also something living and spiritual, which,
as being a created thing, is plastic. This pre-ethical reality,
which can be, and is, moulded for moral ends, is therefore by no
means something which, so far as morality is concerned, can be
dispensed with. There must be found, even in this nature
given to man, also a minimum at least of the union of nature
and spirit, enough to constitute a ground for the suscepti-
bility of nature to spiritual influence. The possibility of
this lies in the simple fact that nature, even matter, cannot
be absolutely foreign to spirit, for it can be transformed into
thought.

^ [This is not said in Disposition merely to a pure idealism, which transforms
nature into spirit, but, as is self-evident, it applies likewise to a psychological
sensualism, which would recognise only " appearances " in the mind, and thus
does not get to an objective world ; — i.e. it applies to a " doctrine of the soul
without a soul," as Kibot exjiresses it. For then, too, we have to do merely with
plienomenal images in the soul, without being sure even that there is a soul.
Of this nature also is the view of Hipolyte Taine, De V Intelligence, so far as
he does not embrace materialism, which he again, however, analyzes into
sensualism. — Ed. ]

THE MATEFJALISTIC DOCTRINE. 101

3. The mental world in general.

Morality indeed would be still more out of the question, if
there were nothing but nature, or even nothing but matter.
Without reason, which represents what is absolutely good and
morally necessary, there would be only either caprice and
chance, or a necessity of a physical fatalistic sort, destitute
of teleological import. But this necessity, being without a
ground, would itself again be ultimately nothing but chance.
In view of the spread of a materialistic mode of thought at
the present time, it is perhaps suitable to dwell a little upon
it, and consider, first, what it posits and aims at, and, secondly,
wdiat its scientific value is.

The doctrine of materialism is this : There exists nothing
except matter, but no spirit as a specific principle distinct
from matter. As Leibnitz holds the material monads to bo
dormant confined spirit, and Schelling holds them to be esjprit
gcU, i.e. only spirit in a different form, so vice versa the
materialist would have it that only matter and not spirit
exists. But matter he conceives of as atoms, or primordial
particles of infinite smallness, which have been from eternity,
and are always and indestructibly the same, but which when
united with force — yet according to given conditions, for
instance, the proximity or distance of other particles — pro-
duce various phenomena. For the comprehension of the world
the hypothesis of these atoms or molecules suffices. Out of
them everything which is builds itself up spontaneously, whether
these atoms be conceived of as from the beginning individually
different, with different affinities for one another, or whether
they be conceived of as all in themselves alike, but endowed
with an infinite variety of forces, — of possible functions, by
means of which they can enter into the most manifold com-
binations with other atoms, according as a moving impetus is
somehow accidentally given to them. The efficient causes
which serve to explain single phenomena may, indeed, accord-
ing to materialism, be inquired after, but not the final
causes or purposes through which the things, the efficient
causes or atoms, are regulated and set in motion, and also
receive their direction. Teleology, or the notion of design,
counts with it for a mere subjective conception and
appendage. The objective state of the fact is only that

102 § 9. THE ETHICAL WORLD IN GENERAL.

everything happens as it does according to physical
necessity ; that all things, just as they are, are to be looked
upon as being good, or as of equal value ; and that only
a subjective valuation is left for us. Organism has come
about only by the necessary activity of the atoms, and is a
combination of them by virtue of general physical, mechanical,
chemical \a,ws.

Also for the explanation of the origin of vegetable, animal,
and even human forms, materialism holds that it is not neces-
sary to go back to a spiritual princij)le, which conducts a
process according to a purpose, or which inserts itself into
matter. It is not even necessary to assume a vital or physical
force, different from mechanism, since it is hoped rather by
means of the correlation of forces, to trace everything, heat,
electricity, magnetism, galvanism, and life, back to mechanism.
Man is, to be sure, also a thinking thing ; but that means
only that the body, especially by reason of phosphorus, is a
thinking machine, which secretes thoughts as well as other
things. The soul is not a substance existing by itself, but
only an action of the material particles, a collective name
for functions of matter. Tor mental action there is no other
real substratum than matter ; what exists is only the brain
with its nervous vibrations. The whole constitution and
history of individuals and of mankind is explained by the
co-operation of air, light, and food, — in short, by changes in
matter.^

• This is essentially the view of Karl Vogt, Kohlerglauhe unci Wissenschaft,
1855. B'dder aus deni Thierlehen. Jacob Moleschott, Physiologle des Stoff-
wechsels in PJlanzen und Thiere.n, 1851. Der Kreislauf des Lebens [5th ed.
1875-78]. L. Biidmer, Kraft und Stoff, 1855 [15th ed. 1883]. E. H. Hiickel,
Naturliche SchopfungsgeschicJde [7th ed. 1879]. Generelle Morphologie, 1866.
Anthropogenie, 1874. Oskar Schmidt, Descendeiizlehre, 1873. F. Albert
Lange, Geschichte des Materialismus und Kritik seiner Bedeutung fiir die
Gegenwart, 1866, 3rd ed. 1876. Auguste Comte, Cours de ]}hilosophie jMsitive,
1830-42 [4th ed. 1877], 6 vols. Systime de jjolitique positive and Traite de
sociologie instituante la rdligion de V Humanite, T. i. 1851, and his most pro-
minent disciple Littr6, who has written his biography. Allied to Comte is
John Stuart Mill, who again recognises a real Deity, but will accord to him
neither omnipotence nor omniscience. [Against Mill, M'Cosh, Exajninatioii
of J. S. Mill's Philosophy, 1866, 2nd ed. 1877. David Masson, Peccnt British
Philosophy, 1865. Against Comte and Mill, cf. also Dilthey, Einleitung in die
Geisteswissenschaften,!. 132 sqq., 1883.— Herbert Spencer, A System of Synthetic
Philosophy, Part I. First Principhs of a New System of Philosophy. Spencer,

THE MATERIALISTIC DOCTRINE EXAMINED. 103

In forming a jitdgmcnt of materialism, first, its scientific
merit must be taken into view, and secondly, it must be con-
sidered what consequences follow from it with reference to
the domain of morality.

{a) Materialism is an inadequate hypothesis. For it is not

however, is not a consistent materialist.— Ed. ] Finally, Darwin, Origin of
Speciflv [6th ed. 1872]. Among the opponents of this materialistic drift are to
.be mentioned : Trendelenburg, who in his Loglsche UntersucJiungen, 2nd ed.
vol. ii. pp. 1-77, gives the most thorough discussion of the notion of design
and of its rightfulness. [Janet, TraifA de philosophie, 1 880. Les caitsesjinales,
1876. Le cerveau et la pensde. — Ed.] Further, Duke of Argyll, The Beign of
Laro [5th ed. 1870]. Wigand, Der Darwini'imiis, 1874. R. Schmidt, Darwin-
ische Theorieen, etc., 1876. Lotze, Mikrokosrnos [3rd ed. 1876-80], vol. i. Bk. iii.
chap. 4 (on the life of matter as a jihenomenon of the supersensuous ; the inde-
pendence of the soul ; the want of independence in all mechanisms, which exist
as the teleological framework for intellectual forces, especially morality). — Fabri,
Briefe gegen den MaMriallsmuti, 1856. Schaller, Leib und Seele, zur Aiif-
klarung i'lber Kohlergluuhe und Naturivissenschaft, 1856. Michelis, Der kirch-
liche Sfandjmnkt in der Naturforschung. Hubcr, Die Forschung nach der
Materie, 1877. Frohschammer, Chrii^tenthvm vndmoderne Xaturivissenschaft,
1868. Zockler, Theologie iind Xaturiviisenscha/t, vol. ii., 1879, p. 397 sqq.
'EhraYd, Apiologetik. Ulrici, GottunddieNatur. Ha-rms, Abhandlungen, 1868,
pp. 209-277. Snell, Die Streitfrage des Materialismus, 1858. Pressense, Die
Ursprimge, translated from the French by Fabarius. [On Darwinism, see also
the literature below, § 10, 15. — Ed.]

[Addition by the translator. Of the above-mentioned works the following
have been translated : Biichner, Force and Matter, translated by J. F. Colliug-
wood (London, 2nd ed. 1870). Hackel, The Hintory of Creation, translation,
revised by E. E. Lankester (London ]876). The Evolution of Man (London
1879). Ed. Oskar Schmidt, The Doctrine of Descent and Darivinism, Interna-
tional Scientific Series, vol. xii., 1872. F. A. Lange, History of Materialism,
etc., translated by E. C. Thomas (English and Foreign Philosophical Library,
1877). Comte, The Positive Philosophy of A. Comte freely translated and
condensed, by H. Martineau (2nd ed. Loudon 1875). System of Positive Polity,
translated by J. H. Bridges (London 1875-77). Janet, Final Causes, trans-
lated from the 2nd ed. by W. Affleck (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1883).
Lotze, Microcosmiis, an Essay concerning Man and his Relation to the World,
translated by Elizabeth Hamilton and E. E. C. Jones (Edinburgh : T. & T.
Clark, 1885). R. Schmidt, Theories of Darwin, translated by G. A. Zimmer-
man, Chicago 1883: James M'Clure & Co. Pressense, A Study of Origins
(Ijondon 1883). The following among the many English works may be
mentioned : B. P. Bowne, The Philosophy of HerheH Spencer (New York
1874). Studies in Theism, 1879. T. E. Birks, 3Iodern Physical Fatalism,
including an Examination of Herbert Spencer n First Principles (2nd ed. 1882).
W. M. J^acy, An Exainination of the Philosophy of the Unknoivahle as ex-
pounded by Herbert Spencer, 1873. Asa Gray, Darwiniana, 1876. James
Martineau, Modern Materialism, 1876. Duke of Argyll, The Unity of Nature,
1884. Anonymous, The Final Science, a satire on materialism (New York
1885).]

104 § 9. THE ETHICAL WORLD IN GENERAL.

able to explain important facts, which it must let stand, but
which contradict it. A great part of the phenomena, and
those the most important, it does not explain as it promised,
but knows only enough to ignore or to deny them. Thus it
is not able to explain how the unity of an organism remains
identical amidst the change of particles, but must simply let
life stand as an unexplained fact.^ Since according to it all
plienomena are built wp from atoms, it must deny that living
forms are self-contained and self -maintaining individuals.
Just as little can it explain sensation, this relation of a living
unit to itself; for it cannot recognise any such unit. The
single atoms, phosphorus, oxygen, etc., have no sensation.
Their combination, too, is according to materialism no unit
which can be sensible of itself, is no reality in itself, but at
the most a relation of single insensitive atoms to one another,
from which a^ain no sensation can result.

The case is similar with self-consciousness, which it has
to let stand as an undeniable, though troublesome, enigma.''
Lotze says justly, self-consciousness is never conceivable as
the product of interaction in a multiplicity of things, but only
as the utterance of an indivisible being. And suppose this
knowledge of the ego in self-consciousness were an error, yet
this error, being a universal mental fact, would need to be ex-
plained instead of being ignored. But in general, materialism
is involved in the inconsistency of letting mental functions
stand as facts, which again by its view of things it is logically
required to annul. Carried out consistently, it is an absolute
denial of mind ; and yet it will not confess that it cannot set
aside mental functions, nay, that without the function of
thought, however perversely it may use that function, it itself
would not be. In truth, it is in principle the denial of all
mental functions, for it reduces everything to merely material
functions; but in order to do this, it must eliminate from
them what yet essentially belongs to them, especially the
identity of the self-consciousness accompanying them in every
change of material. Its own doctrine, moreover, it is not
able to prove ; it is down to its ultimate principles a mere

^ Schaller, I.e. p. 158 sq.

2 As Dii Bois Rejnuond has acknowledged in his famous address ; cf. Lotze,
Ilikrokosmus, i. pp. 176, 386 sq. [Englisli translation, i. 158, 344 sq.]

THE MATERIALISTIC DOCTRINE EXAMINED. 105

hypothesis, which does not do what is to be demanded of a
hypothesis, namely, explain the obvious facts. Only the
senses are made the source of knowledge ; yet the materialist's
atoms themselves are not perceptible by the senses, but, be-
cause they are infinitely small, are apprehensible only by
thought, and so far forth are only objects of intelligence ;
about their whence, whither, wherefore, materialism is able to
make no scientific statement. In addition to this, it by no
means follows, from the fact that matter is said to consist of
atoms, that they alone exist, and no mind ; there are also
opponents of materialism, as Lotze, Sigwart,^ who incline to
the atomic theory.

(/>) But almost more important is the significance of
materialism in reference to the domain of morality. For it
is obliged to deny human freedom, every universally binding
moral law, yes, every universal truth, and to divest the world
of everything in it that has value. Vogt says, there is no such
thing as free will, hence, too, no accountability, such as moral
science and the administration of criminal law would impose
upon us ; we are at no instant masters of ourselves and of our
faculties, nor, therefore, of the so-called reason. Where free
self-determination of the mind is impossible, there, too, punish-
ableness and punishment are abrogated ; in case of accelerated
change of particles, too, punishment would not even hit its
proper object. In place of the delusion of free self-deter-
mination, materialism exhorts us to put the consciousness of
necessity, as if the consciousness of a necessity did not itself
presuppose in turn the consciousness of a freedom.^ For that
which we must of absolute necessity do, \vould no longer appear
to us necessary if we had no knowledge of freedom. To the
doctrine that there is only matter and no mind, that man is
wholly dependent on the motion of matter, even Plato, in his
day, opposed the fact that man can set himself against his body
and its impulses ; if the soul were only the sum or the product
of the body, and not an independent thing, how comes it, he
asks, that the soul can rule the body ?

According to Vogt, morality and its idealism become an

' Jahrbiichcr far detitsche Theologie, iv. p. 271 sq. Zur Apologie des
Atoinismus.

^ Sclialler, I.e., Abschnitt iv. p. 43.

106 § 9. THE ETHICAL WOELD IN GENERAL.

illusion, which he has no means of distinguishing from selfish-
ness. Lange, Carneri, and others talk of an ethical materialism :
benevolence, sympathy, social tendencies, they say, are founded
in nature itself, as the very animal world shows. But these
affections do not amount to pure love, but only to a higher
form of selfishness. Materialism, engrossed with the details of
sensuous functions, can recognise no universal, and absolutely
valuable, spiritual good. It holds that to be good which is
useful, and which corresponds to given conditions. But since
materialism, according to its principles, must deny the moral
realm itself, here is the point where it stumbles upon conscience,
and, if it adheres to itself, becomes unmoral, becomes spiritual
suicide, the murder of conscience. It is possible to attempt to
discard morality, but morality does not let itself be discarded.
It is impossible for man to be destitute of reference to moral
good ; the law is laid upon him that he must be connected with
the idea of morality, at least iu an immoral way, if he will not
l3e so in a moral way. At this point there is only one moral
decision — for or against. And materialism, according to its own
principles, must also concede the power of the moral sense to
decide us against materialism ; for, according to its own theory,
if we thus decide, we do so, as we do everything, of necessity.
But if it demands of the will, as it also does, to follow it as a new
evangel, it falls at once out of its role, and has recourse to a
principle which overturns materialism itself. It has recourse
to free will and a universal law, a universal truth, the know-
ledge of which is a universal duty, while at the same time
it denies everything spiritual and universal.

The case is similar with other contradictions made by
materialism. On the one hand, it denies all freedom, and
insists on physical necessitarianism, and therefore would have
to deem tyranny or ahsohdisin justifiable wherever this is found;
but, on the other hand, it is accustomed to wave the banner of
extreme liberty. All 2)umshment, even that for murder, it
designates as an unjust invention of the majority made on their
own behalf; on the other hand, the judges who pronounce
sentence of death, it does not excuse, as according to its
doctrine of universal necessity it ought to do, but actually
calls them criminals. Likewise it preaches irrogress, the shaking
off of all superstition and all fetters, and it imagines itself to

THE MATERIALISTIC DOCTRINE EXAMINED. 107

be in tlie front rank of progress. But in truth it is absolute
stability ; there is nothing left to it but the atoms and their
aimless motion. By reducing everything to rotation and change
of particles, it divests history of all meaning and aim. It will
not be dependent upon ideas and ideals : therefore, instead of
that, it must be in slavish dependence upon matter. For
necessity is more degrading and depressing in materialism than
vi^ith Spinoza. He secures to the individual, as over against
other things, a sort of independence, by the dependence of
everything upon substance, while materialism makes the whole
man dependent upon matter and change in matter.

Materialism does not see what even the Pythagoreans saw
when opposing the Ionic Hylozoists, namely, that the main
thing in the cosmos is not matter, but the forming and shaping
of matter — the formative principle. This principle might,
with greater justice than matter, be called the essential thing
in the notion of the world, since matter, as something
material, exists for the sake of the self-manifestation of the
formative principle. If, now, materialism does not insist on
being simply silent about this which is of most importance, of
most value, namely, the fashioning of the world, its harmonious
teleological order ; then, since design, if not universally, yet
irresistibly, obtrudes itself, the materialist must transfer rational,
mysterious purposes, the power of thought, to the atoms them-
selves, which are his efficient causes, and make them intelli-
gences. If this is done in a monistic way, or so that matter
in itself and as such is to have this power working teleologically,
then we have in matter latent mind, tlie monads of Leibnitz, to
which Czolbe would lead us. Or else, in addition to matter a
second principle, force, must be required, which joins itself to
matter — a force which, in order to explain the phenomena,
must participate in intelligence ; but this force is then itself
again a substance, and only another name for soul.

To sum up all, then, materialism is equivalent to a reduction
of the cosmos to what is absolutely elementary, to atoms or
primordial elements which work aimlessly, mechanically, and
yet necessarily, and wliich alone are supposed to have actual
being. For with its mechanical way of thinking, it must simply
ignore the living individual forms, which, amid change of matter,
maintain their identity, and present themselves to us as units

108 § 9. THE ETHICAL WORLD IN GENERAL.

ruled by a purpose. Just so with sensibility, thought, self-
consciousness, will, the whole world of history ; materialism
annihilates the cosmos no less than in its way absolute idealism
does, and there remains for it only a whirling chaos of atoms,
without goal, aim, intelligence, without mind, without virtue,
without God/ The attempts to derive something spiritual
from motion, especially the so-called reflex motion and its
various sorts, by which, according to the law of the equivalence
of forces, the same matter, e.g. ether, is said to become warmth,
electricity, magnetism, etc., furnish anything rather than evi-
dence for materialism. They lead, at the most, to distant
analogies, but in all these motions there is nothing of life, of
thought, of self-consciousness.

So then materialism must recognise a formative principle
lying outside of it ; and that principle is mind, the thinking and
acting force. Yet this force is not to be conceived of as being
at bottom merely matter or nature ; for then there would still
be no real distinction between mind and nature; mind would be
nothing but conscious and willing nature, and would itself be lost
in being the consciousness and mirror of nature. If mind is to be
distinguished from nature, it must also know itself as mind, and
must be something as mind; it must be able to distinguish itself
from nature, and to put itself over against nature. Not till it
possesses itself as mind, and is itself the contents of its conscious-
ness and will, does it cease to be overwhelmed by the nature
which fills it. But it is a substance by itself, different from
nature, if it apprehends itself not merely as turned towards
nature, but also in its own independence, that is, if it is
endowed with a world of ideas which can be developed by it —
a world of eternal truths, to which also belong God and divine
things.

4. By claiming both a natural and a spiritual side for the
moral equipment of man, two fundamental heresies in morals
are excluded — spiritualism or idealism, which would recognise

1 "With this agrees the academical address of Du Bois Reyraond, Die sieben
Weltrathsd, 1880. Cf. Deutsche Rumhchau, Sept. 18S1, and Edmond de
Pressense, Die Ursprunge, iibersetzt von Fabarins, 1884. [In Eng., A Study
of Origins, Lond. 1883.] As unexplained enigmas Du Bois Rej'mond gives : The
essence of matter and of force, the origin of motion and of life, the apparently
intentional contrivances in nature, the origin of simple sensation, of thought and
self-consciousness, and of freedom of will.

RELATION OF THE NATURAL TO THE SPIRITUAL. 109

only the rational side as existent, and materialism. Eather,
both sides belong together : but how ? They cannot stand
side by side indifferent and without relation to each other ;
in order to constitute the human unit, they must have an
inward connection. On the other hand, they cannot be
regarded as of equal value or co-ordinate, but, without losing
their difference, must have rank and place appropriate to
their essential character. But this is the subordination of the
physical element to the spiritual, especially to the ethical.
The inward connection is to be manifested in the fact that
each of the two, the natural side and the rational side, is
hy virtue of its own nature hrought into relation to the other.
The rational side, which, by virtue of its moral destination, or
by virtue of its very nature, first apprehends itself through
law, points of itself to the natural side as that which is
to be shaped by its standard. Forma apijctit materiam.
The natural side in man points of itself to the rational
side : for, as plastic material, it awaits the activity and
shaping power of the latter. Materia appetit formam. For
the unifying of the two through consciousness and will is the.
moral work to be done ; and this is attainable only by means
of that full efficiency of the spiritual side of the personality
which is the result of moral self-cultivation in fellowship with
God. The perfection of both sides, however, and their com-
plete union, cannot come immediately from nature through
the act of creation, but is an ethical product, in which the
act and freedom of man must participate. The union of the
mind with nature and with God lies in man only as a
possibility ; and the rise of the idea of morality in the mind
has by no means as its immediate consequence the realiza-
tion of the ethical end ; knowledge does not work necessitat-
ingly upon the will. Nature and spirit do not immediately
by physical necessity adjust themselves to the consciousness
of law ; and this fact is not to be regarded as an evil ; for
otherwise there would be no place for free decision in favour
of the good.

The connection of nature and mind is therefore at the
outset necessarily of that sort which still leaves room for not
merely a single but a double possibility : for the normal one,
foretokened by the very notion of nature and mind, and for

110 § 9. THE ETHICAL, WORLD IN GE^'ERAL.

the abnormal one. The original union is merely a dissoluble
union. The abnormal possibility is itself again of a twofold
sort : either the divorce of nature from the rule of the mind,
i.e. the dominion of nature over mind ; or the estrangement of
the mind from nature, a merely negative relation to nature.
The latter belongs to the category of spiritualistic heresy, the
former to that of materialistic heresy. Together with the
possibility of the twofold abnormal development, however,
the normal course is also to be considered ; in this the pro-
gress of knowledge is followed by a progress of the will and
of moral power, which is equal, physically and mentally, to
the task of making ethical everything that is merely innate
and, in this sense, merely natural.

5. The necessity of manifoldncss, or the princiijle of indi-
vidualization in the moral world. For a moral world there
is needed not merely a multitude of natural and of mental
objects, divided the one from the other. The multitude
might be a mere repetition of one and the same thing. What
real value could there be in making more than once what
is wholly identical 1 With justice Leibnitz laid down the
principium indiscernihilium, i.e. the principle of the identity
of the indistinguishable. Nothing connected, esj^ecially no
organism, could come from mere identity ; mere identity
would, instead of true union, only amount to the atomistic
aggregation of a sand-heap. If every individual sought to be,
or were, the whole, instead of for the whole (the outcome of
the position of Kant and of Fichte), then an organic combi-
nation would be out of the question ; there could only be
disconnectedness, and the world would become an infinite
repetition. To prepare the world to be a moral world, there-
fore, it is essential also that the single beings in the world,
although relative wholes, be really distinct from one another,
not merely distinct in space and time, but capable of supple-
menting one another. It is therefore an advance in ethics
as necessary as it is great, v/hen Schleiermacher accords to
individuality, or personal peculiarity, an essential, objective,
imperishable significance in the moral world.

But if, now, individuality should be emphasized so far as to
leave nothing identical in the different individuals, then again
the consequence would be precisely the same as if an exclusive

ANTITHESIS OF LIKENESS AND OF INDIVIDUALITY. Ill

identity prevailed ; the individuals would remain disconnected,
for ever flying away from one another, repelling one another,
incapable of entering into the relation of mutually giving and
receiving. Thus again the unity of the moral organism would
be destroyed, and even the very idea of morality itself. For
it would no longer be possible to maintain that morality is
one and the same thing in the multiplicity of persons, even
on the assumption that this one morality may be most mani-
fold in form. So then it is only when there is this antithesis
of sameness and of individuality (which is by no means a
contradiction, but requires a co-operation of both), that ethical
life and an ethical organism are possible. The Apostle Paul
has already taught this in 1 Cor. xii. and xiv.

We can now pass on to the syllabus of the first part.

^.—SYSTEM OF ETHICS.

FIRST PART. FOUNDATION.

§ 9a. Syllabus. (Cf. p. 51 sq.)

The First Part of Ethics treats of the divine order of the world
as the antecedent condition on which the possibility of
morality in general depends ; and it falls into three
divisions. (1) In creation God has in view a relatively
independent moral world, a second world upon the basis
of the first or natural world. (2) The formal laiv of
the ethical activity of the created forces is to be
described ; and (3) the i)ractical end of this activity —
an end which not merely precedes the creation as a
thought in God, but which is also innate in the world
from the beginning as the end which it is to attain, and
which in the form of requirement sets the moral process
on foot. Accordingly —

Division I. Treats of the order of the world in itself as
established by God in creation, irrespective
of the moral process.

Division II. Treats of the order of the world as constitu-
tionally adapted to a formal moral process.

Division HI. Treats of the moral order of the world as the
practical goal of the moral process.

§ 10. mam's natueal endowment. 113

FIRST DIVISION.

OF THE OEDER OF THE WORLD ESTABLISHED ORIGINALLY, OR
AT CREATION, AS THE PREREQUISITE OF MORALITY, AND
CONSIDERED WITH REFERENCE TO THE PHYSICAL, THE
PSYCHICAL, AND THE RATIONAL NATURE, AS THESE THREE
ARE PRIMARILY CONSTITUTED AND CONNECTED.

First Section. That which is common in the moral facul-
ties with which man is endowed.

Second Section. Individuality.

Third Section. The spontaneous working of the moral
faculties towards union.

FIRST SECTION.

In the first section, in three chapters, that which is common
in the moral constitution of man is to be considered, accord-
ing to the above-named three aspects of his nature, as Physical,
Psychical, and Rational.

CHAPTER FIRST.

man's natural or physical endowment by creation.

§ 10.
Man, although destined for a moral existence, is first made by
God a finite natural being. But the moral end for
which he is made is subserved both by the fact that he
is a natural and finite being in general, and also by thfr
fact that he has a multitude of powers, senses, and
impulses, which have their centre in the oneness of
his ego, or in his natural personality.^

'[Literature: Eick, Physiologie und Anatomie der Sinnesorgane, 1864.
Wundt, Lehrbuch der Physiologie des Menschen, 1873, 3rd ed. Physiologische
Psychologie. Vorlesungen ilher die Menschen- und Thierseele, 1863. Joh,
Muller, Handbuch der Physiologie des Menschen. [Elements of Physiology,
translated by W. Baly, 2 vols., Loudon 1837-42,— Te.] J. Ranke, Grundziigc
der Physiologie des Menschen, 2nd ed. 1872. L. F. Helmholtz, Die Lehre von

114 § 10. man's natural endowment.

1. Finiteness is often regarded as an imperfection, or even
as an evil ; indeed, many see in it the source of wickedness :
for it constitutes, they say, at any rate a deficiency, whether it
be through matter, or through the limitation which it involves.
Ethics teaches, on the other hand, that finiteness is to be con-
sidered as a good thing, without which human morality would
be wholly impossible, and God alone would be existent. We
are finite, not for the reason that we are defective or connected
with matter which is hostile to spirit. Neither inward nor
outward finiteness is in itself a defect.

(a) The inivard metaphysical ground of our finiteness lies
in the fact that we do not have in ourselves the ground or
principle of our existence, that we are not self-existent, — in
other words, in the fact that we are creatures. Tlie creature,
made Ijy God and not by itself, is given to itself; but that is
neither defectiveness nor a cause of defects. It is true that
this involves absolute dependence upon God, without which
there would be nothing except God. Absolute dependence
seems, indeed, to be not favourable, but opposed, to morality,
For in morality the essential thing is the positing of one's self
in willing and knowing; — it is one's own production of the
shape or form of his moral life. But certain as it is that
absolute dependence as such is not morality, it no less
certainly forms the antecedent condition of morality, and is
essential in order to the possibility of morality. This is so,
indeed, only because the absolute divine causality and the
absolute dependence of man do not exclude, but include, the
self-positing of the created being, on the ground of his having
been posited ; as will be more distinctly shown later under the

den Tonempjindungen. [0?j the Sensations of Tone, translated by A, J. Ellis,
2nd ed., Longmans & Co., 1885. — Tr.] Physioloyische Optik. Volkmann,
Pliysiolorjische Untersttchungen im Gehiete der Optik, Leipzig 1863. Ribot,
Die experimentdle Psycliologie der Gegenviart in Deutschland. [Also English
Ftychology, 1873, translated from the French.— Tii.] Fechner, Psychophysik.
Mueller, Zur Grundlegung der Psychophysik. Liebmann, Analysis der Wirk-
lirhkeit, 1876, Abschn. 2, 2nd ed. Ulrici, Gott und der Mensch, 2nd ed. 1874,
Harms, Die Philosophie in ihrer Geschichte, 1876. Psychologic, 1874, especially
J). 104 sq, Zeller, Messung psychischer Vorgdnge. Lotze, Grundzilge der
Psychologie, 1881, Mikrokosmus. [In English, Microcosmus, an Essay con-
cerning Man and his Relation to the World, translated by Elizabeth Hamilton
and E. E. C. Jones. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1885.— Te.] Further litera-
ture, see above, § 9. 3, § 15.— Ed.]

IXWAKD GKOUND OF HUMAN FINITEXESS. 115

topic of freedom. At present, only tlio following: Since
God's creative activity is of an ethical character, and since
He has made the world for morality. He has designed that the
creature shall be a participator in his own self-production,
namely, as an ethical creature. For morality requires
conscious, spontaneous activity, and therefore the endowment
requisite for it. But, on the other hand, this involves^that
just in order to have the dignity of an ethical being, man
ought not to be at the very outset all that he can become
and is to become. And however high he may stand as over
against the rest of the natural creation, yet, in comparison
with his destination, he must begin with a meagre reality,
but at the same time be endued with an infinitely rich and
pure possibility of self-development and self-culture. And
even his original deficiency brings with it the advantage that
he can as much as possible be a conscious and voluntary
participator in the work of his own self-culture (1 Cor. iii. 9).
This deficiency is a seal of his ethical destination, but no
defect, although pointing to original want of perfection.
Man is thus confined to temporal conditions, and is finite in
respect to time. But this apparent deficiency, this gradual-
ness of development, is favourable to the moral building ujj
of our personality. For now we ourselves can determine and
seize every factor one after the other in our progress ; the
growth can now be effected by means of ever newly-awakening
desire after still further progress on the foundation of that
which has been previously made.

Note. — We have already had to insist on the essential
likeness of moral goodness in God and of morality in man.
Now by w^ay of supplement follows their difference. First,
God alone has absolute ethical aseity, and it is only a copy of
this which is found in the moral self-shaping of man. Secondly,
God is holy love perfected eternally ; wdiat in man can be only
successive, in God is simultaneously eternally present. Finally,
although in man there is the fundamental disposition which as
such wills the good in general, yet the realization of the good
can be promoted ^^v him only in one part of the total work ;
whereas God's good t^. ^ holy will continually embraces in
providential comprehensiveiic.. the whole and every individual
part, one in the other. His good and gracious will is compre
heusively directed at every moment towards producing and
preserving the whole moral organism of the world, or the

116 § 10. MAN'S NATUKAL ENDOWMENT.

kingdom of God. For us, on the contrary, the limitation to
one field is even a condition of mastership in every kind of
ethical productiveness.

(5) Man, however, is finite, not merely inwardly and
naturally, i.e. limited by his absolute dependence on God and
by the necessity of growth. He is also limited in outiuard
respects in a threefold manner : by his body, by nature, and
by the human race. Only on the basis of individual cor-
poreality does personality spring up ; only through the
medium of the body does the spirit come to an existence
which is capable of manifesting itself and of working with
power in the world. Nature is not the mother of mind ;
mind is not an efflorescence of nature ; therefore, also, body is
not mind or a potency of mind. But by means of mind,
which has the power of life in itself, matter becomes animated
and organized ; ^ and by the fact that mind manifests itself as
soul, matter becomes body. The soul upholds the body ; but
it is also in its state and activity conditioned by the body.

As over against nahire, man is not merely limited in time
and space, but he is also originally helpless, in need of
nature, and dependent on it because of the nature which he
has in himself, viz, the body.

Lastly, the finiteness of man is shown also in his relation
to the race ; not the individual is the man ; others have what
I have not : they are my limitation.

But this threefold limitation subserves morality and is thus
a good ; it is that which makes possible a threefold moral life
in receptivity and activity. For first, the hody is the organ
of the mind ; through it both other minds and also what is
not mental are yet brought into relation to the mind. For
the body is the vehicle by Mdiich the outward world can work
upon the mind, and can be taken in by it. But none the
less is the body the organ by which the mind can operate on
that which it is not, whether nature or mind. In both these
ways together it becomes, as it were, the abode, the mirror,
and the visible copy, of the mind, and also the medium
through which the mind attains reality. It is therefore not
a mere limit, a bound ; it is also a bond of union with the
outward world ; and it is thus capable of serving as a means

1 Gen. i. 20 sq., 24 sq., ii. 7.

THE COMMON ENDOWMENTS OF MEN. 117

whereby the mind overcomes restraints and liberates itself in
the exercise of thought and volition ; it does not serve merely
to limit the mind in relation to other things.

Nature outside of us, moreover, is a material, which on the
one hand is to be apprehended, on the other to be acted on.
It is capable of receiving the seal of mind, of symbolizing its
ideas in sensible copies, e.g. in language ; but it is also capable
of becoming an instrument of its activity, an extension, as it
were, of the bodily organ.

Finally, the limitation through mmilcincl, the difference
between us and other beings of our race, is the prerequisite
of a social life, serving botli to enrich one's own being and to
supplement one's work.

2. We come now to consider more particularly tlu
universal or common endowments of men as finite individuals.
In this relation, it is true, man is only the acme of nature
itself ; but even as such he is something great, bearing not
obscurely in himself the seal of his moral destination. For
the whole sum of the faculties, which inhere in him as a
finite being, is indispensable in order to an actual moral
existence ; and only in such an existence do these faculties
attain their final destination, although even irrespective of
morality they are somewhat in themselves. Even before the
consciousness of something which has infinite universal worth
is awakened or given, man is not merely a multiplicity of
faculties, impulses, and sensibilities, but they are all central-
ized by the ego (Gen. ii. 7 ; 1 Cor. xv. 45). Man is not
merely a union of body and soul like the brute creation, but
a union of animated body and personal soul. And this
centralization works in a reflex way on the body. The
body also, on its part, even before tlie actual ego exists, yet,
because united with a soul about to become a person, is
a living centre in the system of natural life, and likewise
presents a real prototype of the coming personality. The
human body is the specific organ for the personality, and therein
essentially different from brute body ^ (1 Cor. xv. 45).

The idea of the human body, which lies in the relation of
the body to the personality, is directed towards making the
body always in one respect the organ of the personal mind.

1 Schaller, 1.0.211 sq.

118 §10. man's NATURAL ENDOWMENT. TELEOLOGICAL

Hence, though the differences between man and other
creatures, e.g. apes, may seem slight in single instances, yet
they run through the whole, and always in the same respect
which has been specified. Though the brutes have eyes, ears,
etc., yet they hear tones otherwise than man does ; though
they, as well as we, see pictures or flowers, yet they do not
see in them the same thing as we. That the organs of man
in comparison with those of brutes always point to what is
truly human, is effected partly by slight variations ; but just
these variations show that the organs are intended for a
person and for his purposes. This is illustrated, e.g., by the
position of the eyes, the ears, and the head ; it has been shown
that a slight variation in the external ear is that which enables
us to perceive musical tones as such. But let us enter some-
what more into detail.

The whole bodily organism of man contains wonderful
teleoloffical contrivance. This is seen not merely in what is
in it, but also in the absence of sucli things as the brute
creation brings into the world as its ready-made natural equip-
ment. The eye exists for the light, the ear for sound, and the
lungs for air. To man is denied tlie instinct which makes
other creatures early mature, but which also greatly restricts
their perfectibility, and almost makes needless the task of
self-perfection. Man is in each one of the single natural opera-
tions of his organism surpassed by other creatures — in strength
by some, in speed or in keenness of senses by others. On
the other hand, his organism has a flexibility, an elasticity,
a capacity for culture, which make him capable of an un-
limited development. By virtue of this unbounded perfecti-
bility he is superior to them all. By Bluraenbach the human
race is designated as inermis, but tlie obverse side of the
picture is given in Franklin's designation of man as the
animal instrumcntificum. His elasticity is illustrated especi-
ally by his ability to live in all zones, and to take possession
of everything, although this is not done without bringing
into play the flexible adaptability or accommodation which
he assumes, for example, in the differences of the races, in
order to maintain himself. He alone is intended to walk
upright, as is shown by the structure of the organs of
locomotion and the position of the organs of the senses.

CONSTRUCTION OF THE BODY, THE HAND. THE VOICE. 119

Especially worthy of mention is the ingenious construction
of the hand. The hand is the member in which whole
ethical creations have set up their abode, e.g. the arts and
industries ; yes, it is the member which from the beginning
helps not merely to symbolize, but also to produce, to
mediate, all revelation of inner morality, — as is indicated by
the etymology of the word " Handeln " [Eng. to act]. In the
hand are united the ability to feel and the ability to work.^

The senses may be called the susceptibility of the soul
for the outward world and its wealth. Among the various
theories of perception, that, indeed, has the least in its favour
which regards the soul as a blank tablet to be written on
by the senses. Eather in the thinking mind is inborn an
essential reference to everything which exists, since every-
thing existent is itself also thought, namely, realized thought.
The mind has from creation the capacity to know about
existing things, but yet it is not furnished with innate ideas,
nor with an innate knowledge of single things, which are
undergoing continual flux and change. On the other hand,
when the senses are stirred b}^ the continually-present out-
ward world, it comes to pass that, as by a stroke of magic,
the image of surrounding things is produced by the sense-
impressions, and is allured forth from the soul, accompanied
with the consciousness that we have to do not merely with
subjective conceptions, but with intuitions of reality, which
present material for action.

The voice, furthermore, which is given to the higher
beings, becomes in man the gift of speech. This gift is of
the highest importance with reference to the position of man
in the world, and it reacts to enhance the value of the
senses. By means of speech, the ear, the most intellectual
of the senses, first attains its higher significance ; by means
of speech, also, an exchange between the different senses
takes place, a translation, as it were, from the one into the
other. The word, which is properly for the ear, becomes
writing by means of the hand, and is made accessible to the
eye, for which the word itself is insufficient. The writing

' The Bridgetvater Treatises contain an admirable dissertation on the
ingenious teleological construction of the hand. Of. also Giebel, Die mensch-
liche Hand, in the Zeitschr./ur die cjesammte Naturwissenschaft, vol. xli. 1873.

120 § 10. man's natural endowment.

is again translated for the ear by means of speech. Every-
thing seen can be clothed in words, and thus be represented
to the ear, in order to be an object for the mind, even
when the immediate vision is inadequate to make it such.
Thus it comes to pass by means of speech, which is, as it
were, the universal mental medium of exchange, that the
various senses take the place of one another ; one under-
takes the office of another, as, e.g., even the blind can read by
the sense of touch, and the deaf hear by the vicarious sense of
vision, the prerequisite for all this being the existence of a
general indifferent medium of exchange and of understanding.

By speech nature is, to the widest extent, mediately and
immediately used for the world of thought and appropriated
by the mind ; from the fleeting word of the tongue, which
wondrously weaves out of air a body for thought, and presents
it for the moment an animate object, up to the written
characters, in which thought lies rigid and enchained, but
also acquires permanent fixedness, so that, being capable of a
reawakening at any time, it almost divests itself of transi-
toriness, and can remain present for distant times ; from
this again up to the invention of the press, which conquers
not only the transitoriness of time, but also of space, by
investing with a certain omnipresence and perpetuity the
thought and word which were uttered at one place and in one
time, and by being able to collect together in every place the
most important tilings that have happened scattered through
all places and all times. The domain of speech is so great,
indeed, because language is not merely a natural gift, but also
a moral product ; nevertheless, everything in it is only the
evolution and the use of the endowments and faculties
which are inborn and distinctively human.

Finally, let us glance at the natural endowment of man
for self - preservation and reproduction. All living beings
have the power of self-preservation, by which they keep their
identity amidst all change of matter — a unity which therefore
is something else than matter. The preservation of things is
essentially involved in the creative will. But preservation
is not possible without allowing a causality to them (Gen. i.
12, 22, 28). The first function of their causality is self-
preservation, or self-reproduction. This takes place, first, by

THE FACULTY OF SELF-PKESERVATION. 121

continual assimilation of material, which repairs what is con-
sumed, and incorporates with the organism and its vital
process the matter which outside of this organism is inani-
mate. But the living creature also preserves itself as a
species, which can be undying amid the change of individuals ;
the individuals are here the organs of the species which
maintains and propagates itself through them. In man the
capacity for this self-reproduction attains moral significance
through the will, and is the foundation of important depart-
ments of morals.

In all these attributes, gifts, and functions comprised in
the divine idea of man, in their normal character or soundness
and vigour, and again in the harmonious vitality and beauty of
this organism, are to be seen so many good things, which
really deserve this name, and are in the sight of God them-
selves of worth (Gen. i. 31). There is something sacred in
them; and wantonness which injures them is an encroach-
ment on God's order ; hence they are included in the moral
world. The guarding of these good gifts, their increase and
development, is a part of the ethical work itself; it is
included in the process of reducing the world to moral order.
It is true that the care and culture of them may possibly be
destitute of the higher, central, ethical meaning, and may
perhaps treat them not as means in furtherance of the highest
general end. Nevertheless they also are comprehended under
the general end as something to be cared for. Even if
there is as yet no moral disposition to protect their normal
sacred order against caprice and disturbance, yet they already
form a part of what morality has to deal with. Hence also
even in this lowest sphere there is a physical analogue of
virtue, namely, that efficiency of the bodily organism which is to
be gained and guarded ; and in this self-preservation of normal
nature the creative will is affirmed and confirmed by the
human will ; and the latter is in the exercise of this function
good in its kind, although not yet possessed of moral character.

Note. — From the high position we must give to nature and
corporeality, it cannot be inferred that the importance of the
ethical process in the world's history consists in general, as
Eothe makes it, in the subjection of matter, or in the production
of spirit, as the union of the real and the ideal. The final cause

122 § 11. man's psychical constitution.

of the world is rather the production of love, which, however,
needs nature in order to its , expression and dissemination :
Love, in its treatment of nature, affirms the laws of the first
creation, takes them up into its will, and treats all things
according to their several kinds, but for its own end. The
ethical process must indeed adapt itself to the immanent
laws of the normal movement of life in nature, but it does so
only so far that thereby the manner is determined in which
love, which fixes the goal and directs the process, shall attain its
own goal.

CHAPTEE SECOND.

THE psychical ELEMENT IN MAN'S MOKAL CONSTITUTION,
IKRESPECTIVE AS YET OF REASON. .. .

§ 11.

The natural personality is a unity which persists in the midst
of the alterations of the bodily organism, and remains
identical with itself by virtue of the soul. The soul is
fitted for morality by its so-called fundamental faculties
in general ; but in particular by the capacity which
these faculties have of being determined by one another ;
and further, by the soul's capacity of existing both as an
agent, having the power to act, and as a state, involving
the possibility of characUr.

1. Erom the Physical we pass to the Psychical. Since it
is necessary to assume that the body and the soul are two
things (§ 9), but it is not sufficient to assume a mere dualism,
the question arises, how the connection of body and soul is
ensured. The middle term, essential on the side of matter,
is its susceptibility for force, life, soul, etc. Matter, therefore,
is not merely that which is inert, at rest, impenetrable ; it is
also that which is susceptible of force, or is the power of
receiving life, soul, etc. ; and by its susceptibility it points to
the higher thing by which the susceptibility is to be satisfied,
and awaits it as the determining power. And so we see how,
from the lowest stages where life and force seem to be still
overpowered by matter, nature rises to ever freer, higher

THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF IDENTITY. 123

forms, — to plants, which ah'eady appropriate matter to them-
selves and elaborate it for their growth, and from plants on to
animal life. Though the animal soul has more ability to
govern the body, locomotio, still the brute is not able to con-
trast the soul with the body. His soul has, as the object of
its perception and desire, his body and its affections. No higher
stage in nature is reached till the ideal principle in it has
come to such strength that it can set itself over against every-
thing which is not itself. But the soul can do this only by
being first of all something by and of itself, by being able to
set itself over against itself ; without this it could not oppose
other things to itself. The product of this act is the ego. If
self-consciousness exists, then there is given a fixed point
which in the change of things and of perceptions remains the
same. Thereby man, instead of being lost in the outside
world, can rescue himself from its current.

By this consciousness of identity, now, there is set up, as it
were, a fixed mirror in which the changing multiplicity of
things reflects itself, and is even brought together as in a per-
manent point of union. In this way consciousness, which can
take in all possible things, acquires the character of univer-
sality, and, as a susceptibility for everything existent and per-
ceptible, stretches out beyond the individual ego and becomes
consciousness of the world. And the development of this
universal side of the ego is of importance in relation to the
will and its freedom of choice : by virtue of the fact that the
soul, as ego, has a universal character, containing in itself in-
finitely numerous possibilities of volitions, it can rescue itself
from the sensations and impulses, can draw back from their
immediate power into its own universal being, can set them
over against itself, check them, deny them, or will something
different from that to which they may impel.

2. With the ego is connected the consideration of the
further psychical character of man. The one soul, as human
or as ego, has three forms of existeoice, called also fundamental
faculties ; they are sensibility, cognition, will. The details
belong to the province of psychology ; in considering man's
ethical constitution we are concerned chiefly with the capacity
of each of the three to be determined by the others, and espe-
cially of them all to be determined by the will. Feeling, will.

124 § 11. man's psychical constitution.

cognition are indeed not absolutely separated from one another,
but rather are from the beginning comprehended by the
natural personality as their centre of unity. Yet they are not
on that account one and the same ; they are at first even rela-
tively separable ; they may be unequal in their development,
they may even oppose one another. Perfect interpenetration
or oneness is what they can and should attain by a process of
moulding one another ; and this is a work which morality has
to do, for which work indeed a rule is requisite that shall fix
the manner in which this reciprocal moulding is to be effected.
They are also not perfect each by itself at the outset, but can
become so only in connection with one another, by mutual in-
fluence and determination. Thereby the original union, which
is at first, as it were, only prefigurative, typical, and superficial,
is to become affirmed and established as an intensive, living
union through the will. Hence, under this aspect, we consider
these three — sensibility, cognition, will — up to the point where
they are directed towards the infinite. In its coming forth
from itself in order to exercise itself, the soul is will ; in
taking an outward thing into its inmost self, it is cognitive ; in
the mean between these two opposite functions, but at the
same time connecting them, are i\\e feelings. "We here some-
what anticipate the doctrine of the moral process (Div. II.), in
order to take a survey of the psychical traits which make the
moral process possible.

3. The Feelings. — Even in the brute the soul has a sort
of selfhood ; but this is a sense of having such and such
an organism — a sense of life. The state of the organism is
reflected into the sentient soul of the brute, but this soul does
not 2^osscss itself in its selfhood ; man does, however. And so
his selfhood comes to be of a personal sort — feeling in the
narrower sense ; it is not mere sensation, and also not mere
immediate feeling, but the perception that the feeling of the
physical and mental condition is his own. This is in the
first place a feeling of self, in which that which is felt and that
which feels are one and the same subject. But the feeling
can also have something else than the ego for its object, though,
to be sure, only so far forth as the ego is inwardly affected
or moved by it. So far forth as this other object can be an
object of thought, we call the feeling of this other thing an

THE FEELINGS. 125

intellectual feeling, directed towards truth. Although as yet
the modification of the ego by the object is the predominant
thing in what takes place, — for it is feeling, — yet this feeling
forms the transition to objective conception and thought.

The second thing is the praetical feeling of the value of the
object, as an object of the will — not merely of its value to the
individual ego ; for the practical feeling can also rightly
express a determination of general objective value ; the
feeling appealed to by the value of the object has likewise
a universal side to it. That which is agreeable to the
practical feeling of the soul becomes an object of pleasure
and desire ; that which is repulsive to this feeling is what
excites displeasure, is an object of repugnance or abhorrence.
If the feeling is of a sensuous sort, but joined with imimlse,
while knowledge or clear thought still remain in the back-
ground, there arises appetency. The practical feeling can be
directed towards anything whatever which can have value
for a person, — towards happiness and its advantages, towards
beauty, but also towards truth so far as it is regarded as a
valuable good, and towards moral good properly so called.

Although this judgment of value can be expressed in pure
objective thought, or conception, by which the valuable object
becomes an end, yet the seat of the apperception of worth is
in the feeling. This feeling is the perception of the pre-
arranged harmony between the object and the person's own
nature, i.e. the perception of the enhancement of his own
being by means of this object. Also this feeling of value
cannot cease when the valuable thing becomes an object of
thought or choice ; but it runs all through these as an accom-
paniment, and lends to them both their intensity. The
thought, into which the valuable object is taken up as an
idea, secures clearness and permanence, and guards the feeling
itself from relapsing into merely passive sensation. But the
practical feeling is directed primarily towards the will. The
feeling, laid hold of by the value of the object, impels the
will to become practically united with the object ; and inas-
much as thus the feeling becomes a soul for the will, it is
called incitement [Tricbfcder], whereas thought, in so far as it
would move or determine the will, is called ground or reason
[Beweggrund], But yet the thought, or reason, becomes an

126 § 11. .man's psychical constitution.

actually moving force only by passing through the feelings,
that is, by becoming likewise an incitement ; and this union
of reason and incitement may be called motive. The feelings
can also determine the loill immediately, without first passing
through the medium of thought, that is, determine it uncon-
sciously as in ccp-pdency ; but thought cannot conversely
determine the will without the feelings. The unconscious
incitement is merely the union of sensation and impulse
\^Tricb\ that is, appetency.

By flowing out in thought and will, feeling does not lose
itself; the soul always returns into itself, into its inmost self,
or feeling, — into the simple, primary totality of the mind.
But it is only by means of will and thought that feeling
becomes morally educated feeling, — a fact of the highest im-
portance, e.g. in the matter of piety. It is frequently thought
that one has no control over his feelings, that they cannot be
determined by the will ; they even seem to have worth only
so far as they are free natural feelings. But from an ethical
point of view it must be insisted on, that even feeling is an
object of education, that there is an educated moral feeling.
The training is accomplished, to be sure, not directly in a
positive way ; yet it is not merely negatively that one can
influence the sensibilities, or repress them, instead of yielding,
e.g., to one's moods ; the sensibilities can also be positively,
at least indirectly, educated, by the will and cognition
familiarizing themselves with ideal realms, in which the
feelings also are interested. And as feeling can be excited
and fixed by the objects of cognition and will, so too these
can determine the feeling by the state of being which they
must attain (see below).

4. Cognition or Consciousness. — In the sensation and per-
ception of an outward object, the soul is primarily determined
only by the senses ; this is therefore passive cognition. But
yet even this comes to pass only by means of a reaction of
the cognitive function against mere passiveness, that is, by
means of activity ; and the more, now, the consciousness is
determined by the will, which on its part carries in itself a
feeling of the worth of things, — i.e. the more cognition is
made, in the wider sense, ethical, — so much the more is a
progress in cognition at once manifest. Consciousness thus

THE COGNITIVE FACULTY. 127

becomes freed from passiveness, from being merely given up
to the sense - perception ; consciousness comes to be actively
passive, i.e. to will to be determined by an object, c.(j. in
attention ; and this alone is receptivity which is living — not
merely immediate, but determined by the will. The will,
directed towards the consciousness as sense-perception, pro-
jects out of itself the object of the sensuous impression, or
more strictly, the image or conception of it, puts this before
itself of its ovM accord, and directing itself towards this fixed
conception, analyses it, according to its characteristics, in the
exercise of judgment, but brings these characteristics again
into relation to an underlying unity, embraces them in a
generic notion, and appropriates the object to itself, or com-
prehends it. Thus consciousness is thinJdng consciousness.

To the world of conceptions, in which the will is already
active as a plastic and creative will, although in the character
of consciousness, is next joined the cognitive activity in the
form of imagination and fancy. This activity freely uses
these conceptions and perceptions as its own material, and
freely combines their objects. Here the idea of heauty finds its
domain. The forms thus produced are primarily only inward,
without objective independent existence — affections of the
conceiving soul itself, and not disengaged from it till the will
comes in more powerfully, and, being seized by artistic feeling,
gives to the pictures of fancy an objective outward existence.

But when now the plastic will, which unites with con-
sciousness, and causes it to create ideals, is animated, not
merely by the idea of beauty, but by that of truth, then the
shaping and creating of ideals takes place beyond the world of
forms and of art in the sphere of independent thought. The
highest stage of this independent thought is the cognition of
universal truth, the thought of that which is a priori necessary.
It is comprehension no longer in a mere empirical sense, but
in a higher sense, to which belongs not merely cognition of
the What, and of actual existence, or the That, but also the
cognition of the Why. It is not merely perception and notion,
but also the grounds for both. Thus we have the three
categories of reality, possibility, and necessity. Thinking which
is shaped by the will, or by personality, is the intellectual
activity of the mind. The intellect is neither merely passive

128 § 11. man's psychical constitution.

nor merely the play of consciousness, as imagination may be ;
it receives its direction from the love of truth, from the
choice of truth ; but it must follow this direction according
to its own law, the necessary law of thought.

Finally, when cognition is occupied with what has value
for the will, then we have practical, purposing cognition. In
its purity and power it is essentially conditioned by the
purity of the practical will, and even of the feelings ; for all
volition, even that directed towards cognition, is animated by
the feeling of the worth of the object of volition.

5. Conversely, however, the loill is more and more edu-
cated, and is raised to higher degrees, both by cognition
(consciousness and self-consciousness) and by the sensibilities.
For impulse is characterized by blindness and want of freedom,
because the person who has it cannot as yet distinguish it
from himself, so that he is impelled by the impulse, and even
continues so absorbed that he has come to be only, as it were,
a living impulse, but does not impel himself, does not will.
But while this is so, yet, on the other hand, as soon as the ego, or
the recognition of self, arises, then the distinguishing between
the person and the impulse can also begin ; and instead of
being overpowered by the impulse, the personality becomes
able to set itself up over against the impulse, so that the ego
can will or not, can sustain a voluntary relation to it.

But the more the cognition becomes enriched in its contents,
and is accompanied by the feelings in their attribution of
worth to the objects cognized, and by the consciousness of
these objects as an end, so much the more is the will able to
make progress from being mere caprice to being an intelligent
will with a fixed tendency ; so much the more does the culture
of the will flourish. More particularly, the progress is accom-
plished thus : The person by his own act, upon receiving an
impulse from the self-consciousness which holds the object
before him, and from the feelings which are stirred by the
object, opens [Germ, ersehliesst] himself to this object, and
allows himself to be determined to lay hold of it. This is
resolution [Germ. EntscUiessung , literally, unlocking, opening].
It includes, in the first place, a judgment of the voluntary
agent concerning the object and its relation to the agent. In
the second place, there is in a resolution, although it moves as

DEFINITION OF ACTION. 129

yet in a purely interior sphere, nevertheless a reference to the
outward world, to action in the world, to a determination of
it by means of the mind. With the thought which is to be
realized the will joins itself in the resolve, in order to make
itself and its organism a means toivards the end, or in order
to lend to thought the power of realization, whereby it can
become a cause. For the thovglit which vjills to become
causality is called end [purpose, Germ. Zuxchl. So much
concerning the so-called powers of the soul as conditions of
morality, but as yet apart from the apprehension of the
infinite.^

6. Action. — These faculties, however, are all intended for
activity ; and in particular, the blending of them together,
wdiich has been considered, does not take place of itself, but
through acts of the person, by his action, in tlie broader sense
of the term. iVristotle likens action to the logical relation of
reason and consequence, and to the ontological relation of the
cause and the effect of a principle. Yet the principle from
which the action emanates, as consequence or effect, is, as
Aristotle sees, of a different sort from the principle of logical
thought, or from the principles of things in nature. For, he
says, in the case of both these the consequence or effect pro-
ceeds from its ground or cause necessarily ; whereas that
ground which becomes the cause of action does not produce
this effect necessarily, but is a ground which contains more
than one possibility. Man in respect to action is cip-x}] Kvpia ;
and that is the basis of the imputation that strictly he might
act otherwise than he does. Eothe designates action as the
function of the human personality as such.^ This holds true
if action is taken in the widest sense, according to which
every function of the human person when awake is action.
Action is to be distinguished from the mere hapi^emng of
something through the participation of the will and the con-

^ [Gei-man : " noch abgeselien von dem Vernehmen des Unendlichen." There
is here an allusion to the etymology of " Vernuvft'''' (reason), it being derived
from Vernehmen, to apprehend, perceive ; reason being regarded predominantly
as a perceptive faculty, perceptive of the higher, infinite objects of thought,
especially God, necessary truth, and eternal morality. Cf. the heading of this
chapter, and the next chapter, where this conception of the reason is developed.
— Tr.]

2 Ed. 1, i. § 194 [ed. 2, ii. § 222].

130 § 11. man's psychical constitution.

sciousness, that is, of the personality. But the powers of the
soul do not work like the mere forces of nature ; it is not the
faculties of the soul which act, but the person acts by means
of the faculties, entering into space and time out of his own
interior being.

Action is distinguished, not only from occurrences, and
from the working of mere natural forces, but also from all
other conceivable psychical emotions, blind impulses, or sensa-
tions, in which the personality does not co-operate by way of
assenting or determining, and so does not form a constituent
part. Inasmuch as personality is the union of self-conscious-
ness and will, and in every human act the personality must
be present, it follows that every act must involve consciousness
and will, though with the greatest variety of degree of parti-
cipation. But as only persons, and not brutes, can act, so
conversely every act of a person is of a moral sort in the
equivocal sense, i.e. normally moral or not. But from action
in the wider sense, with which the ego has some association,
we must distinguish action in the narrower sense. For although
we speak of acts of consciousness, nay, though the mind is a
reality only by virtue of acts, which cannot take place without
the will, yet acts in the narrower sense are only those acts
of the will which have a deed as their goal, and which the
acts of consciousness or the emotions of the sensibilities sub-
serve only as means ; but not those acts in relation to which
the will constitutes only a means of cognition, and cognition
is the goal. These acts of the will wdiich aim at deeds may,
with Fichte, be called Tlmtlictndlungcn [deed-acts], and they
are of the most immediate importance with reference to ethics.

In a complete act, feeling, cognition, and volition work
together ; but the important point is to discern how they
work — to analyse the act. The first factor is the practiced
feeling, which relates to the worth of the thing which may
become an object of the will ; it is the feeling which estimates
worth. Yet this feeling of pleasure or displeasure may pos-
sibly only advance as far as appetency, which carries the will
along with it ; in that case there is as yet no freedom, because
there is no clearness of consciousness. But the course may
also normally proceed further ; and then, secondly, the practical
feeling of the worth or worthlessness of the object takes shape

FEELING, DESIKE, RESOLUTION. 131

in the consciousness, which is active in the character of will,
i.e. which forms concepts for the will — forms ends. For an
end is a concept which is addressed to the will, and which
presupposes the valuation given in the practical feeling. But
starting with the consciousness of the end, the will passes
through several other stages before reaching the voluntary act
[Thatliandlungi, viz. the stages of desire, of resolve with
2nirpose, and finally of the deed. For, thirdly, the end recom-
mended by the feeling of worth and fixed by the consciousness
awakens in the ego a desire for the good which is conceived.
Desire is not mere appetency, but it is also not action ; in
desire the will only opens itself to the alluring power of the
good, or the end, which is conceived, and which is ideally
present. It is, indeed, not merely passive, and also not yet
productive, but receptive, ideally conceptive, in relation to the
object, whether good or evil.^

When, now, the will inwardly combines with the end which
is conceived, and which recommends itself as worthy of
realization, — when the will so surrenders itself to the end as to
make itself the means of accomplishing it, this is resolution, the
result of which is 'pur'posc, resting on the incitement that has
grown out of the valuation which the practical feeling and the
understanding have exercised. A resolve is no longer a
simple desire or longing, mingled with involuntariness, but it
is a higher, an inward volition, which involves another sub-
sequent volition, namely, a volition which is to realize the
end, a volition of the deed. This is a volition of a volition, a
volition in the second degree. The resolve is the volition of
a volition which shall not remain inward, but shall be so
vigorous and decided that the will becomes a cause, and
realizes the end. The resolution forms a fixed point in the
present, a conclusion of the wavering, scattered functions of
the feelings, of deliberation, and of the will. But all this
belongs as yet to the inward sphere ; the resolution is an ideal
union of the will with the end, but already with inward
reference to the future and to the outward realization of the
ideal by means of the deed of the active will. The end must
all the time remain present as an object of thought and
volition, if the act is to be an act formally complete. The

^ Jas. i. 15, i'Zi^vfiia auXXafiiuira,.

132 § 11. man's psychical constitution.

end, as an end placed before the conscious will by virtue of
the resolution to realize it, is purioosc [Germ. Vorsatz] ; an act
is a purposed or deliberate [Germ, vorsdizlich] act when it
takes place on the basis of a preceding resolution which ended
the deliberation, or of a resolution in which the end is set
before the present will as an end to be realized in the future.
But from the deliberate act is still to be distinguished the
intentional act. The act is intentional, not merely purposed,
when the self-consciousness, consciously conceiving of the end
as one that is willed, is held fast, together with the means, by
the will which is directed towvards the attainment of the end.'
We see from this what a progressive, composite operation a
complete act is.

The final factor, after the desire (which itself rests on the
feeling of worth and on the consciousness which fixes upon the
ends to be aimed at) and after the decision, is the deed. The
end, having taken the form of purpose and intention, receives
in the deed its embodiment through the person. The end
having become operative as a cause through the will, the
process is relatively finished in the product, which now
becomes a subject of judgment or valuation. The finished
deed is followed by a state of repose in one's self, in which the
doer is alone with himself, becomes conscious of himself as
such, and the deed returns to the doer. The actor returns to
a state of calm self-consciousness or feeling in such a way that
the product of the act is taken in as a part of the feeling, and
so the feeling which assigns value again finds a place. In
pleasure or pain the ego, as now modified, has an impression
of itself, of its deed, and the worth of the deed. The estima-
tion extends to the productive deed, to the product, and to the
agent with whom the deed, as being his own determination, is
connected. For the agent has put himself, as a conscious and
voluntary causality, into the deed ; and now there ensues, with
reference to such a complete act, also a complete imimtation,
which is at the same time a taking account of himself by the
agent, a referring of the deed back to the ego as a unity, as

1 Eothe, ed. 1, § 196 [ed. 2, ii. § 226]. Herrmann, Ueber Vorsafz unci Ahsicht.
Aristotle distinguishes purpose and intention (TpoalfKn; and (iou\vKri;) thus : the
former never aims at the impossible, while the latter may ; the former includes
also the means, while the latter is directed only to the end.

THE SOUL AS ACTIVITY AND AS A STATE. 133

a conscious and voluntary cause. Yet the reckoning can
establish, on the ground of the single deed, only a relative
result, since the total worth of the person does not depend
merely on a single act.

7. Relation of the soul as an activity to the soul as a state. —
To the moral constitution belongs not merely the capacity to
pass from potentiality into activity, and further into act aud
deed [cf. p. 130]. It is also an essential part of it that this
putting forth of one's self reacts on the faculty which enables
what has been acquired in the process of feeling, thinking, and
willing to abide as a possession in the form of a state. This
is an important element in the moral endowment, without
which there could be no actual progress, no connection in self-
culture. The activities of the soul are not mere isolated
movements, passing away without a trace, like dying corusca-
tions ; else it would be necessary always to begin absolutely
anew. On the contrary, the earlier acts become steps for the
later acts, in that they leave a deposit behind them. They
pass over, especially when they form a series, into a state,
either of a permanent or of a transient sort. The state after
the act is no longer merely a state of repose in one's self, as
before the act ; but rather the sensibilities after the act
receive, through the quality of the act, a modification which,
when it is of a more transient sort, is called mood. The mood
constitutes the groundwork on which cognition and volition
impress themselves anew, and it continues to make itself felt
in them.

But not only does the totality of the man thus show in
his sensibilities an after-effect of the acts ; cognition and will'
also, as faculties, receive in reaction from the acts of cognitioni
and volitioh a modification of a permanent kind. The soul
in the exercise of cognition and will becomes characterized
by its own acts. The thing perceived and willed comes,
especially after repetition, to be a possession and property,
belonging after a sort to the nature of this faculty that
cognizes and wills. The volition which has become a nature
is habit ; the cognition which has become a nature, a
permanent possession of one's own, is recollection and memory.
Habit is the memory of the will; memory is the habit of
cognition. The blending of consciousness and will, which has

134: § 12. man's rational constitution.

become a persistent thing, or a state, is tendency or 5cw^
\_Richtung] ; the blending of feeling, consciousness, and will,
when it has become a state, is inclination, in which the
liveliness of feeling is preserved.

CHAPTEE THIRD.

THE RATIONAL ELEMENT IN THE MORAL CONSTITUTION

§ 12.

Man's rational constitution consists in his being destined for
that which is infinitely worthy (ultimately for that which
is divine), this also being destined for him, primarily
for his soul, which thereby becomes reason or spirit.
As having sensibilities fitted for immediate fellowship
with God, the soul is endowed with the religious reason ;
in so far as it is addressed by the infinite in the form
of truth, the soul is endowed with the intellectual
reason ; finally, so far forth as that which is absolute
for the will, that which is absolutely good, is un-
conditionally obligatory for it, the soul is endowed
with the moral reason. The faculties of intellectual,
religious, and moral reason have, notwithstanding their
common ultimate source, a relative independence of one
another, and are in time dissolubly connected ; but yet
intrinsically they so belong together that only with and
in the others can each attain its full development, so
that a circuit of the mental functions is required. The
rudiment of the constitution of the ethical reason lies
in the mordl feeling, which unfolds itself into the moral
sense and impulse. But not till the moral sense has
become conscience, and the moral impulse has become
free %vill, not till there is this antithesis between moral
necessity and freedom, the members of which are
intrinsically related to each other (correlates), is the
complete moral constitution actually given.

man's capacity for morality and religion. 135

1. The rationalness of the human soul, however it may be
defined, can yet be found only in the relation of the soul to
the infinite, or in the fact that the infinite is for the soul
and the soul for the infinite. But man is a rational being
in every direction of his mental capacities ; the infinite is for
them all, for each according to its kind. The infinite, i.e.
God, as related to the sensibilities, j)roduces religion or piety ;
as related to cognition, ideal or rational knowledge ; as
related to the will, the possibility of the ethical realm.
Schleiermacher, indeed, thinks that the Infinite, or God, can
be apprehended only by the feelings, not by cognition or by
the will, because, as he says, these two imply an antithesis
between the personal subject and the object conceived or
willed, whereas God is elevated above the antithesis. But
there is no reason to deny that the antithesis between
finite and infinite exists for God also ; for He knows Himself
to be infinite, and the world at the same time to be different
from Himself. But, further, the religious feeling apprehends
God as objective, not as subjective ; and if it be said that
man, when he knows and wills, is finite, absolutely inadequate
and incompetent to apprehend God, it is to be replied : man
is finite in feeling too. Conversely, since Schleiermacher does
not deny that morality is of infinite worth, and can yet be an
•object of will and thought, it is clear that finiteness does not
hinder one from being, throughout his whole spiritual nature,
susceptible to the Infinite, or God, i.e. from participating, as
to one's susceptibility, in the Infinite.

But though now there is given the natural endowment in
man for piety, for morality, and for the apprehension of truth,
though they all subsist in a certain unity in the rational
constitution, yet this unity does not obliterate their difference.
They are, in fact, in their formative period only dissolubly
connected with one another, and have, in relation to one another,
a certain self-subsistence and incle'pende7ice, although they all,
each for itself, come to perfection only with and through the
others. We consider this especially with respect to the
relation between the inoral and the religious side of the
rational nature.

2. It might be said that the ultimate source of morality,
as well as of religion, is God. The two are, it may be

136 § 12. man's rational constitution.

thought, so intimately connected, that where there is faith in
God, there must be morality also, and that where the mind
has taken a sceptical or even negative attitude towards the
idea of God, there too all morality must he wanting. But
that the two, religion and morality, are distinct, is clear from
the fact that faith in God does not of necessity immediately
lay hold on the will and the cognition ; and this is so not
merely where the conceptions of God are imperfect and
untrue. For a low degree of morality may co-exist even
with comparatively pure conceptions of God, and a high
degree of morality even with imperfect knowledge of God.
Furthermore, — a fact to which Eothe and Ernest Naville
direct attention, — persons are observed, especially in the
cultivated classes, who have in their inmost being no fixed
or clear religious conviction, rather, at the most, a God
concealed from their own consciousness, who yet manifests
Himself as operating in them in their integrity and social
virtues. Such instances occur especially in times when
widespread doubt has become a prejudice, and has, as it
were, deposited itself upon the consciousness, though this
deposit has not penetrated into the depths of the soul.
There are persons whose religious convictions have become
ruins, while their conscience still remains, like a solitary
column, as a monument of a demolished structure ; they may
still have a lively sense of what is noble and pure, a disgust
at everything bad and low. The sense of duty may still
continue for a while in man, as a sense of the nobility of
human nature, after its religious support is lost. Something
similar is seen where a religious culture has not yet been
reached at all, but where there is an ethico-humanitarian
culture.

Shall we now say, perhaps, in order to solve this enigma.
These persons, too, have religion ; or even. They are un-
conscious Christians, since Christianity consists in morality
as well as in piety ? Is their virtuous life, their devotion to
a supersensuous rule of duty, to be regarded as religion ? Or,
on the other hand, shall we, instead of thus identifying
religion and morality, say, There is no essential connection
between the two ; perfect morality is conceivable without
reli'non ? Neither, we answer. In the first place, the

EELATION OF MORALITY TO RELIGION'. 137

identification of the two is excluded by the fact that they can
become separated, and can maintain a certain independence in
relation to each other. And this independence has its objec-
tive ground. Ethical good is, in the conscience and in the
ethically constituted reason, an innate possession of the soul,
and in such wise that it requires realization, as being that
which corresponds to the reason and dignity of man. This is
a possession of the practical reason even without conscious
regress to the primary ethical Being, or God. The opinion
can, at least for a time, be held, that the conscience is
not a derivative source of moral truth, but the sufficient
source, not needing a deeper foundation. If, now, the know-
ledge be wanting that conscience has its foundation in
religion, then there is indeed a religious blindness, that is, a
deficiency, which hinders the will from having recourse to the
primal source of moral power ; but the moral law and the
consciousness of it may exist in man even when he does not
know their origin. God has indeed a connection, not only
with the world in general, but also with those who do not
thank Him, or who even deny Him, Yet everything good
which they do, they do through His power. But man is able
to disregard this relation of God to him, and to dwell in
the sphere of that morality or absolute worth which is
merely secondary. The relative indej^endence of religion,
however, is clear from the fact that piety and the interest
in it may have advanced in a man farther than the interest
in the other departments of morals. Moral sense and moral
impulse may be comparatively sluggish and undeveloped.

But, in the second place, the essential connection of the two
is nevertheless just as certain (Matt, xxii, 37, 39). It
will always be a stumbling-block to a healthy feeling, when
a person who especially emphasizes piety shows himself in
moral relations lax, selfish, quarrelsome, censorious, destitute
of moral delicacy. The fact remains, that morality belongs
to piety, if the piety is at all of the right sort. For
piety must be living fellowship not merely with the omni-
potent, majestic, righteous God, but also with the God of holy
love, so that it is a defect in piety itself, if it is not con-
formed to morality.

But morality likewise can be neither perfect nor pure,

138 § 12. man's rational constitution.

unless it includes in the love of goodness also the love of the
primal source of goodness, the personal God — in other words,
is, or becomes, piety. This is requisite not merely for
moral culture and intelligence, but also especially for the
reason that, if that secondary form of the good which exists
in the consciousness and will of man should be assumed
to be the highest and best, the necessary consequence would
be self-deification, that is, a want of the virtue of humility.
But this want disfigures even the goodness which may already
exist, being a sort of selfishness, even thougli a comparatively
intellectual form of it, as is shown by the pride of virtue
among the Stoics. Finally, it would be an error to suppose
that morality has as firm a basis, without reference to God, as
with it. If the atheist denies this, then the objective sacred-
ness and absolute inviolableness of the good itself will liecome
unsettled, and that solitary column will fall amid the tempta-
tions and storms of life. But if the atheist seeks to hold
fast the absoluteness of duty, he cannot be satisfied with
looking upon himself alone as the binding authority ; he
must recognise the good as a power independent of himself ;
and this must lead him, if only he developes his con-
sciousness on all sides, back to God as the supreme sanction
of all obligation. Thus it appears that a morality without
religion after all rests only upon an obscure view of things,
which needs to be clarified and thereby come to a decision
either for religion or against it.

Similar to the relation between morality and religion is the
relation of cognition to both. Knowledge, too, does not always
keep equal pace with these, and is therefore relatively separable,
whether going before or lagging behind ; but it remains as
the province of the will to blend true knowledge with religion
and morality : for wisdom too is a virtue.

3. Morality shares with knowledge and with religion the
relation to that which is of infinite worth. But the pecu-
liarity of morality, as over against these two, consists, accord-
ing to what has been said, in the fact that in the case
of morality that which has absolute worth is put under
the category of the will ; it is the absolute for the vnll
which is primarily had in view. But morality, together
with the will, embraces all realms, including religion and

THE MOEAL WILL AND MORAL FEELING. 139

knowledge, and is in turn embraced by these ; it embraces
them, however, in its own way, from the point of view of
the will. But the moral will on its part can operate only
upon the condition that there is a consciousness of what
is morally good, and that the feelings are stirred by an
ideal delight in the good. Neither the consciousness nor
the feelings need for this reason to necessitate the will ;
especially the moral feeling must not be allowed to become
of itself an overpowering impulse ; but, first of all, the
good in its majesty and sacredness must be brought to
consciousness, in order tlmt the personal will may assume an
attitude with reference to it. This consciousness, in which
the moral sense and the conscience become active, represents
a necessary principle, but necessary in the sense that it is
addressed to freedom, and in such a way that, by this very
consciousness of the morally necessary, the personality is
invested with its rights as a free personality. But the
manner in which in the temporal life the moral faculties
gradually manifest themselves in coming to their perfection,
under tlie continual agency of God, cannot be discussed till
we come to the Second Division. In the moment of a man's
creation, freedom and conscience do not as yet actually exist,
but there is a susceptibility in the man for having that
which is absolutely obligatory and worthy further inwrought
into him.

4. The Moral Feeling. — We consider here somewhat more
closely the moral feeling, which issues in moral sense and
impulse, reserving the more extended discussion of it for
Division II. The moral feeling is fundamental in the con-
stitution of the ethical reason ; it is originally the emotion
excited in the rational creature when the idea of morality
moves or strikes the heart, that is, it is a practical feeling
of the worth of things (§ 11. 3). It is not mere sensa-
tion, it has reference to an object ; it is a feeling of the
good which ought to be, and which by its value awakens
ideal pleasure, as also ideal displeasure is awakened towards
its contrary. The ideal displeasure can co-exist with sensuous
pleasure, and ideal pleasure with sensuous displeasure.

That the moral feeling forms the foundation for the moral
development is, however, disputed, especially by Kant, who

140 § 12. man's kational constitution.

denies that the ethical nature has its original existence in a
feeling which comes to be moral impulse and moral sense.
Feeling, according to him, is something only pathological and
physical. But there are also mental feelings and impulses,
which belong to the reason, and are not merely of an animal
sort; in the impulse to get knowledge, also, the animating
principle must be the intellectual feeling of the value of truth
as a good. For sensuous feelings are rather mere sensations.
And the fear is unwarranted, that from the sensibilities
danger is threatened to freedom, since it is certain that
morality in the strict sense rests on self-determination, and,
further, that the will must influence feeling and cognition
also. But the existence of a moral constitution, antecedent
to morality, must form the prerequisite of all ethical self-
culture. It may be called the natural constitution, if by
nature is understood the immediate product of creation,
which, however, is not merely a finite ^vai<;, but the starting-
point of the moral being, without which there would be no
connecting link for any further moral development. For if
the moral sensibilities were wanting, then all subsequent
imposition of law would be without any necessary or intrinsic
conformity to the nature of man, and would for ever exhibit
the appearance of caprice and externality, being necessarily
foreign to the inmost nature of man. But the consequence
of this would be, that he would be incapable of discerning the
truth or inward excellence of the proffered good, and hence
could not pass over from the state of servitude into the state
of freedom. The consequence of exaggerating the indepen-
dence of morality, as over against everything natural which is
innate, would be, accordingly, that no way would lead beyond
caprice and bondage into a moral perception of one's own.

But, we still inquire, is not feeling dangerous to freedom ?
It can, on the very contrary, be only promotive of free will.
We are not speaking of sentimental feelings, enfeebling to the
will, but of the moral feelings. How can the free will be
impaired by our having the power to make present to the
mind, in ideal pleasure, the worth of what is good, and, in
displeasure, the worthlessness of what is evil ? The ideal
pleasure consists perfectly well with freedom, is indeed itself
a proof that the good is something which is not foreign to the

RELATION OF FEELING TO FREEDOM. 141

nature of man, bvit is in harmony with his inmost being, and
really sets his freedom free. Where there is pleasure, there
is freedom from obstructions to life, even if these be only
something foreboded. Nor does it contradict this pleasure
and this freedom, that with them may be connected the
consciousness of the ideal necessity of the good, since the
good is the truth of one's own nature. This moral feeling,
of which the sense of right is only the one negative side, and
which forms the starting-point of conscience, makes itself
knowm at first on occasion of coming into contact with a
single good thing that awakens pleasure ; and it is not
necessary that it immediately come to a definite conception
of God. Nevertheless this must take place in course of time.
As the religious feeling is perfected by becoming also a
consciousness of absolute dependence having an ethical
character, so it is essential to morality that it be not merely
love to a single good thing, but rather that in the single thing
that which is good be itself seized and chosen, yes, that the
primordial good, the personal God, be loved in the single good
thing ; and thus morality becomes religious.

Note. — The New Testament also speaks of the ideal pleasure
of the sVw civ&pM'jog in the good, thus recognising the moral
feeling (Kom. vii. 22).

SECOND SECTION.

INDIVIDUALITY IN MAN'S MORAL ENDOWiMENT (§ 9&).

§ 13.

In addition to the endowment common to all men, there is
that which belongs to every individual singly, or, in
other words, peculiarit)/, in consequence of which mankind
appears in the form of a manifold variety of beings,
and by which alone a real ethical cosmos is rendered
possible.

Note. — Three points are of importance in this section : —

1. To recognise the necessity of individuality.

2. To discern wherein the general essence of it consists.

3. To notice its chief sorts.

142 § 13. INDIVIDUALITY. NECESSITY OF IT.

1. The Sacred Scriptures recognise both the existence and
the necessity of individuality in the most express manner ;
and the Apostle Paul especially has devoted magnificent
passages to it, Cf. especially 1 Cor. xii. 4 sqq. ; Eph. iv. 11 ;
Eom. xii. 4 sqq. Here belongs the figure of the aSifxa and
the multitude of fJieXr], which serves to promote the prosperity
both of the whole and of the parts. The distinctions of
individuality are constituted by nature itself, but are not
effaced by Christianity ; on the contrary, to the Holy Spirit
is ascribed the twofold office of being the source of variety in
the charismata, and of forming the bond of their union (1 Cor,
xii. 4 sqq.). The twelve different precious stones, also, each
of which has its own colour, and which belong to the founda-
tion of the city of God (liev. xxi. 18 sqq.), are to be reckoned
as belonging here.

2. The necessity that that which is individual coexist with
that which is common, obvious as it seems, has yet not been
distinctly recognised till the most modern times. The ante-
Christian times, in which even personality recedes behind
nature and the objective regulations of society, were still
further from grasping the notion of individual peculiarity.
Within the Christian era, the Eoman Catholic Church likewise
has fostered individuality but little , it has aimed more at a
uniform ecclesiastical type of character, but has not striven
to make each person free, and certain of salvation ; the
Church, rather, is the all-dominating moral personality. In a
perverted v;ay, to be sure, individual peculiarity has found
place in this Church, in the distinction between common
virtue and a higher virtue. And even when individuality
was tolerated, it yet was not in theory approved as something
to be cultivated. The ethics of the Church treated of right
action as if it were only a manifold repetition of one and the
same moral ideal without difference, as if duty related only to
that which is common to all. On the other hand, a uniform
ecclesiastical ethics could not possibly embrace everything
individual ; so the obverse of this strict uniformity was a
realm of things morally indefinite and given over to option
or caprice.

Individuality is a fact, whether it be ignored and resisted,
or recognised. A system of ethics which would have only

ETHICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF INDIVIDUALITY. 143

Avhat is common to all regulated by duty, acquits and aljsolves
from moral rule a whole section of personal life, and abandons
it to itself, or else tends to impair and obliterate individuality
by a uniform rule. In the first case, we have a domain of
that which is held to be not morally imperative, where the
so-called permissible or optional actious are said to belong,
which at the most can only be the subject of advice from the
consilia evangdica. But then the moral law, as an imperative
authority, w^ould have no right to assert itself always and
everywhere in human life ; there would be a sphere lying too
low to be ethically affected — a sphere below morality, below
duty — which is to remain given over to the free pleasure of
man, because morality lays no claim to it. But there imme-
diately connects itself with this, as the obverse of it, that
which is above duty, supererogatory. For when a man so
uses his right over this sphere which is at his disposal, that
he of his own free choice {i.e. caprice) sacrifices what he
would not be bound to sacrifice, then he gains for himself a
merit for doing more than duty requires. Thus the realm of
morals suffers a double loss ; what is below morality, and
what is above morality, fall out of its sphere. So closely
connected with great moral errors is the failure to recognise
individuality as something willed by the Creator, and hence
to be guarded as a matter of duty.

The Bcforriiation, it is true, emphasized personality and
personal assurance of salvation, as also the unity of all in
faith, and the equal rights of all the members (Gal. iii. 28;
1 Cor. xiv. 14-26). And the evangelical principle of faith,
according to which we are all one in Christ, by no means
implies the extinction of all individuality, the reduction of all
individuals to one and the same pattern. The meaning of
this principle is, rather, that, however different in other
respects believers may be, they themselves, in their God-
given individuality, have equal worth. jSTevertheless the
Evangelical Church has long enough held fast only the
negative side of this truth, namely, that "in spite of" in-
dividual differences there subsists an equality in the worth
of persons ; but it has not held that this subsists by and in
this very individuality itself. Spener, likewise, does not get
beyond this. The philosophy of Kant and Hegel also is not

144 §13. INDIVIDUALITY.

favourable to individuality ; they see in it only a limitation,
not the condition of the realization of the moral cosmos.
Only Leibnitz and Schleiermacher form an exception ; the
first work of Leibnitz treats de 2^'>''^ncipio individui, and his
doctrine of monads seeks to give a metaphysical basis to
individuality.

3. The variety of different individualities becomes an
ethical cosmos. It might be urged against this variety, that
the likeness of all, rather than diversity, would seem to be
favourable to unity and love, and that it would be better able
to make all into one connected whole. But distinction need
mean neither contradiction nor separation ; and on the other
hand, a uniform sameness is not to be confounded with a
living oneness. Plainly, an organism is not possible except
through a variety in the mutual relation of members, through
a union of what is common and of what is individual. Only
an organism which is not a mere continuity can be called a
unit possessing life.

But against the necessity and the moral right of indivi-
duality, it might also be urged, that every single individual
is meant to become perfect (Matt. v. 48), and that, if every
one should become perfect as the Father in heaven is perfect,
there would be no room left for a diversity of individuali-
ties. For, it may be said, this diversity is possible only in
case each has something which the others have not ; and
this, accordingly, would imply the general imperfection of the
different individuals. But we reply : If it belonged to the
Christian notion of perfection that every individual should
have just the same excellences as every other, then it would
follow that at least in the state of perfection all individuality
must give place to uniformity. But this would be in direct
contradiction to the high importance which, as just shown,
the Bible ascribes to individuality, and which does not allow
it to be regarded as only a transient thing. With perfection
{reXeioTTj'i) in the Christian sense it is entirely compatible
that the individuals should have and keep different in-
dividualities. The moral goal which is for all, and which
can already be approximately attained by Christians, is not
opposed to a manifoldness of individual character, but to
that which is still inconsistent with the vofio'i reXew; of the

NECESSITY AND PERMANENCE OF IT. 145

Christian, and to the indolence which has as yet kept men
from making their own the excellences which belong to the
perfection of the individual. There are, besides, other
excellences quite conceivable, which do not at all belong
to the ideal of every man, and the want of which, therefore,
is not to be regarded as a defect inconsistent with perfection.
Certain faculties may be stronger in one individual than in
another, provided only all the other faculties are harmoniously
adjusted to these, whether it be by an intensification of
them, or by a different mutual relation of the faculties in
general. Thus for each individual that perfection is possible
which is required by the moral ideal that is applicable
to him.

Therefore we cannot concede that it is only in the
uniform perfection of all that the bond of unity is secured
which binds individuals firmly together. On the contrary,
if all had everything alike, if each one were the whole, and
so in no need of being supplemented, there would be, instead
of living unity, only co-existence side by side like that of
atoms. Then it would be to tlie whole a matter of indiffer-
ence whether a part were lacking to it ; while to the indi-
viduals it would be no less a matter of indifference whether
a part were lacking or suffering. What would love have tci
exchange, moreover, if all were alike in everything? There-
fore creative love, because aiming at a living unity, has willed,
the apparent opposite of unity, viz. diversity, but yet has.
willed it for the sake of the unity, and accordingly so that
the variety is embraced and controlled by a higher principle..
This involves that the many, in spite of their diversity, are-,
yet all so constituted that all can be for all, that is, at least
have universal susceptibility for all the varieties which inhere:
in the individuals. For, of course, there are not various-
species of reason, as nature exhibits a variety of species ;
there is only one species of reason, and this bears the
character of universality, so that everything existent may be
for it — if not for it to produce, yet for it to receive. And
thus the necessity and the right of individuality consists
perfectly well with the fact that all, however different, are
made for mutual fellowship.

4. On the (jcacral 'iiature of individuality. — Even in the

146 § 13. INDIVIDUALITY. GENERAL NATUEE OF IT.

Middle Ages, which otherwise did little justice to individuality,
inquiries were made as to what in general it rested on, as
Leibnitz sets forth in detail in the treatise above mentioned.
Various possibilities may be adduced, {a) It is, of course,
evident that diversity of place and time cannot constitute the
characteristic feature of individuality. For if we assume
only a plurality of one and the same being, with difference
of place and of time, then it would follow, that two in-
dividuals who exchanged their place would be transformed
into each other ; and also that they would cease to be
different, if they existed at the same time and were of the
same age.

(6) It would therefore be necessary to add that the differ-
ence of place and time brings with it different influences
of the outward world, especially of the world of humanity,
and that thus differences of individuality arise. But, as to
this last point, whence come, in the world of humanity itself,
the different influences ? The question would be only carried
farther back. And, in general, we should be assumed to be
purely passive in our individuality, dependent on something
outside.

(c) Others, taking as their starting-point the essence of
humanity in general, suppose that individuality comes about
by means of differences in the division, limitation, or privation
of human being. The essence of mankind, it is said,
although in itself homogeneous, is in some persons more, in
others less, limited. Each individual is therefore different
from the others purely by reason of a different quantity of
human being. But underlying this is the supposition that
properly it is involved in the idea of every individual that he
ought to be the whole, by which again of course variety
would be abolished. Besides this, it is not satisfactory to
treat of mind as mere quantity.

{d) Especially common is the opinion that individuality is
derived from the body, or from the sphere of matter, as
representing existence in its divided state in the world. So the
Arabic Aristotelians, also Albertus Magnus.^ Diversity, it is

^ Ritter, Geschichie der christl. Philosophie, 1858, i. p. 635 sqq. Rothe also
says, individuality has its original abode in tlie material side of human nature.
Theol. Ethih, 2nd ed. § 1.31, 165, 167, 174, 176, 215, 219.

DIFFERENT VIEWS CONSIDERED. 147

sometimes said, cannot come from mind, mind being that
which is identical in all, while yet mind is variously deter-
mined by the various admixture of material elements. But
the assumption that mind is in itself everywhere one and the
same thing, while yet it would still have to be the province
of this identical mind to subjugate matter and impress upon
it the stamp of mind, would again lead to all individuals
becoming alike in the state of perfection. Variety would last
only so long as mind had as yet failed to make itself com-
pletely felt ; this, therefore, leads back to the assumption of
the transientness of individuality.

(e) In order to escape the error which makes not merely
mind in its utterances, but also individuality in its essential
nature, dependent on matter, we may try, with Origen, to
derive, conversely, individuality from the mind itself, namely,
from its freedom. All souls were, according to him, created
alike ; they have become different only by the different use
of their liberty, — a good or a bad use. Upon this inner
history depends, further, also the bodily organization or the
individuality. But according to this, if all made an equally
good use of freedom, they would become the same ; there are,
however, other individual differences than that between good
and evil with their degrees. We find, consequently, that the
one-sided derivation of individuality whether from mind on
the one hand, or from the body on the other, leads to the
same result, namely, that individuality would be destroyed
by perfect culture. But this is in plain contradiction with
experience. Just where the mind is least cultivated, as among
savages, the greatest resemblance is observed even in respect
to the body ; culture makes the individual stamp more
sharply defined ; culture is to be carefully distinguished from
the mere polish of culture.

We cannot, then, find the sufficient principle of individua-
tion in anything merely external, in mere limitation, or in
quantitative distinction; and freedom also is inadequate to
account for it. If this be so, and if we recoc^nise it as beincc
for the good of the permanent universe that the indi-
vidual differences among mankind should be permanent, then
only one opinion is left to us : namely, that individuality has
not arisen from empirical causes, merely as a subsequent

148 § 13. INDIVIDUALITY.

effect ; it is a creative thought of God, and is incorporated,
as an eternally abiding factor, into the very notion of the
human race itself. Mankind was not conceived of by God
as a unit having no individual parts, but only as consisting
in individuals, even though the realization of the creative
thought may not be brought about except in temporal history
and through secondary causes. The spirit of the whole can
nevertheless, as regulator, govern all the individuals ; and so
much the more, inasmuch as the idea of each single individual
within this unity of mankind involves in it that, in a certain
way, each has, besides his own, also that which the others
have, at least in the form of susceptibility (they are, as
Leibnitz puts it, all microcosms) ; but each in a different
manner from the others. And since the individualities can
be neither merely spiritual nor merely corporeal, but present
themselves in both forms, it follows that, as Leibnitz expresses
it, every being is individuated in its entirety {totum ens in se
foto individuatur).

Schleiermacher expresses himself in a similar manner ; ^ he
assumes, to be sure, that through its connection with the
body the soul has a peculiar modification ; he also sees a
ground for individuality in the relation of the ego to the
non-ego, — to the world, in respect of climate, food, nationality,
education, religion, etc. But the psychical peculiarity, he says,
must nevertheless be implanted, predetermined, in the rudi-
ments of each individual ; each has his peculiar soul. The
outward coefficients govern only the form, or sort, of the
activity of that which is already fixed inwardly (the potential
individuality) ; otherwise self-activity would be as good as
null. He sums it up as follows : ' The peculiarity of the
individual is the perfectly definite shaping of the relation
between the different vital functions in reference to the
totality of things. We say, therefore : each person is both
physically and mentally a peculiar combination of the faculties
belonging to the genus ; and the whole of humanity indi-
vidualizes itself in each one in a particular manner. Man-
kind, according to the divine idea, does not exist except as a
variety of peculiar persons, who, however, belong together by

' Ckristliche Sitte, pp. 58 sqq., 65, 111. Psychologie, pp. 266-71, 499, 500.
2 Pp. 499, 500.

GENESIS OF INDIVIDUALITY. 149

virtue of their very variety. But if, now, individuation thus
runs through the whole essence of humanity, in what way is
the divine will concerning individuality realized ? And what
are its principal sorts ?

§ 14. The actual Genesis of the chief kinds of Individuality.

In inquiring after the origin of the multitude of possible
individualities, it is to considered — A. That germs for
the production of various peculiarities of human nature
are found even in one and the same individual, namely,
in the necessary variety of his moods at different times
(§ 11. 7). B. But the possible individualizations of
human nature come to full expression only in different
persons ; and here are to be distinguished : 1. The
differences which relate to condition ; and 2. Those
which relate to activity. 1. To condition belong: a.
The difference of sex, this original differentiation or
individualization of human nature. I. From this results,
in connection with the difference of physico-psychical
moods, the difference of temperaments, which express a
fundamental mood permanently held, and, as it were,
impersonated, c. From the varieties of this permanent
fundamental mood, different races, 7iations, i^eoples, tribes
may be derived. But there are also, 2. Peculiarities
which relate to activity; these are the tcdents, which
form the basis for individual vocations.

Note. — We have, moreover, to distinguish between differences
wliich are or should be transient (of age, of good and bad), and
those permanent differences of definite individuals, the germ
of which becomes only more strongly developed by education.

1. The realm of diversity is indeed immeasurable, and
human science cannot boast of having made a general survey
of it, much less of having studied out the wisdom of the
Creator as it extends down to single individuals. Yet we
must seek to outline, so far as we may, the realm of indi-
vidualities, in order that we may come to know the factors

150 § 14. GENESIS OF INDIVIDUALITY.

■which make so great a diversity possible, and in order that
we may be able to regulate this diversity in a rational way.
These factors are, as it were, the alphabet, out of which the
creative thought of God composes as many independent words
as there are individuals. But at the same time we must
disregard that kind of diversity which ought not to exist,
which has arisen through mere abnormity and sin, and which
tends to destruction, that is, to the uniformity of death.
Furthermore, to the diversity of the human race, as it con-
stantly exists, an immense deal is contributed by the mingling
of classes of persons of the most different ages who are living
at the same time. One and the same person thinks, feels,
and acts otherwise in childhood than in youth or in manhood.
But inasmuch as the child becomes the boy, the boy the youth,
etc., the differences of age mark only different stages of one
and the same being. But this diversity forms in itself no
ground of difference of individuality. The several periods of
life constitute only distinctions which every one as he advances
in years goes beyond, which therefore form no essential dis-
tinction, but rather are involved in that earthly self-reproduc-
tion of the individual which belongs to the essence of a living
being.

The self-reproduction, which in this aspect of it establishes
no permanent distinction, is, however, in another aspect, that
is, as the reproduction of the species, the foundation of a real
individuality of a permanent kind, viz. the difference of sex.
Then again, perhaps this self-reproduction, in connection with
the necessary change of moods, furnishes a clue for under-
standing the differences of other individuations. Having
eliminated evil and difference of age from among the sources
of individuality, we are to consider two main kinds of factors
of individuality : (1) The difference of temperament and of
race — men considered as wlioles, as existing in a certain
state ; (2) the difference of talents — men considered as
active, as tending to produce. These two main kinds of indi-
viduality must always be in some way blended, since each
person is also made for action, so that, from this connection
of different modifications of condition with modifications of
action, new grounds of individuation again result.

2. Difference of sex. — The species, which as such nowhere

DIFFERENCE OF SEX. THE MASCULINE NATURE. 151

appears by itself, exists only in the duality of sex ; the species
differentiates itself into this duality, in order to reproduce
itself in new individuals. But just this differentiation draws
the two sexes together again ; both seek each other, in order
to find their complement in each other, and out of the differ-
ence to reach the point of exhibiting the species as a unity
and as a totality. And thereby they become the instruments
of tlie self-reproducing species.^ The one human life divides
into two poles, strength and Icauty ; with the one, through a
moral process, there comes to be connected ethical dignity,
with the other, ethical grace. But this difference is by no
means merely physical, it extends even into the mental nature
of mankind ; for Christ by no means says ^ that this difference
will be utterly obliterated, but only that the conditions of
marrying and being given in marriage, of this earthly, physical
marking of the difference of sex, will be removed.

The essential characteristic of the mascidine nature as such
consists in courage, which guards and keeps the honour of his
independence with all physical and intellectual means, and
determines the whole natural peculiarity of the man as such.
To the masculine nature, however, belongs not merely
courageous self-assertion, but also aggressiveness. Man copes
with the outward world ; and this places him in advance of
woman in the world of luill which aims at action. But also on
the side of cognition his nature operates in such a manner that,
instead of dwelling in himself in immediate self-consciousness,
or giving himself up to contemplation, he sets himself more
distinctly over against liimself, and thereby over against the
world. Reflection is more peculiar to the man ; therefore
there is in him greater clearness of self-consciousness ; he
views himself more objectively, and also the world as it objec-
tively is in itself, and not only as it affects him individually.
Finally, the same thing is to be seen even on the side of
feeling. Tor the mascidine nature reacts more in the form of
deed against modification from without, and especially against
suffering ; feeling in the man passes over more into a thought-
picture, which makes definite the object of feeling, whether it
be pleasant or unpleasant, and which, connected with the
conscious feeling of value, excites the impulse to produce or
1 Gen. ii. 23, 24. - Matt. xx. 30.

152 § 14. GENESIS OF INDIVIDUALITY.

to act. The feminine nature, on the other hand, dwells more
in the feeling itself, floating in the sense either of pleasure or
of displeasure, opposing to that which causes suffering or dis-
pleasure the feminine bravery, which consists in endurance.
Passive devotion is not contrary to the feminine nature. This
nature is not determined so much by reasons as by impulses
(§ 11. 3). But the man should have reasons as well as
impulses. Sentimentality and mere passiveness in becoming
conscious or in being influenced are unmanly ; they are even
a degenerate form of feminineness, i.e. effeminate.

The fundamental characteristic of vjoman, in contrast with
the masculine spontaneousness and capacity for production, is
rather receptiveness, which, however, is very different from
passiveness. Since in the feminine nature subjectiveness pre-
dominates, the woman dwells more in her undivided being,
whereas the man enters far more into the several functions of
willing, reflecting, or thinking, nay, as it were, for the moment
is merged in them. There are, to be sure, in the feminine
nature also those differences of the mental faculties with their
different functions; but they come only in the masculine nature
to distinct manifestation, and thereby to full reality. But as
the woman is not in herself so divided as the man, so she does
not recognise the distinctions in herself, nor does the outward
world stand so objectively before her. Woman's ideality is far
more intimately connected with her reality, i.e. her body and
her world, than that of man is ; for which reason the develop-
ment of the man has far more to do with opposites, whereas
the w^oman, both in good and in evil, dwells more in the con-
centrated unity of her nature. Since beauty is nothing else
than spirit and soul appearing in bodily form, and since the
woman keeps the body in far more immediate union with the
spirit, the soul in her shines more immediately through ; and
so the female sex exhibits human life on the side of heauty.
The more woman is in herself an expression of simple,
spontaneous harmony, and the more she has the impulse to
make the outward world share in her self-manifestation ; so
much the more does she cultivate beauty outside of herself, so
much the more importance does she attach to the outward, in
order that it may not disturb the harmony, but that the out-
ward may correspond to the conception which the soul has of

THE FEMININE NATURE. 153

itself. Not till the outward world is severed from tlie inward,
not till the appearance tends to assume importance indepen-
dently of the soul, does the fault begin, to which the feminine
nature is especially exposed, namely, the fault of vanity, or
further on, that of dissimulation.

The concentrated unity of the feminine nature gives to
women especially the vocation of being the bearing sex ; in
devotion, in self-sacrifice, the genuine feminine nature finds
its blessedness. Nothing has power so to spread peace
over a household as maternal love and its benign, sustaining
sway ; while the virtue of man is rather that of producing,
providing, and ruling. The same concentrated unity, however,
is also the cause of the easy vulnerability and delicacy of the
feminine nature ; injured in one part, it feels itself injured
throughout ; for the soul predominates, and the whole nature
is, as it were, present in every point. The same unity of
nature accounts for the fact, further, that the chastity, modesty,
and maidenly pride which protect maidenly honour with
the whole strength of noble self-regard, are in woman a
sort of natural endowment, identical with self-preservation.
Tor with the loss of feminine honour the whole individuality
of woman is degraded, as is the case with man when he loses
his honour in another direction.

If we turn now in particular to the intellectual side, the
woman is constitutionally more inclined to religion, the man
to morality ; the woman is more fitted for attachment, the man
more for independence ; the woman has more of the poetry of
the feelings, the lyrical element, the man rather has a calling
for more objective poetry, as the epic and dramatic. The
feminine understanding and the feminine judgment, more-
over, are of a wholly different kind from the masculine ; the
woman judges by a sort of tact with the understanding of the
feelings, yet without confounding different things ; often the
woman sees through what is foreign to her far more quickly than
the more conscious masculine understanding which gives its
reasons. For general impressions determine her judgment ;
from a general impression the whole nature of the woman, so
to speak, answers a question directed to her concerning a
definite relation. It might be thought that, according to this,
the judgment and understanding of woman, although, as is

154 § 14. GENESIS OF INDIVIDUALITY.

well known, she does not like to deal with reasons, must be
more circumspect and considerate than man's, must take into
view more the totality of relations. But however decided the
feminine judgment is wont to be, especially as woman is more
emotional than man, it is yet to be noticed that she judges as
her fcclmg directs, which, although intellectual, is yet subjec-
tive ; and the thorough culture of that, therefore, is the urgent
thing.

This leads us to the volitional side of woman's nature. She
is, to be sure, perfectly equipped for those spheres in which
the whole person, as a unit, comes into view ; and there
she is capable of a sound judgment. To those spheres
belong the two extremes of the ethical community, viz. the
family and the Church, in which the totality of the person
comes to view ; for active life in these spheres requires the
devotion of the whole person. But between these limits lie
friendship, the State, art, and science ; all these spheres and
their culture require a far more objective consciousness and
self-consciousness than is peculiar to woman. They are in them-
selves one-sided spheres ; and hence the feminine nature has
little judgment and aptitude for them, is continually inclined
to apply to them a foreign standard (especially to the State
and to science), and so is not endowed in such a way as to be
productively active in them. And in this matter women's
universities and attempts at the so-called emancipation of
women will not alter anything, but will only attain the result
that women will seem less amiable to us men, at least so far
forth as we are not so selfish and vain as highly to esteem
only that for which we have special aptitude and skill. On
the other hand, woman is admirably endowed for guarding the
masculine nature and the spheres especially entrusted to it
from such one-sidednesses as are inconsistent with a compre-
hensive spirit and with harmonious unity. For women, over
against all such one-sidednesses, into which the masculine
nature is apt to fall, represent universal human nature.

This difference of the two sexes is at the outset unconscious,
although present as a fact. Children of both sexes play
together. But later there must follow, where the development
is normal, a period of estrangement between two sexes, coin-
ciding with the coming on of puberty. At this period each

THE TEMPEEAMENTS. LITERATURE. 155

sex comes to a consciousness of its own peculiarity, and consoli-
dates itself therein ; and the creative will which has ordained the
difference of sex is not perfectly realized except through this
estrangement. But since the duality of the sexes cannot be
an ultimate end, this separation and estrangement only serves
to intensify the antecedent conditions of a union v/hich is all
the more intimate. But of this we treat in the next section.

§ 14:h. — Continuation.

3. The Temperaments.

Literature. — Alexander von Humboldt, /rcsmas. [Cosmos:
Sketch of a Physieal Deservption of the Universe. Translation by
A. Prichard, begun 1845, also by E. Sabine, 1846. — Tr.] Daub,
Moral, ii. 1, pp. 144-49. Wirth, Fhilosojjhische Uthilc, ii. 22 sq.
Haug, AUgeraeine Geschichtc, Heft 1, p. 08 sq. Also, the
Anthrop)ologie of Kant, Burdach, Waitz. Werner, Christliche
EthiJc, i. 161. Eambach, Die christliche Sittenlchre, 2nd ed.
1738, chap. viii. p. 680 sq. Eambach recognises only three
temperaments ; the melancholic supplies, according to him,
also the place of the phlegmatic. From innate qualities of the
soul he, like Stahl, derives the qualities of the body. Daub
distinguishes the temperaments according to the elements,
water (phlegma), air (sanguine T.), fire (choleric T.) ; tlie
melancholic is disease. On the other hand, he says, there
might be laid down, as a fourth, the terrestrial temperament,
the boorish or Boeotian, which, living from the soil {humus),
has humour, wit, and understanding ; this, according to him,
is the Germanic temperament. Jlirgen Bona Mayer, Philo-
sophische Zeitfragen, 1870, p. 185 sqq., distinguishes light or
heavy (quick or slow), and also strong or weak, mobility of
feeling and of will ; slowness and weakness of sensation, he
says, belong to the phlegmatic ; quickness and intensive
strength to the choleric ; slowness joined, however, with strong
susceptibility, to the melancholic ; quickness, joined with
weaker intensity of feeling and will, to the sanguine ; but each
of the two, sensibility and will, may be either slow or quick,
strong or weak, that is, each differing in a fourfold way, whence
new varieties result. Eothe, i. § 128 sqq., 2nd ed., finds the
original seat of the temperaments in the material side of man, —
in sensation and impulse, which precede the personal life,
wherein they become feeling and desire, i.e. begin to have
an object. He distinguishes the temperaments into two pairs :
first, those marked by the understanding, as excitable or com-

156 § lib. THE TEMPEKAMENTS. DIFFERENT VIEWS.

posed (sanguine and melancholic temperaments) ; secondly, by
the will in like contrast (choleric and phlegmatic temperaments).
According to Eothe, these two pairs exclude each other ; yet
he concedes that there are also mixed temperaments, and that
their right management by the person is possible (§ 131, 165,
174). As faults he designates (§ 215, 131), on the side of
the understanding, disproportionately weak receptivity (dul-
ness), disproportionately strong excitability (frivolity, giddi-
ness) ; on the side of the will, disproportionately weak spon-
taneousness (inertness), disproportionately strong excitability
(hastiness, passionateness). Schleiermacher also goes back
to receptiveness and spontaneousness, qxuckness and slowness
of emotions, as the basis of the distinction of the tem-
peraments. Striimpell, on the other hand (Vorschide dcr
2)hiloso2:)h. Ethih, p. 138 sq.), who finds the grounds of
individuality in the psychical and corporeal nature, and their
action on each other, sees the psychical cause of differences in
the quality of the mental imirrcssions, on which again the
feelings and desires depend. But also the quantity of the
impressions and thoughts, their scope and their strength, are to
be considered, and, moreover, the manner of combining the
thoughts in series, their connection and their arrangement,
and the interpenetration and compactness of the groups of
impressions. The defect, with Striimpell, lies in the fact that
he derives the differences of individualities only from outward
influences, and consequently treats individuality in its psychical
centre only as receptivity. Lotze finally, in his Mikrokosmus,
ii. 352 sq. [English tr. vol. ii. pp. 26-39.— Te.], is inclined to
trace back the temperaments to the four periods of life. [In
his Grundzuge der Psi/clwlor/ie, on the other hand, pp. 82, 83,
he understands by temperaments nothing more than the formal
and gradual differences in susceptibility to outward impressions ;
in the extent to which impressions when excited reproduce
others ; in rapidity in the change of impressions ; in the
strength with whicli feelings of pleasure and of displeasure
connect themselves with the impressions ; and in the ease with
which outward actions connect themselves with the inward
states. The temperaments, in his view, are various beyond
measure ; but the most definite types are the four well-known
ones : the sanguine, with great rapidity of change and lively
excitability; the phlegmatic, with little versatility and slow
reactions ; the choleric, one-sidedly susceptible, with great
energy in single directions; the sentimental, sensitive to the
value which all possible relations have to the feelings, but
indifferent towards mere facts. — Ed.]

Temperament denotes the physical, i.e. corporeal and

THE FOUR TEMPEKAMENTS. 157

psychical, fundamental mood ; the original and peculiar
constitution of the sensibilities in themselves and in their
relation to the objective world. From of old it has been
customary to enumerate four temperaments ; and little as
this number has been construed as necessary, yet the great
unanimity in the matter is remarkable, and indicates that it
has been gathered from fact. Although the temperaments
may in fact no longer be frequently found pure, but rather
almost always mixed, yet that does not hinder us from
detecting by analysis the four fundamental forms, which lie
at the basis of the mixed temperaments also. These four
are the phlegmatic and the sanguine, the melancholic and
the choleric.-^

If we describe these four, first, according to their corporeal
aspect, then, as has been conjectured, in the phlegmatic the
vegetative lymphatic system dominates ; in the choleric, the
arterial system ; in the melancholic, the venous system ; in
the sanguine, the nervous system. But the difference in the
habitual fundamental mood is so deep that we need to adduce
also ihe psychical element. And so we must say that, even
irrespective of sin, four different moods are possible in human
nature, into each of which, at least for the moment, every
individual may, and in the course of his life must, pass, so
that all temperaments are found in all persons. But, on the
other hand, these can also become habitual and permanent in
such a way that one of them is the predominant one, that is,
forms always the point of departure for the transition into
others, and hence in them also continues to operate ; as, e.g.,
the anger of a phlegmatic man is of a quite different sort
from that of the choleric or of the sanguine man ; and the
sorrow or joy of the sanguine man is of a different sort from
that of the melancholic man ; and none the less, too, the taking
up and treatment of the same task will be very different in
different temperaments. And as each person sets out from
the fundamental mood as the foundation, so there will always

^ These four may be illustrated by a figure like a Greek cross, having
four arms ; they form, as it were, two axes cutting each other at right angles ;
the two poles of each axis form a direct opposite to each other, the choleric
opposite to the phlegmatic, the melancholic opposite to the sanguine. Between
the poles of each of the two axes, the poles of the other axis form an inter-
mediate.

158 § Uh. THE TEMPEKAMENTS, THE PHLEGMATIC, SANGUINE,

be an inclination to return into it. ISTow the particular
natural fundamental mood, thus maintained, we call the
temperament.

This habitual mood may be, in the first place, that of repose
and stability, which has the natural tendency to preserve the
equilibrium between the outward and the inward with reference
to immediate consciousness, and to exercise patient endurance
in doing and suffering. The phlegmatic temperament, which
we have thus described, is not a favourite ; one does not like
to possess it. But as to the names of the temperaments, we
must not forget that these are taken from an experience
which already shows connected with the temperament some-
thing abnormal, not belonging to the essence of it. In itself
considered, that which we have designated as the phlegmatic
temperament, is not more one-sided than any other, but is to
be designated, according to its strict idea, as the temperament
of continuity in itself or of identity with itself. It repre-
sents an element, therefore, which, remaining one-sided, and
coming too soon to permanent sway, hinders progress, but
which, on the other hand, not only must present itself to the
mind as an end to be aimed at, but is also the natural
starting-point for development. In this development itself,
however, it represents an element without which no progress
would be possible, but, at the most, empty motion in a circle.
This element is stalility, the assertion of the identity of the
person with himself in doing and suffering, in taking in and
giving out.

A second habitual fundamental mood or temperament is
the sanguine, an open, buoyant, and self- surrendering sus-
ceptibility, a state of natural connection with the objective
world, — a state in which one is easily moved to joy or to
sorrow by outward things. In cognition it manifests itself as
a restless thirst for knowledge ; in will, as an impulse to form
ideals; in feeling, as social excitability, quickness of appre-
hension, and love of change ; but oftentimes also in volatility,
moodiness, and fickleness.

By the side of these two temperaments, however, two more
are possible. The third temperament is characterized by a
tendency to subjectiveness, to abstraction from the outward
world, to retirement into one's self ; this is the melancholic ;

MELANCHOLIC, AND CHOLERIC. 159

while the fourth, the choleric, is radically inclined to go forth
out of itself, reacting against the outward world and moulding
it. As the two temperaments first mentioned manifest them-
selves, in all the main directions of mental activity, differently
in the different sexes and at different periods of life, so the
same is true of this second pair.

For the melancholic temperament shows itself not only in
feeling, but also in the world of thought and of will. In
feeling it inclines one to solitary withdrawal into one's self,
and, with reference to religion, to mysticism. In thought
it is indicated by a tendency to profoundness, inwardness,
and speculative occupation. In the realm of the will it
involves such a dissatisfaction with previous things as is
favourable to progress, and involves also the critical talent,
and abstraction from the solid world of present reality. But
it may incline to pessimism, just as the sanguine temperament
to optimism. If the melancholic man should stop short with
this abstraction instead of advancing to action, he would, as
it were, relapse into that which is the degeneration of the
phlegmatic temperament, against which, nevertheless, the
melancholic, by the critical element inherent in it, is fitted to
guard him. It would become in that case desponding
resignation, just because it is deficient in that which is the
true characteristic of the phlegmatic temperament, namely,
repose in one's self, comparative satisfaction and security of
mind.

Finally, the choleric, drastic, the temperament of active
opposition to the imperfection of things, the impulse to shape
the world courageously and energetically according to a set
purpose, runs through all the faculties of the soul. To feeling
this temperament lends fervour, with a tendency to passion,
not to the aesthetic passion of enjoyment as in the case of the
sanguine person, but to the practical passion, or the passion
for action. In the moral sphere this fervour becomes
enthusiasm. To thought the choleric temperament lends the
energy for creating and shaping the ideal in art or science.
To the will, finally, it lends the two?, the elasticity, which
copes with the outward world. Thus the choleric and
melancholic temperaments seem to be able to show them-
selves in perfection in the masculine nature ; the other two

160 § Uh. THE TEMPERAMENTS. UNION OF THEM.

more in the feminine nature. In the melancholic and
choleric temperaments spontaneous activity prevails, in the
former inward, in the latter outward, activity ; while
excitability of the psychical life is characteristic of the
sanguine man, but in the case of the phlegmatic is less
prominent.

However different or even opposed may be the temperament
of abstraction, and that of connection with the outward world
(the melancholic and the sanguine), or, on the other hand,
that of stability and sameness, and that of restless progress
(the phlegmatic and the choleric), yet it cannot be said that
the excellences which each of the temperaments represents
exclude each other. For that would bring a contradiction
into the moral constitution. Eather, transitions from the
peculiarities of one to those of another are possible and
actual ; partly involuntary, through change of moods in the
same person and through difference of age, partly produced by
the will and moral self-culture. For they do not exist for the
sake of fortifying themselves against each other. Each,
without elements of the others, makes a one-sided, imperfect
person ; therefore a blending of them needs to be brought
about. As that which is one-sided and divisive in the
difference of the sexes can and should be overcome, so far as
mind is concerned, each individual in his moral development
appropriating to himself the mental excellences of the other
sex which do not by nature belong to him, so the same holds
good also of the temperaments.^

To this process of mutual permeation nature itself points
in its normal course. For, physically considered, childhood
presents more the vegetative life in identity with itself ; in
boyhood and youth the sanguine temperament has its natural
beginnings ; in manhood there is generally seen in every one
somewhat of the choleric ; in old age, the time of involution,
generally somewhat of the temperament of abstraction. But

1 Rotlie, I.e. 2nd ed. § 219. After showing tliat the affections take different
forms according to the temperament, the melancholic inclining to fear, the
choleric to passionateness, the sangnine to rash hope, the phlegmatic to
indolence, he says (§ 220) that as affections of the temperament, fear and
passionateness are conquerable, and so are transformed into reserve and
indignation, in which case they have laid aside the involuntary element in
them.

THEIR RELATION TO MORALITY. 161

this blending, in order to be of a moral character, must be
accomplished consciously by the will and by continued self-
culture, so that, e.g., age does not need to lose mental youth.
Uniformity ought not to be aimed at by this blending of tem-
peraments ; the diversity arising from differences in strength,
in liveliness, and in the mingling of elements still remains;
also the original difference continues to operate. For that
diversity conditions the order in the succession of the elements
of a normal combination, and also the goal to be aimed at ;
and that difference of order involves also the overcoming
of corresponding temptations. Each of the temperaments, to
start with, has a natural tendency to excellences: the sanguine,
to kindliness, courtesy, joyousness, pleasure in the ideal ; the
melancholic, to seriousness and self-concentration ; the choleric,
to courage, aspiration, enthusiasm ; the phlegmatic, to equipoise
and repose. But each of them has also a natural tendency to
faults : frivolousness and superficialness threaten the sanguine ;
gloominess, narrowness, and unsociableness, the melancholic ;
passionateness, pride, ambition, and revenge, the choleric ;
indolence, coldness, and stupidity, the phlegmatic.

From the foregoing it is also plain why only a few indi-
viduals exhibit simply and one-sidedly but one temperament.
For, as already said, a certain combination is given by nature
itself, and by culture also, and up to a certain extent may
be hereditary. By this concession the existence of funda-
mental types of physical and psychical nature, which are the
source of certain fundamental moods, is not denied ; but by
these numerous combinations, which may also reappear in
homogeneous groups, the infinite manifoldness of human
nature becomes comprehensible. Moreover, it is to be insisted
on, that, ethically considered, all the temperaments are equally
good ; none is sinful in itself, although each by itself is im-
perfect. But the imperfections of each, and the faults con-
nected with them, will be remedied by the factors of the others.
The temperaments are not the ground of any natural virtue
by reason of the good which they have in them ; but they
also excuse no sin by the imperfections which they involve.
Since the difference in the starting-point for moral culture,
and the difference in the course of the individual life there-
with involved, stamp character permanently, and thus have

162 § 15. THE EACES AND NATIONALITIES.

lasting after-efiects, we must not go so far as to say ^ that
moral character is above, that is, outside of, all temperament.
Character is in the temperament. That opinion would also
not be in agreement with the fact that the temperament is the
appropriate soil in which the spirit is to develope itself.

§ 15. Continuation. (Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, i. § 43.)
The Races and Nationalities.

[LiTERATUEE. — Blumeubach and Cuvier. [J. F. Blumenbach,
System of Comparative Anatomy, translated from the German
by W. Lawrence, 1807, 2nd ed. revised and enlarged, under the
title, Manual of Gom^parative Anatomy, by W. Coulson, 1827.
The Anthropological Treatises of J. F. B., etc., translated and
edited from the Latin, German, and French originals. By
T. Bendyshe. Anthropological Society, London 1863, etc.
Cuvier, Lectures on Comparcctive Anatomy, translated from
French, London 1802. The Animal Kingdom, etc., London
1858. — Tr.] 'L^thnm, Mccn and his Migrations, 1851. Darwin,
The Descent of Man, 2nd ed. 1883. The Origin of Species,
6th ed. 1872. Hiickel, Natilrliche Schopfungsgeschichte. [In
English : The History of Creation, London 1876. — Te.] Anthro-
pogenic. [In English : The Evolution of Man, London 1879. —
Te.] Von Hellwald, Ctdturgeschichte. Kriegk, Die Volher-
stdmme und, Hire Zwcige, 5th ed., revised by Hellwald, 1883.
Lubbock, Tlie Origin of Civilisation, 3rd ed. 1875. Huxley,
Mans Place in Nature, 1863. Tylor, Primitive Culture, 1871.
Researches into the Early History of ManJdnd, etc. [3rd ed.
1878. Anthro2)ology, London 1881. — Te.]. Wallace, Ncdural
Selection. Owen, Derivative Hypothesis of Life and Species.
J. C. Prichard, The Ncdural History of Man [4th ed. 1855.
Researches into the Physical History of ManJdnd, 3rd ed.,
London 1836-47. — Te.]. Eatzel, Vorgcschichte des europdisclien
Menschen. Lange, Geschichte des McderiaLismiis, 2nd ed. [In
English: History of Mcdericdism., 1877.— Te.] Caspari, Vor-
gcschichte der Mcnschhcit. Burmeister, Geschichte der Schop-
fung, 7th ed. 1872. Fr. Mueller, Lehrhuch der allgemeinen
Mhnogrctphie, 1S7S. Peschel, VolkerJcunde. Glo^tz, Speculative
Theologie, i. 1, p. 200 sq., i. 2, p. 772 sq.

Eud. Wagner, Zoologisch-anthropologischc Untersuchungen,
1861. Eiitimeyer, Die Grenzen der Thienvclt, 1867. Virchow,
Menschen und Affcnschddel, 1870. [In English : The Cranial
Affinities of Man and the Ape, 1874. In Estes's Hcdf-hour Re-

' Wnttke, Sittenlehre, i. 387. [Eng. ed. vol. ii. p. 72.— Tr.]

WOEKS ON ANTHROPOLOGY. 163

creations in Pojndar Science, Series I. — Tr.] Bcde in Wiesbaden,
1873. A. W, Volkmann, Ueber die Enhcicklung dcr Organisrnen,
1875. Aeby, Die Schddelformen der Menschen und Affen, 1867.
A. V. Humboldt, Cosmos, Schaller, I.e. p. 209 sq. Eothe, Ist
ed. i. § 120, p. 237, regards the races as grades. Waitz, Ueler
die Einheit des Mcnsehengeschlechts und den Urzustand der
Menschen, oder Anthropologic der Naturvolker. Gerland,
Anthropologisclie Beitrdge. Pfaff, Schopfungsgeschichte, 2nd ed.

1877. Die Untstehimg der Welt und die Naturgesetzc, 187*J.
Quatrefages, Unite de I'espece humaine, 1861. Theories trans-
formistes ct evolidionistcs. Darwin et ses precurseitrs Francais,
1870. The Human Species, 1872. Eudolf Schmid, Die Dar-
vnnisehen TJieoriecn, 1876. [In English : Theories of Darwin,
etc. Chicago 1883. — Tr.] Lotze, MikroJcosmos, ii. p. 99 sq.
[1st ed., 3rd ed. p. 102 sq. English translation, vol. I. Book lY.
chap. V, — Tr.] I. H. Fichte, Anthropologic, 2nd ed. 1860.
Ulrici, Gott und der Mcnsch, 2nd ed. vol. ii. p. 146 sq.
Zockler, Ueber die Speziesfrage in ihrer theologischen Bedcutung,
Jahrhucher fur deutsche Theologie, 1861. Heft 4, pp. 659-714.
Theologie und Naturwisscnschaft. Die Lehre vom Urstand, 1879.
Wuttke, i. 360 [English ed. vol. ii. p. 73 sq.— Tr.]. Agassiz,
Schopfungsplan. [^Structm'c of Animal Life. Six Lectures
delivered in 1862, 3rd ed. 1874. — Tr.] Essay on Classification.
[Essay I. of Contributions to the Natural History of the United
States. — Tr.] Hugh Miller, Footprints of the Creator, edited by
Agassiz, 1861. Von Baer, Studien aus dem Gebiete der Natur-
toissenschaften, 1876. Duke of Argyll, Primeval Man, 1869.
Eeusch, Bibel unci Ncdiir. John William Dawson, Nature and
the Bible, 1875. \_Fossil Men and their Modern Repoxsentatives,
2nd ed., London 1883. The Story of the Earth and Man, 8th
ed., London 1883. — Tr.] M'Cosh, Christiaiiity and Positivism.
His paper before the Evang. Alliance, 1873, and in Edinburgh,

1878. Huber, Zur Kritik moderner Sehopfungslehren, 1875.
Erohschammer, Ueber die Genesis der Menschheit und deren
geistige Entwickelung , etc., 1883. Al, Braun, Ueber die Bedcut-
ung der Entioiekelung in der Naturgeschichte. St. G. Mivart,
Genesis of Species, 1871. Ebrard, Apologetik. (Of. likewise
the literature above given, § 9. 3, § 10, and System of Christian
Doctrine, i. § 43.) Erdmann, Nationalitdtsprinzip, 1862.

Comparative Philology : W. v. Humboldt, Kawisprache, 1832.
Sprachphilosophische TVerke, 2 vols. 1883-84, edited by Stein-
thal. Jacob Grimm, Ur sprung der Sprache, 1851. Steinthal,
Abriss der Sprachwissenschaft. 1 Thl. Einlcitung in die
Psychologic und Sprachwissensehaft, 2nd ed. 1881. Ursprung
der Sprache, 1858 [3rd and newly - revised edition, Berlin
1877. — Tr.]. Charakteristik der hauptsctchlichsten Typen des

164 § 15. THE EACES AND NATIONALITIES.

Sprachhaues, 2nd ed. 1860. L. Geiger, Urs^orimfj der Sprache,
1868-72. August Schleicher, -O-ie Darivinische Theoru und die
Sprachvjissenschaft, 3rd ed. 1873. [Banvinism tested hy the
Science of Language, translated by A. V. W. Bikkers, London
1869.— Te.] W. Bleck, Uclcr den Ursprung der Simichc, 1868.
Ludwig ISToire, Ursprung der Sprache, 1877. \_Max Milller and
the Ph ilosopliy of Language. Translated from the German, London
1879 — Te.] Fr. Mueller, Grundriss der allgemeincn Spracli-
uiisscnschaft, 1876. Bastian, Sprachvergleichende Studien. Max
Mueller, Ljccturcs on the Science of Language, 1861-64. New
ed. 1880. Wm. D. Whitney [llie Life and Growth of Language,
1872. Language and the Study of LMnguage, 4th ed. 1884. — Te.].
Oriental and Linguistic Studies, New York l773, against
Schleicher. — Editoe.]

§ 15.

The races and the nationalities seem to have their foundation
in the differences of temperament, in connection with
the influence of nature and of history.

1. The difference of races and of nationalities is more
difficult of treatment than the temperaments ; for it is neces-
sary, side by side with the differences, to hold fast the unity of
the human race, and correctly to define this, as well as the
differences. The Bible gives some general statements ; it
affirms the unity of mankind, and in the form of the actual
descent of all from Adam (Eom. v. 12 ; 1 Cor. xv. 22 ; Acts
xvii. 26 ; cf. Gen. i.). The peculiarities then spring up in the
case of the three brothers, Shem, Ham, and Japheth, from
whom three great groups of races descend ; and further in the
case of the twelve sons of Jacob (Gen. xlix.), where Jacob's
blessing indicates the peculiarities of the sons, and glances also
at the peculiarities of the tribes springing from them.

2. Character and limit of the differences of race among men.
The first question is, whether the notion of kind or species
is applicable to the differences among men themselves, or
only to man in distinction from other living beings. He
who assumes the unity of mankind, that is, supposes that
mankind as a whole answers to the notion of a species or
genus, allows to the differences among men only the signifi-
cance of derivatives and varieties of one and the same species,
with the transmission, indeed, of a permanent type. He, on

THEORY OF DISTINCT HUMAN SPECIES. 165

the other hand, who holds the races to be original, must
designate them as different species or genera of men. The
unity, further, may be conceived of either as only sameness
of nature, sameness of the hereditary qualities, or also as a
genealogical unity. The differences of race some naturalists,
as Kant, find in colour ; others, as Blumenbach and AVagner,
in the form of the skull ; Hiickel, Fr. Miiller, in the quality
of the hair. The naturalists differ likewise concerning the
number of the races, of which Blumenbach assumes five,
Cuvier and Waitz three, Pickering even eleven, others still
more. But the question which chiefly concerns ethics is,
how much importance is assigned to the soul with reference
to the differences of race.

(ft) Some naturalists (and a short time ago the majority of
them) have thought the differences in the human family so
radical that they have felt obliged to assume the races to be
originally different human genera. The lowest of the races
were then placed about on a parallel with the highest classes
of brutes. This would involve the denial not only of the
genealogical unity of all men which the Bible affirms, and
which can be neither proved nor disproved by natural science,
but also of the essential unity of mankind, which might be
still maintained even if there were many original pairs,
provided only that all had, and transmitted, the same type.^
In the case of this entire denial of the essential unity of
mankind, various strata or grades of men have been assumed,
the first of which were still wholly allied to the brutes, and
had no notion of religion : thus Schelling.^ But this view
SO destroys the unity of the human race, that even the unity
of the moral constitution and of moral duty can no longer be
maintained. Assuming that there were, or had been, such
beings as were human in outward appearance, but absolutely
without rational faculties, then these beings could not pro-
perly be called men, and would therefore here concern us
no further. But the existence of such tribes has not as
yet been demonstrated. In defence of slavery especially it
has been attempted to prove that the negro is a different

' This essential unity is assumed by A. v. Humboldt.

^ A kindred view was expressed in the seventeenth century by Peyreriiis in
his hypothesis of the pre- Adamites.

166 § 15. THE EACES AND NATIONALITIES.

species of man derived from apes or relapsed into them.
But these and similar attempts have all been failures.

(&) To this view, which magnifies the differences of race
till it destroys the unity of mankind, has been opposed, in
the last few decades, a contrary view, at present very widely
spread. This later view not merely combats the specific
difference of the races, but would trace back all the difference
of the various species to the mere variation of a few original
types, or even of only one. This is the hypothesis of Darwin,
carried yet further by Hackel. The followers of Darwin
refuse to recognise different acts of creation, or specifically
different classes of created things. Eather, they would regard
the vegetable, the animal, the psychical, only as varieties of
one and the same essence, and would reduce them all to
mechanism. In the course of millions of years, differences
originally slight are thought to have developed themselves
into the variety of beings which we now see. According to
the law, that in the struggle for existence the stronger
conquers, and also the law of natural selection, of adapta-
tion, of heredity, and the like, it is said to have come to
pass that higher and higher grades of beings have been
developed, all of which, however, have taken their origin
from what was originally the same. This view is favoured
by the more recent naturalists in increasing numbers ; and
it recommends itself also by its endeavour to see all the
variety of tilings in this world in their unity and connection.
For instead of utterly abandoning the unity even of the
human race, Darwinism sees in the world one chain or
ascending series of beings, of which the lower — by a process
immeasurably long, to be sure — are raised to the highest which
has been developed up to the present time, i.e. to the human
being. But looked at more closely, the Darwinian view,
although it regards with favour the unity of man, yet in that
which is of most weight is at one with the first-mentioned
view. For it too abolishes, only in a different way from tlie
former view, the specific difference between brutes and men,
and is therefore opposed to the ethical idea of man. The
ground of this agreement in the same error, in the case of
J;heories otherwise opposites, lies in the fact that both in
defining the nature of man disregard the soul.

THE DARWINIAN THEORY. 167

(c) Hence both these views are opposed by a multitude of
the most eminent naturalists and philosophers, as Alexander
von Humboldt, von Bar, Agassiz, Braun, the Duke of Argyll,
Wigand, Steffens, Schubert, Schaller, Planck, Waitz, Lotze,
Ulrici, Harms. A large number of noted naturalists assume
both the specific difference between mankind and the brute
creation, and also the unity of the hunian race, which is
regarded as forming a single species, so that the so-called
races may be looked upon as the variation of one and the
same work of creation. Blumenbach showed how, in the
case of brutes and of men, the same laws determine the
variability of types ; men, he says, cannot be called more
than one species, since among brutes of one and the same
species there can be shown variations in respect to size,
colour, hair, form of skull, etc, (produced by climate, food,
manner of life), which are as great as the differences among
the most different races of men, and even greater than these.
Waitz has discussed this question in detail, in an especially
thorough and instructive manner, in opposition to the first
view. By examination of the single peculiarities, even of
the negro race, he has arrived at the result that all differences
of race may be explained as variations of one human species.
As to the black colour, for instance, a moist, hot climate
with little shelter from woods has, he says, the greatest
influence on the colour of hair and skin, and occasions, in
particular, that more carbon from the vegetable food remains
in the organism, without becoming burnt up and consumed
by oxygen, and is deposited under the epidermis. And
Eudolph Wagner has shown, by numerous examinations,
that the human brain, even when it is not specially dis-
tinguished by weight, has as its peculiarity the great number
of its convolutions. Even Burmeister acknowledges the
specific difference between the negro and the ape ; and
the recently discovered ape, the gorilla, competed with the
human species only for a short time, till his habits were
better learned. He warms himself, to be sure, at the fire
which the negro has abandoned ; but he does not even know
how to feed the fire, and has fewer convolutions in the brain
than other apes.

But against Darwinism it has been justly urged that neither

168 § 15. THE RACES AND NATIONALITIES.

the struggle for existence nor heredity explains how differences
arise, but rather only how they maintain themselves and suc-
cessfully spread when they once exist. The diversity of
creative thoughts and acts is denied only at the cost of putting
mere unthinking chance in the place of a creative wisdom
that aims more and more at perfection ; but this involves a
far darker enigma than faith in divine activity working with an
aim. In Darwinism there also prevails a very unsatisfactory
notion of unity. The unity of the world is made to consist
merely in the likeness of the matter governed by mechanical
laws. But what sort of a unity would there be, if one and
the same substance should separate into an endless variety of
forms, accidental and made by outward influences, without
this variety itself being again combined into a unity by an
inward connection ? The world can be apprehended as a
unit only when it is conceived of as a living organism.
But this is a union of things different. If we go back only
to sameness of matter and its mechanical laws, a combination
of diversity and of unity in the world is not to be found ;
this is found only in teleology, or tendency to an end. Braun
has rightly attempted to find the union of these by assuming
a thought or type which nature in its gradations is tending
towards (the idea of man). The earlier structures, according
to his view, in part foreshadow this type, in part prepare
the way for it. It is the rule or law of the teleologically
advancing creation, and so holds together in unity both the
endless diversity of forms and the multiplicity of material
substances. This conception lays the chief stress on the dis-
tinguishing form or the shaping thought, not on matter.
A similar view is lield by Von Biir, who seeks to prove that
there is in nature a tendency to an end. But this is possible
only on condition that the infinite variety of forms is subject
to a divine plan, by which the variety is produced and held
together.

But the chief argument which serves to overthrow the two
opposing theories is found in the fact that man's peculiarity
lies mainly on the spiritual side. But this Darwinism does not
explain ; it does not take into accoimt that by the difference
m mental traits animals and human beings are held apart as
two specifically different genera. The spirit in man is explic-

UNITY OF THE HUMAN SPECIES. 169

aljle only as being a new impartation made by God to the
animated dust, after the time had come for the appearance of
man. Man in relation to nature is supernatural, a miracle,
referable to God's creative omnipotence alone. There is there-
fore no reason for departing from the Bible, which, with refer-
ence to the nianifoldness of creatures, includes, according to
Gen. i., the notion of species in the original thought of creation
and in its realization/ Likewise it is possible successfully
to maintain the essential intrinsic unity of mankind, so
long as for human beings the chief stress is laid upon the
psychical nature and the rational constitution. The essential
faculties of the soul, which are found in all men, make
possible a common culture and a gradual overcoming of even
profound differences which have arisen through abnormalness.
The descent of all mankind from one original pair would
indeed prove most cogently the unity of the human race.
This unity cannot, however, be decisively proved by a natural
science that is conscious of its own limitations ; but it is only
recommended, first, by the Biblical records of the Old and
Xew Testaments, and next by historical indications, as com-
mon traditions, legends, affinities of languages ; finally, the
gaps in the evidence which, after all this, still remain can be
supplemented by the considerations which it is the province
of dogmatics to urge.^

3. Having limited the significance of the race-distinctions
so far as is necessary for ethics, let us glance further at the
nature of them in their connection with the unity of man.
The differences of race may perhaps be brought into connec-
tion with the doctrine of the temi^eraments ; and it may be
assumed that the four permanent fundamental moods which
are possible in human nature, and which may manifest them-
selves, not only in individuals, but also among large masses
of men (§ 14&), furnish the principal ground of explanation
for everything essential in the differences of race and of
nationality. This view commends itself especially when we
recall the above-mentioned physical basis of the temperaments ;
for, 1. In the phlegmatic temperament there is found a lym-

'" Gen. i. 11, 12, 22. He created each thing according to its kind, so that it
has its seed in itself, in order to propagate its nature.
^ See Corner's System of C'hristicia Doctrine, i. § 43.

170 § 15. THE EACES AND NATIONALITIES.

phatic constitution, a predominance of vegetative life, of the
cellular and glandular system. But the same is found also
in the Ethiopian race. 2. The arterial constitution is the
choleric ; it is found especially in the Caucasian race. 3. The
venous constitution, or the predominance of the venous and
ganglionic systems, prevails in the melancholic temperament,
and is met with in the Mongolian race. 4. The nervous or
sangvinc constitution has perhaps in the Polynesians the most
striking representatives. The actual origin of the races may
then be conceived of in the following way : The four possible
types of habitual fundamental mood into which the life of
individuals can pass, are germinally involved in human nature
itself. What the fundamental mood or temperament of the
descendants shall be is especially dependent upon the consti-
tution and mood of the parents at the time when they become
parents. As, now, this fundamental mood may have been
more and more widely transmitted, so these differences, if the
descendants of like kind sought and found an outward nature
in affinity with them, may, in the course of hundreds and
thousands of years, by geographical and climatic conditions, by
men's associating predominantly with those of tlieir own sort,
and finally, by the operation of abnormal influences, have been
developed and confirmed to the degree which the most marked
races now existing present. Thus viewed, the races would
be, as it were, temperaments or fundamental moods of human
nature, fixed, though manifesting themselves in most manifold
degrees, and to some extent in combinations.

In agreement with this are both the organic differences of
the races and also their psychical peculiarities. There is the
most unanimity in regarding the Caucasian and the negro
races as separate races ; psychically, too, they correspond
most clearly to the choleric and phlegmatic temperaments, and
they stand on the globe opposite to each other, like north
and south. To the Caucasian race belong most of the
peoples of Europe, the whole Indo-Germanic race, i.e. the
(ireeks, Eomans, Germans, Celts, Slavs, also the Persians, the
inhabitants of Western India, and the Egyptians. To the
Ethiopian or negro race belong most of the peoples and tribes of
Africa ; their territory extended formerly, being called that of
the Cushites, far into southern Asia, until tlie Aryans crowded

RACES AS RELATED TO TEMPERAMENTS. l7l

in. Among the other races the Mongolian is distinguished by
marked characteristics ; to it belong Eastern India, China,
Japan, the Mongols, Huns, Kalmucks, Lapps, Finns, and
Esquimaux, and also a part at least of the original population
of America. They correspond, not only physically, as to their
straight black hair and dark-yellow or brown skin, but also
psychically, as to their depressed and gloomy nature, most
nearly to the melancholic temperament. The least numerous, so
far as can be known, are the representatives of the sanguine
temperament, with their lively excitability and volatile enjoy-
ment of life. We have, however, no right to assume that these
differences developed themselves or became fixed in the very
first generations of mankind ; for human nature has still,
everywhere and always, more or less the ability, even if it be
only for the time being, to pass over into the different funda-
mental moods, and to be productive in them. In every
nation are the various temperaments, and likewise such
tendencies towards the various races as under favouring cir-
cumstances may develope themselves ; and with this may be
connected the fact, that even now, e.g., in European families,
tliere sometimes suddenly appear individuals who possess a
number of the peculiarities of a foreign race, and who thus
probably have also a psychical tendency in the same direction.
Furthermore, the differences of race must not be viewed as
differences which are in themselves to continue for ever in
their absolute one-sidedness. It is rather a part of the moral
mission of the human species that the races and nations
should appropriate one another's excellences, as far as the
perfecting of their own individuality allows it or requires it.
It is an end in the history of the world that the nations
should not be left to their natura, which may in itself be
very poor and imperfect, but that by combinations which, as
is well known, may take place with fruitful results among all
races, they should exhibit more varied and more permanent
national peculiarities, in which there is no danger of uni-
formity, but rather a tendency to so much the richer diversity.
Thus almost all the nations which stand highest in the world
came to their national character, as it now is, through the
different strata of nations gradually depositing themselves one
upon another, and undergoing a process of physical and mental

172 § 15. THE EACES AND NATIONALITIES.

assimilation. This process produced a mutual improvement,
and called forth a nationality which did not originally exist
of itself, but was the result only of history and of the
influence of spiritual forces. If the historical spiritual factor is
disregarded, one may come, in his enthusiasm for nationalities,
to a sort of naturalism that undervalues the spiritual side
of man, which has a tendency towards universal exchange,
although nature must be guarded as the basis and starting-
point for the universal receptiveness. The English nationality,
e.g., to which no one ascribes deficiency in sharply-defined
traits, has become historically what it is by the commingling
of the old - British, Gaelic, Eoman (Latin) type with
Anglo-Saxon, Danish, and Norman elements. The case is
similar with the German, the French, and Spanish nation-
alities, as the consequence of many hundred years of continued
migrations ; the case was similar even with the Greeks and the
Romans. Perhaps, too, there remain in the present nations
race-distinctions which have already been in some measure
overcome by historical agencies. Thus the Gaels, Basques,
and Irish are perhaps remnants of a preponderantly sanguine
race ; the Mongolian race, likewise, shows in the Hungarians
and Turks an improvement upon the original type. The
negro seems, indeed, to be more stereotyped on account of
his dulness ; but it is not till recently that he has begun to
come again into the general intercourse of nations ; formerly
also he occupied a higher position, at least in some respects.
Even before the Caucasian race came upon the stage of the
world's history, negro kingdoms were formed as far as into
Asia; and even at the present time there are (according to
Earth, Livingstone, Vogel, and others) large, well-ordered,
agricultural negro states in Central Africa. It is especially
the European slave-trade which has so degraded him on the
sea-coasts, and even there, where it is most degraded, the
negro race shows plasticity, susceptibility for culture and for
Christianity ; and by both these, as well as by amalgamation,
it will be able to attain a higher grade of existence.

4. The difference of races has doubtless not come to its
present extreme without the influence of sin, and would be,
under normal development, more nearly the same macro-
cosmically that brothers and sisters in the family circle are

THE TKUE IMPORTANCE OF NATIONAL DISTINCTIONS. 173

microcosmically. And a similar analogy again may be found
in the nations of the same race as they are related to one
another. On account of this abnormal influence of sin, it
cannot belong to us to deduce ft ^j)7'io?"i what the variety of
races and nations may become. It may also be doubted
whether the nations, as collections of masses of individuals of
a more homogeneous sort, are destined to permanent con-
tinuance. And altliough, for the course of history, the
existence of mankind in distinct nations is warranted ; and
further, although the national spirit has also a determining
and enriching influence on every individual singly, and on
the development of that germ in him which is eternal ; yet
the right and the value of nationality ought not to be over-
estimated. Else there would be danger of a naturalism which
might be disposed to assert itself in opposition to the ethical
work which it is the part of history to accomplish, and in
exclusiveness or even enmity towards other nations, and also
in opposition to the ends which the universal fellowship of
the Church and of the kingdom of God must aim at.
Christianity proclaims. There is neither Greek nor Jew,
neither barbarian nor Scythian, but all are one in Christ ;
hence Christian ethics, especially in our day, must admonish
against an exaggeration of the value of nationality, and of a
patriotism founded upon it. In the state of perfection, the
distribution of individuals will not be, as now, according to
the principle of nationality, but according to the principle
of spirituality. Tongues shall cease ; and everlasting con-
tinuance is as little promised to the German or to the
English nation, as to the Turks or the Russians. But yet
for the moulding of the life and essential nature of man on
the earth, there must be assumed (1) a collocation of peoples
and of countries according to their vocation in the world's
history (Acts xvii. 26); (2) a necessity, at least for a time,
that such great homogeneous masses abide together, since it is
only as a peculiarity takes on a distinct form among great
masses that each main peculiarity can really become strong,
and can exhibit its nature in life ; (3) the significance of
national distinctions even for the individual peculiarities which
are destined to immortality.

174 § IG. THE TALENTS.

§ IG. The Talents.

The second main class of the sources of individuality, that,
namely, which relates to activity, affords a variety, large
indeed, but yet limited ; for there are definite talents
for particular individual moral spheres, and they thus
constitute the subjective foundation for the individual
vocation, which is ethically determined by one's talents.
The family and the Church are general, and not par-
ticular, moral spheres ; whereas the other moral depart-
ments belonging to the earthly manifestation of a moral
universe furnish also the basis for classifying the chief
varieties of talents. An especial affinity may indeed
exist between certain constitutional temperaments and
certain talents ; but the talents are directed towards
self-activity, it being only by exercise and activity that
they acquire force. But that they are connected with
the constitutional condition is shown by their being
hereditary, as is perceived in the case, at least, of such
talents as are more closely connected with nature.

])[ote. — Heredity is manifest, e.g., especially in reference to the
talent for the comparatively low departments of music and
mathematics ; but less in reference to a gift for statesmanship
or for science.

1. What nature has denied to one nation, while it has
furnished it to another, seems to be incapable of being
in any way retrieved by the first, but to involve for
it a permanent inferiority in comparison with others. But
this is not the case. The products of eminent talents can be
for the good of all ; and even for that for which one has no
productiveness he has yet the susceptibility. The moral
process, while it also developes susceptibility, often, when
this has been satisfied, has the effect of eliciting productive-
ness, although the productiveness is modified in its individual
forms by the variety in the starting-point of the development.
And though indeed, at any given time, different nations are

TALENTS AKE TO BE ETHICALLY USED. 175

distinguished for different talents, e.g. in ancient times the
Eoman, in modern times the English, for statesmanship ; the
Greeks formerly, the Germans in modern times, for science ;
yet, too, one and the same nation at different periods of its
history can by virtue of special talents do successful work in
different departments. Thus the Italians, the successors of
the unartistic Eomans, have cultivated art ; and thus in recent
times the Germans, together with the culture of art and science,
have made advance in statesmanship also.

2. The absolute worth of the personality is dependent upon
its moral worth, and not upon talent, which is primarily a
natural gift; but talent does decide what is the correct
manifestation of the moral personality. Furthermore, talents
have an abiding significance, when they are made eternal by
means of moral consecration ; and this holds true not merely
of the talents which lie immediately within the realm of
mind ; other talents also can express a definite mental
character, as it manifests itself in apprehension, in production,
and in mode of execution. But all natural gifts, in order to the
full realization of the creative thought, may be laid hold of by
the Divine Spirit and be consecrated as charismata ; as even
in the Old Testament the plastic and poetic arts, as well as
wisdom, are traced back to the Spirit of God ; yes, it is in
accordance with the Bible when we conceive of charismata,
like those of a Paul, or of an Augustine, not merely as limited
to the earthly life, but as shining eternally in unfading
splendour.^

3. What has been said stands opposed to the falsely
democratic, and to the falsely aristocratic, conception of
talents. According to the former, the justice of God demands
that all individuals in themselves be naturally alike, and each
be able to become what the others can become ; it holds that
great men have become great only through their opportunity ;
that the differences have been brought about only tlirough
outward circumstances, culture, and training. Connected
with this also is the false principle, that whatever a person
may contribute that is new is to be explained from his sur-
roundings. But in that case the constitution of the universe,
as divinely planned, would be very uniform, and the question

^ Dan. xii. 3 ; Matt. xxv. 15 sq.

176 § IC. THE TALENTS, FALSE CONCEPTIONS.

as to the origin of the differences would only be postponed.
We cannot see, either, how an inequality originally ordained
should be more unjust than one produced by outward circum-
stances. It betrays a want of culture to have no appreciation
of the moving of an original spirit in such creative natures
as have revolutionized their times by somehow adding to
that which was already existent the power of a higher unifying
principle.

On the other side, no less false is an aristocratic conception
of talent, which is inclined to assume that geniuses are
emancipated from the ordinary moral law, and to make them
the objects of a sort of worship, as if they were superior
beings. A certain equalization of the diff"erences between
favoured minds and the masses lies in the very fact that the
superior gifts of the former exist for the masses, who are by
this means to be elevated. All rule in the realm of mind is
service ; all have need of all, and are conditioned by one
another ; no one can say, I have no need of thee.^ All have
talents, and these differences will last. During the period of
development it may happen, now, that one person feels him-
self to be poor and empty in comparison with others, and
would rather have a different individuality, or would like to
■exchange it for another. But then he does not know either
what his own, or what the other, individuality is ; indeed, he
is in bald contradiction with himself; for on the one hand he
would like to continue to be, and has a wish for this continued
being, and on the other hand he wishes to be that which
would involve his own non - existence. There is in each
individuality a sacred, eternal germ, which should be guarded
and developed, but can be neglected and dwarfed. Hence it
is both abnormal and wicked, not to be willing to be that
which is the divine thought of one's own self. The passion
for imitation does a work of destruction, let another's indi-
viduality stand ever so high. Absolutely universal is only one
— Christ ; in all other persons we may indeed imitate that which
is common, but not that which is individual, as, e.g., in a Paul
or a Luther. The opposite fault is that of shutting one's self
up in one's own individuality, in a separatistic way, or of
affecting singularity in straining to be original.

' Matt. XX. 2G ; 1 Cor. xii. 21 sq. ; Matt. xxv. 21 ; Lwke xix. 24.

§ 17. UNIFYING TENDENCIES IN HUMAN NATUKE. 177

Note 1. — However great may be the variety of individuali-
ties resulting from the above treated sources of individuation
(§ 13-16), — peculiarities which are permanent, too, by reason of
the different starting-points and of the order of the factors which
enter into the structure of the personal character, — yet this
multitude is not one that continues to expand itself indefinitely.
As our race had a beginning, so its procreations will also have
an end, when the full number is attained which belongs to the
notion of complete humanity. But this full number is a
definite one, otherwise a teleological place for it would be
excluded. Only thus, too, can each person have his definite
place within the sphere of humanity.

Note 2. — We have considered that which is common in the
moral endowment, and then that which is individual, into
which the common branches out. Now, however, in a third
section we have to see how even in the natural constitution are
also contained principles through which these diversities and
divisions are brought back into a unity, although not at once a
perfect unity.

THIRD SECTION".

THE IMMEDIATE OR NATUEAL UNION OF THE DIFFERENCES IN
HUMAN NATURE.

§17.

The diversity of the moral faculties, thus far considered, and
the differentiating of human nature, is happily balanced
by a natural tendency of these faculties and differences
to come together, both in individuals and in the race, —
by an inborn unifying force, which is effectual to form a
natural counterpoise against disunion and confusion.
But this natural union can have been implanted only as
a provisional one, and does not exempt from the duty of
uniting the faculties ethically. This natural union, being
at first merely a loose one, awaits the free moral action
which comes after moral duty and moral good are recog-
nised. Just on this account it is also exposed to dissolu-
tion and confusion through arbitrary choice. Nevertheless
by this natural action of the innate unifying power, by
M

178 § 17. UNIFYING TENDENCIES IN HUMAN NATURE.

means of the forces that it sets in motion, there is pro-
duced a prototype or outline of the future ethical
shaping of the world — a prototype which constitutes the
starting-point and actual foundation for the conscious
ethical process.

Note,. — The thesis aims to set forth (1) how in man, as
naturally constituted, notwithstanding the variety in each one's
faculties, and notwithstanding the differences of different indi-
viduals, yet the unity also makes itself felt, and how this, as a
natural unity, exhibits another important and efficient element
in man's ethical endowment. But next (2) it is to be shown that
this natural unity is only an antecedent condition of morality,
but is neither moral in itself nor productive of morality,
because, and so long as, that which is addressed to the will,
viz. absolute and unconditional worth, has presented itself
neither in the consciousness nor in the will. How early the
ethical factor itself makes its appearance is not here affirmed ;
for the present purpose it is important only to see what the
natural equipment can accomplish in and of itself, even though
not from ethical motives. For by tliis means it becomes plain
what can be done simply and alone by the moral principle. It
is accordingly not meant by this to deny that the moral element
makes an entrance, at least sporadically, even though not
at once dominantly, into the beginnings of humanity. But
evidently there are many living who are not clearly determined
by the idea' of morality, since they get no farther than the
stage of natural eudaemony, as, with Chalybaus, we may briefly
designate it.

1. The natural hcginnijigs of human civilisation resulting
from the principle of self-;preservation. All the endowments
of man, both common and individual, are directly unified or
united in man's natural personality. The person, as a natural
unity, has them all, although they wait to receive their moral
stamp first from the act of the free person. This unity, the
natural person, is normally active even without the free act of
the will conscious of moral duty. For it is created as a living
personality, consequently one that preserves itself, as respects
both what is physical and what is mental, both what is common
and what is individual. There takes place a natural co-
operation and interpenetration not merely of the faculties of
the bodily organism, but also of those of the mental being
(§ 10. 2, § 11, § 12. 1, 2). There is also a natural tendency

SELF-PEE3ERVATI0X AND DOMINION OVER NATUEE, 179

and endeavour after union among the differences of the different
individuals, so that human nature, after having developed into
variety, seeks out of tliis variety again to restore itself to
unity, and does so in a measure. By force of natural impulse
human nature manifests itself as a unity, but so that every-
thing aims at sclf-;prcservation only, not as yet at history and
moral development ; for to this end a conscious ethical goal
would be necessary. But mere self-preservation makes a large
circle of activities necessary, and even brings with it a certain
culture. These rudiments of culture produced, as it were,
spontaneously, let us consider, then, with reference to man
himself as he is related to nature and to social life.^

The self-preservation of the natural 'personality requires
food, clothing, and shelter, especially on account of man's
helplessness at the beginning of his existence ; the food must
be sought, prepared, and preserved. This, as well as clothing
and shelter for protection from the elements, requires reflection
and the exercise of his inborn faculties. But the psychical
faculties of man also demand nourishment on their part, for
instance, cognition, or the satisfaction of the love of know-
ledge. The circle of this desire enlarges more and more, and
by means of it the soul is filled with knowledge of nature
both outward and inward, and of the laws according to which
it needs to be treated.

2. Nature (outward nature) was given to man for him to
have dommion over (Gen. i. 28) ; nor was this gift revoked
after the fall (ix. 2 sq. ; Ps. viii.) ; he has also impulses and
faculties answering thereto. Man naturally, by a necessity
of his being, from need and impulse, appropriates nature,
nay, even to some degree moulds it. Man takes possession
of nature (Gen. ix. 2, 3, iv. 22) ; and that is the beginning of
property, that is, of that sort of possession on which the
stamp of the natural personality is imprinted. Man uses
nature, as he finds it, for his own ends, whether it be by
appropriating the land to himself only temporarily, as the
nomad (Gen. iv. 20) and the hunter (Gen, x. 9) do, or per-
manently, as in agriculture and cattle-raising (Gen. iv. 2).
The latter lead nearer to civilisation, for by them the

' Cf. the origin of human society in the Book of Genesis, in Plato's Republic
II., and in Aristotle's Politics I. (tow ?>)» I'vsxa.)

180 § 17. UNIFYING TENDENCIES IN HUMAN NATUKE.

nature which is taken possession of is also actually culti-
vated. The instability and irregularity of nomadic life
become exchanged for the settled life of agriculture ; and
this reacts on the habitation, clothing, and sustenance. The
fixed order and regularity that characterize climatic relations
and change of seasons become a natural discipline, which
accustoms man to forethought, order, and frugality ; harvest
comes only after seed-time and care of the crops.

Quiet rural life and its leisure next give rise to inven-
tions subservient to man's necessities and well-being (Gen.
iv. 22) — a beginning of manufactures, by means of which
new portions of nature are one after another drawn into the
realm of human industry. The heaped-up stores, however,
require protection from violence and artifice, and there
arise enclosed cities with acropoles (Gen. iv. 17), strong-
holds, and burghers as distinguished from countrymen.
Naturally there is produced in the cities a particularly high
type of culture and of industries, the branches of which
support one another. While the nomads gradually disappear,
side by side with the peasants appear the citizens with their
trades, which not only make demands on the hand and its
dexterity, as in the case of the handicrafts, but also on the
mental faculties, e.g. on the understanding, which seeks or
invents what is fit and useful ; also on the taste for art, and
on the fancy, which seeks to make the world comfortable,
harmonious, and beautiful, — in short, to make life happy.
So too with reference to architecture, horticulture, and the
strictly plastic arts. In all these relations the unity of the
natural personality actively asserts itself. It unites the
faculties for its own ends, which although only finite are yet
normal, being suggested by innate impulses. In these ends
the actual frametvorh for a moral world is built up, — the
framework, not the realization of the highest end. The
Cainite line, according to the Bible, made this sphere of
happiness — this development of the worldly sense — the
highest aun of their efforts (Gen. iv. 17, 22).

3. Added to this are, thirdly, the beginnings of a social
life prearranged in nature, a relation of men to men. The
numberless differences which cause the human race to branch
out into a multiplicity find, irrespective of the religious and

RELATIONS OF MEN TO MEN. 181

moral factor, a natural counterpoise in the race feeling,
which, as much as these differences, belongs to the nature
of each individual, and by virtue of which the race remains
an undivided power. By the operation of this factor it comes
to pass that just through the more strongly prominent differ-
ences there is produced an incitement to form companionship,
or rather, a multitude of companionships. The variety of the
differences is just the mediating principle by which particular
classes of companionship are founded.

(a) Sexiud love, the analogue of marriage. — The two sexes,
the more independently they diverge from each other, strive so
much the more for reunion both physical and psychical ; the
productive sex needs to be met by a receptive one ; the two
enter into a relation of reciprocity and mutual benefaction.
Strength craves grace ; tenderness craves firmness ; when
these are met together there is natural love, not merely physi-
cal but psychical. Where this takes a normal course, there
is introduced a community of work and a psychical inter-
cliange, which at once adds more permanence and stability
to the relation, by the mere operation of a healthy nature.
In this conjugal association of the sexes there is a prelude
or analogue of ethical wedlock ; the fellowship grows in inti-
macy through the products added to the race. Even the
higher brutes show a ray of mutual piety in the relation
between the old and their young ; this is still more decidedly
the case with human parents. The care which natural parental
love takes for the children, who are their extended ego, —
their common, dearest possession, — cements the companionship
of the consorts. Just as naturally the love of the child turns
back to the parents ; the child has a natural drawing towards
those from whom it proceeded.

(b) Relationship of hlood and lineage as analogues of the
ethical family spirit. — The common origin of a race of descen-
dants, however different they may be, operates again as a
bond which unites the differences. Blood-relationship is
sacred among all nations by virtue of a natural propensity ;
this continues to operate also when the family becomes
enlarged into tribes and nations. What blood-relationship
thus loses in intensity by expansion, is made up by com-
munity of customs, language, and traditions ; and when the

182 § 17. UNIFYING TENDENCIES IN HUMAN NATUEE.

connection seems to have become loosened, it yet shows
itself immediately operative iu the contact with other tribes
or nationalities. To be sure, this mere love of tribe has in it
something narrow, or even selfish ; for the elective affinity
which produces a closer union within the tribe operates as a
divisive force in relation to other tribes or peoples.

(c) The customs and habits of the tribal community form at
the same time a prototype of the State. The endeavour of a
tribe to assert itself as a unit against others calls forth the
need of organization, which at the outset is borrowed from the
family type. At first, the father is the head of the family ;
later, the first-born son ; until, even though by means of a
one-sidedly aristocratic, democratic, or monarchical constitu-
tion, as the case may be, the people are divided into rulers
and subjects. However widely different the regulations of
tribes may be from those of a State, we yet see in them
already something higher than a republic of ants or bees.

(d) Comradeship, the analogue of friendship. — ^The difference
of temperaments is of great imj)ortance in the domain of free
social intercourse. At first this intercourse may be of a rather
accidental, atomistic character, and for mere amusement
(comradeship) ; but it also assumes stability the more it is
connected with activity, and the more it has regard not
merely to enjoyment, but also works in connection with the
tendency next treated of.

(c) Division of labour, difference of talents, and associations
resulting from identity in respect to them, — the analogue of
civil society. The natural race-feeling lays the foundation also
for associations resting on talents. Through variety in talents
a division of labour is naturally brought about ; non omnia
possuvius oynnes. But because each one, in order to subsist,
needs the help of others, as the others need his, and so on iu
an unending circuit, therefore the difference of talents becomes
a strong bond of union, — a union which has become such
deliberately. The fellowship is primarily one of traffic, which
effects an exchange of the products of labour. Instead of the
simple having and possessing, there begins a mutual giving
and receiving, in which each gains, because each exchanges
what he can dispense with for what is to him more desirable.
The oldest and most direct form of traffic is barter ; but there

'TENDENCIES TO ASSOCIATION. 183

is soon found a neutral medium of value — money. With the
traffic there become connected bargains for mutual services of
a personal and a material sort, — bargains which are not yet
guarded by the idea of right, but by that of the advantage of
all.

But as from the diversity of talents, so also from their
identity, or from the interests arising from it, there result a
multitude of associations or unions among those of similar
callings. Here, growing out of the difference of generations,
belong the relations of master and apprentice, of teacher and
pupil, that is, combinations made for the purpose of equaliza-
tion by those who are in the relation of inequality. Then
again there are combinations of those in the relation of
equality, e.g. trades associations ; also the relations of service,
so far as these depend upon compact, — in compact the parties
stand over against each other as equals, — and so far as they
aim at giving help in common work; or again, combinations
of those who are alike in individual tastes, e.g. combinations
for artistic and scientific purposes (so far as science and art
begin to become active), of masters among themselves, or
of learners among themselves,

§ 18. The Defects of the Riidimentary Civilisation that springs
U2:) naturally.

The natural unity of the faculties, together with the associa-
tions which they evoke, is by no means ethically worth-
less, but still is in itself as yet only ante-ethical. It is
in many respects imperfect, and exposed to dissolution
and confusion through caprice, so long as the sound,
normal order of nature is not sanctioned and preserved
by a higher principle.

1. We have seen whither human nature normally tends,
even apart from the really moral process. We have seen that
it leads not to a mere division, or confusion, of the faculties
of the individual, and not to a mere separation of the one
species into a multitude of antagonistic individuals, — in a
word, not to a chaos, but to a connected whole, having
adaptation to an end, and exhibiting marks of design. In

184 ^ § 18. DEFECTS OF THE NATURAL CIVILISATION,

the single natural individuals as such, and in their relation
to one another, there is also implanted a healthy, efficient
unifying power, which, valuable in itself, is also productive of
what is valuable.

2. But if, now, we consider the worth of the products
which are possible at this stage, two views are to be excluded.
(a) A spiritualistic ethics, which despises all this, because
there is still wanting to it the ethical soul, namely, conscious
freedom of will and a moral disposition. Kant goes so far
that he treats the object or actual thing which is chosen as
■entirely unessential to the notion of moral good. He requires
that this be disregarded on the ground that the essential
thing is not what is chosen, but how, and with what disposi-
tion, the choice is made. Only in this way does he think he
■can avoid justification by works, or mere legality. Further-
more, say others, what is done without conscious free choice
■ can be called only a product of nature, consequently falls
entirely outside of the realm of morals, and is without
significance for an ethical world. Both views involve a
:serious error. Against Ivant it is to be maintained that if
the morality which it is the part of human beings to reach
depends only upon a good disposition or a good will, — not at
all upon what is willed, but only upon how one wills, — this
would lead us to the principle that no objective thing can be
morally commanded, but that rather anything can be chosen
at pleasure, if only the disposition, intention, or end be good.
But this is a Jesuitical principle, which abandons the assump-
tion of all necessary connection between the inward disposition
and the outward work, and thus imperils the whole process of
building up a moral world. It must rather be insisted that
choice be made not merely in the right moral way, but also
of the right thing. What the right thing is could not be
affirmed, if morality hinged merely upon that most inward thing,
the bent of the will. But in that case the personality or the
ego would be conceived of abstractly, as separated from all
its concrete qualities, by which alone, nevertheless, it becomes
a living being — one that not merely thinks, but also chooses
and does something. With nothing but a disposition, the
person would remain only the form of a person, always and
for ever willing only the same thing, namely, the good con-

DEPRECIATION AND OVER-ESTIMATION OF IT. 185

dition of the will. But this goodness would come to no
development ; the disposition would remain powerless to
effect any positive ethical manifestation.

Accordingly the whole domain of the natural exercise of
the faculties — the above - mentioned spontaneous products
of human nature — has after all a great significance for ethics.
Although it antedates real morality, it is yet the indispensable
condition {conditio sine qua non) of the building up of a moral
world ; it is the scene and material on which morality operates ;
it is indispensable to the manifestation, and to the reality,
of the ethical principle. By mere thinking we could not
come into fellowship with others ; in order to this, we must
utter what is within us. But this is not possible with-
out a physical medium by means of which minds come into
contact with one another. Without the objective reality
constituted by the natural faculties and endowments above
considered, there would be wanting both to the individual
and to the race the needed fulness and wealth, — the supply
of means for mental (and also moral and religious) self-
manifestation and expression. And in the fruits, already
considered, of the natural exercise of the unifying force, so
far as they have come about normally by virtue of innate
impulses, the thought of the Creator has continued to realize
itself He has thus created an actual order of the world
which, although not as yet fixed by man's free act, but only
through his instrumentality, is to be the starting-point of the
moral process, and a prototype of that which is to become an
ethical product. The normal unity, as well as the variety, of
the active faculties at the outset, is a type of the future moral
system. To preserve these faculties, and in tiieir normal
connection or unity, will be not only the first, but also a
continual, moral duty. From the high position which we
have here assigned to corporeality, to nature, and to the
subjection of it, it must not, however, be inferred that the
significance of the whole ethical process through which man-
kind passes — that is, the significance of human history — is
merged in the conquest of matter and in the subjugation of
nature.

This leads {h) to the more frequent error, the one opposed
to the spiritualistic, that, namely, of overvaluing the ivorth of

186 § 18. DEFECTS OF THE NATUKAL CIVILISATION.

this natural union of the faculties and of their products. Human
life, if limited to these natural manifestations iu individuals
and society, is as yet very incomplete. It is often asserted
that by these excellences, without any moral process, an
existence noble and worthy of man is attainable or attained.
But although the products of these faculties, as well as the
secure possession of them, the means of enjoyment, etc., are
certainly good things, yet they are in themselves only of
finite value ; man limited to them would be with them alone
not as yet a rational being. In these finite spheres there
might, it is true, be ability, but not virtue. Furthermore, all
these things are in themselves as yet of an equivocal nature.
As means, they are subservient to the best disposition, but also
just as much to the worst ; as when, e.g., the ultimate aim is
only pleasure, whether coarser or more refined, but an aim
having absolute worth has not yet appeared above the moral
horizon.

If, now, all this, namely, the harmonious play of the finite
faculties iu the midst of the plenitude of the products of
culture, is regarded as the destination of man, as a false
humanism would make it, then we have hedonic ethics; and
when this eudsemony, these objects of finite worth, are made
absolute, there is presented in morals the complete counter-
part of the worship of false gods in religion. In the last
analysis that would be only selfishness, and we should get no
farther ; the ruling principle would be only shrewdness, which
weighs or regulates the pleasures and their correct succession,
and devotes energy to the procuring of the means for gaining
them. Duty would be as much a tiling out of the question
as right in the stricter sense would be ; duty and right in
that case would together sink into the notion of that which is
not regulated by a moral standard. Everything which pleases
would be permitted ; ability, power, would be the measure
and the limit of lawfulness ; or rather, might would take the
place of right; that is, in that case caprice would have the freest
scope. And even if to this caprice limits are always in turn
set by the salutary order of nature, whose violation is punished
with evil by a reaction of that salutary nature, yet sagacity
would teach one to avoid such evil ; but guilt, punishment,
and sense of punishableness would be out of the question.

MERELY NATURAL ASSOCIATIONS INADEQUATE. 187

3. And not only is the individual life of the natural person,
so far as it can shape itself without a strictly ethical j^rocess,
as yet very imperfect, but so also are those communities which
are formed purely spontaneously by natural impulse aided
by sagacity and intelligence. Mere sexual or conjugal asso-
ciation is not, properly speaking, wedlock ; if only the natural
impulses, of a physical or of a psychical sort, draw indi-
viduals together, mutual pleasure and complacency will pre-
ponderate, and will be the real bond ; but in that case
the consorts are means for each othei", and not an end in
themselves, — not the other ego, but only the extension of
each one's own ego. But pleasure is an equivocal bond of
companionship ; for the same thing which now connects may
at another time work to separate. If elsewhere there is more
pleasure to be hoped for, the person governed by physical or
psychical affinity will turn thither ; and this would not even
be blameworthy, if the mere force of natural impulses may
be decisive, and no healthful order exists in the form of
duty or law. If, now, we imagine that in the case of botli
consorts, after a period of mutual attractiveness, the same
love of pleasure which joined them together works again
to sever them, then the family also, in its unity and
coherence, is destroyed (Gen. iv. 19, vi. 1-6). Where
stability is wanting to the marriage bond, there can be only
progeny, proles; but the family relation is out of the
question ; just as is the case with brutes, that do not know,
or soon forget, to what parents they belong. But if the
family relation is not attained, then men do not even get so
far as to form tribes and tribal regulations, but only a chaotic
multitude, a conglomerate human horde, which will never be
elevated till family life, above all, marriage, stands fast as a
sacred ordinance.

Temperament also, and natural constitution, cannot as such
form the ground of a stable companionship. For here, too, it
is possible that another person is sought not as an end in
himself, but only as a means, whether it be for entertainment
and enjoyment, or for the purpose of work. This, however, does
not deserve the name of friendship, but only of comradeship,
which lasts only so long as the interests do not cross, but run
parallel. The same holds true, finally, of the unions which

188 § 18. DEFECTS OF THE NATURAL CIVILISATION.

are formed on the ground of difference, or resemblance, of
talents. The division of labour, although it is for the interest
of all, can be so made that indolence, inordinate love of
enjoyment, or greediness gets control of the serving and
working classes, or, on the other hand, so that the faculties of
some are simply taken advantage of by the others.^ So, too,
traffic in itself can be taken into the service of selfishness,
can minister to fraud, avarice, and dishonesty, and thus
become its own enemy. For where credit and confidence are
wanting, mercantile intercourse comes to a standstill.

Without a moral process, strictly so called, a each of justice
and a State are out of the question. For even an agreement
presupposes the mutual recognition of the duty to abide by
it. All the deficiencies, perversions, and disorders above men-
tioned become unavoidable, if we do not count on ethical
forces in social bodies, and do not feel that it is necessary
to care for these forces, which after all are in the interior
being what the spring is to the watch, or the soul to the body.

4. What has been already said shows that the unity in the
faculties of individuals, and of members of the species, which
is, as it were, prearranged in the salutary order of nature, can
be only a foretoken of the true ethical unity, but not this
unity itself; it is rather only something defective and even
equivocal. All this acquires still more importance from the
fact that in man instinct does not have the same power and
significance as in brutes ; while, on the other hand, he
has the power of voluntary choice. That natural salutary
unifying power is indeed not without effect ; it has as its
ally also the arrangement of the world, which manages to
make even egoism its ally, so far forth as egoism finds its
account, in the long run, only in preserving the healthy
order of nature. But it is not a compulsory power ; it does
not draw man irresistibly into its healthy ways. On the
other hand, sensuality and passion make men imprudent also,
make them rush inordinately in a direction that for the time
being promises the greater pleasure, dazzled by which they forget
tlie consequences. In man, indeed, dwells also the ability to
draw himself back from all impulses into his own ego, which

^ E.g. when labour is taken advantage of by capital, this is as yet a state of
nature.

DEFICIENCY OF HUMAN INSTINCT. 189

holds concealed an indefinite multitude of possibilities. But
without law we yet have in all this only the power of choice,
which is able to break away from the sound normal impulse
of the order of nature, to give itself on the other hand un-
reservedly up to lawless impulses, and thus to destroy God's
salutary order of the universe. The brute, although denied
the endowment of reason, remains in his healthy natural state
by the force of instinct, which warns against what is injurious.
For, in the brute, instinct is, as it were, the surrogate of reason,
being furnished with the immediate power of an efficient
impulse ; it is for the brute, as it were, the conscience of the
collective organism, as over against single impulses which
would lead to excess ; although even the brute at times also
makes a mistake. But in man that overpowering force of
instinct is wanting; on the other hand, he has free choice, which
is not obliged to make itself the ally of the unifying tendency
of the sound order of the universe, as over against the sensual
impulses and the excitement which comes from the diversified
outward world. How easily, in that case, it may happen,
especially when one persuades himself that by the gratification
of his own bent he will not only remain well off, but will
augment his enjoyment of life, that this unifying tendency,
since it does not work compulsorily, will be neutralized both
in individuals and in the community (Gen. iii. 1 sqq.).

According as free choice gives the reins to one of the
impulses, abnormalness and disorder will enter, affecting both
individuals and communities ; and the obverse of overpower-
ing impulses and desires in certain spheres will be impotence
with reference to others. The disorder will involve both the
physical and the psychical nature. The ungoverned impulse
for possession becomes greed and avarice ; the unregulated
impulse for honour and power will, in the form of pride,
ambition, and thirst for dominion, work injury to others
whom it brings down. The consequence in the case of
weaker natures will be envy, servility, and cringing ; while,
in the case of stronger natures, pride and love of power act
contagiously ; and so there are enkindled strife and warfare,
which threaten society with dissolution. In like manner the
unbridled impulse for enjoyment, especially the ungoverned
sexual impulse, destroys, together with the subject of it, the

190 § IS. DEFECTS OF THE NATURAL CIVILISATION.

objective advantages of companionship, marriage, family, and
social life.

In a word, man has, answering to his microcosmic nature,
such many-sided susceptibilities and impulses, that, especially
considering the weakness of his instinct, he could not find his
way without mistakes, but on account of his powerful passions
and capacities would soon become a chaos, if a higher light
did not break in as a standard of order and harmony. As a
onerely finite hcing lie is not a inrfect wlioU ; he is too much
and too little, so that it is impossible that at this stage his
creation can be finished. Endued with an opulence of
faculties, possessed of free choice in alliance with cunning
and sagacity, there he would stand as an enigmatical terrible
being, almost demoniacally equipped for the destruction of
the world and of himself, if there were no higher principle for
him, able to guide and to govern his physical and spiritual
being, namely, fhe, law of ethical Good, of which he must have
knowledge, unless he is to continue a mere natural creature.
And yet, if such a law of Good were simply implanted in
him as a higher power having the mastery over him, he
would be merely a natural creature of a higher sort. For
then, again, he could not participate in the act by which he
is constituted an ethical being. Accordingly, the equivocal
unity or harmony which is a natural growth cannot be man's
goal ; nor is this attained by the simple natural exercise of his
innate faculties ; but this natural stage must be transcended
by means of the moral process. This, however, comes actually
to pass only by man's receiving a knowledge of obligation, of
moral Good, — a knowledge, however, which does not operate
compulsorily upon the will or the being.

§ 19. SYNOPSIS OF THE MORAL PKOCESS. 191

SECOND DIVISION.

OF THE MOKAL PEOCBSS IN GENERAL, OR OF THE DIVINE ORDER
OF THE UNIVERSE AS THE LAW OF ACTION FOR THE MORAL
FACULTIES.

§19.

On the basis of the physical and mental faculties of a
common and of an individual kind, which have been
considered in the First Division, the moral process is
initiated. This is done by the separation of the moral
feeling, which is the beginning of the rational human
existence, into moral sense and impulse, and at a higher
stage into actual conscience and freedom. This separa-
tion takes place in order that the objective moral law
may make its claims in a clearly conscious way upon
the free will. By the moral process, however, the simple
or natural unity of the rational human constitution is
broken up relatively only for the sake of seeking a
higher form. Accordingly this Division is subdivided
into the doctrine of laio, of conscience, and oi freedom.

1. The necessity of an ethical process, in order to raise
man above the plane of mere nature, is sufficiently evident from
the foregoing, as also the necessity of the breaking up of the
original unity in order that there may be an ethical process.
Three factors will have to co-operate in order to constitute
this process. The first is the law. The word " duty " is
often used as synonymous with law ; but the word has
reference rather to some single concrete thing, having more
definite regard to the obligation of the individual than the
notion of law has, which is limited to pure objectivity. But
the necessity of taking the fi.rst of these three factors as a
starting-point will be plain from what follows. The connecting
of ethics with the idea of God, which we found to be necessary,
has fruitful results for our system of morals only when we take,
as the starting-point for our sketch of the ethical process,

192 § 19. SYNOPSIS OF THE MORAL PROCESS.

nothing else than the moral law. It might be thought,
indeed, that, since we know, of morality only through the
moral feeling, conscience, and the moral consciousness, there-
fore the moral feeling, etc., are the only source of moral
legislation ; that is, that the moral feeling, conscience, etc., are
to be regarded as the first, fundamental factor of moral
existence in general. But such a view regards only the
subjective process rather than the objective fact itself, which
is that neither moral feeling nor moral sense and will would
be possible without law ; that, rather, man without it would
remain shut up purely to finiteness. If we do not go back
to an objective moral law which, because it is in and of itself
true and certain, is independent of subjective feeling, sense,
and conscience, then these things themselves would be in-
correctly conceived. Moral feeling, conscience, etc., are not
absolutely autonomous ; only in case they were so could they
be regarded as the ultimate source of the moral law. On the
contrary, the objective law is the source of the moral feeling,
sense, and conscience; and so there belongs to the moral feeling,
sense, and conscience itself, the consciousness that morality is
independent of the knowledge, yes, of the being, of the indi-
vidual. The objective divine reason and truth it is which
forms itself in the human soul and first brings it to rational-
ness. The law is made secure in its sacredness and objectivity
only by our treating it in its connection with the ethical idea
of God as the first fundamental factor of the ethical process.
" Law is the rock on which ethics rests, and it reaches down to
the lowest depths." ^ Of it, therefore, our first section is to
treat. But not only the objectivity of this law must by all
means be secured, but also its entrance into the spirit,
primarily into the intelligence, which, recognising morality in
its truth and absolute authority, brings it home to the will.
There must be implanted in us, as our own, a knowledge o^
the Good as such, or as the truth ; without this knowledge
we could not do anything for the reason that it is good, but
only for other, that is, non-moral, reasons. But like human
development in general, so also this apprehension of the
divine law is gained only gradually.

2. The commencement of the process is in the moved

1 Schniid, ChristL Sittenlehre, p. 346.

LAW, MORAL FEELING, CONSCIENCE, FKEEDOM, 193

feeling, in which are inchided moral cognition and volition,
at first still in undivided unity. The moral feeling is
(§ 12. 4) a feeling of that which has absolute worth as
addressed to the will ; and in it is involved (a) the being
affected by the ethical idea as one which demands reverence
and obedience. And the being thus affected is, moreover, not
a merely subjective sensation ; the moral feeling is a feeling
for something objective and in itself sacred. If, now, the
object of the moral feeling is fixed by itself, that is, if the
thing felt to be of worth is grasped as such by the cognitive
faculty, then there arises a moral conception : and the feeling
becomes a sense of what is sacred and morally imperative, as
distinguished from the Nefas. (b) But, on the other hand, there
is in the moral feeling, besides the perception of dependence
upon a necessary something, upon a higher, sacred order, also
a germinant consciousness of freedom. For in the moral
feeling there is an ideal law, together with inward delight in
it ; but the ideal feeling of delight is the feeling of an at least
possible freedom. The feeling, being moral, presages the
gaining of a higher existence through the working of the
power by which the feeling is stirred. The beginning of
freedom, however, is contained in impulse, and, further on,
in the will. Thus the analysis of the moral feeling shows
the possibility of its transition into moral sense and impulse.

3. But the breaking up of the original unity is also necessary.
Feeling is in the first instance only a simple primary modifi-
cation \_unmittelbare Bestimnithcit] in man, neither posited nor
shaped by his will. But in the moral world the will, the
self-determination, forms the centre ; and this holds true even
in relation to receptivity and feeling, for there is also such a
thing as vMling to be moved and determined. But the
will must ivill something, and this can come to it only through
the intelligence, which sets before the will the object to be
chosen. Therefore, in order that there may be a moral process
of the will, there must be developed, first of all, moral intel-
ligence, i.e. moral sense, and further on, conscience. Thus
the object confronts the will, is held before it as something
to be done. If the will were determined merely by the
feelings, the will would be without clear consciousness, hence
also without freedom. Therefore cognition and will must

194 § 19. SYNOPSIS OF THE MORAL PE0CES3.

separate ; this is the condition of their independent develop-
ment. The next thing is the separation of the moral feeling
into moral sense and impulse. But moral cognition, in the
form of a mere sense and vague apprehension, is not yet
objectively definite and sure enough ; no less true is it that
the will, so long as it is simple impulse, is too much moved
by feeling and nature. Hence the independent development
of both must proceed farther, till the moral sense and vague
apprehension become clear and fixed conscience, and till the
moral impulse becomes freedom of will.

Thus the moral feeling is separated into the two poles of the
morally necessary [i.e. imperative, TPt.] and the morally free,
both of which, however, stand in intimate relation to each
other. Conscience is a knowledge of that which is necessary ;
of that, however, which is morally necessary, addressed to
freedom ; that is, it recognises freedom, and even incites to
moral self-determination, but does not necessitate. Eather, as
that which is morally necessary is independent, in relation
to that which is free, so the free is independent, as over
against the morally necessary, and exists already in the form
of power of choice, before all higher development of the
intelligence. But, as we soon see, it is only through the
consciousness of moral necessity that freedom gets its higher
meaning, and is given to itself as the power of a decision of
infinite importance ; and now freedom, whether it will or will
not, must enter into a relation either negative or positive to
that which is morally necessary. For even the failure to
make an unconditionally-required decision is itself a decision.
But with the decision the moral process comes into existence.

If, on the other hand, the character of the decision were
not left to free choice, but were forced upon one, for example,
by the necessitating power of the consciousness of what is
morally right, then, again, the stage of morality would not be
reached ; moral responsibility and moral personality would
still be unattained. If, for example, even love to God were
fixed by God without possibility of resistance, then such love
would have no moral worth. To this actual antithesis of
moral necessity and freedom, which is in no way a contradic-
tion, every rational nature comes ; thus even Christ speaks of
an evToKrj of the Father, a moral hec, as applying to Him ; and

THE DIVINE AGENCY CONTINUOUS. 195

tlie knowledge of this duty is the knowledge which conscience
has. Accordingly, it cannot be said with the little book
Deutsche Thcologie [Thcologia Germanicct], that only we men
have conscience, but Christ and Satan have none. This
would be correct only if conscience were either the effect
of sin, like the so-called evil conscience, or the cause of
sin. The antithesis spoken of between freedom and moral
necessity in no way involves even the least element of
contradiction between the two.

4. On the other hand, the rational constitution, as it
actually exists, must not be deistically conceived of as a mere
self-unfolding of the human faculties without the continued
operation of God. Eather God's causality is operative in it.
His creative will it is which first perfectly realizes the moral
constitution, since He clearly and vividly evokes also the
consciousness of the objective moral requirement. And with
reference to the will also the deistic view is none the less
to be excluded. The power to exercise a good volition
comes from above ; by God and His revelation that which is
good can be put before man in an alluring and attractive,
although not in a compulsory, way. There is besides this
the connection of the feelings and the will. This connection
continues on also in the moral process, and like a soul, like
an ideal inspiring delight, can permeate thought and volition ;
and out of the acts of thinking and willing there must be
always a return into feeling again. But in feeling the soul
in its totality is capable of being affected or determined by
God, and the human will can doubtless participate in this ;
it can cJioose to let itself be determined by God and His
Spirit. Therefore in the feelings is to be found the inmost
source whence, when the intellect is darkened and the will is
powerless and bound, help can still come to man. There, too,
the longing after light and after emancipation from bondage
is still possible, and it can impel man to apply to the divine
source of life, in order tliat human impotence may be removed
by power from on high.

Note. — In accordance with what has been said, our Division
subdivides itself into three Sections : the doctrine of the Divine
Law ; of the suhjective Apprehension of the Daw, or of the Con-
science ; and of Freedom.

196 § 20. god's nature the source of the moral law.

FIEST SECTION.

the binding character of the objective moral law.

§ 20.

The good which is eternally realized in God's being and will
He wills as the law, or binding rule, or obligation, for
the world. The law of the moral world is essentially
distinguished from the law of nature by its character of
intrinsic necessity, absoluteness, and universality. As an
obligating power, it embraces the faculties of knowledge
and volition and the state of being, — both what is
common to all and what is peculiar to each, — yet not
without adapting itself to individuals.

Cf. Schleiermacher's treatises on NaUirgcsctz and Sittengesetz,
and also on Das Erlauhte, Schmid, Dc notione legis, and Sitten-
Ichre, 140, 156, 260-280, 345 sqq. Heinrich Merz, Sijstcm der
christl. Sittenlelire nach den Grundsdtzen des Frotcstantismus im
Gcgcnsatz zum Katholicismus, 1841. [Martenseu, Christl. Etliik,
3rd ed. i. 441 sq., ii. 1, p. 25 sq. Zeller, Ueher Begriff v.nd
Begrilndung der sittlicJicn Gcsctze, 1882. Ueher das Kant'sche
Moralprincip und den Gcgensatz formaler und inaterialer Moral-
principien, 1879. (Both treatises now in the third volume of
his Vortrdgc und Ahhandlungen, 1884.) Kostlin, Jahrhiicher
fur deidsche Theologie, vol. xiii. p. 383 sq., xiv. pp. 25 sq.,
464 sq. Studien ilhcr das Sittengesetz. Cf. also. Die Aiifgahe
der christl. Ethik, in the Studien und Kritihen, 1879, p. 581 sq.
Cf. note, p. 204.— Ed.]

1. Conscience is not the ground, but the perception, of the
moral law ; the iwincipiutn not cssendi, but cognoscendi. It is
God who implants the principle of morality in the human
spirit, and that necessarily only as an idea. God's creative
activity {voluntas) is not to be identified with His legislative
activity (prcecepttim). A new life of love could not be
directly posited as a finished thing, for a world different
from God was to move freely and with an activity of its
own. The creative will could at the outset implant only the
possibility, not the actuality, of the good. Nevertheless, it
cannot be said that the good is not existent. Eather, because

CONSCIENCE NOT THE GROUND, BUT THE PERCEPTION, OF LAW. 197

it has its reality in God, it acquires through God an exist-
ence for or in the intelligence of man. This existence is ideal
at first, being the thought of that which ought to be in the
world, that is, law. Since now God is in His essence holy-
love, it may also be said, according to this derivation of law,
that it is nothing else than holy love as obligatory (Matt. xxii.
37 sqq. ; Eom. xiii. 10). God, who is love, wills that He, as
love, be acknowledged and have sway.

By thus going back to God, not only is the objective
character of the law, independent of all subjectivity, secured,
but also the character of necessity, absoluteness, and uni-
versality is conferred upon it. In these three predicates
the difference between the moral law and everything physical
is expressed, and especially opposition to all utilitarian
theories of morals. The moral law is to be derived neither
from divine, nor from human, arbitrary choice, but is a reve-
lation of God proceeding from His legislative will. It
demands the realization of the divine image for which man is
created. " Be ye holy, for I am holy " (Ex. xix. 6 ; Lev. xi.
44 ; Matt. v. 48). It proceeds from God's spiritual essence
(Eom. vii. 14). Hence it is eternal, and can never be
changed by human will, being the mirror of the divine
essence. Only so does the question, what is good, cease to
be merely a historical question, dependent upon external
authorities ; the good has its own authority with itself and in.
itself. This the Evangelical Church, conscious of its own
principles, in opposition to the ecclesiastical positivism of
Eome, has always held fast. The Formula Concordice ^ says :
Zcx proprie est doctrina divina, in qua justissima et immutahilis
dei voluntas revelatur. But Melanchthon says not merely
that law is the divine will, but also lex dei est sapicntia sterna
et immutata in dec et norma justitice in voluntate dei, which
brings to mind the doctrine of Augustine, that the law has its
ultimate root in God's sapientia jjrima, in which also lie the
principles of all arts and sciences, as well as of life, that is,
the principles of logic and of mathematics, of assthetics and
of ethics. This law now, immutable in God, transscribitur in
sapientes animos.

2. When we pass on to the separate characterizations of

1 592. 3 ; 713. 17.

1{>8 § 20. god's nature the source of the moral law.

the moral law as to its formal side, the first attribute ^ve have
to consider is (a) necessity. There are, it is true, many kinds
Off necessity. There is physical necessity, which rules in
nature, and to which belong coercion and force. But this is
out of the question here, because the ethical realm claims
freedom for itself. A second sort is logical necessity, or the
necessity of the sequence of ideas. Of this also it is to be
said, that it does not concern us here, because it belongs to it
irresistibly to determine thought alone, but not the will and
the being. The moral law is compatible with freedom. Its
necessity lies, in the first place, in its origin, i.e. in the fact
that it emanates from God, and that not fortuitously, but by
virtue of the divine nature. But just on that account is to
be ascribed to it a necessity as to its intrinsic essence ; while
in the case of everything physical, even when necessity
governs its movements, it may yet be asked. To what pur-
pose ? It is not fitted to be an end in itself, but only a
means. Its necessity, therefore, is only a hypothetical one,
conditioned upon something else, which is the end. And
similarly also logical necessity is a hypothetical one, inasmuch
as the consequence holds only in case the proposition from
which it flows is granted ; but in the proposition it is by
no means needful that there inhere an intrinsic necessity,
that of being an end in itself. Morality, on the other hand,
is in itself absolutely valuable and good ; in the conception of
it the inquiry after the Why must cease ; it has thus a teleo-
logical necessity. Nevertheless it is law, namely, the law of
freedom, and therein also different from natural law. It is
]iecessary to moral law not to necessitate, not to compel ; but,
on the other hand, no rational being can evade it. It is of
force for man, whether he will or not, because it is in itself
good and necessary. That relation of law to the person, now,
by which a binding force is imposed upon him, is called ohliga-
tion, while the thing as commanded is called duty, whether it
only seeks to be realized, or whether it is already in process
of realization ; for obligatory actions also are by many
moralists called duty, as by Eothe, Werner, and Bruch.

(&) To the law belongs, in the second place, the character
of absoluteness. It has for rational beings not merely a hypo-
thetical simificance : for although it also includes that which

NECESSITY AND ABSOLUTENESS OF THE LAW. 199

is subordinate, as, for example, the means to an end, yet on
account of this end what is subordinate participates in the
absoluteness. In this absoluteness is guarded all that is true
in Kant's Categorical Imperative. There is something absolute
for the will, which has absolutely the right to demand recogni-
tion, and which cannot be willing not to be and to have
validity, if man would be, or would remain, rational. From
its absoluteness follows the intrinsic necessity of the law to
obligate absolutely. This obligatory power it owes purely to its
innate right, its intrinsic majesty. The recognition of it is no
merit, but a duty ; the failure to recognise it, however, is guilt.

This character of al)soluteness comes especially to view
vv'hen we contrast the moral law with natural law. Schleier-
macher, in his celebrated academical treatise in the year 1828,
sets forth with acuteness the relationship of the two, but not
also their unlikeness. Even nature, he says, has a law, an
inner force and rule, for its growth and formation. Natural
things, too, do not always turn out according to this rule,
as we see is the case also in the human world. Yet, he says,
in nature, too, the ideal type remains, to which she seeks to
conform, even though through obstacles. So also, he says,
there is in man an ideal type, a standard which seeks to
regulate the moral life, although the world of reality acts as
an obstruction. The moral law is for Schleiermacher simply a
higher form of natural law, that is, a law for intelligent beings.

But just this makes a deeper difference than Schleier-
macher admits, as relates both to substance and to form.
As a spiritual, that is, rational being, man is open to that
which has i7hfinite worth. Nature has objects of only finite,
not absolute, worth. The worth of the forms it takes depends,
in the last analysis, upon that for which nature exists or is
the means, namely, moral good, which absolutely ought to be ;
and for this reason the moral law alone, so far as relates to the
form, makes an absolute requirement. Nature may indeed
succumb to obstacles and produce ugly things ; still the
unpesthetic is not utterly objectionable, as wickedness is. In
addition to this there is the further difference that the
spiritual nature of man is duplex, consisting of intelligence
and will. The ideal type, in the case of man, must, before
it passes over into actual being, first be mediated by the will ;

200 § 20. god's nature the souece of the moral law.

and to that end this norm at first appears only as an idea
addressed to the intelligence, and seeking entrance into the
will. In nature, on the other hand, the ideal norm does not
as such address itself to the will, but passes over straightway
into reality, even though amidst outward obstacles. In man
so little does this transition take place immediately, that he
can by his will oppose even inward obstacles to it. In man
a purely ideal existence of the good precedes its realization,
— it is an esse in the intelligence, while at the same time it is
a nondum esse in the will. There "prceceptum and voluntas do
not coincide. Moreover, although nature has its own law
different from the law of morality, yet this does not rend
asunder the unity of the world. For the two are not co-
ordinate, but the moral law is the higher, and by virtue of
its character of absoluteness it obligates and authorizes us to
treat everything, even nature, as being for the sake of morality
and intended to subserve it.

(c) The third attribute is the universality of the moral law.
This has reference to the circuit which it embraces with
its claim. This predicate of universality might be questioned,
since God's will embraces not merely the moral world, which
is only for rational beings, but nature also ; by the moral
law the unity of the world might even seem to be threatened.
But the natural world was not decreed as a finished whole, as
a kingdom which has nothing to do with the moral world.
On the contrary, the very fact that the moral law is a law
of the spirit, implies that the spirit is that which is to rule
over nature — that nature is not independent, still less,
dominant over the spirit ; hence the moral law is just that
which guarantees the unity of the world. Hence it may be
said, that morality is the supreme universal law, which
includes in itself, and disposes for itself, the whole universe —
the law which assigns to everything, even to nature, its proper
place. To be sure, the law with its binding power addresses
itself immediately and directly only to rational beings. But
indirectly it embraces nature also. For not merely is it
man's part to have dominion over nature, but also nature is
the indispensable means of all concrete moral relations, since
without it they could not at all exist. So far forth it may be
said that the moral law is nothiucr else than the ideal imago

UNIVEKSALITY OF THE LAW. 201

of the world itself as it should be, i.e. as it should become
through the will governed by moral considerations.

Of this ideal of the world as to its contents we have to
speak in the Third Division ; here we treat only of its formal
side, or of obligation. As applied to man, now, the univer-
sality of the moral law implies the universality of the obliga-
tion which it imposes ; and this relates (1) to all earthly
rational beings (mankind), (2) to every moment of their con-
scious existence, (3) to all their powers, but in such a manner
that the person, this unit, is always that which is placed
under obligation/ The law draws all the powers into its
binding power ; its validity for them is unconditional, and it
tolerates no restrictions within the rational being of man.
Together with the reason the ethical idea awakes in man ;
but rationalness is designed to be in man a permanent
state. It demands to have not a merely temporary exist-
ence in him, not merely to shine into him from time to time,
and at other times to let him keep becoming a brute again, to
which, as it were, everything is allowed that lies in his power
and that his impulse leads him to. On the contrary, the
ethical idea, when once it has risen in one's consciousness,
involves the demand that the whole conscious life, without
exception, be continually subject to it ; and against this claim
neither the weakness nor limitation of man on the one hand,
nor the superior force of nature on the other, can make any
valid protest.

From the foregoing it follows that the moral law in its
way embraces also the other fundamental forms in which the
moral element exists, viz. virtue and the highest good ; but it
embraces them in its character of a requirement. It insists
not only on being in the intelligence, but also on dwelling
and ruling in the will ; it demands an existence even in the
fundamental disposition, and requires that the ethical faculty,
or virtue, shall not remain a latent faculty, but shall
manifest itself actively. It demands that the good, by means
of good or right actions and works, shall acquire a subjective-
objective form of existence, that is, shall attain, in the
character of the highest good, a fixed habitual state, while
yet it remains a living power. The moral law requires that

^ Matt, xxii. 37 Sf^q. ; Gal. vi. 2 ; Rom. xiii, 8 sq.

202 § 21. IIEFUTATION OF EREONEOUS VIEWS OF THE MORAL LAW.

the good exist in all these three forms, and that there be a
progress from one to the other. It insists upon being the
controlling centre of one's thoughts, words, volitions, actions,
and works, — of his feelings, his states, and his activities.
It insists on being continuous and omnipresent in the human
life.

But although the moral law embraces everything, yet this
does not require an absolute uniformity of the world or of the
activity of the will. Love must indeed be the ruling prin-
ciple in all the functions ; but the manifestation of it must
be governed objectively by the circumstances, subjectively by
the faculties, of the individuals. On the other hand, every-
thing in its way is wholly embraced by the moral obliga-
tion. In this respect the law divides itself into many members ;
and, being thus multiform, it comprehends the world, primarily
man, and indirectly also nature.

Against this statement of the characteristics of the moral
law, objection is made from various sources.

§ 21. Tlic Denial of the Formal Fiindamcntal Attributes of the

Moral Law.

We must set aside not only the denial of one or another of
the above-developed fundamental attributes of the moral
law, but also the distinction between half, or imperfect,
duty, and whole, or perfect, duty. We must also reject
the Catholic distinction between an imperative and a
merely advisory part of the moral law {Consilia Evan-
gelica), together with the assumption that there are
actions which are morally indifferent, or merely per-
missible, and not obligatory, for the person in question.
Finally, We must reject also the doctrine that the duties
of love stand higher than the duties of right, and are
therefore to be preferred. On the other hand, the
universality of the moral law, the subsumption of the
whole life and of all one's powers under the moral
order, must of course not be so understood as that all
the duties which form the contents of the moral law

DENIAL OF THE ABSOLUTENESS AND UNIVEESALITY OF LAM'. 203

unconditionally require to be fulfilled by all men and in
every moment of their life alike, so that all would be
under obligation to do the same thing at all times. Eatlier,
the universality of the moral law means only that the
law, in itself consisting of various members, embraces the
whole world with its many members, so that each
individual, with his own peculiarities, has at all times,
in the moral organism of the world, his special place
assigned to him, which he, in due regard to his
circumstances, is to occupy with his powers in such a
way as shall accomplish the most for the progressive
realization of the Good, or of the kingdom of God.

1. Tlie objective necessity of the moral law follows at once
from the idea of moral goodness, and is consequently ques-
tioned only by utilitarians on the one hand, and by Scotists
on the other ; the former making the moral law to be
dependent on subjective caprice, the latter, on the snpremum
liherum arhitrium of God.

More frequent, however, is the denial of the absolute-
ness and universality of the moral law. Against the doctrine
that moral goodness has an absolutely obligatory claim, and
one that affects the whole personal life, the Roman Catliolic
Church sets up the proposition, that there is that which is
morally good, but which nevertheless is not unconditionally
commanded or universally binding. The meaning is not that
there is moral excellence, which yet must not be treated as a
debt due or as a legal duty ; for example, there is much
which is in itself good, but which the State cannot and ought
not to carry through by force ; deeds of benevolence it must
leave to the free will. Nor is the meaning that there is a
sphere of individuality (§ 13-16), which others can never
wholly see through, for which reason they also cannot define
how the individual in all particulars must act in order to
comply with the duty which, though absolute, yet adapts
itself to individuals. The Eoman Catholic Church, as we
know, is not very indulgent to the peculiarities of indivi-
duals. The meaning rather is, that there is a kind of good-
ness which, even in the view of God and the enlightened

204 § 21. EEFUTATION OF ERKONEOUS VIEWS OF THE MORAL LAW.

conscience, is not duty, because, although good, nay, even a
higher species of good, it does not come into the category of
duty, this being too low for it. Here belongs the doctrine of
the so-called Evangelical Counsels (or the consilia ijcrfcctionis),
which, to be sure, in their consequences, prove to be very
unevangelical, and even lead back, in their own way, to a
constrained and painful service of works. The doctrine holds
that, besides what belongs to common morality, there is an
uncommon, higher morality which God has not commanded,
but which confers perfection — opera supcrerogatoria , some-
thing superobligatory. By such oiKva, many say further, a
thesaurus operum is filled up which is under the control of the
Church, and contains merits which are transferable to others,
and so make indulgences possible. According to this, not the
whole life and all its powers are embraced by the law of
duty, which, though unconditional, yet is modified according
to the individuality ; but rather there is one part reserved for
man which he can dispose of arbitrarily. If, now, with refer-
ence to what he is under no obligation to do, he restricts or
gives up his freedom, i.e. his right of arbitrary conduct, for
the sake of the perfection which can be a matter only of
advice, he acquires for himself a merit. ■^ To this higher,
optional excellence belong not so much certain good works
recommended by the Church, such as fasting, alms-giving,
mortifications (except in so far as they reach a very unusual
degree), as rather, particularly, the so-called vows of poverty,
of chastity, and of obedience, which involve the renunciation
of property, of marriage, and of personal freedom. Of course
it is assumed that those who make the sacrifice of these three
things do not fall behind others in the realm of common
duties. But this realm is unduly limited ; for example, the
duty of faithful management of property is swallowed up by

^ Cf. Bellarmin, Je Controversil<i Jidel chr. torn 2, lib. ii. cap. 9 ; J. A. Moliler,
SymboUk, ed. 6, pp. 159, 213 sq. [Symbolism, etc., urans. from the German
by Jas. B, Robertson, Lond. 184.3, pp. 181, 240 sq.— Te.] ; C. T. Werner,
System der christlichen Ethik, 1850-52, vol. i. pp. 368, 408 ; Martin, de
C'onsiliis quce vocantur perfection^, 1850 ; Julius Mliller, Lehre von der
Si'md.e, vol. i. p. 64 sq. ed. 5 [In English : The Christian Doctrine of Sin, trans,
by AV. Urwick (Clark, Edin. 1868), vol. i. p. 52.— Tr.] ; Schmid, Sittenlehre,
p. 441 ; Rothe, ed. 1, vol. iii. p. 90 ; Wuttke, vol. i. § 81 [Christian Ethics,
vol. ii. § 80.— Te.].

THE CONSILIA EVAXGELICA. THE EXEGETICAL ARGUMENT. 205

the pretended perfection which rejects the possession of
property as being worthless for the development of personal
morality.

In defence of this doctrine of the Consilia Evangelica, both
exegetical and intrinsic reasons are adduced. As the founda-
tion of the whole doctrine of the Evangelical Counsels, Luke
xvii. 1 0 is given ; while, for the vows of poverty and of
celibacy in particular, Luke xviii. 22, Matt. xix'. 11, 12, 21,
1 Cor. ix. 14-17 are adduced. Mohler understands Luke
xvii. 1 0 thus : Christ, he says, calls it unprofitable when one
does not do more than it is his duty to do ; consequently the
Christian must do more than is his duty. But the passage
does not say that : it says rather that with respect to what-
ever he can do the man ouglit to say, " What I have done is
no more than it was my duty to do ; I have therefore no
merit, no rightful claim to reward. On the contrary, I am
an unprofitable servant ; I have brought to God no profit
which He is bound to requite ; " just as the master spoken of
in the context owes the slave no thanks. The passage, there-
fore, means this : With reference to whatever of good we have
done we ought to say. We are unprofitable servants ; we have
only done what it was our duty to do. And this requires
that we regard also the so-called good of the Consilia rather
as something due, that is, as duty. We are unprofitable all
the more, since we are all to regard ourselves as sinners, who
have rather to beg forgiveness than to demand a reward.
If the meaning were that, when the common duties are done,
the man remains still an unprofitable servant, then, in order
not to be unprofitable, he would be under oUigation to strive
after perfection ; and thus too out of the counsel results duty
and command. Besides, the whole passage is directed against
Pharisaic self-righteousness ; to this a back-door would be
opened, if Jesus meant to exhort us to do anything more
than our duty, that is, anything meritorious. How would
the universal necessity of redemption consist with this ?
Christ means to exhort us to humility, and through humility
to faith (vers. 5 and 6). Finally, Jesus does not say that
any one has done everything, but only supposes the case,
and even in this He declares that there is no room for merit
or self-congratulation.

206 § 21. HEFUTATION OF ERRONEOUS VIEWS OF THE MORAL LAW.

Ill Matt. xix. 21, where the renunciation of riches is
spoken of, Jesus does not cancede to the young man that he
has kept the whole law from youth up ; for this law forbids
even evil desires. He does not say, as Martin affirms, that,
since the young man has fulfilled the law, he only needs, in
order to perfection, also to give up his possessions. For Jesus
regards him as not yet righteous and pleasing to God, as not
yet a member of the kingdom of God ; but He regards him
as still standing outside of the kingdom of God, for He says,
after the youth has gone away sorrowful, " How hardly shall
they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God ! "
Otherwise how could He call on him to lay up treasure in
heaven and to follow Him ? Jesus' words rather are designed
to help the young man to a knowledge of himself, to make
him see how much his heart still clings to earthly treasures.
If his desire to attain to the kingdom of God was earnest and
victorious, he followed after Jesus, — a service which then
involved outward separation from his home, — and was able to
become perfect ; as we all through Christ can, and should,
become perfect (Matt. v. 48). The requirement that he
should divest himself of his outward possessions, was the
test whether his heart clung to his wealth as the highest
good ; and to be able at first to stand this test inwardly was
for this particular youth the condition of discipleship.

When in Matt. xix. 11, 12 those are spoken of who for
the kingdom of heaven's sake refrain from marriage (as, e.g.,
Paul did on account of his work), and when it is added, " He
that is able to receive it, let him receive it ; all men cannot
receive this saying, but they to whom it is given," it is most
distinctly affirmed that it is not left to man's mere option
whether he shall refrain from marriage, but that that depends
on a special individual gift. He to whom " it is given " has in
this gift, as in everything to which he is entitled, a talent for
which he is responsible ; just as he who is personally fitted
for marriage is fulfilling his vocation when he lives as a
married man. In all men should dwell the spirit of love,
which wholly devotes itself to the interests of the kingdom
of God, according to the requirements of one's vocation and
individual characteristics. Whether this unselfish devotion
requires marriage or celibacy, is to be decided by that

SUPEREKOGATOKY WORKS. THE EXEGETICAL ARGUMENT. 207

wisdom of love which must give directions for the right use
of freedom, that is, must seek the place in which this freedom
can exert itself most fruitfully.

Tliese passages certainly teach that the one universal and
absolute fundamental duty of love adapts itself to individual
characteristics and circtimstances. The same love uses the
different individualities in wisdom ; this, however, does not
open to them a domain of caprice and option, but rather each
individual is embraced by the one law of many members,
which requires for love a rich and manifold, but not uniform,
manifestation. What is dut}^ for the individual, in view of
his individuality, others cannot decide ; it can also not be
determined by any abstract rule. Ultimately in every act
something must be left to the conscience of the individual,
but so left that under like circumstances every one would
have to do the same that is the duty of the individual.
In 1 Cor. vii. 17, 20, where Paul speaks of marriage and
celibacy, he lays down the general rule, " Let each one abide
in his calling," that is, in consideration of his individual
characteristics which decide concerning his calling. 1 Cor.
ix. 14—17 does not at all bear upon the matter in question.
For when Paul says that it is his privilege to live of the
gospel, but that he refrains from doing so for the gospel's
sake, this does not mean that, because he has a claim on the
Christians to be supported by them, and yet makes no use of
it, therefore this is optional with him in the sight of God
also. Eather Paul believed that, in God's judgment, he had
no right to do otherwise than he did. But the most convinc-
ing confutation of this whole doctrine of Evangelical Counsels
is found in Jas. iv. 17, cf. Luke xii. 47, "To him that knoweth
to do good and doeth it not, to him it is sin." Therefore what
the Consilia Evangelica advise is either not good but the con-
trary, in which case failure to do it is duty ; or it is something
good, in which case failure to do it is sin, and the performance
of it is duty. But the positive side of the confutation lies
in the fact that the law is the law of love, which is the
apaKe(f)a\aLO)ai<i of the law. Por according to this there can be
nothing good which lies above it or beneath it. Love itself,
however, is what absolutely all men are required to exercise ;
it is not merely the duty of certain individuals. Since,

208 § 21. REFUTATION OF ERRONEOUS VIEWS OF THE MORAL LAW.

therefore, love claims all the faculties for itself, there is left
no place for the Consilia Evangelica.

There are intrinsic reasons, however, adduced on the
Eoman Catholic side for the Consilia Evangelica. Mohler
says : The love which dwells in the Christian is infinitely
superior to the law, since it is able to discover more and
more tender relations to God and to the world, and never
satisfies itself. But this implies a very low conception of the
law, even as to its positive contents. Inasmuch as love com-
prehends all the commandments, all of them being fulfilled in
love, how shall one go to work in order to do anything beyond
what the law of love requires ? Or shall we say that love
itself is not commanded ? How can one by loving accom-
plish anything that is superior to love ? Just here it
becomes very evident how pregnant with evil it has been for
the Eoman Catholic doctrine, that its teachers have not
grasped the doctrine of the law and the gospel as found in
the New Testament and set forth by the Eeformation. The
Consilia Evangelica are an ethical monstrosity, full of con-
tradictions, which can be cleared up only by a correct appre-
hension of the difference, and of the oneness, of law and
gospel. In the doctrine of the Evangelical Counsels the
Eoman Catholic ethics tends, on one side, towards the
Evangelical standpoint. For therein the feeling asserts itself,
that the universality of the moral law cannot be taken in the
sense of the uniform sameness of the law for all men, but that
there must be a place for individual freedom ; hence one
person may properly engage in a worldly vocation, while
another may remain a monk. But the freedom which the
Consilia Evangelica. allow must not be confounded with the
moral attitude which grows out of personal peculiarities. For
though these peculiarities find a sort of recognition in the
Consilia, yet the counsels are not regarded as duty for the
individual just as he is.

Again, it cannot but be seen that in these counsels the feel-
ing asserts itself, that in general the legal standpoint cannot
be regarded as the highest one in morality. An attempt is
made, however, to find, above the law, a special region which
is practically quite other than that of the common moral law,
and is of a nobler, or, as it were, more heavenly sort. But

THE LA.W OF FKEEDOM. 209

the contents of the moral law retain even under the gospel their
immutable holiness ; and the legal stage cannot be left behind
by dissolving the contents of the law, or by making them less
binding through the introduction of a higher element. This
can be done only by the person's assuming another attitude
than before, viz. the evangelical attitude, towards the holy
and imperishable law. Then the law does not merely stand
over against the will in such a way that, even when the will
does the required deeds, these are done not from love, but only
from impure motives, or at the best only out of regard for
the law. Eather, in love man's freedom and the immutable
imperative demands of morality become perfectly blended.
'Now through an optical illusion it comes to pass that the
person, instead of looking for the defect in himself, i.e. in his
attitude towards tlie law, looks for it in the law on its
objective side. Instead of giving its rightful place to the all-
comprehending law of love, which is also freedom, he lets
another sort of law, a merely advisory rule of conduct, enter
in, which is made subject to free choice, i.e. to pure option.
The truth is overlooked, that the genuine Christian freedom
consists in one's being bound by the Spirit of God, and must
not be identified with option and caprice. The moral law is
looked upon as something enslaving, that is, as opposed to
freedom ; and it is not seen that it is, rather, a law in favour
of freedom, — a law that is seeking an embodiment, and finds
it in that most exquisite and free delight which sees and loves^
in the law of the good, nothing but that which is truest to-
one's own nature. In a word, in the view under considera-
tion, ethical necessity and ethical freedom, both of which
demand of course to be recognised, fail to become united and
blended, because an incorrect conception of both prevails.
The necessary and the free are, rather, assigned to two
different classes of men. Freedom is reserved only for the
disciples of the Consilia Evangclica, who pass for a spiritual
class morally higher than others, and are thus led to cherish
the conceit of spiritual elevation above the law and a false
notion of the autonomy of their free will ; while the other
class does not get beyond a servile, constrained attitude
towards the law.

Note. — The force of these arguments is not evaded by Werner

210 § 21. EEFUTATION OF EKEONEOUS VIEWS OF THE MORAL LAW.

either (vol. i. pp. 393-407). He concedes that for common
duties, even for duties of right, a spirit of love must be required.
He concedes that poverty, obedience to superiors, and celibacy,
and in general all outward works, apart from a loving disposi-
tion, fail to constitute perfection. He even says (p. 407) that
the Consilia Evangclica are also to be regarded as duty. But
if so, they would cease to be mere consilia; and the apparent
concession is to be explained by the fact that he regards the
Consilia Evangelica as duty only ibr those who already stand in
these relations and are bound to them by vow.

2. Something of this Eoman Catholic mode of conception
has penetrated the ethics of Protestants also. This may be
said of .A.mmon, when he speaks of degrees of obligation, and
lays down a distinction between perfect and im'perfcct duties,
reckoning especially duties of right as belonging to the first
class, and the others as not belonging to it. Similarly Kant
says that the violation of strict duty, or the duty of right,
involves guilt, whereas that of duty in the wider sense, or
such duty as constitutes virtue, does not involve guilt, but
only the absence of moral worth, while the fulfilment of them
involves merit. Love, which he elsewhere sets aside, here
tries again to find a place ; and this indicates a vague feeling
that there is a higher moral stage than the legal one. But
the way by which Kant comes to it is objectionable. It is
incorrect not to regard love as duty, and the neglect of it as
o-uilt. To him that knoweth to do good and doeth it not, to him
it is sin (Jas. iv. 17). And Paul says, " Owe no man anything,
but to love one another." Degrees of duty, in themselves and
objectively considered, are out of the question. For duty is
something in its nature unconditional (Eothe, 1st ed. § 834) ;
but the unconditional has no degrees. It is only in a sub-
jective sense that we can speak of degrees of obligation, in so
far as there are different degrees in the clearness of the moral
sense, or of the consciousness of obligation, as e.g. in the case
of an oath. An oath does not increase the obligation of
veracity (this exists without the oath), but it does sharpen
one's own consciousness of the obligation. But the same is
true of all duties which have an absolute character. Therefore
neither is the duty of rectitude a more perfect duty than the
duty of benevolence, nor vice versa. It is true that in the
execution of anything, that which is the foundation or neces-

IMPERFECT DUTIES. TERMLSSIBLE ACTIONS. 211

saiy condition must precede the structure itself. The duty of
rectitude is the foundation. But the foundation and the
morality built up on it are hoth alike commanded ; in the
proper benevolent disposition which must also be required for
the duties of rectitude, both of them, indeed, are at once willed
and united. Amongst the manifold things which are necessary
to the accomplishment of the moral end for which the world
exists, there is a distinction which has a logical and real im-
portance : That which is means to the end must be chosen first.
But the obligation to choose it is not therefore any greater.

3. More difficult and disputed is the question whether,
besides obligatory things, there are permissible ^ things respect-
ing which one can act purely according to option — a view
taken by not a few moralists, among them Chalybaus. On
the one hand, it seems in the highest degree objectionable to
give up to arbitrary free will a sphere which it may seek to
fill up with meritorious deeds, and such as transcend, as it
were, moral obligation. Upon the assumption that there is a
sphere of being not affected by duty, and, so far forth, beneath
morality, there may be built up only too naturally the
assumption of something that is above morality. If the moral
laM^ covers everything, and if it knows nothing but uncondi-
tional requirements, it cannot grant permits to rove about
av6/jico<; at pleasure. On the other hand, it does not seem as
if it could be demanded that every action of a person should
be regarded as duty ; e.g. that in walking I take the first step
with the right foot and not with the left ; that in eating I lay
hold of this and not of that article of food. If everything
were subsumed under the category of duty, would not one's
whole life be decomposed into atoms, and, through continual
reflection, all ease and freedom of flow in the moral life be
lost ? To use Kant's language, would not the whole moral
world be strewn with the traps of duty ? An ethics which would
bring together everything, the smallest as well as the greatest,
under the notion of unconditional duty seems certain to result

^ Sclileiermacher, Ueher das ErlauUe, Werke, vol. ii. p. 41S sq. ; Hartenstein,
Grundhegriffe der ethischen Wissenscliaften, p. 346 sq. ; Chalybaus, Philo-
sophische Etliik, i. § 74 ; Rotlie, 1st ed. vol. iii. p. 24 sq. ; Martensen, Christian
Ethics, § 133 sq. ; KiJstlin, Jahrhilcher fur deutsche Theologie, vol. xiv. p.
464 sq. ; Wcndt, Ucbcr das sittlich Erlaubte, 1880.

212 § 21. EEFUTATION OF ERRONEOUS VIEWS OF THE MORAL LAW

in over-strictness, and to favour scrupulousness and a morbid
development of the conscience. The solution of these seeming
contradictions will be found, if we take our start from the
correct conception of moral action, as well as of the per-
missible, including the so-called morally indifferent.

As to moral action, we must distinguish between it and a
factor of the action. Every action, as a relative whole, is
subject to the law of duty ; but there is not a special duty for
every factor in such an action. There are also functions of a
physical or psychical kind, which constitute no action of the
person, but are only accompanying motions, or such as,
according to the character of the organism, act a subservient
part. It is an action, e.g., when I carry out a resolution to
take recreation by walking in the open air. This volition, now,
works on of itself in every step, and takes the organism, as it
is, without special further reflection, into its service. The
case is similar with the whole realm of amusement and enjoy-
ment. This also is embraced by the law of duty, but by no
means so that the free pleasure and movement must be
hampered by reflective and anxious legality. Duty and moral
law have, it is true, the decisive voice in the resolution to
indulge in recreation, sport, and enjoyment ; they have like-
wise the right to demand that in all this nothing impure shall
be admittted. But this is possible without a legal, anxious
watching of one's self. The agent can, and should, attain
freedom, not from duty and law, but in them ; he should
acquire a moral tact, the product of a matured faculty for
virtue ; and this tact, without any troublesome reflection,
and by virtue of a naturally indwelling moral perception, will
hit upon that which is proper objectively and for the
individual.

Now, as to the notion of permissible, or morally indifferent,
actions, here likewise we must premise that moral or immoral
actions are out of the question, until the consciousness of duty
or of law is awakened. Certainly the right to the exercise
of one's freedom cannot be denied to man, even before the
awaking of the moral consciousness. In this sense, therefore,
there will indeed always be things permitted, because neither
commanded nor forbidden ; but this does not give us permis-
sible moral actions ; for these are ante-moral acts^ which are

THE THEOEY OF PERMISSIBLE ACTIONS. 213

not as yet subject to moral judgment. It is true, even after
the moral sense is aroused, it may happen that the agent sees
before him various possible things, respecting which it is not
at once clear to him whether all of them are possible con-
sistently with morality, or whether one or another among
them is so. When, now, one must nevertheless take action,
it may be said : The one thing is, in a moral respect, as
possible as the other, i.e. they are all equally permitted. But
it is plain that here, too, there is lacking an element essential
to the notion of a moral action, viz. the consciousness of the
power of the law to take in also this other action. [One does
not even know in this case whether the law commands,
forbids, or only allows it. — Ed.] But now, are there not
morally indifferent actions ? That could be the fact only in
case the moral law itself laid down various moral, and equally
excellent, possibilities, according to the principle that difiereut
means or ways may lead to the same end. But what is
indifferent in one respect will yet not be so in another,
because every definite act of a person will have its peculiar
relations and effects in other directions. Accordingly nothing
but want of a clear perception of these relations can be the
reason why in this case a variety of morally indifferent actions
is sometimes assumed. Absolutely morally indifferent nothing
can be ; because the moral law is authorized to embrace and
sanction everything.

§ 22. Oneness of the Moral Law, and Conflict of Duties.

However manifold the moral law may be, in reference to the
actions and works which it requires, it cannot stand in
opposition to itself; for we must ascribe to it perfect
oneness in and with itself. Hence there can be no
objective conflict of duties.

Literature. — Eothe, 1st ed. vol. iii. § 854, 856, p. 63 sqq. Von
der Goltz, Ueher die Ursachen der Collision von Pflichten, in the
DeutscJi-Evangelischen Blatter for June 1879. Frank, System der
christlichen Sittlichkeit, § 22, p. 393 sq. Cf. the literature, § 20.

1. The oneness of the moral law has, in the first place, a
negative meaning. It is not discordant in itself, and cannot

214 § 22. ONENESS OF THE LAW, AND CONFLICT OF DUTIES.

contradict itself. For if the moral law is characterized by-
necessity and absoluteness, there cannot be opposite things
which are both at once absolutely obligatory, because in that
case the one would nullify the other. But the more emphatic
meaning of the unity of the moral law is the positive one :
It constitutes a compact unity or totality, not merely in the
formal sense that it all has the same source and authority,
but in the sense that it is one in itself, amidst all its manifold-
ness, which comes from the one duty being divided into a
multitude of actions and operations. By virtue of its one-
ness the whole is present in its parts, and affirms itself in
them ; the consequence of which is, that no part of the whole
duty can be willed without the whole being implicitly willed
also, and likewise that the moral law, even when violated
only in one part, is yet even in this part violated as a whole.
This is the sentiment which runs through the whole Epistle
of James (ii. 10, iv. 12). Inasmuch now as this one law at
the same time embraces and dominates everything, even
nature included, whose place is fixed by the laAv, how can
there be place in it for self-contradiction ?

The ^proposition, that there can be a conflict of duties only
in appearance, Protestant moralists can, of course, more
strictly maintain than the Eoman Catholic can ; although
Eoman Catholic moralists also, like Schreiber and the most
evangelical of them, Hirscher,^ would also like to have a part
in defending it. Not only does the Eoman Catholic Church
admit the Scotist doctrine, according to which there may be
one kind of morality for man and another for God's action ;
but also within the world of human beings a twofold species
of morality is said to be constituted by the Consilia
Evangelica — that is, beside the common morality, the
morality of perfection. Although modern writers, like
Martin, Werner, and others, try to call this a misunder-
standing, and to reduce the difference of kind to a difference
of degree, this is not satisfactory. Logically the Consilium
Evangelimim would have rather to be made a universal duty ;
because it must be duty to overcome every defect which
makes one come short of perfection. Again, it is the
characteristic of things distinguished only in degree, that

1 Lc. ii. 199.

OBJECTIONS TO THE ONENESS OF THE MOEAL LAW. 215

the lower are included and preserved in the higher, but not
excluded by them. But how shall one exercise himself
ethically with reference to possessions, freedom, and marriage,
when he sustains towards these things the purely negative
attitude which the Consilia Evangelica recommend ? We
must therefore insist that these consilia involve a relative
depreciation of important departments of moral life, while
yet they extol this depreciation as perfection. A part of
morality, viz. religious life, is here brought into collision
with the rest of morality, and tries to live at its expense.
That purely negative attitude could be called moral only in
case the Manichsean view of the good things of creation
were correct ; but in that case again it would be a universal
duty to renounce them.

2. Against this notion of the solidarity of the moral law,
or of duty, doubts and difiiculties are raised, derived in
part from the nature of morality itself, and especially from
the antithesis between the general and the particular. How
is a conflict of duties avoidable, ask Daub and Marheinecke,
when yet, on the one hand, man, limited in time and space,
can at each moment choose only a single thing ; whereas, on
the other hand, the law, this ideal organism, comprehends all
good, and, moreover, everything is absolutely eternally binding,
and does not first become duty in time ? This difficulty
applies not only to individuals, but also to communities.
For example, the Church should grow intensively ; but it
should grow also extensively, through missions. The indi-
vidual should work for others, but he should also constantly
grow inwardly by means of self-culture. Both prayer and
labour are duties. How much time may each lay claim to ?
What shall be done in all these cases ? Every discliarge of
duty is in a certain respect a solution of the problem of a
conflict of duties, because many things require to be accom-
plished at once. But how is this solution to be found ?
Schleiermacher intensifies the problem by the further observa-
tion, that moral action, in each of its three forms, namely, of
action which portrays, action which purifies, and action which
propagates, presents an infinite work to be done, so that if the
accomplishing of the work is begun with one of them, the
others will never be reached.

216 § 22. ONENESS OF THE LAW, AND CONFLICT OF DUTIES.

One might here attempt to evade the difficulty by saying
that obligation is out of the question so long as one has no
hiowlcdge of that to which the law obligates him ; that this
knowledge, however, is a growing knowledge which he does
not have from the outset. This evasion is not valid ; for
knowledge goes farther than the mere discharge of each duty
as it arises. It goes before the action, and early embraces the
whole man, and a multitude of duties which cannot all
actually pass at once into actions, although they are yet
obligatory. Daub and Marheinecke try to distinguish between
obligation and duty, making the former a latent thing embrac-
ing also that which will not need to be realized till the future,
while duty is made to be that which points to something to
be done now. But this does not sufficiently guard the unity of
the moral law. A latent obligation would be for the moment
no obligation ; and yet it exhibits a certain vitality in the
very fact that there is a moral knowledge concerning it ; this
knowledge is a knowledge of duty. Moreover, it would
imply mutability in the law, if what before was not duty, but
only obligatory, should become duty by means of time.
Eather we must say : If there is a consciousness of obligation,
it must be seen that the thing which it requires can also be
undertaken.

The correct solution is given by Schleiermacher : The
unity of the moral law is secured by the very fact that when
I will to do a single thing, I can include in my volition the
sum-total of morality, by undertaking what I have to do in
the manner prescribed by wisdom. Every individual thing is
to be chosen as a part of the whole ; and, therefore, with this
choice of the whole, which is implied in the moral choice of
the individual thing in question, there begins already the
accomplishment of that which takes its turn later, as a thing
to be done, though it presupposes the previous thing as its
foundation. Moral wisdom discerns in the moral law also
the appropriate, logical order of succession contained in it, so
that there cannot be several incompatible duties contending
to be done at the same moment. Thus, righteousness logically
precedes the positive manifestation of love, being necessarily
presupposed in it. He who is in debt should first think
about getting out of debt, and must not deprive himself of

EVEN SIN OCCASIONS NO EEAL CONFLICT OF DUTIES. 21 7

the possibility of doing so by liberality ; for this would
rather be a taking away from others : giving would be a
wrongful show of right doing. Schleiermacher also observes
further, that in all moral actions all the three kinds are
involved — that which portrays, that which purifies, and that
which propagates, so that though one may preponderate, yet
the essential unity and connection is preserved.

Those, now, who affirm the reality of an objective conflict
of duties urge that through sin an objective derangement has
come in, and that the world which was made for harmony is
put out of joint.^ Through sin, it is said, discord enters into
the objects of moral choice, and therefore into the purposes of
action. Thus arise a multitude of objective conflicts of duties,
among which especially deserve to be named the duties which
one owes to himself, and towards God and men, — the duty of
labouring for the kingdom of God, and the duty of caring for
one's self. Furthermore, there are the ethical communities,
each of which can, through sin, come into dissension both
with itself and with the others. Frank, now, unhesitatingly
assumes that, from the derangement caused by sin, a con-
dition of things results in which real duties are opposed to
each other and yet contend to be done at the same moment.
The ground of the conflicts, he thinks, is not to be found
merely in a subjective lack of moral wisdom ; consequently
wider knowledge would not resolve them. It not seldom
occurs, he says, that the discharge of one duty violates
another duty, which, being a real one, also expresses the
divine will. He would, to be sure, accord to the Christian
(p. 416) the hope of solving the problem of the conflict of
duties, in so far as he is in fellowship with Christ, in whom,
as regards principles, a complete solution is presented. But, on
the other hand, he regards it (pp. 417, 418) as possible that,
even where the impulse comes to a correct decision, according
to the relations to the highest good and to absolute duty, it
may thereby in another direction come " to an apparent or
real " violation of duty. He even not indistinctly recom-
mends (pp. 422, 423) that, in certain exigencies, when there
is a conflict between the duty of love and that of veracity, an

1 Frank, System der christlichen Sittlichhelt, first half, 1884, § 22, pp. 393,
406-423.

218 § 22. ONENESS OF THE LAW, AND CONFLICT OF DUTIES.

untruth should be told, e.g. to a passionate; or insane man, who
may be threatening the life of another ; and he says that it
cannot be regarded as wrong, when the would-be murderer is
looking for the other man's hiding-place, intentionally to put
him on a false track, instead of merely preserving silence
towards him.

The matter is still more complicated in other cases, as
when something has been neglected at an earlier point of time
on which something at a later point depends. The deficiency
caused by the former guilt has, as its consequence, that now,
at one and the same moment several requirements are made
to which one's capacity is unequal, and of which each one
excludes tlie other, inasmuch as they cannot all be fulfilled
together ; while yet the fulfilment of all of them is duty,
being the divine will. So, for example, it is in communities.
If, in the State, poverty and immorality constitute a mis-
chievous circle, each being continually the cause of the
other, the question arises : Which task is first to be attempted,
the removal of the poverty or the removal of the immorality ?
But the solution of the contradiction is here plainly possible ;
for by means of the division of labour both tasks can be
undertaken together. In the individual life, however, the
beginning must be made with the moral cognitions, and the
aim must be to produce virtuousness. Frank must him-
self concede that for Christ there was no objective conflict of
duties. This involves the admission that in the world, in
which Christ as well as others had to live and work, sin
causes no such derangement that an objective conflict of
duties, all obligatory at the same moment, can necessarily
result from it. The derangement or confusion of moral
relations caused by sin has indeed an effect on the course
which the moral process takes ; but the realm of duty itself
does not therefore come into contradiction with itself. It
asserts itself in reality, in spite of the confusion, by the fact
that it indicates the possible remedy and the way to it. A
correct moral perception finds the order in which can be
accomplished the fulfilment of duties which seem to demand
simultaneous attention.

3. Casuistry, by dissolving the unity of the moral law into
independent duties, has found a wide field for its acumen. It

CASUISTRY, 219

sets the duties in opposition to one another, either in order to
seek a decision and at the same time to revel in a dialectical
exercise, or in order to lay the foundation of a moral doubt
which shall have to be settled especially by the father con-
fessors. On the one hand it is said, " Thou shalt not kill ; "
on the other, in war the command to kill is valid. A promise
is made to do something which it is sinful to do ; but while
one must not commit sin, one must also not violate a promise.
In such a case there seems even to be no possibility of finding
a way out, consistently with morality. For there seems here
to be sin in the very failure to sin, because this failure is a
breach of promise ; while also it would be sinful to keep the
promise. Or conversely, the commission of sin involves the
doing of good, viz. the keeping of a promise. In like manner
the so-called lie of necessity says : Thou shalt sometimes lie
for love's sake. In this case one duty is always selected as
an abstract thing, and is set up as an individual duty absolutely
in opposition to others ; whereas it should be conceived of as
a member of the whole, so that in the volition the whole
must be willed, and not its opposite. Except for this error
nothing which is right could be forbidden, and nothing which
involves a violation of another duty could really assume the
appearance of an obligatory command. The solution of such
concrete cases of apparent conflict is possible only when we
start with the recognition of the organic unity of all moral
action, and of the intrinsic relation of the members of the
moral world to one another. The basis for the solution of
such cases lies, therefore, in the recognition of the relations of
the moral spheres to one another.

Note. — Other cases of alleged objective conflicts of duty which
are adduced would have to be accurately stated before they can
be solved. The persecution of apostles and confessors was, as
Paul after his conversion painfully saw, a grave sin. On the
other hand, the persecutors may think themselves to be doing
God service ; accordingly, since it is duty to do good when one
knows it, and in doing so one must follow his own conviction,
even though erroneous, sin seems to be involved in the omission
of sin, i.e. of the persecution. This case of conflict is solved by
the consideration that what is not of faith is sin. A persecutor
of Christians does not stand in the faith ; whether he persecutes
or fails to persecute, he stands in sin, that is, in opposition

220 § 22. ONENESS OF THE LAW, AND CONFLICT OF DUTIES.

to duty ; and so here too an objective conflict of duties is
excluded,^

On the other hand, suhjcdive conflicts of duties are indeed not
to be denied. It is very possible that a man through lack of
wisdom, or, in general, of moral force, may sometimes stand
still in perplexity, and not know which of several moral duties
he is first to lay hold of. Here belongs the celebrated case of
the plank which two shipwrecked persons grasp, while it is able
to bear only one. Which of the two shall give way ? This
cannot be told, because the data for a moral decision are as
yet too vague and abstract. In real life there will be always
disclosed a ditieience in the claims, because there are no two
persons entirely alike and alike situated ; two such would
rather be one, and so the conHict of duties would disappear. If
the concrete data are given, the moral faculty, in the form of
wisdom, can come to a decision. Eothe in this connection calls
attention to the difference in individuals, it the individual is
heroic, he will, without further consideration, aim to save the
other. If he is governed more by the principle of caution, it
will be allowable to deliberate which of the two shall die.
Only it would be bad if one should stick to the plank for the
reason that he regards himself as the better, or as more import-
ant for the kingdom of God. If the case is supposed that the
claims of both are entirely equal, and no difference between
them is discoverable, so that neither of them morally would
have the right to give way to the other or to remain, then they
are brought into a predicament in which both must perish or
await death, in order not to act immorally in one direction or
the other. By this putting of the case they are both with
mathematical necessity destined to die ; and that is a smaller
misfortune than that either should intentionally kill himself or
the other. The persons do not need, even in such a case, to be
morally unproductive. The Christian in such a position, await-
ing death, would still be able in prayer to realize his fellowship
with God.

We still insist, after all, that tJici^e can he no such objectively
7iccesso.ry conflict of duties as could not he solved hy wisdom. Even
sin cannot affect this conclusion. For that would imply that
evil may gain such a power that the good could be accomplished
only by means of evil, and that, too, forbidden evil. Kather,
the only effect of evil is, that the healing of the moral faculties,
together with everything which makes that healing possible
and actual, now enters into the circle of the duties ; to seek this
cure must be the first duty, because it is the prerequisite of the
discharge of every other moral duty. For example, in the case

^ Cf. what is said by the author lower down on the so-called erring conscience.

§ 23. DUTY AND RIGHT. 221

of a drunkard, the first thing required is nothing else than a
state of sobriety ; this furnishes the possibility of his coming to
the consciousness of his general condition, and thereby to a real
conversion. If there is a lack of moral power, what is done in
spite of the lack is indeed not a matter of indifference ; but it
is not possible for him to take an actual part in the general
moral work (Matt. vii. 17, 18).

§ 23. Duty and Right}

From the notion of the moral law, which may also be called
GocVs objective rigid (t2Qt^'p), there arises, first, that of duty,
because the law involves an unconditional Ouglit which
concerns all rational beings (§19 sqq.). But from duty,
which, as being something morally, and not physically,
necessary, is addressed to freedom, and presupposes
freedom, there results also for man a right and a realm
of rights. For out of the unconditional obligatory Ought
there results, first of all, the primordial right, or funda-
mental right, of man to do his duty, — the right to be a
moral being. There is no power which has the right to
prevent this. For a right which should oppose this
universal duty would undermine the very foundation of
right itself. All actual human rights are derived from
the law {i.e. the objective right) through the medium of
obligation, and exist as objects of duty. They constitute
the ]possihility of the accomjjlishmcnt of duty, and this is
the absolute ground on which they rest.

1. Duty and right in genercd, in relation to the objective
law, or God. — The divine right is identical with the divine
law, and has therefore been already treated of in the foregoing.
The divine law can be called divine right because, oxi
account of its intrinsic excellence, it has the right to make
unconditional requirements, in order to put men under obli-
gation to produce that order of human life which corresponds
to it. But the point now is to discern how a right and rights
also accrue to man, and that out of his duty and his duties.

' [Cf. Trendelenburg, Naturrecht, § 45 ; vid, the literature, § 33a. — Ed.]

222 § -23. DUTY AND EIGHT.

True, the first thing empirically is not tlie consciousness of
duty and law, but the power of the will to exercise itself in
various ways ; and the created being is entitled or authorized
to exercise this inborn power. But this right is an ante-
moral one, and has nothing to do with moral right until the
consciousness of a law springs up ; it therefore does not itself
as yet stand fast as having the character of necessity. The
moral law, moreover, cannot be derived from it. If we start
from right and rights, instead of from duty and duties, we
cannot reach a right which is worthy of the name. Right,
when it is not based on duty, is identical with the permissible
or the morally indeterminate ; and nothing is more natural
than that this option (that is, spurious freedom), once admitted,
should seek to extend its limits more and more, and when
the law makes its appearance, to hem it in as if it were an
enemy. But in this way human right itself and the totality
of human rights lose just their security. If right and the
assertion of it are not deepened into duty, it has no absolute
necessity ; a person may behave as he pleases about it, and
may treat national and public rights as private affairs ; and
Avhere this becomes general it leads to the ruin of the whole,
and to the ruin of the rights of the individual. But over
against others also, right is in this case not secured. If
my right is not founded in an objective law which becomes
duty, it is itself not objective, my right does not obligate
another person to recognise it, it is only identical with my
power. And since the same is true of others with reference
to me, there occur collisions in which the stronger prevails
But the right of the stronger is as such no right at all. Eight
is the revelation of an absolute idea, and therefore something
objective.

But duty also cannot stand as something fixed, unless it is
allowed to constitute the foundation, that is, to occupy the
first place, and not merely a secondary one, dependent on
option. It might indeed be thought that even if we make
right, or tlie rights of the moral agent, and not duties, our
starting-point, we may yet attain to real duty and a common
objective right by means of convention and agreement, and
that thus marriage and the family relation, religious and poli-
tical communities, may be built upon conventional agreements.

DUTY AND EIGHT IN HUJIAN EELATIONS. 223

Bat without tlie recognition of the moral duty of faithfulness
to treaty arrangements there can be no treaty rights estab-
lished ; and so again the priority of duty before subjective
right is clear. Duty has no such ignoble origin that it
must owe its existence to the option of moral agents. It
is duty rather which first makes man actually rational ; it is
therefore to be recognised as the necessary foundation, and
from it fixed objective right is to be derived. The person
is to defend his personal rights as the organ of the moral
idea, and for the sake of that idea, not from mere regard to
self.

2. Duty and right in the relation of man to man. — As
related to God, there is at first a duty, but no right, such as
would make us co-ordinate with God. From the fundamental
relation of obligation to God is also derived man's first right,
namely, the right to fulfil duty. On the other hand, men
are co-ordinate with one another ; and in the relation of man
to man the obverse of my duty to another is the right of the
latter ; and the obverse of my right is the duty of the other
to recognise it. Unless this were the duty of the other man,
then there would not be really any right on my part. That
my right is the other's duty, the other's right my duty, makes
right and duty correlative. The two thus stand conditioning
one another ; if one falls, the other falls also. But they can
be correlates only in case they both spring from an objective
law standing above them, which cherishes the true interests
of all, being just in itself, and loving all alike — a law which
both obligates all equally, and endows all with rights. Hence,
in order to establish the reality of a system of human rights,
that is, the relation of reciprocal rights and duties, we must
go back to an objective right independent of the human
agent, — to one which is founded ultimately in God Himself,
nay, which is God Himself. This law is in itself the objec-
tive aboriginal right, that is, God's righteous order ; and this
becomes law and duty for the world. By the side of God's
aboriginal right, or His righteousness, stands power, as the
arm of righteousness, by means of which, against violations of
His unconditional law, He maintains the law's honour, which
is at the same time His own honour.

Duty is therefore for man the first thing. God has the

224 § 23. DUTY AND RIGHT.

unconditional o^ight to impose obligation, to require that His
will shall prevail. God has created the world not only from
love, but for holy love ; hence the world is under obligation
to do what is morally good ; and just herein is also laid the
foundation-stone of a human right, an objective and absolute
right, which does not depend on treaty, or custom, or positive
legislative stipulations, but stands as impregnable as a duty.
That is, mans primordial right, the true fundamental right,
ivhich results from his duty, is the right to he a moral being.
This is a great good, the moral honour, incomparably higher
than the honour considered in the First Division/ Two
elements are involved in this — a purely negative and a posi-
tive one. No human being can rightly be treated as if he
were not designed for that which is absolutely worthy, and
this for him. This, hov/ever, involves, positively, the right
of this moral honour or moral destination to assert itself —
one's right to exercise activity, but also one's right to receive
from others. The latter is the prerequisite of the former,
being that by which the real moral personality is 77iade possible.
Thus we have a firm foundation of right for the individuah
It does not depend on the option of the human agent to
surrender the right to be a moral being and the possibility
of realizing his moral destination. This right is not at his
disposal, because this right is also a right which the law has
over him ; in other words, it is his duty ; and in this con-
sciousness this right is to be maintained.

Note. — From the idea of objective divine right there results
for the moral agent the sense of duty, which again on its part
lays the foundation for the recognition of the mutual rights of
persons. When this idea springs up in the consciousness, then
tlie State takes its rise ; and everything spoken of in § 17, all
the natural excellences of individuals and all the associations
which spring up naturally, being now placed under the aspect
of objective right and law, attain a higher position. But they
reach this higher form only through the moral process itself,
and through what it has to deal with. Hence this cannot be
discussed till we come to the Third Division. Having considered
the doctrine of the objective law (§20 sqq.), we come now to
the—

1 Vid. above, p. 190. Cf. in general, § 18.

THE doctrinf: of conscience. 225

SECOND SECTION.

THE DOCTIJINE OF CONSCIENCE.

§ 24.

Conscience, which is the one pole of our moral nature, § 19,
is, considered in its origin, the voice of God, while at
the same time it is also man's own knowledge, the voice
of innate reason. As to its form, conscience claims the
power of making all moral good unconditionally
obligatory. As to its contents, it includes the know-
ledge of the distinction between good and evil in
general, while in addition to this it also includes — ■
in proportion to its degree of development — tlie
special knowledge of what actions are good or bad.
Conscience as legislative is called antecedent ; as a motive
power and as a witness of particular actions it is called
concomitant ; finally, in its character of critic or judge of
actions that are past it is said to be subsequent. But
in all its temporal forms of manifestation, conscience,
although the representative of the ethically necessary,
is an evidence of human freedom ; it addresses itself
to freedom, presupposes it as a faculty already existent,
and serves to bring it to realization.

LiTERATUKE. — Stiiudlin, Gcseliichte cler Lehre vom Gcivissen,
1824. Crusius, Lchrhueh der chr. Sittenlehre (treats more
particularly of the motive power of conscience). De Wette,
Vorlesungen ilher Sittenlehre, 1823, i. 2, p. 315 sq. Christliche
Sittenlehre, i. p. 90. Daub, Morcd, i. pp. 75, 377. Eothe,
i. 262, § 147 ; 2nd ed. § 177, note 3. Passavant, Das
Gnuissen, 2nd ed. 1857. Schenkel, article Gcwissen in
Herzog's Beal-Eneyklo2Jddie, and his Bogmatik aus dem Stand-
'punhtc des Geioissens, 1856, i. 135 sq. Glider, Erorterung
'iiber die Lehre vom Gewissen, nach der Schrift, in Studien unci
Kritikcn, 1857, 2. Schlottraann, Ueher den Begriff des
Gewissens. Beutsche Zeitschrift, 1857, Nr. 15 sq. Heman,
Aphorismen IXher das Gewissen. Jaltrhilcher fur deutselic Th. xi.
483 sq. Kostlin, I.e. p. 181. R Hoffmann, Bic Lehre vom

226 § 24. THE DOCTPJNE OF CONSCIENCE.

Gewissen, 1866. Delitzsch, System dcr hillischen PsycJwlogic,
§ 4. Beck, Umriss dcr MMischen Seelenlehrc, 71 sq. Gass, Die
Lehre vom Getuisscn, 1869, with an appendix on die Synderesis.
Eitschl, Veher das Gewissen, 1876. Martin Kahler, Die schrift-
gemdsse Lelire vom Gewissen in Hirer Bedeutiuig fur christliches
Lchen unci Lehrcn, 1864, and the larger work by the same
author, Das Geivissen, Part i. 1878. (These are elaborate gram-
matical investigations.) Cremer, Biblico-thcologiccd Lexicon,
art. (jijvoiha. J. J. Hoppe, Das Geivissen, 1875 (a psychological
discussion). [Ulrici, Gott unci der Menscli,2i\di ed. ii. p. 366 sq.
Sommer, Geivissen und moderne Cidtur, 1884. — Ed.]

1. Conscience is one of the most important topics in the
whole of ethics, and even in the whole of theology, especially
evangelical theology. The characteristic of the evangelical
standpoint with reference to the appropriation of Christianity
is, that instead of following mere subjective opinions or the
current of dominant human authorities, it both demands and
promises that Christian truth be vindicated to the conscience
itself, and is therefore in a position to hold up personal
assurance of faith as an attainable goal. There is even a
still plainer connection than this between conscience and the
central truth in the evangelical doctrine of salvation. The
announcement of justification as an act of divine grace, or
the free forgiveness of siu, addresses itself to aroused and
awakened consciences, for such alone are truly capable of
arriving through repentance at that faith which is able to
appreciate at its true worth the prevenient grace of God, and
to appropriate the offered boon. Moreover, as conscience
when it is angry and accusing incites us, if it be properly
guided, to seek Him who is the divine atonement for sin, so
it becomes, if this atonement be accepted in sincere penitence
and faith, the abode of the peace of God. Yea, a good
conscience now becomes the very soul of sanctification. This
is the reason why the writings of the Eeformers, Luther's
especially and Calvin's, are so full of passages about con-
science and its different functions, although it is true that
they did not furnish a complete doctrine of conscience. Such
a doctrine, indeed, we do not possess even yet. The post-
Eeformation theology, like that of the Middle Ages, treated
conscience in a one-sided intellectual way — as a Byllorjismns
yraeticus. Even such as admit it to be an original and

BIBLICAL DOCTRINE OF CONSCIENCE.

227

luiderived faculty, and refuse to ]jase it upon empiricism or
reflection, are at variance among themselves on several points.
They disagree as to whether it is most allied to knowledge,
will, or feeling ; and further, to say nothing about their differ-
— - "- f^ fLo rplation which conscience holds to religion.

226 § 24. THE DOCITJNE OF CONSCIENCE.

Gewissen, 1866. Delitzsch, System clcr hihlischcn Psychologic,
§ 4 Beck, Umriss dcr hihliscjien Seelenlclirc, 71 sq. Gass, Die
Lelire vom Gewissen, 1869, with an appendix on die Synderesis.
Eitschl, Ueher das Gewissen, 1876. Martin Kahler, Die schrift-
gemdsse Lehrc vom Gewissen in Hirer Bedeutung fur christliches
Lchen mid Lehren. 1864- nn/l +k^ i

BIBLICAL DOCTPJNE OF CONSCIENCE. 227

luiderived faculty, and refuse to base it upon empiricism or
reflection, are at variance among themselves on several points.
They disagree as to whether it is most allied to knowledge,
will, or feeling ; and further, to say nothing about their differ-
ences as to the relation which conscience holds to religion,
they are not at one as to whether it merely takes cognizance
of past acts, and has therefore only critical or judicial functions
to discharge, or whether it is legislative as well. Under these
circumstances Rotlie finds the problem so difficult, that he
abandons the idea of a doctrine of conscience altogether.

2. Biblical doctrine of conscience. — In the Old Testament
the word conscience does not occur, but its functions are
alluded to in a variety of ways, as for instance in the case
of Adam after his sin, of Cain both before and after his,
and of the brethren of Joseph when they were seized with
alarm in his presence (cf. further, Ps. vi. 2, xxxii. 1—5,
xxxviii. 2—11, li. 19; 1 Sam, xxiv. 11; 2 Sara. xxiv. 10;
Job xxvii. 6). It is certainly true that no special word
for conscience is to be found in the Old Testament ; never-
theless, not merely in the Old Testament, but also in the
iSTew, the heart is regarded as the focus of the spiritual life,
and accordingly the functions of conscience are ascribed to
it. We read of David's heart smiting him ('^3'?) (2 Sam.
xxiv. 10), and of a broken heart, that is, a condemning con-
science (cf. 1 John iii. 19, KapSia KarayivcoaKovcra). The
word avveiZi](TL'i, having come into general use in Greek
philosophy especially through the influence of the Stoics,
occurs in the Book of Wisdom (xvii. 11), and is frecjuently
employed in the New Testament by Paul and Peter. The
four Gospels, it is true, contain no passage in which Christ
makes use of the word. But too much stress must not be
laid upon this, nor ought we to conclude, with Kahler, that
Christ did not recognise conscience as a fact. It is erroneous
to hold that Christ simply demands faith in His authority,
and does not presuppose in man a knowledge of his own to
which He appeals.^ Were we to take such a view, we should
have to ignore passages like John i, 4, v. 38, viii. 32, and
to put a forced interpretation upon others, such as Matt,
vi. 22 ff., Luke xi. 34, which speak of the inward eye of
' Kahler's book On the Conscience, 1878, p. 218 sq.

228 § 21. THE DOCTKINE OF CONSCIENCE.

man. Kiililer is also of opinion that in the Old Testament
the entire moral consciousness of man is identified M-itli lii.s
knowledge of the revealed law, or of the authority of the
divine legislation. But although positive commands and
external authority have more importance attached to them
in the Old Testament than in the New, yet this fact does
not completely describe the attitude of the Old Testament.
In Deuteronomy, for example, the law is spoken of as being
near, not the mouth only, but also the heart ; while the Psalms,
too, are full of inward delight and joy in the law.^ The
revealed law, moreover, did not remain a mere external
authority, but awakened in man an increasing personal
knowledge of morality, based on the original constitution
of his nature.

In Eom. ii. 14ftl Paul speaks at some length of the con-
science. Here, as in most cases throughout the New Testa-
ment, reference is made to conscience in its critical or judicial
aspect, and consequently to the relation of the subject to a
moral standard, whatever the origin of the latter may be.
Thus conscience is spoken of as Ijeaiing witness that one
tells the truth (Piom. ix. 1, 2 ; 2 Cor. i. 12). As judicial it
is either a pure, good conscience (1 Pet. iii. 16 and 21 ;
2 Tim. i. 3 ; 1 Tim. iii. 9 ; Heb. xiii. 18 ; Acts xxiii. 1,
xxiv. 16), or an evil conscience (Heb. x. 22). In the latter
case it is called a defiled or wounded conscience (1 Cor.
viii. 7 and 12), or a seared conscience, to designate the
torturing sense of guilt (1 Tim. iv. 2 ; Heb. ix. 9). Never-
theless the functions of conscience are not limited by the
New Testament to criticism or judgment, but are also declared
to be legislative, as when Paul speaks of the law which is
written in the heart, as well as when he says that the
Gentiles are a law unto themselves. Conscience is some-
times conceived of as the perception of the voice of God,
and not merely as one's own consciousness or the expres-
sion of one's own judgment— this is seen even in Gen.
iv. G f. Further, in 1 Pet, ii. 19, a-vveiBrja-a 6eov may either
indicate knowledge of God as imposing commands and obliga-

' Kiihlei- holds that the discoveiy and development of conscience, as a distinct
faculty, are to be found in the heathen world alone, and that this did not take
place iu Judaism until after its contact with heathendom.

§ 24a. DIFFERENT COXCEPTIONS OF CONSCIENCE. 229

tions, or it may be the gcnitivus aid oris. Similarly by the
A,o709 Oeov in man, spoken of in John v. 38 (cf. i. 4), con-
science must be nnderstood, while " the law written in the
lieart " (liom. ii. 14f.) refers us to a higher authority and
to the divine origin of conscience which points to the tribunal
of God. At the same time conscience is regarded in the
Xcw Testament as one's own knowledge, and even as a species
of self-legislation. Man — it is said — is drawn by nature,
by the vov<i, to what is objectively rational, and so to the
things contained in the law. And the v6/xo<i tou vo6<i is
identified with the vcfio^ Oeov (Eom. vii. 23 and 25).

Further, the influence of history and education upon con-
science is fully recognised. An increase in moral perception
and wisdom is demanded in general (Heb. v. 14 ; Eom.
xii. 2), so that the vov'i as Sidvoca (the understanding, which
brings everything under its clear, analytic light) has its due
place assigned it. In like manner the tendency and effect
of the course of revelation is to unveil the law with ever
increasing clearness, and at the same time in harmony with
man's own moral perceptions. Further, these htavoiat,
SLaXoyiafioi, are undoubtedly subject to error. And finally,
it is also recognised in the New Testament that individuality
enters into the formation of conscience (1 Cor. x. 29).

§ 24rt. (Continuation.) Thctic {Positive) Doctrine of Conscience.

Conscience is not to be identified with religious capacity
nor witli the moral consciousness in general ; it is a
knowledge of moral good, and is not primarily an
impulse or a mere feeling. It is moral consciousness
characterized by originality and immediateness, and
allied with a certainty that is not merely subjective>
but both subjective and objective at once.

1. Schenkel confuses conscience with religious capacity.
But we have already (§ 12. 1, 2) treated of the difference
between religion, in which dependence and receptivity are the
leading characteristics, and morality, in which the very
opposite is the case. Conscience is frequently regarded as
moral imjmhc, and assigned therefore to the will. According

230 § 24a. POSITIVE DOCTPJNE OF CONSCIENCE.

to Eeinhard/ conscience is the inclination to have one's actions
determined by the thouglit of the Deity. Crusius calls it the
indindus rcligiosus. According to Eothe," it is the divine
activity in man under the form of impulse, operating therefore
through sensible perception, and so bound up with bodily
sensation. This impulse is followed by cognition. Kahler'^
holds the same view. But since impulse is tlie initial form of
all volition, this would mean that the mere fact that the sub-
ject wills anything shows it to be morally good. And in that
case morality would have no objective validity, since there are
other than moral impulses in man. Further, in order that an
impulse may be termed intellectual, and still more, moral, it
must have an appropriate object, and hence the moral must
be mentally present somehow, even if l)ut vaguely, as the
object of the impulse. And this is only possible by means of
the intelligence, in some one of the forms which it can
assume.

Others, like De Wette,* relegate conscience to the sphere of
feeling, from which no doubt it derives its liveliness and
immediateness as well as its personal character. Only the
proviso must be made, that moral feeling must not be taken
as mere self-perception on the i^art of the empirical subject.
Eather is it the feeling of moral worth, the feeling of the
ideal beauty and sanctity of moral good, combined with the
perception of its relation to the ego, of its value for the
empirical ego ; and thus we have here the germ of objective
moral cognition. Feeling as such lacks clearness, constancy,
precision ; and so the function of cognition must step forward
on its own account. In addition to this, there is a germ of
volition in feeling, no less than of cognition, and consequently,
as we have already seen, moral feeling must be divided into
two com]3onent elements, the one intellectual, or moral sense,
the other volitional, or moral im2mlse. When this division
is made, conscience belongs to the intellectual side of moral
feeling, and appears in the first place as moral sense. This
of course is not conscience fully developed ; since, however, it
is no longer so immediately interwoven with feeling, but is

' Christl Moral, 5tli ed. i. 262.

* I. 265 sq. 1st ed. In the new edition l.e avoids the word as ambiguous.

3 P. 26. " Christliche SiUenlehre, i. 90.

CONSCIENCE AND MOEAL CONSCIOUSNESS. 231

directed to an ideal object, good in itself, it is the actual
beginning of conscience.

Conscience, moreover, is not to be identified with moral
consciousness in general. Xot every form of moral conscious-
ness or of moral belief deserves to be called conscience.
Language itself connects conscience [^(Jcioisscii] with certainty
[Gcwisslicit], and certainty means something else than merely
liolding particular opinions or echoing moral ideas that are not
really our own. If the certainty possessed by conscience is
real and not merely imaginary, then it relates to something
objective, to a truth independent of the subject, and is there-
fore at once objective and subjective, since conscience is in
direct contact with its object. By means of this contact there
is implanted in the mind and imparted to it an immediate
consciousness of tlie evidence and truth of the moral. Hence
it is that Luther, with his fine linguistic sense, has also spoken
of faith and the assurance of faith as the Christian conscience,
in order to indicate that the immediate certainty of faith is
not merely of a subjective, but of a subjective-objective kind.
The word couscience itself {Gewisseii] also implies knowledge
\_Wisscn'\. The prefix Gc, which in the case of substantives
expresses association [e.g. Berg, Gebirgc — Wasscr, Gcwdsser),
must not be taken, as Leo does, to mean that the moral
verdict of society is the conscience of the individual, for this
would turn the moral knowledge possessed by man as an
individual, and its certainty, into mere dependence on
authority. On the contrary, it seems to indicate the experience
which man has after he has committed some — it may be
secret— deed, that there is One present with him who is
cognizant of his act. One whom he cannot escape, who sets
Himself over against him as an enemy, and accuses him ; an
unseen witness who is not an empirical agent like himself,
but who both comes forward as an accuser against him, and
also impends over him as a judge, and passes sentence upon
him. It cannot be an accidental circumstance that the word
for conscience in a large number of languages expresses
this " knowing together " or " knowing along with." Thus
avveihrjai,^, conscientia, conscience (French and English),
saimvittighcd in Danish. This sense of a witness to our
actions makes itself felt most of all, and conscience shows its

232 § 2t«. POSITIVE DOCTi;iNE OF CONSCIENCE.

energy most powerfully, in that mysterious act of tlie inner
tribunal, when, after a sinful deed has been done, our moral
unworthiness is suddenly disclosed to us as with lightning
speed and clearness, when as in a moment the accusation goes
forth against a guilt-laden " Thoii," and our sense of guilt tells
us that this " Thou " means ourselves, and makes us feel that
we are standing at a judgment-bar.

But although it is from this wonderful function that con-
science has derived its name in many languages, and although
it is after the deed has been committed that conscience makes
its voice heard most distinctly, yet we must not conclude that
the originality and immediateness of conscience — the qualities
wliich distinguish it from moral consciousness generally —
refer only to past actions and their value ; that is to say, we
must not infer that conscience is only subsequent. It could
not discharge the functions of an immaculate witness, accuser,
and judge, if there was not inherent in it a sense of the dis-
tinction between good and evil ; consequently it must possess
a certain degree of self-legislative power. Were it not so, we
would have to look elsewhere for a special faculty of self-
legislation. It is also evident that the functions of legislation
and judgment must belong to one and the same conscience,
from the fact that so far as our consciousness of morality as
such is concerned, it is relatively indifferent wliether the act
to which it refers be past, present, or future. If there is an
immediate and original consciousness of moral good, in other
words, a conscience, then the declarations of conscience,
whether they take the form of demand, warning, or judgment,
remain the same for all time ; they are declarations regarding
something that is eternal and emlraces all time. If we regard
conscience as being indeed the source of moral knowledge, but
only in its form as consequent, then moral consciousness does
not arise until the act has been done. But this would mean
that the act took place unaccompanied by any moral con-
sciousness whatever, and therefore that it is morally worthless.
And in that case the act could beget neither the feeling
of responsibility nor of guilt ; at the most it would be felt
only to be injurious and discordant.

The Imowledge given in conscience is accordingly distin-
guished from other forms of consciousness, and even of moral

ORIGIN OF COKSCIENCE. 233

consciousness, by tlie fact tliat it does not depend merely on
external prevailing tenets or authorities, nor on reflection or
logical inferences alone, but bears the stamp of immediateness
and creative originality. Of course this knowledge varies in
clearness and richness, as well as in form, at different stagee
of progress. Conscience is an assured subjective knowledge of
the objective validity and truth of that which in itself is
good. Hence it is not to be wondered at that every depart-
ment of life should seek to appropriate this word to itself ;
thus we read of a logical, critical, ai'sthetic and political con-
science. But that conscience to which our science has the
first claim, is distinguished from all other knowledge by its
contents, viz. the good, the holy, Fas as opposed to Nefas, not
merely what is useful or becoming (honestum) or harmonious
(koKov). This, the contents of conscience, inasmuch as it
holds good for reason universally, and is absolutely necessary,
concerns the inmost nature, the essential part of man.

2. A still wider difference of opinion exists as to tlie origin
of conscience.

(a) Some derive it wholly from external influences, from
the surrounding moral atmosphere and prevailing custom,
in a word, from education in its widest sense. In support of
this position, they appeal to the manifold contradictions
existing in the moral ideas of nations, contradictions which go
to such an extent that m.en are found making it a matter of
conscience not to omit practices which are actually sinful (e.g.
the sacrifice of children, burning of widows, etc.). It must be
admitted that the customs which prevail within the circle of a
nation's life exercise an extraordinary power over individuals,
and also that sin has caused an enormous confusion in moral
ideas. But missionary efforts among the heathen prove every
day that these influences can be overcome, and this would be
impossible were it not for the fact that an appeal can be made
from perverted moral ideas to a better, indestructible moral
sense, a true conscience, which lives underneath all these
worthless accumulations. Tliose false notions can be separated
from conscience just because nothing that is false, but only
that which is true, can be really and indissolubly allied with
the rational nature of man. Thus the fact just alluded to is
sufficient to show that conscience cannot be derived from the

234 § 2I«. POSITIVE DOCTRINE OF CONSCIENCE.

customs prevalent in a community. The same conclusion
also appears when we consider that, according to this view,
there would be no such thing as real moral knowledge at all,
and that man therefore would will the good, not because it is
good, but merely as something handed down to him, something
foreign to his own nature. And this would deny the original
moral determination of man altogether. What this theory
calls conscience is only something which may be transferred
to others by means of education, etc., and is therefore not
conscience at all, but merely moral opinion, a number of
ideas with regard to moral action that at some particular time
hold sway within the community.

Accordingly, when Jesuitism seeks to implant in man a
foreign conscience, in the shape of the moral opinions of a
father confessor, or when there is voluntarily assigned to a
fallible man the power of issuing decisions — -with reference
both to matters of faith and of morals — that are binding
upon the conscience, then an injury is done to the divine
constitution of human nature. A similar verdict also must be
passed upon every attempt to make the Church the ultimate
source of moral knowledge. The authority of the Church has
been put forward in opijosition to that subjectivism which
frequently disguises itself in the garb of conscience. But the
moral ideas which prevail in the Church arise also in part from
fallible men. Having attained a ruling position in the wide
circle of the Church, they assume a semblance of objectivity ;
iu truth, however, they are of no more than subjective
importance in so far as they come into collision with objective
morality. On this account also, to appeal to the Church as
the power which fashions conscience, and is authorized so to
do, is merely to displace 07ic form of suhfctivism hj another,
for to bring conscience under the so-called divine authority of
the Church can be nothing but a subjective, arbitrary act.
Xor can conscience be produced by means of a merely external
revelation. Every external revelation which seeks to impose
moral obligations must presuppose some moral knowledge to
l)egin with, upon which it can lay hold in order to be under-
stood, and upon which it can base its claim to be received by
man, in distinction from other external influences. For
otherwise man would fall passively and blindly under any

CONSCIENCE NOT BASED UPON SELF-LEGISLATION. 235

power whatever. Even in filial obedience, although the child
cannot recognise the moral necessity of what is commanded
him, he must at least know iliis — that obedience to his
parents is a duty. Hence man must possess a knowledge of
his own with regard to the good ; and by this knowledge
alone is a foothold given to external revelations, and a basis
afforded for the operation of those means by which our moral
intelligence is cultivated.

(li) Now, while it is thus clear that it is througli his own
consciousness that man knows and posits the good, yet, on the
other hand, we must not regard self-legislation on the part of
man as constituting by itself the ultimate basis of moral
knowledge and of conscience. We must not assert, with
Delitzsch, that the law, as it appears in the Torah, is engraved
on the human heart. It is erroneous to suppose that all
moral ideas are innate in man in their complete shape, and
therefore that in this respect there is no real distinction
between the divine creation and legislation. All experience
speaks to the contrary, and especially the confusion that is
found in mankind with regard to moral ideas. Should it be
maintained, again, that moral ideas are not innate, but are
the products of reason and arrived at through reflection,
then this would be at variance with the immediateness and
originality, as well as tlie involuntary necessity which
characterize the uninvited verdicts of conscience. Conscience
is indeed a human faculty, but its acts do not depend upon
the subjective will of the empirical human being ; it is rather
a power over man. It is not man who possesses conscience,
so much as conscience that possesses man. The autonomy
enjoyed by man is only secondary, not absolute ; he cannot
put the stamp of good or evil upon anything at his own
pleasure. The primary fact is, that human reason has been
brought into existence and constituted in a definite way.
Eeason is given to itself as reason, it is not the author of its
own nature. And this points us to the ultimate creative cause.

(c) A third view is that conscience is GocVs voice. If this
were taken as a full account of the matter, then it would be
impossible to see how we could have a moral knowledge of
our own with regard to the good-in-itself. Had we not in
our own rational nature a faculty of moral perception, we

236 § 24a. POSITIVE DOCTEINE OF CONSCIENCE.

could never know that these inward utterances of God were
good in themselves. Nevertheless we must recognise a
certain truth in the description of conscience as the voice of
God, although Delitzsch^ denies this, on the ground that God
does not hold intercourse with the sinful as He does with the
innocent. For at all events God is the creator of reason ;
and further, He has not — as Deism maintains — withdrawn
Himself after the creation, hut continues to act as a present,
eflicient cause, even in the manifestations of reason. Now, if
it is through God alone that we have at every moment a
knowledge of the good, if we see light in His light (although
Ave may not he directly conscious of the fact), — then it is
evidently wrong to deny that conscience is the voice or word
of God. In addition to this, we are aware that the voice of
conscience impels us with a kind of sacred necessity, that in
it God is making a claim upon us, and the Divine Spirit con-
straining us by His appeals.

((/) The three views which we have stated must therefore
be taken together : (1) that conscience is God's voice ; (2)
that it is also the voice of our own inmost nature or heart,
and even of our whole physico-psychical constitution ; (3)
that conscience must grow, and that external revelation as
well as social influences contribute to its complete develop-
ment. The first two factors are united in the same general
way in which a creative and sustaining cause is everywhere
united with a secondary cause.^ That is to say, God's word
creates, but does so for the purpose of sustaining the object
created, and hence the latter must have a life and efficacy of
its own, which must not be suppressed by the divine causality.
The word of God creates, and its effect therefore is, that
reason now speaks for itself in the language it has derived
from God. But still, whatever reason says and knows is
given it by God ; for it says nothing that is absolutely
new, but only reproduces that which is in the creative,
ever-active will of God ; it does not simply give expression
to what lies latent in the rational nature of man, but
rather to what is originated by the ever-present and living
operation of God, The pure products of our moral nature
must be regarded as being at the same time acts of God

^ Pp. 99 sq., 155 sq. ^ Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, ii. § 35, 36.

§ 2a. STAGES OF CONSCIEN-CE, 237

in man ; all tlie more because God is educating man, and there-
fore accompanies every act of pure moral perception with the
impulse of His Spirit, makes a claim upon and appeals to
what is deepest in the nature of man. Accordingly we do
not employ a mere figure of speech, but only indicate the
essential basis of moral legislation, when we say that in
conscience the voice of God speaks to man ; and this also
corresponds with what we have already found, viz. that the
objective law must be the starting-point of the moral process.
On the other hand, the causality of God only accomplishes
this work of legislation by its not remaining the sole cause
in the matter, but by its originating a secondary cause, which
is really different from God, but which nevertheless — so far
as conscience is truly developed — derives its knowledge of
good and evil from its connection unth Him. Finally, with
regard to the third factor, history and society have their
claims acknowledged when we say that conscience passes
through a series of stages, has a growth, and requires to be
cultivated like every rational facidty in man ; and that in this
growth it becomes more and more enriched with an increasing
store of concrete material.

§ 2n. Stages of Conscience.

In its first stage moral consciousness is not yet concrete
moral knowledge ; it takes the form of moral feeling
and moral sense (§ 12. 4; 24(y. 1), and is only
conscience m essence to begin with, being no more
than the perception of moral good in general, as
distinct from evil and obligatory. On the second stage,
this fundamental basis is still preserved, but an advance
is now made to concrete moral material, partly through
the influence of moral authorities, and partly tlu'ough
man's growing knowledge of himself and of the world.
At the same time, the various concrete duties which
now arise cannot as yet be connected wdth each other
and with the fundamental moral knowledge of the first
stage, so as to form a stable and connected whole. Hence,
while there is an accumulating mass of rules and precepts.

238 § 2,-. STAGES OF COXSCIENCE.

the immediate certainty of their truth and moral necessity
is still awanting. It is not till the third stage is reached
that the concrete moral knowledge of the second can he
combined with the elementary but fundamental moral
knowledge of the first, in such a way that the multi-
plicity of the former is reduced to unity, while the unity
of the latter is resolved into organized diversity. It is not,
however, merely our initial stock of moral knowdedge that
is to be regarded as due to an act of divine revelation ;
for moral knowledge also in its concrete, more expanded
shape (in other words, conscience) is only possible
through continuous divine enlightenment and revelation
— the latter keeping pace with man's growing know-
ledge of himself and of the world,

1. The necessity of a groivth of conscience is recognised in
Holy Scripture (Ps. cxix. ; Eom, xii. 2 ; Phil. i. 9 ; Heb. v,
14). No one denies that wherever conscience exists, there
is a knowledge of the universal truth that the good, what-
ever form it may take, ought to be done, and evil to be
avoided. Now, should it be denied that a growth of con-
science is nevertheless necessary, such a position can only
be maintained on one of two suppositions : either that the
development of conscience in the way of acquiring concrete
material is of no moral importance, that its initial general
knowledge is sufficient for all moral purposes ; or else, that
man is originally endowed by nature with the power of arriv-
ing at a clear decision on matters of concrete experience.

(«) In support of the first of these, it might be urged, that
the only tiling required is really to reverence the moral law
in general, to have a good intention in all we do, to will
the good from pure motives and without any self-seeking.
When this is the case, it is all the same what w^e do. It
is only the form of our acts that is of importance, not
their contents.^ But this would lead to the maxim of

^ This is held even by Kant in his GruncUegung ziir Metajyhysik der Sittcn,
ed. by Rosenkranz, Werke, voh viii. (pp. 20 sq., 40, 76, 94). Ed. v. Hart-
mann gives an excellent criticism of this view in his Phanomenologie des
dtUkhtn Bewusstseins, p. 322 sq

NECESSITY OF A GROWTH OF CONSCIENCE. 239

Jesuitism, and would obliterate the distinction between good
and evil in everything that is concrete, whereas the good
has no more than a mere docetic existence when disjoined
from the concrete. The connection between the form and the
contents of the good is so close, that the existence of a pure,
good disposition or intention cannot be admitted, unless that
which is willed be right. Christian wisdom is an essential
element in good intentions and a good disposition. To say
that it is indifferent what the effect of our actions may be,
whether they benefit the world or not, would be equivalent to
denying that there is one great moral task upon which all are
engaged, and that the moral law is the world-ideal. In that
case, all that would be left for man to do would be to main-
tain his abstract good intention, while he remained indifferent
to everything else. This would be a subtle form of egoism.
In addition to what has been said, practical life would be
bereft of its guiding- star if conscience could never become
possessed of concrete knowledge ; and since man must never-
theless act in some way or other, the subject, being deprived
of all definite moral knowledge, would be at the mercy of
fortuitous objective influences or of his own subjective
inclinations.

(6) But just as little can we hold, with Fichte, that con-
science is able, from the very first and by its own nature,
to solve all the problems of practical life. We must not —
as Hirscher does — regard even the subsequent conscience as
fully formed at the outset. A conscience may be formed,
but there is no such thing as one ready made. It would be
iitterly opposed to the way in which man's nature is constituted
in all other respects, were he furnished from the first with
complete moral knowledge, adequate for all circumstances, —
circumstances which do not exist to begin with, but which
successively arise and impose different duties as he passes
through different stages of life. Not only is experience
against such a view, but also the idea of the ethical ; for in
this case wisdom would no longer be an ethical acquisition, in
other words, a virtue. Moral knowledge must therefore be
morally acquired, and conscience as given us by nature must
undergo an ethical process of self-culture, depending upon
reflection throughout. On the other hand, however, we do

240 § 2J, STAGES OF COXSCIENCE. FIRST STAGE.

not say that this work of self-culture implies that conscience
with its originality and immediateness must rjivc i^lacc to the
knowledge which w^e acquire through reflection. If our in-
creasing knowledge of the world, of ourselves, and of God be
brought into close relationship with the idea of morality (and
for this end the continued living operation of the Divine Spirit
is indispensable), then the enriched and cultivated moral
consciousness which we thus obtain will recover at each stage
of its progress that freshness and immediate power which are
the characteristics of conscience. And hence conscience will
lie able to issue its decisions regarding what is concrete with
no less definiteness than regarding the general proposition,
that good ought to be done and evil avoided.

Accordingly we have arrived at the following results. On
the one hand, conscience is not fully formed from the first,
requiring no cultivation. On the other hand, it is not con-
iined to an immediate and assured conviction of the validity
of the general proposition mentioned above ; it is therefore not
incapable of cultivation, and hence we are not dependent
upon authority, probability and prudence alone to guide us
in matters of concrete morality. Since this is the case,
the full and adequate idea of conscience — an idea which
cannot be realized at once, but only through a gradual process
— must be distinguished from the stacjcs of its realization.

2. We call the first of these stages that of con&dcnct in
esse7ice, of the possibility of the concrete. Scholasticism
designated conscience as it appears at this stage by the bar-
barous word Synderesis, a corruption of avvTi]pr](7i<i = conligatio,
obligatio,^ the bond of obligation by which we are joined to
God, the essential bond between the Creator and the rational
creature. This rudimentary conscience contains — although
concrete circumstances are required to call it into play — the
knowledge of the absolute obligation imposed by the good as
such, whatever shape the latter may take. Of conscience in
this form it holds good most directly, that it is the voice of
God. The certainty it possesses is the type and standard of
all moral certainty. Moreover, there is also given in it some-

1 Cf. Gass, i)a-s (rewisse?!, Appendix ; [also, G'eschichte d. Ghristl. EtJdk, i.
p. 383 sq.— Ed.]. Fr. Nitzscli, Uf.her die Entstehunn der scholastinchen Lchre
von der Synthcresis. Jahrhucher fur protest. Tlieologk, v. p. 492 sq.

ADVANCE TO CONCRETE MORALITY, 241

thing that has a bearing upon the concrete moral life. We
learn from it that nothing can be a moral command which is
not of an unconditional character. Thus conscience even at
this stage possesses critical authority, though of a negative
kind ; it can offer resistance to mere desire, when the latter
is in opposition to the good. Accordingly, even where con-
.science is still deficient in cultivation with regard to what is
positively enjoined, the knowledge of what is forbidden may
extend a long way. We know what is opposed to conscience
before we know what is positively good. Scripture also
recognises this form of conscience, and recognises it as still
continuing to act amid the perversions of man's moral nature.
It uttered its warnings previous to the fall (Gen. iii. 3,
cf. ver. 8), and after the fall it still speaks (iv. 13, 14).

3. Advance from the rudimentary conscience to concrete
snored demands. — As long as man remains without a concrete
law, he runs the risk of taking a wrong direction, becoming
bewildered, and falling a prey to his own capricious fancies.
He may, for example, imagine that vehement, sudden and
mastering desires are divine impulses within him, and thus
derive his rule of action from mere natural inclination. But
it is a still commoner occurrence at this stage for man to have
recourse to purely objective authorities, in order to learn from
them what he has to do and what to leave undone. This is
the origin of the great influence exerted over the moral life
of the ancient world, both private and public, by divination
in the widest sense of the word, including the interpretation
of dreams, of the flight of birds and passage of clouds, cxtis-
picia, omina, and above all — divination by oracles. The
whole life of heathen nations was held by this practice as in
a tliick tangled net. We cannot refuse, indeed, to acknow-
ledge that in it there is a moral element. In the endeavour
to learn the will of the gods, we trace the sense which man
has, that in order to be good he must follow not his own self-
will, but a higher objective law. But now, instead of truly
endeavouring to hear the voice of God and to hold communion
with Him, man arbitrarily takes nature — as seen in the sky
or on the earth — as his lawgiver or prophet of the divine
will ; he seeks to discover what result has been pre-ordained,
and directs his actions accordingly, so that he is not exclusively

242 § 25. STAGES OF CONSCIEKCE.

concerned about doing what is right, but about doing what is
advantageous. And arbitrariness prevails to an equal extent
in the meaning attached to omens, which are for the most
part ambiguous in themselves. Hence it is only a semblance
of objectivity after all at which man has arrived in this way ;
his self-will is disguised as it were, it has surrendered itself a
prisoner to nature or to particular natural phenomena. It was
for this reason that the Hebrew lavj absolutely forbade any
attempt being made to find out by means of natural signs,
stars, clouds, or birds, what ought to be done in matters of
practical experience.-^ To do so was regarded as a relapse
into nature-worship and idolatry. The law is bent upon
setting men free from such bondage, which threatens to
destroy the coherence and stability of moral life ; it seeks to
raise man above nature. Hence, too, we do not find in the
New Testament a single instance, subsequent to the day of
Pentecost, of the lot being used for the purpose of ascertain-
ing the divine will ; it is only before Pentecost that such an
instance occurs (Acts i.).

Nevertheless, even in heathendom the progressive cultiva-
tion of the moral nature was not lost in this abnormal and
confusing tendency. The New Testament does not say that
only conscience in its initial form is to be found among
the heathen, and that all concrete morality has fallen under
the sway of self-will or accident. On the contrary, it is
expressly recognised by Paul " that moral ideas and moral
ordinances have arisen among the heathen. When we inquire
as to the source of these, we must remember what has been
said earlier, viz, that the objective divine law does not merely
form an ideal organism in the divine mind ; that the endow-
ment of man, both physically and mentally, for moral ends
does not exist merely as part of an ideal plan or decree,
but has actually been carried into effect from the very
first, — nay, more, that it has, up to a certain degree, been
an operative motive power in man, from the beginning of
human life on to the formation of natural communities
(§ 10-17). This explains the Pauline ^vaeu iroiel {ja eOvt])
ra epya tov vo/xov. For, that man is a unity created in

1 Ex. xxii, 18 ; Lev. xix 26 31, xx, 6, 27 ; Deut. xviii. 10-14 ; 1 Sam.
xxviii. 9. - Rom. ii. 12 ff., xiii. 1 if.

E-MPIEICAL ACQUISITIONS. 243

the image of God, that in all the powers bestowed on him
liis moral destination has been kept in view, that these
powers have been harmoniously ordered with reference to
it, so that they cannot truly exist and flourish unless when
morally regulated, — this is the ep'yov vo/jlov ypairTov iv rat'?
fcapBiac^} The work which has to be realized through the
agency of the will is from the first engraved upon the mental
organization of man as something demanding fulfilment, and
has therefore an innate tendency towards realization.

And now, if, in addition to this, there be present that
fundamental moral knowledge which we have frequently
alluded to, there arises of necessity a consciousness of ethical
determination, and our moral consciousness becomes enriched
from without, through reflection and experience. Of course
this is by no means the same thing as a self-unfolding of
conscience from within, it is not as yet allied with the certain
consciousness of unconditional duty. Man's knowledge of
himself and of the world is extended, he gains an empirical
knowledge of the constitution of the world and of man,
learns their powers and the laws of their harmonious opera-
tion, and becomes acquainted with the conditions which
limit the sovereignty and energy of the will. Such know-
ledge, derived from his own personal experience, is increased
by means of the authority and teaching of others whose
experience is wider, such as parents and ancestors, and by the
handing down of wise sayings, which, it may be, are collected
and preserved as they were at Delphi. Thus we have, as
sources of moral knowledge, maxims, proverbs (Qyt^'P), and
didactic poems, and in addition to these, edrj and human
legislation, both of which are of moral import. Thus man-
kind gradually accumulates a large stock of moral ideas for
the different spheres of life, and this takes place even in
the heathen world. But the materials thus collected con-
tain many contradictions, through their being too strict or
too lax. Further, they cannot lay claim to the character
of unconditional necessity, or at least their claim is not
indisputable, since they are not brought into connection
with conscience, and are not recognised as good in themselves.
Accordingly, they all have the tendency to take the tone of

1 Rom. ii. 15.

244 § 25. STAGES OF CONSCIENCE. APrROITJATION

mere prudence, or are simply counsels that never rise above
the standpoint of eudtemonisra.

We must realize to ourselves the confusion that prevailed
among the heathen, even among the Greeks, with regard to
moral ideas, the variableness of these, their instability, their
fragmentary character (as depicted, c.//., by the Platonic Socrates
in his disputes with the Sophists and the common people), in
order to receive a truly living impression of the great blessing
which the law proved to the Hebrews. Then for the first
time the unsteadily flickering flame of moral knowledge,
threatened by all the storms of passion, became a steady and
certain light, through morality being held aloft unwaveringly
by the objective law. At the same time the law is not
something alien to the inward nature of the Hebrew race ; it
expresses the true national spirit or idea, when it brings the
individual and the whole people alike, both inwardly and
outwardly, under the lofty and yet simple idea of holiness.
Nevertheless, under the legal system man is very far from
arriving at that peculiar certainty which belongs to conscience,
with reference to the material commandments which the law
enjoins. Accordingly, Christ says with respect to the Old
Testament, that a servant knoweth not what his lord doeth ;
but whom the Son maketh free, he is free indeed.^ The
Israelite knew indeed that he was laid under obligation to
the law by reason of its divine origin, and therefore by reason
of the formal authority attaching to the precepts handed
down from Moses. (The Eoman Catholic Church still occupies,
in principle, the same position.) But here the contents of the
law are not yet brought into true union with conscience ;
man is not yet an independent being, conscious of his own
true nature and therefore free ; he is still divided, dependent
on two principles which are not yet united, the one external
only and authoritative, the other internal. This is the legal
stage, on which man does not as yet perceive the unity of the
numerous precepts which are given him. He may perhaps
endeavour to discover among them one precept which is
relatively the highest, but still he fails to see that this one is
the sum of all good. As the heathen world came to recognise
Zeus or Jupiter as the highest among the gods, so the Jewish

1 John viii. 32, xv. 15.

BY CONSCIENCE OF THE MATTEK OF EXPElilENCE. 245

world got SO far as to perceive that love is the first, the
perfect and most excellent command. But just as heathendom
never got tlie length of recognising that the highest deity is
also the only one, comprehending within himself everything
tliat is divine, so Judaism always fell short of perceiving that
all that is good is summed up in love.

4. It is no doubt true that on the stage of reflection an
effort is made to overcome the contradictions and the frag-
mentariness in which moral knowledge is involved, by working
up into unity the manifold of ethical material which has
been gained through experience. As tlie result of such
attempts we have the picture of the wise man, the picture of
the true state, and codes of morals for the various vocations,
for the sexes, and for tlie different stages of life. But these
do not afford to man complete personal certainty regarding
moral rules, nor do they reveal to him the inner unity of
the law. The path which begins with the rudimentarij
conscience must lead farther than this empirical one does, if
man is ever, conscious of his ov/n true nature, to surrender
lumself in his concrete totality to the ethical idea. As his
self-knowledge extends it makes him aware of active and
receptive capacities which he possesses, and which are meant
to be employed in the service of the associations that men
form by nature with each other. These energies and capacities
are now laid hold of by the legislative conscience on behalf
of the several spheres of life, or in other words, for the
purpose for which they were given. Man perceives that
all these spheres have their foundations in the constitution
of his own nature ; and thus he can now recognise it as a
real duty imposed by conscience, to become a member of
them, and to conform himself to the laws of life arising out of
the specific nature of each of them. The i'amily and the
State illustrate what has just been said. And although man's
knowledge of these laws of life is originally acquired through
experience, it can now be taken up into conscience, and thus
merely empirical moral ideas can be transformed, up to a
certain degree, into a knowledge properly belonging to con-
science. For example, when man recognises that he is a ^wov
TToXiTLKov (to usc Aristotlc's phrase), he also knows that in
servinti the commonwealth he does that which is rational and

246 § 25. STAGES OF CONSCIENCE.

good, that which corresponds with his own nature ; and hence
his duty as a citizen, which at first came to him only as the
empirical demand of an external authority, can now become a
clearly recofjnised duty laid upon liiiii hy conscience. And the
same thing holds good witli regard to the family and to
friendship. But in how many ways does mere desire prove
stronger than the objective right of these moral spheres — for
example, in the case of marriage (polygamy) ! Besides, the
perception of the good is not yet accompanied with joyful
pleasure in it and energy to realize it. Nevertheless, the
more that the matter of experience is interwoven with the
rudimentary conscience, or the more that conscience is
developed, the more comprehensive it becomes, without its
suffering any loss of certainty, or falling under the sway
of mere external authority.

In this way, too, conscience becomes more and more a
faithful mirror of that all-embracing ideal organism — the
objective law. Regarded in another light, this is just the
process by which conscience gradually assimilates the objective
law of God. The former is no mere tcd)ida rasa, but embraces
potentially every matter of duty; while, on the other hand,
without this inward act of enlightenment on the part of God,
that is to say, without the revelation of the law, conscience
could not grow nor even exist. It would want that imniedi-
ateness which must always be accompanied by a divine
impulse. Wherever concrete moral material is taken up and
united with the rudimentary conscience, so that the result
is true subjective-objective certainty, such a union must be
ascribed to the ever operative and illuminating power of the
Divine Spirit ; it is the voice of God making itself heard
within. Accordingly the complete development of conscience
depends upon progressive revelations, both internal and
external. More especially, the dvaKecpaXalcoaK of the various
moral commandments into unity can only be accomplished,
and the several moral regions of life can only be brouglit
into organic connection with each other by morality being
linked to the idea of God, and by God at the same time
becoming known, in the course of revelation, as that v/hich
is the sum of all morality — viz. as love. And this can
only take place by His revealing Himself in deeds of

HEBRAISM AND CHEISTIANITY. 247

love. For love is known, not by words or by doctrines, but
by actions.

The two religious communities which mark the greatest
progress that has been made in the sphere of morality — the
Hebrew and the Christian — both rest, in the most definite
way, on divine revelation, although they do not maintain
that God has left Himself without a witness to other men.
They themselves, again, are of course very different. The
Old Testament revelation did not get beyond the opposition
between heathen and Jews, — an opposition which is much
deeper than that between Hellenes and barbarians, — it never
overcame heathenism, nor burst the narrow shell in which a
universal principle lay hid. It was only the perfect form of
revelation that could accomplish this. Both Hebraism and
Christianity represent the idea of the unity of mankind ; for
both alike refer everything back to God, and are thus alone
in a position to reduce to unity the countless contradictions of
the world, and to cause, as it were, all natural differences to
disappear. But it was only when revelation attained its
linal form in Christianity that it reached the idea of a unity
which is higher than the merely natural one, and taught with
perfect clearness that mankind as a whole had one great
moral work assigned it. Accordingly it is not till the con-
summation of revelation that conscience is found in its highest
form, objectively in Clnist and subjectively in faith, which
on its ethical side may be called the Christian conscience.
The spirit of love, which proceeds from Christ and addresses
itself both to the intelligence and the will, brings into inward
unity the multiplicity of duties and precepts ; it is thus a
safeguard against all collisions of duties, and is the only
power capable of enabling man to apprehend morality as an
organic unity, so that in each single act which he does the
whole is included, since he wills every act as part of the
ethical whole or kingdom of God.

Hence the New Testament shows no ^orcdileciion for estab-
lishing an objective, divinely-sanctioned order of life. It seeks
to conduct man to an imvarcl personal knowledge of his own
regarding moral truth (John viii. 32). An objective order of
life which leaves out of sight personal individual conviction,
may, it is true, lay the foundation for the formation of an

248 § 25. STAGES OF CONSCIENCE.

objective community of a theocratic or political kind, — and
this is the characteristic feature of antiquity, — but at the
same time the rights of the individual as distinguished from
those of the whole community are as yet imperfectly
recognised. The jSTew Testament, on the contrary, makes
it its aim to form conscious, new and free personalities,
morally responsible each on his own account. This is
why it so often makes it a duty to strive after moral
certainty (Eom. xiv. 1, 13-23; 1 Cor. viii. 7, 12, x. 25;
Col. ii. 16 ; Heb. v. 16 ; Jas. i. 6-8, iv. 8). He who
doubts is Bi^jrv^o'i, whereas we ought to become a-TrXot,
reXeiot through i'ree, complete union with objective truth.
' EKaaTO^ iv tm l8ia> vol' TrXrjpocfiopeLada) (Rom, xiv. 5).
Hence we are enjoined to exercise forbearance towards
weak and tender consciences (Eom. xiv. 13 f. ; 1 Cor.
X. 25). Hence, too, the rights of the individual conscience
are acknowledged, and that even when it is in error
(1 Cor. X. 29, viii. 10 ff.). Tlie Christian as such has a
personal knowledge of his own concerning objective good,
allied with inward certainty ; he carries in himself a higher
than the merely subjective form of moral consciousness
(1 Cor. iv. 3 ff.), something higher than the current opinion
of the world ; he has the spirit of wisdom, which invests
him with <yv(bcrc<i, eTrlyvaxTL^;, and the alaOrjrrjpca yefyufxvaajjieva
(Heb. V. 14). This ao(f)La comes from faith, in so far as the
latter, formally regarded, is certainty of a divine yet human
kind, and in so far as the contents of this certainty ai-e
derived from the moral archetype and principle of the
kingdom of God which is given us in Christ (Eph. v. 14).
United to Christ we are united to God, and therefore the
Christian conscience is always in the presence of God and
is manifest to Him (2 Cor. v. 10, i. 12 ; Tit. i. 15 ; 1 Pet. ii.
19, iii. 21).

§ 26. Forms of the Manifestation of Conscience.

According to the relation in which it stands to an act, three
forms of conscience are to be distinguished — antecedent,
concomitant, and subsequent. (Conscientia antecedens,
concomitans, subsequens.)

§ 2G. FORMS OF THE MANIFESTATION OF CONSCIENCE. 249

1. The antecedent is its legislative form, and on this suhjecc
we have already spoken at sufficient length. Previous to
the act it warns and dissuades more than it urges or com-
mands us, it checks or prohibits our impulses. When the
human will turns to the good and accepts it, there begins
that union of moral necessity and freedom in which conscious
morality consists. Still, more is required than that conscience
should merely look on and keep watch from the outside.
It must become incorporated with the will, in order that it
may be immanent in it and serve as a light to it. The
contents of a deliverance of conscience, however, are given
us in the form of a moral impulse from above, which does not
constrain us like a physical force, but comes forward in the
shape of an unconditional claim.

2. The concomitant depends upon the antecedent form of
conscience, and is the continuation of the latter. It may,
however, become obscured and weakened in the course of the
act which we perform, should that act be one wliich is opposed
to conscience. In that case, conscience resists what we do,
and our volition effects a division in our nature. On the
contrary, we retain our unity and energy when what we will
and do is at one with conscience.

3. Conscience as subsequent has three functions, which
have been comprehended under the name of the Sijllogismus
eonscientice. Here the major premiss is formed by intro-
ducing the moral law, the minor by its application to the
particular case in point (imputation), and then the verdict
and requital of conscience follow as the conclusion. Where
no respect is paid to the major premiss in conscience, in its
general bearing, we say there is an utter want of conscience ;
where the law is indeed recognised in general but not in
concrete, we say that conscience is wide or lax ; where im-
putation is awanting, and we seek to lay the guilt upon some-
thing outside ourselves, conscience is said to be partial ; and
where conscience or the moral consciousness upbraids a man
with guilt when no guilt exists, it is called scrupulous.
Nevertheless it is evident from what has been previously
said that in no case is conscience a mere operation of the
understanding. We shall dwell for a little upon conscience
as it appears in the acts of im^mtation, judgment, and requited.

250 § 26. FORMS OF THE MANIFESTATION OF CONSCIENCE.

Iiiqmtatioii is the consciousness of the relation in which
our causality stands to the law. It subsumes under the law
that whicli has to be judged ; it presupposes therefore a
standard, and something to which that standard is to be
applied, something submitted to moral evaluation, and there-
fore such a thing as the will can be responsible for. For
that which is a matter of purely physical necessity, that
which can in no wise be made subject to the will, whether
in the past, the present, or the future, cannot without excessive
scrupulosity be made a matter of imputation. Imputation
presupposes freedom of will, although this does not mean
that it is free at every moment. Through evil having become
a habit, or through guilty ignorance, man may have deprived
himself, for the moment at least, of freedom of action, without
being on that account absolved from responsibility for what he
does. Imputation, moreover, and moral judgment refer not
merely to single deeds, but also to the character which they
help to form. Imputation fastens on the individual act as
that which brings it into play, but it is the person as a whole
to whom the individual act is imputed. In imputation the
evil deed is referred back to the inner totality of man in
such a way, that it is declared to be his peculiar property, to
be the fruit of his whole personality, and consequently to be
something which burdens and pollutes the person as a unity.
Since imputation is thus directed to man as a whole, there is
directly associated with it a moral feeling affecting the wliole
man. Through the imputation of evil, man feels that he is
in a condition wherein he is accused and has an evil con-
science ; and imputation, guided, as it were, ly the individual
act, goes back, when conscience is lively, to the xinderlying
character out of ivhieh the aet arose. Consequently guilt and
responsibility are not escaped even when the act is preceded
by a condition of relative unfreedom. And although this
state of matters cannot at the moment be changed or avoided,
still, absolutely regarded, it is avoidable, and it is the duty of
man to effect the change. For evil remains as a constant
contradiction to his eternal being. At the same time there
are certainly degrees of imputation, according to the amount
of knowledge and will-power that enter into the deed.

That general feeling just mentioned, in which the^ evil act

AN ERRING CONSCIENCE. 251

is referred to the person as a whole, marks the beginning of
the recoil of evil against the evil-doer: evil is something
'wliiclh noiv helongs to him as a ixrson. ]\Iore or less plainly
it seizes upon his existence as a whole, and this calls forth a
reaction on the part of his true being, of his moral nature,
which for its own self-preservation must now separate itself
from the sin-stained nature and assume an attitude of accusa-
tion towards it (Rom. ii. 15). This accusation is followed
immediately by moral self-condemnation, or an act oi judgment
on the part of conscience, in which an element of retribution
is involved (1 John iii, 19, 20). In this way we have a
good or an evil conscience ; in the former case there is a
pleasurable feeling, the feeling of peace associated with it",
while in the latter there is the consciousness that evil is now
something of its own, and this gives it inward torment.
Evil deeds are like evil powers, now slumbering now roused
into hostile activity against man ; and hence we read of stings
of conscience (1 Tim. iv. 2), and of self-condemnation (1 John
iii. 20).

4. In conclusion, a word must still be said as to whether

there is such a thing as an erring conscience, which we ought

nevertheless to obey. Conscience in the true sense, not

merely what aiopcars to be conscience, cannot possibly err.

For God's voice cannot contradict itself. In accepting what

is false we cannot possibly have a ijcrsoncd conviction of its

truth, although we may have a very lively trust in external

authorities. For if a falsehood could invest itself with

certainty just as much as a truth, there would no longer

be any certainty with regard to truth. The same thing is

clear from the fact that all erroneous moral ideas can be

overcome. This can be done only because it can be shown

that they are in contradiction to something better, something

which may sleep but can be awakened. Neither can the

opinion that erring consciences do exist find shelter behind

Scripture. Paul, it is true, acknowledges that the conscience

of each individual has its special modifications (e/cao-ro? iv tu)

lBIq) vol 7r\7]po^op6ta6o3, Horn. xiv. 5 ; 1 Cor. x. 29). He

speaks too of weak consciences, Eom. xiv. 15, and demands,

on behalf both of the individual conscience and the weak

conscience, that no offence be given them. For example,

2 52 § 26. FOliMS OF THE MANIFESTATIOX OF CONSCIENCE.

whoever has scruples about eating flesh, especially flesh
oftered to idols, ought — even leaving out of sight the fact
that there are others whose consciences should not be offended
— to abstain from eating ; he must not, by doing that which
his moral consciousness declares to be sinful or doubtful,
assume to himself a higher degree of moral freedom and
knowledge than that which he has properly attained. His
duty is rather to devote his energies to growth in moral
knowledge, before he exercises his freedom in such innocent
matters. But although Paul certainly says that we ought
not to act inconsistently with the degree of moral knowledge we
have attained, he does 7wt say that we ought to follow the
false declarations and demands of an ostensible conscience
when it asks us to do that which is evil in itself. A Jew, for
example, may believe that he is doing God service in per-
secuting or slaying Christians, and a heathen may believe that
lie is permitted or enjoined by his religion to drown his child
in the Ganges, but it is the duty neither of Jew nor heathen
to do that which objectively is wrong. Wherever a spurious
conscience would make something that is evil a matter of
duty, the missionary must boldly demand that the supposed
duty be not discharged, that a thing which is evil in itself be
not done.

The only case in which it is a duty to follow the dictates
of an erring moral consciousness is when our major premiss
is correct, — viz. that evil ought to be avoided, — but an
erroneous minor premiss has been brought under it ; and even
then this holds good only with reference to our abstaining
from the exercise of a freedom for which we are not yet
prepared. In such a case an erring moral consciousness may
declare that it is morally doubtful whether we ought to
exercise our freedom, and therefore that we ought to refrain
from doing so ; and here it cannot be said that it is sinful
to abstain from using our freedom (cf. Eom. xiv. 1 ff . ; 1 Cor.
viii. 7 ff., X. 23—33). But when the matter in question is
something evil which is enjoined by an erring moral con-
sciousness, then we must say that it can never be so closely
associated with moral certainty as to make its performance a
duty. That evil should put itself forward as something good
is in itself quite unnatural, and hence a truer knowledge

§ 27. FREEDOM. 253

finds entrance into the mind when an appeal is made to a
higher consciousness, to that which really is conscience and
which affords true certainty, a certainty allied with that
originality and immediateness which go with convictions of
the higliest kind. Accordingly there is a confusion of con-
science with inorcd consciousness in general when it is held
that we may speak of an erring conscience. We formerly
saw that the moral consciousness, especially at its second
stage, is liable to great aberrations, although it may, at the
same time, have a high degree of faith in the trustworthiness
and authority of its objective source. But such an erring
moral consciousness lacks that ivhich is the special character-
istic of conscience — viz. true, immediate certainty with regard
to morality in itself and independent of external authorities.
Conscience, indeed, is often introduced into matters with which
it has nothing to do ; but this, even where it is done in good
faith, is arbitrary autonomy, and in truth nothing but
Antinomianism.

THIED SECTION.

FKEEDOM.

The doctrines which liave been held regarding freedom range
themselves historically under the antithesis of Deter-
minism and Indeterminism ; an antithesis which passes
through various stages. The lower forms of both always
incline to run into each other, a fact which proves that
the members of the antithesis tend towards one another,
each of them representing a side of truth which strives
after union with the otlier side. Accordingly the goal
to which science has to approximate is to combine both
of them in a higher unity.

Literature. — riato, De Bepuhlica, Bk. ix. Origen, Uspi apy^Zv.
Ale.vander Aphrodisias and Ammonius — de fato — -svrote on the
fatalism, especially of an astrological kind, which was so widely
spread in the first centuries. Ephrcm Syrus wrote on the

25-t § 27. FKEEDOM. LITERATURE.

other side. (Cf. regarding these authors the treatise of Joh.
Conr. Orelli, Zurich 1824.) Diodorus of Tarsus, Theodore of
Mopsuestia, Augustine, Be libero arhitrio ; c. Faustum Manicli-
amm. Gemistos Plethon, cf. H. Grotius, 1648, Pliilosopliorum
ccterum sentcnticc de fato. Of writers belonging to the JNIiddle
Ages, Thomas Aquinas approaches Determinism, while Duns
Scotus is an Indeterminist ; Laurentius Valla and Thomas
Bradwardinus, however, are predestinarians. In the age of the
Eeformation, we have Luther, De servo arhitrio ; Erasmus, De
libera arhitrio; Melanchthon's Loci, 1521; Calvin's Institutio,
L. i. ii. Besides several treatises, Zwingli, On the Eternal
Providence of God. Jonathan Edwards, one of the most acute
of Calvinists, An Inquiry into the Modern ^prevailing Notions
respecting the Freedom of Will. W. King, in his De originc
mali, is, on the other hand, an Indeterminist.

On the philosophical side we may mention Spinoza's Mhil;
the Theodicy of Leibnitz, who conceives everything as under
divine predestination, and regards evil as limitation. Material-
istic fatalism is defended in the Systeme de la nature of Baron
von Holbach. The Indeterminism of Kant in his Critique of
the Practical Reason, and his Peligiooi within the Limits of
Pure Reason, forms the transition to Schelling's doctrine of
the predeterminism of freedom. Daub, Judas Iscariot, 2 vols. ;
as well as his DarstcUung und Beurtheilung der Hypo-
thesen in Betreff der Willensfreihcit, 1834, and his Christliche
Moral. Bockshammer, Uel)er die Freiheit des menschlichen
Willcns, 1821. Franz v. Baader, Begriindung der Ethik durch
Physik, 1843. Herbart, Praldisehe Philosophic {die Idee der
inner en Freiheit), Werke, vol. viii. p. 33 sq., vol. ix. Nr. 9 ;
Gesprdeh ilher das Bose, 1847. Vatke, Die menschliche Freiheit,
1841. Zeller, Ueher die Freiheit des menschlichen Willens, das
Bose und die moralische Weltordnung, Theol. Jahrh. v. 3, vi. 1, 2.
Schleiermacher, Ueher die Erwdldungslchre, 1819. Eomaug,
Willensfreihcit und Determinismus, 1835. Sigwart, Das ProUcrn
der Freiheit und Unfreiheit des menschlichen Willens, in Tiibinger
Zeitschrifi, 1839, 3. [Sigwart, Der Bcgriff des Willens und sein
Verhdltniss zum Begriff der Ursachc, 1879.- — -Ed.] Heinrich
Eitter, Ueher das Bose. Julius Miiller, Doctrine of Sin, with a
survey of the different theories. Luthardt, Die Lehre vorn
freicn Willen. Eothe, Ethik, 2nd ed. § 86, p. 349. Trendelen-
burg, Naturrecht, 1860, p. 65 sq., § 43 ; Hist. Beitrdge zur Phil.
ii. 112; JSfothwendigkeit tend Freiheit in der griechischen Philo-
sophie. Scholten, Ueher Willensfreihcit, translated by Manchot,
1874, and criticized by Gloatz, Jahrh. filr deutsche Theol. 1874.
[Hoekstra, Vrijheid in verhand met zclfhewusthcid zcdelijkhcid
en zonde. Secretan, La philosophic de la liherte, 1849. J. C.

ABSOLUTE PHYSICAL DETEEMINISM. 255

Fischer, Uebcr die Frcilhcit dcs mcnscMichen Willcns, 1858.
Stuart Mill, System of Deductive and Inductive Logic, vol. ii.
Book 6. Liebmann, Ucher den individuellen Beivcis fur die
Freiheit dcs Willens, 1866. J. B. Meyer, PhilosopJiische Zeit-
fragen, cap. 8. Goering, Uelcr die menschliche Freiheit, 1876.
Fluegel, Prohleme dcr Philosophie, 2 Thl. 1876. H, Sommer,
TJeher das Wesen und die Bedcutung der menschlichen Freiheit,
Preussische JahrhiXcher, 1881, Nr. vi. Zart, Bemerkungen zur
Theorie der menschlichen Freiheit, 1883 ; Der christliche Glauhe
und die mensehliehe Freilicit, 1880. Lotze, MikroJcosmiis, III,
Grundzilge der praktischen Philosophie, p. 16 sq. Witte, Ucher
Freiheit des Willens, 1882. Harms, Metaphysih, 1885, pp. 80-
100. Of. besides the literature given above, p. 29 sq. — Ed,]

J.— FIRST FORM OF THE ANTITHESIS. ABSOLUTE PHYSICAL
DETERMINISM AND ABSOLUTE INDETERMINISM.

I. DETERMINISM IN ITS LOWEST FORM,

(a) The lowest stage of determinism is mechanical deter-
minism, represented in antiquity by the atomists, and in
modern times by Holbach in his Systhne de la nature. It
may take a materialistic shape, denying the distinct existence
of the soul, and regarding it as a mere quality or activity of
matter, the highest form which matter assumes. Determinism
of this kind has been already discussed (§ 9. 3). Substan-
tially the same view is held when the existence of a human
soul is admitted, but it is conceived as moved and determined
solely from the outside, l)y surrounding physical things or
forces, such as food, climate, or even social relations. But
indeterminism now comes forward with its consciousness of
freedom, and points with justice to the ignoble elements
contained in this idea. It says : if man were moved solely
and simply from the outside, if he offered no resistance nor
counteraction to external forces, then he would be as good as
non-existent, he would have no separate life of his own.
For otherwise he would not be merely determined and
conditioned by things external to him, but would himself be
a conditioning power, in accordance with the constitution of
his nature. And the very form of determinism which we are
here considering must admit that man is such a power, since
it holds that everything conditions every other, in an endless

256 § 27. FREEDOM. DETERMINISM IN ITS LOWEST FORM.

chain of influence. Were man not a conditioning cause, he
would be something less than nature. But he is spirit, and
susceptible to the universal, and is thus raised far above
mere dependence on the individual natural existences and
forces which surround him.

(b) Should determinism concede this, as it must, it may
nevertheless endeavour to maintain itself by assuming a higher
form than the mechanical. Accordingly, when a more
coherent method of thought is adopted, there arises the idea
of a universal connection in nature, in which all natural
forces are bound together in a necessary chain of cause and
effect. Here it is asserted that the principle of this all-
embracing and determining necessity is eifiapfiivr}, fate. Thus
mechanical determinism passes over into fatalism ; man is not
subordinated to the external forces of nature, but is placed
on the same level with them, and fate determines him as it
does everything. But indeterminism again brings forward
the sense of freedom in opposition to fatalism, and maintains
that it is not only lowering, but also untrue to hold that we
are dependent upon blind, unconscious fate, since we are
conscious tliat there is within us a causal poivcr. If by fate
we mean that nexus of cause and efifect by which the whole
system of nature is held together, and which acts in the way
of sheer compulsion, then in this sense fate cannot exist for
man. For man is conscious that he has the power to
acquiesce in or to reject the natural influences by which he
is surrounded, and that in both cases he acts as a being
endowed with will. The impulses which come to him from
the side of nature — whether individually or collectively —
only exert a causal efficacy upon him through the instru-
mentality of his will, and therefore, since he can take up an
attitude of independence towards the whole of nature, they
really derive their power from the spirit of man, so that the
spirit never ceases to be its own master. The spirit is no
mere unit among the things of nature, and accordingly it
must not be taken captive against its will by any one of
these ; it can always retire from among them into the depths
of its own universal nature, and through its power of self-
reflection — a power which nature does not possess — take up
an attitude of indifference to everything outside itself. This

DETERMINISM. INDETERMINISM IN ITS FIRST FORM. 257

is the roclc on which every form of causality splits, which
would determine the spirit from without.

(c) The deterministic mode of thought may now, in order
to maintain itself against indeterminism, attempt to find from
its own point of view a place for the causality of man. It
may say — it is just when man realizes that everything outside
him, and he himself as well, are dependent upon an all-
embracing fate, that he becomes aware that in the last resort
he is not dependent upon external things, but is independent
over against them and free. They and the whole system of
nature are powerless to affect him in opposition to fate, which
assigns to him and them their measure of power and perma-
nence, of right and law. Nay, more has been assigned to
man than to nature. He is a spiritual being of a universal
kind, and the spiritual world is his. Hence, collective
nature cannot become master of this his universal and
essential being. Thus he is free with respect to nature, but
is undoubtedly subject to fate as the law which lays the
whole universe under the bonds of necessity.

Here too indeterminism has its answer ready. Such a
power of resistance and such an independence of nature is
2iot yet the freedom which morality requires. If everything
be determined by fate, if even the causative power of freedom,
the consciousness and the exercise of it, be so determined,
then freedom itself is denied, and also all independence and
responsibility. Fate can never consist with freedom, since it
is blind and, so far as its contents are concerned, mere
motiveless chance, which affords no room for the stability of
a coherent moral life. Accordingly indeterminism, which we
have hitherto known merely as the critic of certain forms of
determinism, advances a theory of its own in the following
shape.

II. INDETERMINISM IN ITS FIRST AND BAREST FORM.

Here freedom is defined as the power possessed by man, in
accordance with his universal nature, of — if not actually
effecting, yet — willing or not willing whatever is possible ;
negatively, it is absolute freedom from everything like deter-
mination or specific character. For every determination, even

258 § 27. FREEDOJL INDETERMINISM IN ITS LOWEST FOEM.

though originally it should take place through man's own wil],
would be a limitation of freedom considered as the faculty of
willing or not willing whatever is possible. Duns Scotus,
W. King {De originc mali), and Episcopius ^ approach most
closely to this form of indeterminism. According to it,
freedom consists in the mere infinite ahility of willing, as
opposed to every definite volition, and therefore in the
capability of emancipating one's self from everything that
determines volition.

But here determinism can now come forward, and point out
with justice to this form of indeterminism, that it must yield
although unwillingly to determinism, and must even swing
round altogether into the latter. The indeterminism which,
in the interest of absolute freedom or of the unlimited ability
to will, holds that determinateness of every kind must be
excluded, confounds the infinitum with the indefinitum.^
Moreover, this indeterminism, which thinks that freedom must
consist in complete exemption from every kind of determinate-
ness, would also be incapable of any definite volition or action.
The necessity would lie upon it, like a fate, of willing nothing
at all, since every act must involve a definite, individual
volition. Did freedom merely consist in the infinite power to
will whatever is possible, then man, when he willed something
definite, would for the time being lose his freedom. For he
cannot, like God, will everything that is possible at one and
the same moment, but can only will some individual thing,
and this is not commensurate with that universal ability of
which we are speaking, i.e. with freedom in the indeterministic
sense. Since in every definite act of volition freedom must
limit itself for the sake of some individual thing which is
willed, the exercise of freedom would, according to the notion
of it supplied by absolute indeterminism, be identical with its
loss. So, in order not to suffer such a falling away from
itself, freedom would have to take up a negative attitude
towards all the demands that are addressed to it ; it would
necessarily remain merely an infinite possibility or potency of

^ Tractatus de libero arhitrio. Cf. Rothe, 2nd ed. i. p. 354.

^ The same fault lies in the proposition of Spinoza : omnis determinatio est
negatio ; and the systems of Schopenhauer and E. v. Hartmann rest on the
same fundamental error.

ABSOLUTE INDETEEMINISM. 259

volition, would never will anything at all, but would have con-
stantly to abstain from willing. But a potency of volition
which at the same time involved the impossibility of volition
would be a contradiction. And this shows that absolute
indeterminism does not attain to real freedom, and more, that
by thus falling back upon mere ability it can never enjoy its
freedom, nor assert its consciousness of it.

Accordingly, determinism is right when it urges that the
following inferences How from indeterminism. Since the
latter thus stubbornly rejects all definite contents, since — in
order not to shake, even for a moment, freedom as it con-
ceives of it, i.e. the universal infinite possibility of volition —
it excludes all and every determination, even determination
mediated through the will itself, then it follows that not only
as a matter of fact is no exercise of freedom possible, but also
that if freedom of this kind is to be preserved, it must have
imposed upon it like a fate the necessity of willing nothing
at all. But such a freedom is immured within itself, is
absolutely powerless, the very opposite of freedom. Hence
absolute indeterminism swings round into its opposite. There
is no constancy in it. In order that real freedom may exist,
it must not be deprived of definite contents ; just as the latter,
on the other hand, must not abolish freedom. On the
contrary, in order that there may be freedom, the form of free
volition must be compatible with definite contents. Neither
must freedom be made to consist in indifference towards and
exclusion of definite contents. Otherwise it would merely be
the power of exercising caprice. And caprice is just chance
in a subjective form.

That must be a false idea of freedom which surrenders
freedom — meant as it is for action, for exercise — to the
necessity either of inaction or else of self-loss. Fatalism of
this kind, in which absolute indeterminism has landed, is
now opposed by another form of determinism, in which the
mechanical stage has been recognised as untenable, which
makes no attempt to exclude human causality either by
means of a connected system of nature or by fate, but seeks
to clothe itself in a higher form, a form which is able to meet
the last objections advanced by indeterminism.

260 § 28. FREEDOM. SECOND FOEM OF THE ANTITHESIS.

§ 28. {Continuation)

2].— THE SECOND FORM OF THE ANTITHESIS. PSYCHICAL
DETERMINISM AND THE INDETERMINISM OF INDIF-
FERENCE.

I. PSYCHICAL DETERMINISM.

As it is not by mere mechanical impulses that man is
moved, or, as it were, driven, so too in what he is and does he
is not dependent upon the caprices or irrational chance of a
fate, which impels liim now in one direction and then perhaps
in the opposite direction. He is rather — says determinism of
this new and more refined form — relatively free over against
mundane forces, he has a causal energy of his own, and can
work upon them and resist them. Indeed, the higher form of
determinism lays stress upon the fact that man has a causal
power of a constant, determinate kind, according to the
quantity and quality of the energy which dwells within him.
It must be possible — it says — for the will to be an actual
determinate will, and yet to be free. What is definite or
determined cannot be inimical to freedom. A really free
character must also be a character specifically determined.
But — it now continues — the will acts like all other forces ;
man chooses, decides, acts as a spiritual force in accordance
with his essential nature, his psychical constitution. It is true
that man with his receptivity and power of willing is not
confined to a narrow range of things, like merely natural
beings. Human nature is universal, and can therefore will an
infinite variety of things. But in every individual, and at
every moment, the choice which is made depends upon his
whole previous disposition, and especially upon the state and
bent of his psychical powers. Neither fate nor the constitution
of external nature rules him from without. But the con-
stitution of his nature as a whole, of his intellect and
inclinations, all that he brings with him into the world or
that he has acquired through culture, this it is which
determines his will. And even moral impulses may arise
from the habitual character thus formed. Man's energies and
impulses have all a determining influence upon him. He is
himself only their expression and executor ; and thus every-

PSYCHICAL DETERMINISM. 2 G 1

thing runs its naturally determined course, although the
determination is of a psycliical and not of a physico-mechanical
kind. It is denied that there is in man a causal source of
action, belonging to himself and independent of psychical
determination. Freedom is denied as the ability to set in
motion a new series of actions ; consequently it is denied to
be the cause of man's power to originate action ; or in other
words, it is denied that man is a causality in the higher sense
of not only willing, but freely willing his volition. For it is
held rather that the reason why man is and becomes a cause
lies in the given psychical constitution of his nature. There
is no such thing as a power of self-determination with respect
to the inner source of action.

Thus the whole chain of actions and habits which makes
np the life of man would be preformed from the very first,
and the chain would unwind itself — although under the
co-operation of external factors — just as leaves, blossom, and
fruit are developed from a seed from the beginning onward.
And this necessity from first to last would lie upon the
M'icked in their wickedness as well as upon the good in their
goodness. They would have morally opposite dispositions ; tlie
one would be created for evil, the other for good.

But indeterminism now refuses, and with justice, to assent
to this view. It now admits, indeed, that freedom must be
able to will something definite without self-loss accruing,
and even that decision, determinateness, is a necessary
characteristic of freedom. But nevertheless it objects to
psychical determinism that the latter fails to explain the
psychological phenomena of shame, penitence, and especially
of the sense of guilt, all of which point to moral freedom, and
that it rather abolishes imputation and guilt altogether, since
it denies the formal element of free-will. And it is further
objected by indeterminism, that on this view the contents of
an act of will can no longer be regarded as moral, but that
since determination is conceived of after the manner of
physical and not of ethical laws, these contents must remain
morally indifferent or worthless. Determinism no doubt may
reply — there is guilt wherever there is actual causation ; for
example, we say that bad weather is guilty of the failure of
the crops. But indeterminism can justly retort — this is only

262 § 28. FREEDOM. SECOND FOEM OF THE ANTITHESIS.

physical and logical imputation, the reference of a result to
the nearest causality, and the latter may itself have something
else as its cause, behind or above itself. In moral imputation,
on the other hand, and in the strict idea of guilt, nothing of
the kind is involved ; but, on the contrary, it is implied that
there is no determining power alien to man which makes him
the cause of what he does ; that he himself is responsible, is
the alrla or reason of his will becoming a causal power. In
short, moral guilt and imputation have only a footing where
man is conceived as a causality of a higher kind than merely
natural causes, where he is thought of as a causality in the second
degree, as the ultimate ground — not indeed of his essential being,
but nevertheless — of his acting as a cause ; in other words, as
having the power to make himself the cause of an act or not.
Further, indeterminism can justly confront determinism
with its inability to assign any reason why some should be
good and others evil, while morality nevertheless makes an
unconditional claim upon all men, through the essential con-
stitution of human nature. If the distinction between good
and evil is absolute, psychical determinism must assume that
different individuals have characters of an absolutely opposite
kind. But in that case men no longer form one species of
being, but two that are totally different, and we can no longer
seriously assert that morality lays an unconditional claim upon
all men alike. Good could not be really demanded of those
who are psychically predisposed to evil. And thus from
more sides than one psychical determinism would prove the
ruin of the ethical idea. Now, should determinism take
exception to this inference, on the ground that the ethical idea
does come to realization in what is good, indeterminism justly
reminds us, that if human action is necessitated by the con-
stitution of man's nature and the disposition originally given
him, so that there is no possibility of his acting otherwise
than he does, then we cannot ascribe to him any real share of
his ovm in the formation of his moral character, and thus even
the good as viewed from the standpoint of determinism would
contain no moral element properly so called. Moreover,
psychical determinism is not altogether free of fatalism. For
if everything be — even psychically — determined, the ques-
tion arises, what is the determining power ? It cannot be a

INDETEEMINISM OF INDIFfEEENCE. 263

good being over all, for lie would not determine men to what
is evil as well as to what is good. Fate must therefore be
posited as the supreme determining power, a fate to which the
distinction between good and evil is indifferent, and which
determines men aimlessly and blindly. And although fate,
when looked at from without, is irresistible compulsion, the
principle of iron necessity, still, inwardly regarded, it is in
itself without goal and aim, it has no purpose of its own, but
is hollow and empty. From an absolute point of view, there
is no reason why it should determine some particular thing
rather than the opposite ; that is to say, fate regarded in-
wardly is absolute chance.

ir. THE INDETERMI'NISM OF INDIFFERENCE.

2. It must be admitted that the objections advanced by
determinism against indeterminism in its absolute form have
not been removed. jSTow, when indeterminism acknowledges
their justice, more particularly when it recognises that the
idea of freedom must involve not a bare capacity, an impotent
potency, but something actual, or that freedom must appro-
priate to itself contents of a detinite kind, then indeter-
minism also reaches a higher stage. It now says : the
cause of moral character must be in man himself; it lies in
the ability to choose freely between one kind of contents and
another; more particularly, in the capacity he has of giving
the preference to good or to evil, without losing his freedom.
After a choice has been made, freedom remains, without altera-
tion or self-loss, the same that it was before ; it is the faculty
of choice pure and simple, which cannot be lost, and which
always retains the power of making, just as readily, an
opposite choice to the one it actually does make. By
exercising its power of determination, it can of course limit
itself for the moment to particular contents. But this only
touches the surface of its nature ; in its essence the faculty of
choice remains ever the same, and maintains the same atti-
tude of indifference towards all kinds of contents ; it is the
power of choice, the will making a selection and nothing more,
or in other words, arbitrariness. Hence freedom in this sense
goes by the name liherum arMtriuni indiffer entice.

264 § 28. FREEDOM. SECOND FOEM OF THE ANTITHESIS.

This idea of freedom is very common ; many still hold that
the special dignity of man consists in his power of arbitrary
choice, a choice in which the contents are a matter of indiffer-
ence. But against this conception of freedom also, many
important considerations suggest themselves, some of which are
urged with much force from the side of determinism. If the
essential nature of freedom be exhaustively described in
saying that it consists in the power of choice, then freedom
must be incapable of growth; just as little can it be diminished ;
hence it can only exist in its entirety or not at all, and must
consequently be complete from the very beginning. But such
a freedom would be an altogether abnormal phenomenon in
a world where everything is passing through a process of
growth. Further, if freedom were no more than the liherioii
arbitrium indiffer entice, and were nevertheless an abiding attri-
bute of man, it would be impossible for any definite impression
which he receives, even though it should be mediated through
his own will, to become a lasting element in his character.
For since freedom, considered as the bare freedom of choice^
can admit of no such thing as determination, without ceasing
to be in itself indifferent to all contents that would give it a
permanent character, it follows that man would have the
power, after performing a series of acts, to obliterate their
effects at any moment. But experience shows that the
opposite of this is the case. The actions of men leave traces
behind them, they produce dispositions which exert an influence
upon the whole future life. By this means freedom, as mere
freedom of choice, is limited. And we must not regard this-
as implying a loss of freedom ; on the contrary, man's freedom
would give him no real power over himself, did its exercise
not effect something permanent. And more than this,.
moralitij itself would suffer through such a conception of
freedom. If the latter were absolutely nothing more than the
power of choice, it would have to remain suspended, in com-
plete indifference, over the object that is chosen ; it could only
graze it, as it were, it could never unite itself to anything
firmly and reliably. If the will were merely an agile faculty,
which could adopt some particular form of contents and
then just as readily shake itself free again, what advantage
would there be in that ? How could a character grow up if

INDETERMINISM OF INDIFFERENCE. 265

the self-determinations of man could not, when his act is past,
continue to work on within him, if they could not make a
lasting impression upon him ? In that case there could never
be any progress, man would continually have to begin from
the beginning over again. Further, if the special dignity of
man, the divine image, is to be seen in such a freedom, in
this power of arbitrary choice, this freedom of indifference —
then the question arises, Is God not to be regarded as free ?
He cannot enjoy such a freedom as this, which is simply
arbitrariness, since He is not mere power ; this physical
category is too low for Him, and His power, on the contrary,
is subordinate to His ethical nature. If it cannot be
accounted as belonging to the freedom of God to be able to
will what is evil as well as what is good, then the ideal of
man, as a being created in the image of God, must lie some-
where else than in a merely external, ostensibly free but in
reality adventitious, relation to the good.

Finally, the doctrine of indiff"erence would also come into
collision with the moral law. The latter demands that we
will the good because it is morally necessary. An act in
which we did what was good merely from arbitrary self-will
or caprice, would be to trifle with the good, w^ould profane it
instead of rendering it homage. If man in himself and from
the whole constitution of his nature were indifferent as to the
contents of his self-determination, and therefore indiff'erent
both to good and evil ; further, if his will, from its essential
nature, held the same relation to good that it did to evil, —
then the law would have no essential connection with him,
and could no longer be absolutely binding upon him. Such
a boundless right of self - determination, moreover, would
abolish man's essential determination for the good. Freedom
can only be given us for the sake of the good ; it is wholly
inconceivable that a force should be admitted into the world
which could never be anything else but mere arbitrariness, a
force which could never afford the means of forming a good
character, or even of performing a single good deed, but which
would rather be the cause of endless confusion in God's world.
Nor is it the case either, that it is indifferent to freedom
whether it surrender itself to good or evil. It does not feel
equally healthy or vigorous in both of them alike. On the

266 § 2[». fi;eedom. third form of the antithesis.

contrary, when it chooses evil it falls into contradiction with
itself and languishes ; it comes under the power of the natural,
of irrational impulses, and sells itself into the kingdom of
bondage, to what Paul calls alxy^cCKwala. On the other hand,
it is only when it chooses the good that it reaches complete
harmony with its idea ; it then rises out of the bare possibihty
of formal freedom into true and real freedom. In addition to
all this, the theory of the indifference of freedom would have
to assume that every individual is born in a state of entire
moral indetermination, as a tabula rasa, whereas experience
and Scripture alike recognise that every one has a natural
tendency towards evil.

The controversy between these two opposing theories must
convince their supporters that they are alike untenable in their
second form also, and that another and a higher form must be
sought for both.

§ 29. (Continuation^

C— THIRD FORM OF THE ANTITHESIS. THEOLOGICAL PREDE-
TERMINISM, OR THE DOCTRINE OF ABSOLUTE PREDESTI-
NATION ;i AND THE PREDETERMINISM OF FREEDOM, OR
FREEDOM AS TRANSCENDENTAL, AS BELONGING TO THE
WORLD OF INTELLIGIBLE BEING.

T. THEOLOGICAL PREDETERMINISM, OR PREDESTINATION AS THE
HIGHEST FORM OF DETERJIINISM.

Determinism in its highest form admits the strength of the
arguments brought against psychical determinism and attempts
to remedy the imperfections of the latter by going back for
the ultimate source of determination, not to a blind cause
such as objective chance or fate, nor to any mere natural
force even of a spiritual kind, but to the free, living God of
Providence, who is guiding the world to a good end. It is
now said that this free, all-determining will of God is even
the ground of a possible change in man, of a conversion from
evil to good, such as strict psychical determinism cannot admit.
Hence determinism in its theological form can now deny, as
well as indeterminism, that evil belongs necessarily to the

' Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, iv. § 130 (ii. § 74, 75).

PEEDESTINATIOX. AUGUSTINE. 267

psychical nature of any huma^n being. It can also assert the
unity of the human race and its universal adaptation for
morality, since it holds that all men, although they are sinful,
are still capable of being acted upon by God, and therefore,
that through the operation of a supernatural, creative energy
they may make a new beginning of moral life. Theological
determinism has appeared in three forms : the Infralapsari-
anism of Augustine, the Sujyralapsa^nanism of Calvin and
Beza, and a third form in which it was held by Schleiermacher.
These all start from the fact of universal sinfulness, of man's
need of as well as his capacity for redemption, but they make
the final character and fate of all to be determined solely and
simply by God.

According to Augustine, God graciously bestows on a part
of mankind tlie power of fulfilling the law, which is valid for
all ; the rest He passes by in this election, leaving them in
sin, which leads to their damnation, although all were alike
capable of receiving His grace. In this way the distinction
between good and evil is explained by means of an act of
election on the part of God, without assuming that in the
human race, as it now is, there is any power of free choice.
But in order to prevent the guilt of evil and the condemnation
of a certain number of individuals from being due to God,
Augustine teaches that in Adam the whole human race was
morally free, and that in him all have sinned, so that no wrong
is done to any one when election passes him over and he is
left to condemnation. Here, therefore, determinism takes up
into itself an element of indeterminism, a pre-existent act of
freedom on the part of all men in Adam, whereby, of course,
the system of purely theological determinism is at once
shattered. But even then the riddle remains unsolved, how
it can accord with God's love to refuse to some the help
without which they must continue in sin, while others to
whom help is given are no whit better than they. If a breach
has to be made in the deterministic system by going back to
Adam and the freedom of man as found in him, why should
not the distinction between those who become believers and
those who remain unbelievers be explained without this
reference to Adam at all, by holding that the same freedom
which he possessed is enjoyed by every individual. Or again,

2G8 § 29. FREEDOM. CALVIN'. BEZA.

why should theological predeterminism not he carried out in
earnest ? Why should Adam's fall be an exception ?

The Siq^ralapsarianism of Calvin and Beza seeks to carry
out theological determinism with stricter logical consistency.
It ventures to assign the ground vjIhj some are passed over by
divine election. According to it, it is for the good of the
world, which exists for the glory of God, that He should not
only reveal His mercy towards some, but also His justice
towards others. Hence, besides vessels of grace and mercy,
there must also be vessels of dishonour. Hence, too, it
believes that it can disallow any freedom in the fall of Adam
and of the race in him, and can trace back this fall to an
omnipotent ordinance of God, which by this means pro-
vided the material for the above-mentioned twofold display of
the majesty of God, in the contrasted forms of mercy and
justice. In the case of the elect, evil is ordained merely with
reference to redemption. But this lands us in a still greater
enigma. How can a revelation of justice be possible, if evil
be based upon an omnipotent divine decree ? How can the
righteous God punish what He Himself has irresistibly
ordained ? And what would become of the inner connection
between justice and love, were God to divide mankind in this
dualistic fashion ? Justice and love would be dissociated in
God also, and would not exist in the divine mind in inward
unity, since He would not, in all that He does, be at once just
and loving, but would be loving to the good and just to the
bad alone.

In order now to be enabled to maintain that the moral
detci'mincdion of all men is essentially the same, and that love
rides in all that God docs, Schleiermacher has brought for-
ward theological determinism in a third and more i^rfcct form.
According to him, absolute divine determination prevails
indeed without exception, but it is likewise the very means
])y which men are everywhere and M'ithout exception deter-
mined for the good. He holds that the Lutheran Church is
right in teaching that grace is universal and offered to all,
but he agrees with Calvin in maintaining that it is also
absolutely irresistible and constant. Since everything is pre-
determined by God, Supralapsarianism is justified in asserting
that evil has also been ordained by Him. Nevertheless,

SCHLEIERMACHER. 269

God does not contradict Himself when He enjoins what is
good and forbids what is evil. He is not indifferent to the
distinction between them. For although evil is willed by
God together with grace, it is willed merely as something
that is transitory and destined to be abolished. It is simply
the natural set alongside a still imiDerfect sense of God, and
this preponderance or excess of the natural, which is ordained
as the initial condition of man, — this actual disproportion
between the natural and the spiritual, — is the flesh. In itself,
however, or dissociated from its connection with the spirit, the
natural would be innocent. At the same time man is a real
and not merely an apparent causality, and hence guilt is
rightly imputed to him. So, too, evil is avoidable, although
not immediately, in the case of every man ; for all are
destined for perfection. Evil does not belong to the essence
or the idea of man ; regarded absolutely, it is rather some-
thing that is eternally condemned and avoidable — avoidable,
that is, through God's grace, which in every age comes in to
strengthen the knowledge of God which man has attained.
In favour of this theory it must be said that it does not, like
the indeterminism of indifference, conceive of freedom as
mere caprice or as a given, completed whole, but as capable
of growth, Schleiermacher's theory also recognises the fact
that man is not born empty both of good and evil, but with
a preponderating tendency towards evil.

But even this highest form of determinism is exposed to
the objection, that if everything be effected through the
irresistible power of grace, there can be no such thing as
a moral process, but merely something that is essentially
a physical operation. The world, even the human will,
would be absorbed in the will of God. The world would
be no more than a manifestation of the divine will, and
would consequently have only a docetic existence. In the
last resort, too, this form of determinism, like all others,
would make evil the result of an omnipotent decree on the
part of God. This indeed is defended on the ground that
God wills a gradual process of growth, which necessarily
involves imperfection in its earlier stages. But gradual
growth does not necessarily include evil. Evil is a deviation
from the normal movement ; when it exists, there must be a

270 § 29. FREEDOM. PEEDETERMINISM OF FREEDOM.

retrogression from the way that has been entered upon, a
return to the right way of gradual growth ; the latter does
not admit either of deviation or retrogression. Finally,
should Schleiermacher say that evil is indeed a discord or
disturbance, but that it is ultimately resolved and disappears,
since it was ordained in connection with redemption, he
brings the divine will into contradiction with itself, for he
makes God by an omnipotent decree ordain something which
His law and His ethical nature alike condemn.

II. THE PREDETERMINISM OF FREEDOM.

Accordingly, indeterminism does not surrender to this last
and highest form of determinism, but seeks to shape itself so
as to be able to def}' the weighty objections which deter-
minism has advanced {£. ii.). It now concedes, not only that
freedom must not be sought for in mere arbitrariness, and
must not exclude permanent characterization, but also that it
does not exist ready-made from the very first or by nature,
but is formed and fashioned by human action. It also con-
cedes that freedom has an essential relation to the law, and
consequently destroys itself when exercised arbitrarily ; and
that, on the contrary, it gains in strength when it unites itself
to what is morally necessary. On the other side, indeter-
minism still maintains inflexibly that the moral condition of
man must be due to an act of his own, that the entire con-
stitution of his moral nature must have its ground in a free
act of self-determination on the part of man, and not in any
mechanical, psychical, or theological determination. Eacli
one gives himself his own peculiar character. Indeterminism
is now confronted with the following problem. It sees —
what is evident on the face of things — that man is never a
mere tabula rasa, but at every moment has a determinate
character ; more particularly, it sees that in human life an
egoistic bias early makes its appearance, a tendency which cannot
be derived from a fall, taking place in the empirical earthly
life of each individual. Accordingly, to maintain its own
point of view, and to explain the determination that so mani-
festly exists in the present actual world, indeterminism falls
back upon a free act or free acts of man in an intelligible

KANT. SCHELLING. 271

world ; and this logically leads to a super-temporal or pre-
temporal mode of existence, or in other words, to the doctrine
of pre - existence. In this intelligible region, it is held,
freedom makes its decision by an act which gives to man
the specific character that we see he possesses empirically,
or on earth. This theory is held, in difierent ways, by Kant,
Schelling, Origen, and Jul. Mliller.

According to Kant, the visible sensible world is absolutely
under the sway of the law of necessity. But the spirit has
within itself an intelligible region, a kingdom of freedom in
which it determines itself, above or, as it were, behind time.
Since time has for Kant only subjective significance, he can
conceive of this act of self-determination, which takes place in
eternity, as constantly pervading and operative in the life
of man. But if the whole external world and the empirical
human life remain subject to the law of necessity, while
freedom is adjudged to belong to purely intelligible being,
then freedom is made utterly powerless, and morality is con-
demned to a merely incorporeal, spiritualistic existence.
Moreover, when Kant derives the sinful bias with which
we are born from an act of freedom, he thereby admits a
connection between the intelligible and the empirical world,
and thus introduces an inconsistency into his system. And a
similar remark may be made when he asserts the possibility
of a change in the intelligible character. For he thereby
admits that history and therefore time has objective signi-
ficance.

According to Schelling, every man has fixed his own
specific character by a pre-temporal and super-temporal act
of freedom, and enters upon his life in time with the deter-
minate qualities he has thus given himself, so that all he
does in the world is to live out this indwelling character.
Thus the whole earthly life is held to be delivered over
irrevocably to determinism. But if man had absolutely no
power to begin a new series of actions from M'ithin outwards,
he could no longer effect any moral change — either for good
or evil — in his own earthly life. And thus there would be
two classes of men eternally distinct, and the whole earthly
life would be without real, intrinsic value. One act alone
in man's whole existence would have moral worth, and it

272 § 29. FREEDOM. ORIGEN. MULLER.

would lie outside consciousness altogether. History would
only have the semblance of significance. For man, in his
time-life, instead of making some moral acquisition, could do
no more than show or reveal what had been already implanted
within him through his pre-existent act of freedom.

In reply to this it may be said, with Origen and Julius
Mliller, that the pre-existent act referred to does not deter-
mine freedom wholly and for ever ; that, on the contrary,
conversion, for example, always remains possible to man, and
that freedom therefore continues to exist alongside of deter-
mination or necessity. This, however, is a virtual admission
that no firm standing ground is afforded either by pure
indeterminism or determinism. According to Origen, the
souls of men have, as a punishment, been clothed with
bodies, and sent to earth as to a prison. Jul. Mliller
dissents from this view, since it gives to the body an
altogether accidental connection with the soul. He holds,
on the contrary, that even apart from the fall altogether,
human souls would have been destined to be united to a
body for a time ; and thus, according to him, men were at
first created incomplete. But in that case it is all the more
surprising that the human soul should be created so perfect
as to be able to undertake, in its pre-existent condition, an
act of such infinite consequence and so pregnant with fate.
He fails to show how souls in the pre-existent, intelligible
state, with no bodies and no consciousness of a world, could
ever perform an act of this kind, which presupposes the ex-
istence of a high degree of freedom and self-consciousness,
such as they could not possibly possess at their creation.
Further, if we cannot go back to the idea of indifference as
affording an exhaustive definition of freedom, what is required
is, to show how the element of truth contained in determinism
is to be incorporated with the idea of freedom, and how the
latter is to be defined so as to do full justice to it.

If we now survey the two sets of theories which we have
discussed, the result is as follows. The whole truth has not
yet been found even in the third form either of determinism
or indeterminism, although both of these have caught up
elements of it into themselves, elements which belong
originally to the other member of the antithesis. Never-

§ 30. POSITIVE DOCTRINE OF FREEDOM. 273

theless, the dialectical necessity of the matter in hand com-
pels us to recognise that we must seek for a union of the
two factors of necessity and freedom, and by this means raise
the idea of freedom above bare indeterminism on the one side
and bare determinism on the other.

§ 30. Positive Doctrine of Freedom.

The full idea of freedom can only be realized and can only be
apprehended in a plurality of stages, which it must pass
through in the course of an actual moral process. Such
a process is recognised neither by pure Determinism nor
by pure Indeterminism ; it is set in motion, on the one
side by the opposition, on tlie other side by the intimate
connection between the two factors of Freedom and
Necessity. The first stage is that of freedom in essence,.
or essential freedom (cf, § 24. 25. 1, 2, 19. 1-3),
corresponding to conscience at its earliest stage. It
is only when the law becomes revealed in conscience-
(§ 25. 2) that the faculty of moral choice, which lies hid
in this rudimentary form of freedom, is brought out into
actual exercise ; and then the second stage has been reached.
Here a double possibility is set before man. He can
suffer himself to be determined either by the good or
by its opposite ; and therein he possesses freedom, as
the power of choice between good and evil. But the
ability to make a choice is not yet true freedom ; it
simply marks the stage of formed or sid^jcctive freedom,
and this can only be a transitional stage. The third'
stage and the full idea of freedom is only reached when
man no longer makes a mere arbitrary choice, in-
different to what is morally necessary, but, recognising
the good to be the true essence or the idea of his
own personality, unites himself firmly to it, and thereby
gives himself a definite moral character, so that through
the emancipating power of love to and delight in the

2 '74 § 30. POSITIVE DOCTEINE OF FREEDOM.

good, it becomes more and more a moral impossibility
for him to choose what is evil. This is real freedom —
what the New Testament calls the glorious liberty of
the children of God (so-called theological freedom). In
it the faculty of choice is still preserved ; but it is no
longer a factor operating in isolation ; on the contrary,
it is taken up as an organic element into the will,
now indissolubly united to the good. In this real
freedom essential freedom attains to pure and efficient
realization.

1. Biblical Doctrine. — Scripture teaches neither absolute
determinism nor an empty liberum arbitrium indifferens. On
the contrary, the idea of essential freedom is expressed in the
phrase "the image of God" (Gen. i. 26, 27). Man was
created in this image (iop^S). The essential characteristic
of man is, that he is destined for God. But this his desti-
nation is not realized at once and without mediation. This
truth is involved in the words which tell us that he was
created for likeness to God (iniO"|3). According to these
words, man has an essential relation to the good or the morally
necessary ; and as long as he continues to be at one with the
will of God, he is also in a happy state of harmony with him-
self, a state that accords with his true nature ; although it is
not till after the fall that he has a living experience of the
fact. The power of moo-al cJioice is then called into play by
means of moral commands. These commands appear indeed
in a positive, external form, and their inward goodness is
not at first recognised. Still, man knows that it is his
duty to exhibit childlike piety and obedience, and this
makes him a moral being. Accordingly, his consciousness
of the law is gradually developed along with his conscious-
ness of himself, of the world and of God, is strengthened
by the moral customs of the patriarchal age, and is at last
fully unfolded in a national form in the law of Moses. Even
the Mosaic law is the friend of freedom, and the Hebrews did
not fail to perceive that it was bound up with the very being
and therefore with the freedom of the nation (Deut. xxx.
15 f.; Jer. vi. 16, xviii. 11 ; Sir. xv. 14 f). Hence the

BIBLICAL DOCTBINK 275

high praise that is given to the law (Ps. xxxii., ciii., cxix.). It
awakens the consciousness of freedom, and summons man to
moral effort. According to Deut. xxx. 15, good and evil are
set before man that he may make his choice. Christianity
also recognises essential freedom (Eom. vii. 22 ; John iii.
20, 21), and likewise freedom of choice between good and
evil (Matt. xxii. 2 f., xxiii. 37 ; Acts vii. 51 f.). Still, mere
freedom of clioice by itself does not receive the name of free-
dom. 'Eicouatov is used (Heb. x. 26) to denote man's
spontaneity when it takes the direction of evil. It is self-
evident, however, that the Old and New Testaments do not
stop short with the subjective element in freedom ; even
leaving the effects of sin out of account altogether, every
good gift comes from God the Fatlier of lights, who must
work in man both to will and to do (James i. 17 f. ;
Phil. ii. 13). In addition to this also, guilt and sin, which
are imputed to man because of his freedom, produce a con-
dition of bondage, of dominion of the flesh, and at the same
time of fear and timidity before God. Even in Old Testa-
ment times this was perceived by the prophets, and hence
they deemed a new covenant necessary (Jer. xxxi. ; Ezek.
xi. 19). Then the Son came, in order that from being bonds-
men we might become free children of God (John viii. 31, 32 ;
Piom. vi. 15 f., viii. 17 ff.). The divine agency that now comes
into play has the power to determine man ; but the determina-
tion which is given is wholly favourable to freedom, and
James plainly says (i. 25) that Christianity is the vofioq
reXeio? t?^<? ekev6€p[a<i. According to the New Testament,
true freedom is to be found in the realization of the new
man, made in the image of God (Rom. viii. 2 1 ; 2 Cor. iii. 1 7 ;
Eph. iv. 23 f.; Col. iii. 9 f. ; 1 Pet. ii. 16). There is no
word in the New Testament of freedom apart from Christ ;
on the contrary, Christ says, Without me ye can do nothing
(John XV. 5).

2. Possibility and necessity of the facnliy of moral choice. —
It is true that the Eeformers Luther and Calvin believed that
they must deny man's freedom of moral choice, not only on
account of original sin and with reference to the liberum
arhitrium in spiritualihis, but also in order to maintain the
divine omnipotence. They were led to this view hj their

276 § 30. POSITIVE DOCTRINE OF FREEDOM. POSSIBILITY AND

opposition to Pelagianism. But the German Evangelical
Church, following Melanchthon in this respect, has always
sought to leave room for moral freedom of choice, and has
refused to acknowledge the grounds on which its possibility
is denied. And in fact, when it is said that God has
created free beings, no limitation of His omnipotence is
implied, since the idea of omnipotence simply describes His
absolute power, but says nothing as to how it is exercised.
God is indeed at every moment the sole ground of the being
of His creatures. But if nothing higher could exist than
creatures at the level of nature, that is to say, if there could
not be free spirits, then the creative omnipotence of God
could not become a cause in the full sense of the term.
A causal power has not operated in the highest sense, and
has not advanced beyond the relations of identity and sub-
stantiality, until it has produced something which does not
remain absorbed in it, and in utter and helpless dependence
upon it, but which has an existence by itself and leads an
independent life. Now in nature the divine causality does
not reach this form ; there life and its movements are every-
where determined by the will of God, and are the expression
of that will. Accordingly, the creative causality of God does
not manifest itself fully in nature : it can only do so when it
calls free beings into existence. Further, the necessity for
the existence of free beings is rendered still more evident
when we consider not only the creative omnipotence of
God, but also the ethical end for which the world has
been created by an ethical God. God's omnipotence, in
accordance with His purpose of love, wills, for the realization
of the good, free and essentially self-determining beings. An
obedience towards God that did not involve a capacity to
resist His will, would not be free ; man would remain merely
a higher kind of natural being, determined throughout by
divine omnipotence. Also, he would not be an ultimate end,
for whatever lacks independent existence can be no more
than a means. But God wills a world that shall be of worth
in itself, that shall live out its own life in the freedom of
love, and not merely attain to a spectral existence over against
His irresistible sway. It is indeed a great, bold thought,
that man is so free with regard to God that he can withstand

NECESSITY OF MOKAL CHOICE. 277

God. But all the while, omnipotence remains as the power
from which freedom derives its existence (Ps. civ. 29). Thus,
then, God proves Himself to be a loving Father, by willing
the existence of free children, made in His own image, with
whom He can enter upon a free interchange of love. He
wills that on the basis of the nature which He gave to man
at creation, a new creation should now be built, in which
a free, reciprocal fellowship of love can be formed between
God and man.

K'ow determinism and indeterminism are alike in this, that
on their showing no actual moral gain is ever acquired in
human life, nothing really new is won for the glory of God
and the good of the world. For, according to determinism,
everything is given and complete in the divine decree ; the
future — whether it be good or evil — is all the same as if it
were already present or past. Man, instead of being engaged
by reason of his freedom in the work of building up a second
moral world, becomes himself a mere manifestation of the
absolute divine decree, in the web of which no distinct threads
■of human freedom are found. On the other hand, indeter-
minism possesses, in the notion of freedom which it advocates,
a principle which never disentangles itself from the infinite,
restless, and ever-shifting power of choosing an opposite course.
But in this way, too, nothing fixed and permanent would ever
be reached, as absolute motion is in fact nothing but rest.
Freedom can make real progress, and can therefore arrive at
full correspondence with its idea, only when a good and per-
manent specific character results from its exercise, only
when it enters into such a connection with its apparent
opposite — necessity — and submits to the influence of the
latter in such a way, that the free and the morally neces-
sary are indissolubly interwoven with each other. Or to
express the same thing in other words : indeterminism and
determinism, which claim to be the champions, the one of
freedom, the other of the rights of the good on its divine
side, never get beyond a barren fixity or stahilism, — in the
one case of a subjective, in the other of an objective kind, —
until on the one hand determinism conceives of the divine
decree in such a way as to make room for the factor of
formal, subjective freedom ; and on the other, indeterminism

278 § 30. POSITIVE DOCTlilNE OF FEEEDOM.

admits a process in which freedom is lastingly and enduringly
determined by what is morally necessary.

3. Tlie stages in the realization of freedom. — The process in
which the idea of freedom differentiates itself, and in which it
at the same time comes to full realization, demands (1) a
starting-point. This is freedom in the form of essential free-
dom. It also demands (2) mediation, through an objective
and a subjective principle, or through the good, as objective
and divine, offering itself to man's free choice and decision in
order to make him the subject of moral determination. Lastly,
there must be (3) a goal, and this is freedom as it is destined
to appear in the final result — viz. as the union of the free
and the necessary.

At the first stage, man is a totality in which necessity and
freedom are as yet directly blended with each other, although
the bond of union is dissoluble. Here the element of necessitj''
is seen in the absolute dependence of man's being or existence
upon God, as well as in the original connection of his nature
with the good, which, by reason of its obligatory power, lays
him under unconditional claims. This connection does not
act upon the will as a compulsory force, but nevertheless the
effect of it is that freedom cannot thrive where it is in con-
tradiction to the good. In addition to this, man is influenced
by the individuality which God has given him, as well as by
his environment and the natural relations which he holds to
other human beings. Freedom, on the other hand, is hardly
exercised seriously to begin with. The human individual is
at first swayed almost entirely by objective forces or natural
impulses, — although these may be good, as for example,
natural piety, — he has not as yet got the mastery of himself,
and it is only in the vaguest sense that he can be called a
responsible being.

But such a simple, immediate union of the free and the
natural — a union which may not be compulsion but certainly
is not freedom — cannot be the final condition of man
(§ 11, 19). Each of these two factors — necessity and
freedom — must appear separately, in order that a conscious
union of them may be effected through the human will. This
separation is brought about by the knowledge of the moral
law or of the morally necessary. The faculty of choice was

STAGES IN THE REALIZATION OF FREEDOM. 279

exercised at first upon purely finite matters, — llheruni
arhitrium speciflcationis, — but when the law entered, freedom
was challenged and drawn forth into action. When freedom
thus appears by itself, it involves the possibility of arbitrary
choice, it is the faculty of choosing between good and evil.
By means of the law there is opened up to man for the first
time a serious choice between two worlds. Everything is now
made to hinge upon a free decision of infinite worth (Matt.
xvi. 26). Neither of these worlds acts in the way of com-
pulsion. The agent decides to which of the two he will
surrender himself, and his decision depends entirely upon
whether he wills to be good or bad. Of this decision the will
is the ultimate responsible cause ; we must not seek for
another cause behind the will and necessitating it, for the
simple reason that no other exists. If there were another, we
would have to deny moral freedom, and would again be landed
in pure determinism.

The decision which man makes may be opposed to what is
morally necessary, and may therefore be arbitrary. In tlie
latter case it might seem as if he were enlarging his freedom ;
but, on the contrary, he falls into discord with himself and
his moral energy is weakened, because he is in contradiction
Willi his essential freedom, which involves the essential
determination of man for the good. When man turns
arbitrarily away from the good, instead of thereby gaining
greater freedom, he comes, as has been shown above, into a
state of bondage or servitude under an alien power ; even his
faculty of formal self-determination is gradually lost, and he
yields to the forces of nature and to his own lower impulsef^
and egoistic passions. Such a moral decision too is irrational :
while, on the contrary, man's decision for the good is rational
and not arbitrary, inasmuch as — so far as the grounds of
determination are concerned — it is made on account of the
goodness of the good. In an arbitrary choice, on the other
hand, man sets himself in opposition to the good from a false
desire for freedom, he seeks to become self-centred, to forget
his dependence upon God, and to be — like God — self-
sufficing. Man is indeed essentially destined to become like
unto God, but the evil-doer perverts this by seeking to be a
god alongside of God. But since God alone can be God, and

280 § 30. POSITIVE DOCTKINE OF FKEEDOM.

can endure no gods beside Himself, this false direction taken
by man leads to an endeavour on his part to become an
opposing deity, — an act of unreason of which the other side
is, that man now falls into bondage under the powers of
nature, since these alone can furnish the human will with
concrete contents, when it disdains to accept the divine as its
contents. Nevertheless, it is necessary even to the good that
there should always be the possibility of evil. This does not
merely mean that the will in itself must be able to will both
good and evil, but that the possibility of evil must be
definitely present in thought. For the good must be chosen
for this reason, that it is the good and not its opposite;
consequently it is only willed as such, if at the same time the
conscious exclusion of its opposite is also willed, and therefore
if, when good is consciously posited, evil is likewise posited as
a possibility, but is rejected.

The third stage is that in which freedom surrenders itself
to be taken possession of by the good, to be constrained by its
attractive and inspiring power, and to be filled with desire for
and love towards its glorious perfection (as manifested in a
personal and living form in Christ). The good must not be
a mere subjective product ; it must present itself to man
objectively, since his autonomy is only secondary. It must
be given, first of all, in the form of a command of God, the
primal Good, as something which He wills. Then, too, it is
God alone and not man who invests the good with its beauty
and attractive power. All that man can do is to suffer him-
self to be attracted and thus determined by the good. Hence
if freedom is to correspond with its idea, it must be receptive
towards the divine will, must allow itself to be inspired and
determined by that will as the original source of good. Then
only does it act in conformity with its creaturely position.
Pelagianism and Deism, which isolate man from God and God
from man, are excluded. The fact, too, that freedom must
assume a receptive attitude towards the divine, in order to
receive its proper character, forms an indissoluble bond of
connection between religion and morality. Man does not
attain to full, actual freedom until he yields himself up to
the captivating, overpowering influence of divine good,
surrenders himself to its ideal beauty, as revealed in all its

THEOLOGICAL FKEEDOM. 281

majesty in Christ, and allows its spirit to rule within him as
a higher power. Then the will is no longer divided against
itself, but enjoys a higher sense of freedom, since it has now
found and allied itself with its own true and proper nature,
which henceforth governs it, and comes to realization in it.
Thus moral necessity has now reached its goal, since it rules
the will ; freedom, too, none the less, has reached its goal,
since it has obtained possession of its own essential nature,
has taken up into itself the element of moral necessity, and in
imity therewith has attained realization. United to the good,
man is now united to God and also to himself, to his own
true nature, and is thus in a state of harmony. Hitherto
man was in a state of dubiety, fluctuating in his choice, at
variance with himself and hence unfree ; but now he is in his
element, and experiences for the first time the true energy
and enjoyment of life.

The transition that here takes place must not be made
blindly ; although the transition to Christian faith is often
demanded as an act of blind obedience. It must take place
as an act of conscience, demanded morally, an act of moral
insight which is rendered possible by the perfect self-
revelation of divine good in Christ. As regards the luill,
moreover, this transition must not be effected by means of
purely objective, compulsory forces. For in that case the will
would no longer be true to its own nature, but would be
alienated from itself, or lose itself in mere passivity. Just as
little, of course, must the transition occur as an act of caprice,
in which the distinction between good and evil is regarded as
indifferent. A decision arising out of mere caprice would not
be a decision in the right sense of the term. On the con-
trary, the transition must be effected through a fundamental
act of will on the part of man, in which he decides against
evil and for the good as such, for the good as the truth whose
claims alone are valid — an act in which he resolves to shut
himself up no longer, in self-will and self-sufficient folly,
against the will of God, nor seek, under the delusion of
imaginary freedom, to be a self-centred being. He must con-
sciously and willingly allow himself to be united to the divine
centre of e^cistence, in order that he may be fdled and moved
by the Spirit of God, who is at the same time the spirit of the

282 § 30. POSITIVE DOCTEINE OF FKEEDOM.

moral order of the world as a M'hole. Hence, by so doing he
receives his proper position with regard to the world and to
the whole moral system of things.

From the foregoing discussion it will now be evident that
the doctrine, " man can indeed produce evil of himself, but
not good," is not refuted by the reply, " this would mean that
while freedom is ascribed to man, one of its arms is cut off,
and he is left only with the one which does evil." For
although man cannot be said to produce good in the sense in
which he produces evil, since God is the positive source of all
good (Jas. i. 17, 18), he nevertheless possesses freedom in
the sense that he can either reject the good which is ofiered
him or allow it to operate. If he does not reject it, it can so
attract and inspire his will that he can also do good of him-
self. It is wrong to suppose that man can only be called
free, if he is able to do what is good entirely of himself and
apart from God altogether, in the same way that he is
certainly able to do what is evil by himself. For of course a
human will is all that is required for the performance of evil,
in which man retires upon himself in self-willed isolation from
God and the good ; whereas the good cannot be conceived of
as existing in man apart from a conscious or unconscious
communion with the primal source of good, or apart from a
willingness to be determined by its objective truth and
power.

But here a contradiction seems to arise, when we think
of the completion of the development of freedom. If the
factors we have described really belong to the full idea of
freedom, then these must be preserved in the perfect form of
freedom. This causes no difficulty so far as essential freedom
is concerned, since concrete or so-called theological freedom is
merely the realization of essential. But what of the faculty
of choice or of free decision ? If we hold that the faculty of
choice still continues as an element in perfect freedom, then it
looks as if we must say that even the perfect man is always
liable to fall. Hence it seems as if perfect freedom must
exclude freedom of choice. On the other hand, if we suppose
that man when perfected is still liable to change and exposed
to the possibility of evil, — as was held, e.g., by Origen, — then
the good has not yet taken secure possession of him, and

§ 31. THE MORAL IDEAL. 283

perfection is still lacking. Tlie solution of the problem lies
in the following considerations. The faculty of choice will
indeed continue, but it will no longer operate in an arbitrary,
isolated fashion, sundered from the other factors in freedom ; it
will no longer be dissociated from moral necessity, from the
spirit of the good. It will continue to manifest its activity
merely in discarding every false possibility and in choosing
the good. When once man's free will has united itself with
the divine will, and the latter has wrought in him delight in
the good, and horror and detestation of evil, then his will
having now received a determinate character, has lost its
liability to fall, while evil has lost its power to tempt him.
But what does continue is, that man consciously wills the
good and rejects its opposite ; the thought of evil, as the
thought of what must be repudiated, serves only as a negative
Ibil to man's willinc;- of the G;ood as such

THIED DIVISION.

Cf. § 9a.

THE ETHICAL ORDER OF THE WORLD, AS THE PRACTICAL GOAL
OF THE MOVEMENT OF THE MORAL PROCESS, OR THE
DOCTRINE OF THE MORAL IDEAL, WHICH IS REALIZED BY
MEANS OF MORAL ACTION.

§ 31.

The contents of the Good, — which, in conformity with the
purpose of creative love, have to come to realization
through the co-operation of God and man, — or, in other
words, the ethical goal of the world, which is in course
of attainment in spite of the fact of sin, is the actual
existence of the Kingdom of God or of an organized life
of love in the world, in which nature also is made sub-
servient to moral ends. It includes chiefly — (1) The
realization of a living intercourse between God and man,
in which man enters upon a filial relationship to God,

284 § 31. THE MORAL IDEAL.

and his religious capacities thereby attain to full reality
in holiness and blessedness. (2) The right regulation
of the developed energies of man, so that they become
virtuous energies. (3) The moral upbuilding of human
life in moral communities, in which man's subjective
moral capacities come forward into objective existence,
while the very imperfect communities that originate
naturally arrive at true reality.

1. In this division we will describe the end or result,
which, in accordance with the will of God, is ever kept in
view in the moral process, and which has to be realized by
means of moral action. The question therefore arises — What
is that imperishable product which is to be the outcome of
the moral process ? Thus the present division of our subject
will contain the doctrine of the Chief Good, and that under
the point of view of Ethical Eschatology. Moreover, the goal
of this process is not only an object for idle contemplation ;
it is also a task assigned to man. And more than this, since
the goal which is to be attained points out the road which
leads to it, it at the same time lays down the particular task
which belongs to each stage of approximation. For in this
process, that stage must first be reached which is the condition
or presupposition of what follows. Accordingly, in describing
the world-goal considered as a task in which each one has
his part to play, the contents of the moral law will also be
unfolded. In our doctrine of the law and of conscience, it
was the formal side of the law which we had to consider.
For there we M'ere concerned with a description of the factors,
by means of which in general a moral process can take place.
But at present the contents of the law must be definitely
dealt with, and that under the aspect of the moral ideal of
the world — an ideal which, as has been shown, is the world's
task, necessary, unconditioned and universal, but which also
takes organic shape, that is, resolves itself into every variety
of individual form.

2. Now with regard to the goal which has to be attained by
means of the moral process, very different vieivs have prevailed
both within and without the Church.

ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE. 285

(a) The old classical world knows of nothing higher than
the State. Here all moral culture and moral action are made
to conform to the idea of the State and its interests. In
jDarticular, since the State accomplishes the subjugation of
nature to the largest extent, the goal of humanity is con-
ceived of as consisting in this, that mankind should, as a
State, acquire full dominion over nature.*

(Jj) In the Christian era, the Church in its Eoman Catholic
form now comes forward in opposition to the State, claiming
that she is the chief good, and that everything outside her
pale is worthless, or else intended wholly and simply for her
service. She takes up, as a spiritual institution, the rolo
which the State played in the old world. The very pre-
dicates of unity, universality, necessity, and unconditionally
binding power, wliich belong to the moral law, she applies to
herself as being herself the contents of the true law of the
world. What is not connected with the Church is unspiritual,
and is treated fundamentally as worldly, profane. Thus,
between the pre-Christian ethics of the classical age and the
ethics of Eoman Catholicism there is a fundamental opposi-
tion, as regards their estimation of the natural in its relation
to the human spirit. Both, however, are at one in this — that
in their ethical representation of the world the individual
personality is everywhere thrust into the background, behind
the universal. Individual rights are absorbed in the whole,
which in the one case is the State, in the other the Church.
The consequence is that the Eoman Catholic Church unites
a false this-ivorld viciu of the chief good, that is, of the Church,
with a false other-world vieiu of it as regards the individual 'per-
sonality. On the one hand, the Church in its official capacity
adapts itself even to worldly forms, and seeks to be the
supreme power on earth, over against the individual as well
as the State ; while, on the other hand, he who is concerned
about the assurance of salvation, which is the highest personal
good, is pointed away to another world, where salvation is

^ In Christendom, Theodore of Mopsuestia was the first to adopt this point
of view ; after him the Socinians. According to Theodore, man's similitude to
God consists in his having dominion over nature ; as God is the ruler of the
Avorld, so man is destined, as a subordinate deity as it were, to become lord of
the earth.

286 § 31. THE MOPiAL IDEAL. REFOKMATION DOCTRINE.

held otit in prospect and has to be won by meritorious works,
chiefly of the nature of self-abnegation and renunciation of
the world.

(c) With the Information a new antithesis appears. Per-
sonality assumes its rights over against the universal in both
its forms ; at first as against the Church, afterwards as against
the State as well. In agreement with the gospel, the Eefor-
mation transfers the assurance of salvation, and therewith the
supreme personal good, the ^ayt] aloovio^i, back to the present
world ; but it must be admitted tliat it does so in such a
way as to attach leading importance to individual ethics.
Through the assurance of salvation the individual receives a
position of independence over against the Church. The
moral spheres of life are released from the guardianship of
the Church, but the Christian principle, which has again
been brought forward and made the principle of Protes-
tantism, is not forthwith turned to account in these spheres,
nor made to find its development in them. In the Lutheran
Church especially, the self-sufilicingness of faith betrays for a
long time a certain indifference towards the ethical construc-
tion of the different departments of human life. Attention
is paid to these only as means for the cultivation of faith, as
affording a field for its exercise. In faith man is already in
possession of the chief good ; and so his endeavour is rather
to preserve it in spite of the activities of social life than to
make the divine substance of faith become of any real service
to them. The proper work of life is as good as ended when
justifying faith has been won, so that afterwards there can
really be nothing better for the individual believer than
death. It is only in the Reformed Church that faith operates
as a regenerating principle for the spheres of public life ; in
the Lutheran its efficiency is almost entirely confined to the
religious life of the individual, and to the two moral com-
munities, Marriage and the Family. Nay, in the Lutheran
Church of the iVtli and 18th centuries, the full assurance of
individual faith itself declined, and although the tendency
which began with Spener renewed it and laid stress upon
sanctification, still little advance was made beyond the sancti-
fication of the individual. In an ethical upbuilding of the
world in a Christian sense only a partial interest was taken

LATER THEORIES, SCHLEIEEMACHEK. 287

— viz. only so far as the organization of the Church was
concerned ; for which purpose the Church carried into effect
the evangelical doctrine of the universl priesthood of believers,
and called in the laity to her aid.

Thus in the older form of Protestantism, the joy that is
found in the experience of salvation was not sufficiently
allowed to expand into the impulse and desire to conquer
the regions of outward life. The natural consequence was,
that what remained unsubdued, viz. the worldly principle,
which was no longer held in restraint by the Church but was
left entirely to itself, now completed its emancipation and took
possession of the unoccupied ground, in the two forms of
worldly Objectivism and Subjectivism. The first of these
appeared in the absolutism which, beginning with Louis
XIV., penetrated into Germany and England ; and in
absolutist theories of the State, which made not only in-
dividuals but also religion and the Church unconditionally
subject to the State. These reached their harshest shape
in the theory of Hobbes, who, in opposition to the extrava-
gances of the English Eevolution period, set up the State as
a God upon earth, ruling with absolute authority all the
outward actions of man. The second form appeared in the
18th century, when Eousseau in his Contrat social made
Marriage, State, and Church all alike rest upon a mere sub-
jective agreement between individuals, and thus abandoned
their objective validity to caprice and selfishness. A reac-
tion against this subjectivism took its rise with Hegel and
Schelling. They, however, again made the State the universal
of the moral world, although they did so in a more worthy
form, and assigned to the State especially higher functions
than had previously been given it. But the exercise of
absolute power by the State is destructive of the rights of
religion, of the Church, and of the individual as well ; the
necessary result of such a theory is the introduction — though
in a nobler form — of pre-Christian forms of error, and the
apotheosis of the State.

Here, too, it is Schleiermacher who marks a decisive
turning-point in thought. On the one hand, he goes back to
the Eeformation principle of the importance of the individual,
who, even now in this present world, becomes by faith a

288 § 31. THE MORAL IDEAL.

partaker of the Holy Spirit and of eternal life ; while, on the
other hand, he holds that the new life of the believer must he
applied like leaven to effect the moral transformation of the
world. Thus, starting from Individual Ethics, which must
certainly be taken as a foundation, he advances to so-called
Social Ethics. He brings Christian faith into intimate con-
nection with the objective moral world, and also with nature,
and regards moral communities not merely as means for the
subjects who compose them, but also as ends which have a
moral worth of their own. Nor does he thereby deprive
individuals of all reference to self ; on the contrary, it is just
according to the measure of their moral individuality as
believers that they react upon the communities of which they
are members. Thus there is opened up for the principle of
faith a career of fruitful activity in the objective world ; the
opposition between the Universal or Identical, and the
Personal or even the Individual, is in principle reconciled.
It belongs to the truth of each single personality that the
spirit of the community should rule within it ; it belongs to
the truth of each community that its work should be carried
on by free personalities. He likewise guards the independence
of separate communities as against each otlier. The life here
is to become the representation of the ^o)7j aloovto'i, which is
already in existence in the Church.

But Schleiermacher, it must be admitted, has carried out
this thought at the expense of what is reserved for the
world to come. This is seen in the way in which he, and
after him Rothe, attempt to overcome the opposition between
the world of nature and the vvorld of mind. According
to Schleiermacher, the moral task assigned to humanity
consists in this — that mind shall take possession of nature
and make of it a body, as it were, for humanity, shall animate
it by means of a process of moral assimilation, and thus trans-
figure it by its representing and organizing activity.-^ Mind
is in this way to attain to organized and completely developed
objective existence, to its identification, as it were, with
nature, to the end that ethics and physics may be reduced to
unity. But now, inasmuch as, according to Schleiermacher's
Christian ethics, it is the State to which the moral task
1 [See p. 99, footnote.— Te.]

eothe's conceptiox of the ethical ideal. 289

belongs of accomplishing the subjugation of nature, this has a
dangerous sound for the Church, since to the latter also
nature is necessary in order to afford it a form of manifesta-
tion. With Schleiermacher himself this danger is lessened
by the independence which he reserves for the Church.
Eothe, on the contrary, starting from similar ideas as to the
moral task which mankind has to fulfil with regard to nature,
makes the Church disappear in the Christian State.-^

Eothe carries out with even greater rigour this idea of the
spiritualization of nature as the moral work which man has
to do. He regards it as the goal of the world. To him spirit
does not exist until there has been this union and inter-
penetration of the ideal and the real. This takes place by
means of the moral process. That process originates spirit
out of matter. In fact, matter is so constituted that those
elements in it which are capable of assimilation are destined
to become spirit, while the human personality is destined to
become spirit through its appropriation of matter. By means
of the moral process a spiritual body is formed, and its forma-
tion is, for Eothe, the task to be accomplished, or the result
of the moral process. But since the formation of this body
goes on without our knowledge, it might be a result that
arises of itself from the moral process, and in that case it
ought not to be advanced as the proper ethical task of man,
but only as something ordained and brought to pass by God.
There is no doubt that the moral work which man has to
perform includes nature in its scope ; further, in consequence
of actions passing over into habits, there ensues, as has
already been shown, an incorporation of spirit with nature, —
a result which is produced unconsciously. But the contents
of the ethical goal of the world or of the JMoral Ideal embrace
not merely man's relations to nature, but also and principally
his relations to God and to the human race ; and it is by
means of these latter relations that nature can everywhere be
made subservient to moral ends. The complete spiritualiza-
tion of nature, moreover, is something which we must not
expect as the direct outcome of a moral process, but as the
result of an act of God which will usher in a new era of the
world.
' Cf. Ethik, 2nd ed. § 299 f. [Theologische Encydopadie, pp. 83-94.— Ed.]

290 § 31, THE MORAL IDEAL.

Note. — When we survey all these different conceptions of the
goal of the world or highest good, we have the following
results : — (1) That conception of it is defective which, at the
expense of the individual personality, defines the chief good in
a one-sided objective manner, — whether this objective good be
the State or the Church, — or relegates it, so far as the individual
is concerned, to the future world. (2) A one-sided subjective
conception of the ethical ideal is also unsatisfactory ; most
strikingly so when it appears in the form of mere eudsemonism
or worldliness ; but also when it takes the form of maintaining
that the mere subjective, free personality is the chief good, and
that all objective communities arise out of individual caprice or
contract. (3) The basis for the true definition of the chief good
was laid down at the Eeformation, and consists in justifying
faith, the blessing of reconciliation, of which faith is already a
partaker in the present world. This blessing is not of a merely
subjective kind, either in the sense of being self-produced or of
being something that renders the believer self-sufficient, but is
union with God and the possession of eternal life through Him.
But this divine life must also unfold itself ; it must not shut
itself up in self-contained isolation ; but nnist rather seek and
find its true relation to nature and to objective moral com-
munities.

3. From this historical survey we now proceed to the
correct definition of the goal of the world, and in doing so we
will first of all consider the Biblical Doctrine on the subject.
The all-comprehensive expression for the ethical goal of the
world, which must be included in the divine decree, is the
6e\7)fjLa Oeou} This O'ekrj^a takes two forms ; on the one
hand, it is a will that makes requirements, issues commands ;
on the other, it is a will that gives promises. In its first
form it aims at producing moral activity on the part of man,
whetlier of a negative or positive kind ; in its second form it
points to an act on the part of God towards which man must
take up a receptive attitude. But both of these are joined in
the very closest way. In the Old Testament, under the law,
the Eequirement predominates; although at the same time
tlie Promise is not wanting, but both precedes and follows the
law. In the New Testament it is the divine act, the fulfil-
ment of the promise, that comes first and lays the foundation
for everything else. But here, too, the act of God and the
act of man are most intimately joined. In the first place,
1 Cf. Schraid, De notione legis.

BIBLICAL DOCTRINE. 291

that which is simply and solely God's promise and act becomes
nevertheless a demand made upon man, that is, upon his
living receptivity. He must, before everything else, accept
the fundamental gift of reconciliation in vTraKorj iriaTeaxi —
there is a v6iio<i •KLarew'i (Eom. i. 5, xvi. 26; 1 Pet. i. 22).
Faith is also a work, even the basis of all other work (John
vi. 27-29); a work of God in which man also has something
to do. But, in the second place, the conclusion of the whole
matter has not been reached when the gift of God has been
received. That work which God purposes to accomplish in
humanity, the work of forming a new moral world, a second
creation, — this must be taken up by believers, and made their
task, their work ; they must not idly rest in the blessedness
of faith. On the first point see, e.g., Matt, xviii. 14; John
vi. 39; Eph. i. 5, 9, 11 ; Col. i. 9; Heb. x. 10. On the
second. Matt. vi. 10, vii. 21, xii. 50; John iv. 34, v. 30,
vi. 38, vii. 17, ix. 31. This, therefore, is the relation between
the divine and the human dekrifia and work ; receiving the
gift of God to begin with, man must now proceed to make
the divine OiXTj/na his own, in its full extent, and herewith
the chief good begins to be realized in this present world.

We now proceed to consider the contents of the divine
6ek7]fjba in general. These receive all-comprehensive expres-
sion in the biblical phrase ^aaiKela deov or ovpavwv. The
final perfection of this kingdom belongs to the future, and
even to the world to come (Matt. vii. 21, viii. 11, xxv. 34).
Its commencement, however, takes place, according to the
New Testament, in the present world, and, since the time of
Christ, has begun to have a real existence among men (Matt.
iv. 17, V. 3 (icTTLv), xi. 11 f., xvi. 19, xviii. 3). It is destined
to spread unceasingly (Mark iv. 26 ; Luke xvii. 21 ; Matt,
xiii. 31-33); among all nations (Matt. xiii. 33), as well as
over all the spheres of human life (Matt, xiii, 23), and also
of external nature. Of this jSacrtXeia, whidi is a vigorous
organism, the main divisions are as follows.

(«) First of all, communion with God, in which man
becomes the possessor of salvation. Here it is willingness to
receive that is of highest importance. God, on His side, lays
the foundation for this communion by His prevenient love
(John iii. 16; 1 John iv. 10); by the atonement, which

292 § 31. THE MOEAL IDEAL. BIBLICAL COCTRINE.

overcomes the obstacles of sin and guilt (2 Cor. v. 16-21).
In the alfia Xpiarov (Rom. iii. 25) He seeks to be our Father,
and intends us to be His children, and to desire so to be
(Rom. vi. 1-6 ; 2 Cor. v. 19 f.). Nay, He will take up His
abode within us, as His living temples (John xiv. 23, xvii.
2 If.; 1 Cor. iii. 16, vi. 19).

Q)) Along with this, in the absolute sphere man is restored
to his true immediate relation to God; the normal and funda-
mental moral relation in which he stands to God is that of a
son. Moreover, when man is thus reconciled, and has become
a child of God, the new man begins to live within him
(Col. iii. 9 f.), — the true, immortal personality, which now
lives and grows, purifying man's energies, and harmoniously
developing them into pure and perfect efficiency (1 Cor. iii.
IC; Eph. ii. 10, iv. 21 f.).

(c) Lastly, in all the moral relations which the believer
holds, whether to other men or to communities, he is enabled,
by the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, to bring forth tlie fruits
of the Spirit (Eph. v. 9). In these relations he does not
merely assert himself as an individual, but also devotes him-
self to the duties they impose, in a spirit of self-sacrificing
love, arising out of love to God. The social impulse of the
Christian, or Christian love, finds its first sphere of exercise
in the community formed for the purpose of rendering praise
and thanksgiving to God for the gift of salvation, that is to
say, in the cultivation of Christian brotherhood in the Church.
This is a new, independent institution, belonging to the higher
stage. For he who has come to know God as his Father
and himself as God's child, loves, by virtue of the higher
spiritual nature which is in him, every one who like himself
has been begotten of God (1 John v. 1). Further, the gospel
sanctions and confirms all the natural relations and arrange-
ments of life, as well as the various circumstances and
vocations which God has assigned to different individuals.
Thus, with regard to civil authority (Matt. xxii. 2 1 ; Rom.
xiii. 1 f.) ; the relations of husband and wife, of parents and
children (1 Tim. iv. 3: dcpecSla aooixaro^, Col. ii. 23); the
relation of servants and masters (Philem.). On the other hand,
a nciv luay of looking at everything is introduced. Everything
is regarded under the aspect of v:ovship (Rom. xii. 1 f.) ; the

CONTENTS OF THE MORAL IDEAL. 293

moral upbuilding of the whole person, whether in the way of
enjoyment, of rest, or of activity (1 Tim. iv. 3) ; and in like
manner, whatever is done for the common welfare. The same
thing is expressed when it is said that everything is to be
done in the name of Jesus (Col. iii. 17). To the idea of
the kingdom of God as an all-embracing, objective end, there
corresponds on the subjective side the idea of an all-embracing
worship, in which man's whole heart and mind is engaged,
and which enters even into the duties of his vocation and his
moral enjoyments. Nature, too, is included in this ^acriXeia,
regarded in its consummation, for then she will be released
from her present transitoriness (Rom. viii. 18 f.; Eev. xxi. 1 ;
2 Pet. iii. 13 ; Isa. Ixv. 17, Ixvi. 22).

4. After this biblical statement, a few words will suffice
for the tlietic [positive] 2^'^^(^sentation of our subject, especially
as in what follows we shall have to treat it concretely and in
detail. The world's ideal, or the kingdom of God, is con-
tained in the purpose which God had in creating the world.
Now, since it was from love that God willed the creation of
the world, He could not have meant it to be merely an object
for His love, and nothing more. He must have created it to
give as well as to receive love, in order that it — and indeed
every single personality in it — might become both an ultimate
end, because an end for love, and also a mirror, or, as it were,
the continuation of His love. Hence it follows that not only
can dominion over nature not be the ethical ideal, and
eudffimonism still less so, but also that neither the State
by itself nor any one of the moral spheres can constitute it.
Even the Church must not claim to be called the sole moral
product. Everything will alike belong to the kingdom of God
which can be a form of the life of love. It follows, too, that
no community must make the individual a mere instrument
for its own ends ; and conversely, that the individual must
not regard the community as only a means to be used for his
own advantage. This is guarded against by the spirit of holy
love (Justice being an element in this love), which restores in
the individual the image of God, and thus makes him an
ultimate end. The community likewise participates in this
spirit of love, and so becomes an ultimate end also.

Moral personality is certainly the basis for all moral

294 § 31. THE MOEAL IDEAL.

production. It is only in persons that love can dwell ; the
new personality is therefore the first prerequisite for the
realization of the kingdom of God, and is in fact the begin-
ning of its actual existence. It is the good tree (Matt. vii.
16 f.), its cultivation is therefore the first work of all. Hence
the word of Christ addresses itself in the first place to individuals,
to establish love in their hearts through repentance and faith ;
it does not fonnd institutions to tegin ivith. But as soon as
the new, loving personality has come into being, it will now
— inasmuch as it has its source in and is a copy of the
perfections of God — become inspired with wisdom, and forth-
with prove itself to be a principle that is able to bring the
life of the individual, the life of communities, and man's
relations to nature, into harmonious moral order.

The love of the new personality turns first of all, in devo-
tion and thanksgiving, to God the Creator as its Father, and
seeks to do His 6e\v/Jt-a, as He has revealed it in the word
and example of the Son. Thus the fundamental moral activity
of the Christian is a religious one, consisting in love to God
(1 John iv. 10). But this love to God now leads him to
conform his will, with regard both to himself and to all
external things, to the mind and will of the all-wise and
all-loving God, and to His OeXrjfia as already revealed in the
creation and constitution of the world, and more fully in the
conscience and history of man. True love to God there-
fore includes true love to oneself and one's neighbour (Matt.
x*ii. 37f. ; 1 John v. 1), and thus it gives the individual
and communities their due position of co-ordination. One and
the same spirit of love binds together the numerous energies
of the individual in harmonious unity, and employs all the
manifold varieties of individual character in the service of
that organized life of love, that ethical cosmos or Jcingdom, in
which all human capacities reach their full natural activity,
and which also has everything prepared for it which is
necessary to its growth. The world cannat fail to reach its
goal ; the infinite creative power and wisdom of God, as well
as the ranks of the eeons, are enlisted in its service. And so
one day God will see reflected from His world, in the mani-
fold diversity of its organized life, an image of His own
perfections — created indeed, but still pure and majestic ; and

PERMANENCE OF EARTHLY PRODUCTIONS. 295

humanity, together with the higher world of spirits, will form
the perfected city of God, in which nothing will be lost that
was ever won by moral effort upon earth.

5. But now, when we turn our attention to the transitori-
ness and death which are in the world, the question arises —
How can we ascribe an inward moral, and therefoi-e eternal
worth to earthly products, relations, and societies in themselves,
seeing that they are conditioned by nature, which is fleeting,
and by matter ? It is true that persons alone of all earthly
e;dstences have immortality, and even they only or prin-
cipally so far as the mind is concerned. Nevertheless we
must limit the assertion of the perishable value of all earthly
works, relations, and societies, unless we are willing to rob
them of that which is, as it were, tlie very pith of their life,
and to reduce them to mere husks, empty instruments that
are in themselves worthless and indifferent. Each single
external work as such does indeed pass away sooner or later
in the course of history ; but in anotlier respect it is imperish-
able. Every work which is the expression of mind — whether
in art or science, in the State, the family, or the Churcli — is,
by the act which throws it into objective shape, set free from
that which is personal, the subjectivity of its author. Through
this release it attains that form in which it becomes an object
of x^erception, and so an operative factor in history, a leaven
or seed deposited in the minds of men. When it has reached
this stage, in which it is set loose from the person of its
author, — nay, even from the individual, external form in
which the work appeared, and which, it may be, quickly
passes away, — it now proceeds to act independently like a
kindling spark ; it becomes incorporated as an element with
the further progress of mankind, and helps to determine their
succeeding productions, so that these can only be understood
when its influence is taken into account. Thus the later and
the earlier generations of men are linked together as partners
in one great moral work; in the coursii of which, indeed, not
only individual persons but also their works — as single,
isolated productions — vanish from the scene ; but in which,
nevertheless, they possess a certain immortality as operative
elements in the moral progress of mankind. Thus nothing
great that has once happened is ever lost to humanity ;

296 § 31. THE MOEAL IDEAL. EARTHLY PRODUCTIONS

humanity takes it up into her life, either unconsciously or in
conscious remembrance, and there it continues to work unseen.

Matter^ and nature also render essential service in this
process, since it is only through them that what is inward
and subjective can be made objective in fruitful productions,
whether as regards the family, the State, art, science, or the
Church. It is true, no doubt, that the objective form thus
obtained is no more than an intermediate element in the
process, and is therefore transitory, — as indeed the work itself
only expresses a single mood or side of the man who produced
it, and is never his whole personality made objective. But as
soon as what is subjective has been made objective, and has
thus been taken up into the nature of things, then mutable
though nature be, it still holds it fast for a length of time
sufficient to allow it to be clearly perceived, and to be carried
into the minds of other men. By this means a lasting
influence is secured for human productions.

Moreover, with regard also to individuals themselves, who
are the authors of moral productions, the words must hold
true, " their works follow them " (Eev. xiv. 1 3). These
endure even beyond death in the personalities whose works
they are. They are the spiritual profit which these personalities
have made ; they give them a moral character, and thus form
their stock of spiritual capital (§ 11, 7) and render possible
still greater moral productions to come. " Thou hast been
faithful over a few things ; I will make thee ruler over many
things" (Matt. xxv. 21). Here, too, matter and nature^
prove to be essential conditions of acquiring such moral gains.
For thought and will do not attain full strength and clearness
until they reach complete objectivity in the world of sense.
The perishable nature of such objectivity makes no difference
to this truth. On the contrary, the very transitoriness of its
forms, its plasticity, assists us in learning to treat it as that
which it is intended to be — a means and not an end.

The same thing holds good also of all moral communities.
Their present earthly form, in which they are involved with
nature and matter, is a preparation for their final perfection in
the kingdom of God. Moral employment in connection with
them is thus of eternal moral value ; and that not simply in

1 Cf. § 9. 2. * Cf. § 9. 2.

IN THE FINAL CONSUMMATION. 297

the formal sense that they afford the individual a means of
exercising his virtue, but also with reference to the actual
work achieved. For in these communities the Christian sees
even now the actual beginnings, the typical lealization of the
heavenly kingdom of God, and it is this which he loves and
fosters in them. In the kingdom of God the true and eternal
significance of marriage will be preserved and will endure —
Christ the vvficjiLo^, mankind the vv/j,(f)r) (Eph. v, 25-32;
Matt, xxii.-xxv. ; John iii. 29; Eev. xxi. 9, xxii. 17). So.
with the family ; the true father is God (Eph. iii. 1 5). In
the final consummation also, science will for the first time
reach her perfect form when faith shall have passed into
sight (1 Cor. xiii. 9—12). Then, too, will the idea of beauty
celebrate its highest triumphs, for nature will be included
in the universal transfiguration. Further, as the perfected
kingdom of God is portrayed under the image of a house of
God, so it is also called the State or City of God, because that
which in the State is of eternal worth, viz. justice and good
order, will be preserved and manifested in it. Finally, and as
a matter of course, religious fellowship will also be j)erfected
in the final consummation ; and that not merely so far as
individual communion with God is concerned, but also with
reference to the service of thanks and praise which the
religious community renders to God. Believers made perfect
are represented as 7rav^jvpc<i, as an assembly holding sacred
festival (Heb. xii. 22 f . ; Eev. v. 9, xxi.). When thus the
purpose of divine love has been realized, God will be all in
all (1 Cor, XV. 28). This does not mean that the world will
lose its existence in God, but that the divine will and the
divine life will permeate all things, — all as a whole, and each
individual thing according to its nature, — and will bind all
things together.

Thus the attainment of the world's goal is a work which
in every aspect of it is at once human and divine, ©ela
irdvra koI dvOpcoiriva irdvra. This is the sum of the whole
matter — the divine OeXijfia, in the whole of its extent, must
become the OiXrj/jba of man as a moral being.

The foregoing exposition may be sufficient to show that the
moral law, considered in its contents, or, in other words, the
world's ide?l, is not an abstract barren formula, but an ideal

298 § 32. IDEALIZATION OF THE MORAL IDEAL.

organism, which does justice to what is individual as well as
to wliat is common to all, to nature as well as to mind, and
thereby gains for itself an infinite richness of contents. More-
over, the divine ideal of the world embraces not only the goal,
but also the road which leads to it.

§ 32. The Way to the Realization of the World's Ideal.

The inward inter-dependence of the factors which constitute
the kingdom of God must be reflected in the moral
process. Hence each stage in this process must be
preceded by the stage which forms its necessary pre-
supposition. And this holds good both of individuals
and of the race as a whole. Accordingly the physical
conditions described in § 10—17 along with the natural
communities to which they gave rise, pave the way for
the entrance of the consciousness of llight, and the con-
sequent formation of States. With the consciousness of
right the legal state is reached, and it again becomes the
preparation for the stage of the free, moral spirit, the
spirit of love, which finds immediate realization in the
religious community of the Church.

1. At the present day, when humanity has a long career
of moral progress stretching behind it, all the moral spheres
exist simultaneously, and reciprocally condition each other.
The family, for example, is conditioned by the State and the
Church, and these again by the family, so that it is difficult to
imagine that any one of them could correspond to its idea
without the presence and co-operation of the others. In that
ideal organism which is the goal of the world they do indeed
appear side by side, though each of them has its own jiarti-
cular jDrinciple. Nevertheless, it has not always been so as a
matter of actual fact from the time that humanity began to
exist.

Tliere was a time when, to say nothing of science and art,
there was no Church, and farther back when there was no
State. Tliis earlier period we must designate as of necessity
morally imperfect, but it does not follow that it was sinful.

NECESSARY SUCCESSION OF STAGES. 290

On the contrary, if we examine the ideas underlying the
various moral spheres, and thus see how the relations sub-
sisting between them arise, it will become evident that the
Ideal or World-goal, which embraces at one and the same
time all the factors which constitute the moral organism,
cannot come into existence by a stroke of magic, but must of
necessity have a gradual growth, one factor being mediated
through another. And our present investigation has a signifi-
cance for all times ; because none of the departments of
moral life are in existence once- for all, but must be main-
tained through a process of constant reproduction. Further,
since each of them has the tendency to make itself, as far as
it can, a complete whole or centre, it is instructive to see
how its perfection is conditioned by the presence of the others.
jSTow the gradual process of which we have spoken is not to
be conceived as if it meant that all the various spheres existed
together from the beginning, thougli in an imperfect shape.
For example, it is only after the spread of family life that the
State can come into existence at all ; the State again is a
preparation for the Church, for it is the school in which man
is trained in the idea of right — an idea to which we were
previously brought by the doctrine of the law, and which, as
was shown in § 2 3, has its origin in God. It is true that the
moral capacities for these spheres arc present from the begin-
ning and are not inoperative. But in order that they may
attain to full realization, whatever is a necessary condition of
any stage of progress must take precedence of it in time. It
is quite consistent with this truth (inasmuch as the good is a
unity), that whatever comes earlier and as a condition of a
subsequent stage, is in another aspect itself conditioned by
what follows, since it is only in connection with the latter
that it attains its perfect form.

2. With regard, therefore, both to individuals and com-
munities, the typical form of this succession of moral stages
is as follows. The third stage, that of the conscious union
of the free and the morally necessary, must be preceded
by a stage of which the characteristic is law in the form
of command. Again, the stage of law, since it cannot
begin with the first breath of man, must be preceded by
that state of existence in which man is an immediate but

300 § 32. EEALIZATION OF THE MORAL IDEAL. SYNOPSIS.

unstable unity of human powers. Moreover, as it was not
sin that brought this sequence of stages into existence, so
sin cannot annul it : it belongs to the original form of the
moral process in general. Accordingly there must be (1)
a life heforc the law ; (2) under the law ; (3) in the law.

3. We have already treated of the life hcfore the law in the
third section of the First Division (§ 17, 18). There, those
natural organizations were considered which arise of them-
selves, and apart from the moral law, out of the conditions of
nature both physical and psychical. We have seen what
progress can be made by individuals and communities under
these conditions alone, and also wherein they are still im-
perfect. It therefore remains for us, in tracing through an
ascending series the development of the contents of the diXTj/jia.
Oeov or divine World-ideal, to examine the other two stages
embraced by this ideal organism — viz. the stage of right and
that of the free moral spirit or of love.^ We have thus to
consider —

I. In what respects the entrance of the idea of right or of
the law promotes the realization of the good. This has
reference both to individuals and communities.

II. The imperfection of the legal standpoint.

(1) Apart altogether from sin.

(2) When sin has appeared (Ethical Ponerology).
This will lead us to inquire —

III. What it is that is still requisite for the perfect realiza-
tion of the moral principle ; or in other words, what it is that
is still requisite in order to make it possible for individuals,
communities, and the world as a whole to reach a condition
in which moral imperfection will no longer be a necessity.

Or shortly ; we have to consider —

I. The stage of right.

II. Its imperfection. This carries us forward to —

III. The stage of love or of the gospel ; the gospel which
was in the OeXTj^ia Oeov he/ore the foundation of the world,
and was therefore present when its foundations were laid.

J^ote. — The lower stages continue to exist as substructure :
tlie higher stages do not abolish, but supplement and complete
them.

' Cf. besides, § 20. 2, with § 23, p. 224, note ; § 25, § 30. 3.

§ 33. ABSOLUTE SPHERE OF EIGHT. 301

FIEST SECTIOK

THE STAGE OF LAW, OR OF RIGHT.

§ 33, The Absolute Sphere of Bight, or the Relations hetiuccn
God and Man.

[Cf. supra, § 7. 4 and 5, § 20-23. System of Christian
Doctrine, vol. i. § 23, 24. — Ed.]

The entrance of the consciousness of Absohite Law forms a
great step in advance, especially as it is united in the
closest possible way with the religious feeling of depend-
ence upon God. This feeling now comes to fuller
maturity ; for our dependence upon God is recognised to
be a moral dependence. Also, the idea of God itself is
ethically determined, as the idea of the Holy and Just
One. Hence the distinction between God and man is
more completely carried out. Further, as a morally
responsible being, man is now invested with freedom or
the power of moral choice, and with the dignity of moral
determination (§ 19).

1. The legal stage forms a great advance upon mere
€ud?emonism (§ 18). For now, man knows God as Lawgiver
and Judge, and (what is the converse of this) he is conscious
of his own obligation and responsibility. The idea of duty
also establishes man in his rights as a moral being (§ 23);
and in accordance with the idea of right, God and man stand
related to each other as distinct beings, each with his own
rights, although this relation is not one of co-ordination. The
law proclaims that man is free. He is free with respect to
nature ; he is independent even with regard to God, — though
it is through God that he is so — in so far as God cannot
compel him to what is good, and cannot effect any ethical
good in human life without the co-operation of man. It is
no wonder that with the law a higher self-consciousness, a
nobler sense of life is awakened, since man now becomes
aware that a good of infinite value has been committed to his
charge. Thus it is quite conceivable how the Eabbis, contrast-

302 § 33. ABSOLUTE SPHERE OF RIGHT.

ing the position of the heathen world with the position of
those who had received the gift of the Old Testament, believed
they were justified in calling the standpoint of the law a
" n^m nsnn " a new creation.

T T-: T ■ : '

It is no doubt true that the advance which has been made
is at first only an advance in knowledge. On the stage of
right, the law is set over against the impulses and the will,
but it has not as yet gained an entrance into the will. On
the contrary, transgression is now for the first time made
possible, and will become actual if this mere external relation
between God and man remains unsurpassed. Nevertheless,
were it lut for the legal stage and the relative independence
of man that comes with it, a moral union of the necessary
and the free would be impossible (§ 30). At the most there
would only be a physical union. For did the divine will
simply pour in upon the human as an irresistible power,
without first confronting the human will in the form of obli-
gation and demand, then loving self-communication on the
part of God would sink to the level of a mere physical force.^
For it would lack the mediation of the demands of the law,
at least of the law as requiring faith or receptivity on the
part of man. The legal stage, therefore, whether long or
short, cannot be overleaped : it forms, even apart from sin
(and consequently, even in the case of the first man), an
indispensable factor. It is often indeed confounded with a
state of sinfulness ; but neither does the law give rise to sin,
nor sin to the law. The mere fact that the demands of the
law have " not yet been fulfilled " is not sin ; for if it were,
then the law could not by itself be an essential factor in
human progress. It would, in fact, be a contradiction ; for
previous to the legal stage, it would be both absolute and yet
of necessity unfulfilled. The two forms taken by the divine
activity — the creative and the legislative, voluntas and pra^-
ceptum — could never be separated, but would have to remain
blended in absolute identity. Sin arises when the fulfilment
of the law is delayed, although it can and ought to take place ;
and the cause of such delay can only lie in the abnormal
resistance of a will opposed to the will of God in the law.

^ [Of course this does not exclude the fact that the law, too, must find a point
of contact in the nature of man. Cf. p. 140. — Ed.]

§ 33rt. SECONDARY SPHEEE OF EIGHT. 303

But heforc the law is fulfilled, its demands must be presented,
and thus a knowledge of it given, a knowledge which
addresses itself to the will.

§ 33«. The Secondary Sphere of Bight.

The consciousness of the absolute sphere of Eight, or of the
law of God, gives rise to a Secondary Sphere of Right.
Since the consciousness of divine right or of justice
makes out of the mere human individual a person
endowed with rights, it sets up in opposition to self-will
a sacred standard of action, which raises communities
constructed on a merely natural basis out of their
eudsemonistic form, and gives them a moral shape.
Thus, when the idea of absolute right or objective divine
right is recognised by man as of binding authority, it
gives rise to human relations of a higher kind ; what
we possess becomes our property ; sexual association
becomes marriage ; proles or offspring becomes a family ;
and the mere mass of a nation becomes a State. And
it is a moral duty to discover more and more fully this
objective right which resides in the divinely appointed
nature of things.

[Kant, Bcchtslehre. Hegel, Rcchtsphilosophic. Herbart, Prak-
tische Philosophic, Werke, vol. viii. pp. 78 sq., 101 sq., 134 sq. ;
vol. ii. pp. 132 sq. ; cf. also his analytical examination of
Naturrecht and Morcd, vol. viii. Stahl, Die Philosophic des
Pechts. Savigny, Ucher den Beruf unserer Zeit zur Gesetzge-
hung unci Bechtswisscnschaft. Rothe, Ethik, 2nd ed. vol. ii.
p. 204 sq. Chalybiius, System der speculativen Ethik, vol. ii.
I. H. richte, Die p)hilosophischen Lehren vom Becht, Stacd, Sitte.
Trendelenburg, Naturrecht. Baumann, Hanclbuch der Moral
nehst einem Abriss der Bechtsphilosophie. Schuppe, Grundzuge
der Ethik. Dahn, Bechtsphilosophisehe Studien. Kostlin, Staat,
Becht und Kirche in der evangelischcn Ethik. Sttulien unci
Kritiken, 1877. Ihering, Kampf tons Becht. Hartmanu,
Phdnomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins, p. 496 sq. For
additional literature, vid. Part II., Division 3, Section 2, The
Doctrine of the State. — Ed.-]

1. The idea of absolute right gives rise to a secondary

304 § 33a. SECONDAEY SPHEEE OF RIGHT. COMMUNITIES.

sphere of right, a system of moral relations based upon right,
subsisting between man and man. We have already discussed
this subject in § 23. The idea of right and duty distin-
guishes and separates men from each other, but yet in such
a manner that by means of it they are brought into a more
enduring connection than the merely natural one. To the
right of one man there corresponds the duty of another, and
the objective law of justice establishes and confirms the rights
and duties of all alike, since it lays its behests equally upon
all. Objective right or law makes all men objects of respect
for one another. For it makes all men its organs, in whom
it is designed to assume a personal form in the world, and
thus in a certain measure confers dignity upon all. Hence
the standpoint of right effects two things at one and the same
time ; it places men in a position of independence over against
each other, and it also brings them together into a relation in
which there is an absolute bond of connection between them
— a relation higher than the mere physical ones, which rest
upon utility, prudence, and caprice, higher even than that
produced by the sense of universal human affinity itself. It
is now seen to be a duty to uphold universal right, embracing
and regulating, as it clearly does, all human relationships.

2. Communities. By means of the law we become con-
scious that it is our duty to recognise and respect the honour
of our fellow-men, both in its physical and moral aspects.
And hence individual communities gain a higher import and
value. All of these, indeed, have their origin in human
nature and natural impulse, and existed in rudimentary forms
(§ 17. 3) before ever the consciousness of law arose. But
now law clothes them with higher than merely physical,
with divine rights. Having their basis in the constitution
of human nature, they are the expression of the divine will,
and demand to be treated and conducted in accordance with
their essential nature. And now on the stage of law, full
recognition is given to their divine rights, to their sanctity
and inviolability. This holds good

(a) With respect to sexual association, which now rests
upon the consciousness of the essential equality of the rights
of husband and wife, so that on neither side do we find
rights dissociated from duties. Neither caprice, nor self-

FAMILY. SOCIETY. THE STATE. 305

seeking, nor desire must be made the ground of an alliance
between the sexes, or the cause of its dissolution ; for then
each member of it would become merely a means with regard
to the other, and would not be recognised as an end in him-
self. For this very reason, a union based on duty is more
lasting than one that arises out of finite interests ; for duty
endures when finite interests give way. It is only an alliance
of this kind, consciously based upon duty and the law of God,
and existing under the protection of that law, that deserves to
he eallecl marriage. Nay more, wherever the essential equality
of the rights of husband and wife is recognised, the necessary
result is that marriage takes the form of monogamy, and is
contracted for life.

{])) The consciousness of the protection which right throws
over the personal life also elevates the offspring of sexual
association — proles — into the family. Procreation now
involves the duty of educating or developing the personality
that is produced.

(c) Social intereourse also receives a higher form, since
men now mutually respect each other's rights. By means of
justitia commutativa their dealings with each other become
much more widely extended, and much more safe. To fulfil
agreements is now known to be a duty imposed by right.

(d) But the most important and peculiar creation of the
consciousness of objective right or law is that community
which comprehends all those that have been named, and
which has for its function the protection of their rights as
well as the rights of individuals. This community arises in
the following manner. Families multiply and spread out
into tribes and national masses, and then these are brought
together and united into a i^ullic instittUion for the mainten-
ance of right. This is the beginning of the State. A mere
multitude of families and tribes cannot in itself form a State ;
it is only the material out of which a State is made, it
needs the idea of right to give it life. Further, as the State
is not produced by mere physical means, as it is not the
product of physical force or of the mechanical power of
numbers, so, too, it does not owe its existence to caprice or
contract alone. Xor do we as yet have a State where merely
certain prudent, useful rules and established rights (as matters

306 § 33«.. SECONDARY SPHERE OF RIGHT. THE STATE.

of custom it may be) have arisen in connection with pro-
perty and the family. The State exists only where the
interest in right has become so energetic that a new form of
community appears, embracing all those earlier ones, — a com-
munity instituted to protect right, to carry it into execution
with regard to all, and to defend all against injury, whether
done wilfully or through ignorance. Right as universal will —
the will, that is, that right be administered everywhere — is
outwardly realized in a special organization, viz. constif,uted
anjthority. Right is for all ; it has to protect all against
injury. As merely finite indeed, the individual person could
have no absolute claim to such protection. But he stands
in essential relation to morality ; he exists for moral ends,
and is the necessary organ of morality. Thus in protecting
him right protects morality itself, and for this reason it
secures for him the rights and the respect which are his
due. The aim of the administration of justice, therefore,
is to defend the freedom of the personality ; the freedom,
that is, which the individual must have in order to render
his moral development possible. It is the duty of the State
to ensure the possibility of the real freedom, i.e. of the
harmonious moral development of the personality. Thus the
order established for the maintenance of right is the bulwarlc
which makes it possible for man to give free exercise to his
spiritual powers in all the moral spheres of life. This
order, exhibited in the State, is the sacred basis upon which
the whole moral world rests ; it is the negative condition of
all morality, and is therefore indispensable if there is to be
a moral world at all. It must, therefore, should occasion
demand, be enforced and upheld by physical means or com-
pulsion. It is the necessary outcome of the moral idea itself,
the negative side of its manifestation. Since the ethical idea
of right has recourse to physical compulsion, and therefore to
nature, for the attainment of its ends, it assumes the form
of physical necessity.

3. The Right of Punishment. Wherever, then, either the
community as a whole, or its leaders, have become conscious
of right as absolutely valid and necessary, it is the duty
of all not only to subordinate themselves individually and
separately to objective law, but also to feel themselves bound.

EIGHT OF PUNISHMENT. 307

as one man, to become the organs of the idea of right. And
since this idea represents a good of absolute value, all that
exists must be at its service, for the purpose of upholding
right upon the earth. This holds good even with regard
to the transgressor. Him it confronts with punishment, and
it arms the members of the commonwealth with the power
to inflict it (Gen. ix. 6 ; Ex. xxi. 22 ; Eom. xiii. 1 ff.).

It is the right and duty of the State to carry right into effect,
even by external force. Justice is a good of absolute worth,
and it must be defended before the other moral excellences
which belong to the personality can possibly exist at all. All
men are bound to place themselves, in life and limb, at the
service of this idea, as its organs or the means which it
employs, and thus to uphold the validity of justice as the
honour and soul of the State. All, too, are bound to conform
themselves to the general will of the community that justice
be carried out ; and more particularly, they must undergo
punishment when they have done violence to right, in order
that the injury inflicted may be atoned for, and the majesty
of right vindicated. It is true that if we do not start from
an objective law, from a divine right which demands uncon-
ditionally that justice be done, if, on the contrary, we start
from freedom instead of from duty, and derive the right to
inflict punishment from convention only, or at least from tacit
consent — then the question must arise, How do men come to
have the power of punishing other men, even to the extent
of putting them to death ? Is it not a usurpation of divine
rights, when men sit in judgment upon their fellow-men and
bring them to account, without even getting their consent by
means of a formal agreement ? It is certainly the case that
the exercise of the power of punishment has no right to
take place, unless it can be shown to be a duty, a service
which we owe to justice. But such in fact it is. It is
undeniable that if there be an objective law, imposing objec-
tive, absolute obligations, then a violation of right deserves
punishment and incurs it. Divine justice would be some-
thing else than it is, it would not be in earnest with itself, if
it failed to take a punitive attitude with regard to a violation
of the law, and w^ere therefore wholly indifferent to it.

When once the idea of justice has been awakened among

308 § 33a. SECONDARY SPHERE OF RIGHT.

men, and men have surrendered themselves to it to be the
organs and means which it employs, when they have staked
everything upon the preservation of justice as the primary con-
dition of the moral existence of human society, — then, without
fail, this zeal which is employed in the service of justice must
carry into effect what justice demands, must therefore restore
its authority when that has been shaken by a breach of right,
and consequently must inflict punishment upon the evil-doer.
For when a negation of right has been caused by a lawless
will, dangerous to society, the latter has not simply to be
rendered harmless, even though it be by physical compulsion.
The criminal must not merely be treated as a being in a state
of nature, and brought into order by natural force. He must
have a sentence passed upon him, in which some positive evil
is connected with the offence he has committed, as a just
expression of resentment against his guilt. Ho would not be
treated justly, in fact, if he were treated simply as a natural
being, and merely rendered harmless, as if he were a wild
animal. On the contrary, he is no mere creature of nature,
but a man, and therefore the just stroke that falls upon him
must be something more than a mere physical occurrence. It
must be delivered for the sake of justice and out of zeal for
it, since even in the transgressor justice sees one who was
intended to be its organ, and who is therefore responsible for
his misdeed. And an evil inflicted upon the author of a wrong,
from motives of justice and for the ends of justice, is called
punishment.

Now, wherever there is no ijolitical organization for the
administration of justice by means of constituted authority,
self-defence is the only means left of protecting one's individual
rights, while the protection and security of society depend en-
tirely upon the private administration of justice, such as is seen
in Mood-revenge, in lynch laio, and in the secret Vchme. But it is
manifest what a sorry equipment justice has, where the accuser,
or perhaps even the injured person himself, is in addition both
judge and executioner. For in such circumstances the passion
for revenge is almost sure to lead to injustice. Thus, in order
that justice may be preserved, it is necessary that the functions
of prosecutor and judge be separated, and it is no less necessary
that the judge be removed above every private, subjective

EIGHT OF PUNISHMENT, 309

emotion and passion. The administration of justice is, accord-
ing to its fundamental idea, a matter which is the common
concern of all, a public affair, just as the injury which
happened to one affects all together with him. It is not only
that their interests and security are affected by it, but apart
from this, it is the interest and duty of all to be answerable,
in their own way, for the authority of justice upon earth.
And just because it is a matter pertaining to all, no one must
treat it as if it were a private affair, and arbitrarily make it
his own particular concern. On the contrary, since it is of the
essence of right to seek to become truly the will of the whole
community, this must appear in the form whicli the administra-
tion of justice takes. The administration of justice must
appear as a universal, public, and not as a mere private
concern ; the matters it deals with affect not only the rights of
individuals but the rights of the community as a whole, and
hence it must be carried out iii the name of the whole com-
onunity. It must be raised above and made independent of all
parties, in order that it may serve the ends of justice alone.

From the same point of view it is also clear that wherever
the consciousness of right exists, while at the same time there
is as yet no political organization for the maintenance of right,
it is a matter of duty and of moral necessity that all should
assist in laying the Ibundations of a State ; since this is the
first thing that must be done if society is to assume a form
which is worthy of human beings. No less is it a moral duty,
one, too, which may be enforced, or a duty imposed by right,
that all who are within the State should belong to it. The
State now throws the protection of justice round tke individual,
his house and proj)erty, and round marriage and family life ;
it is now a public matter, in which the whole community is
concerned, to see that the rights of all are protected.

We have seen (§ 17. 2) that the idea of right, which comes
to realization in the State, turns what any one is possessed of
into his property. In like manner, a people by becoming a
State enters upon a possession that belongs to the whole
nation, a possession which has an external form but has also
a spiritual significance — in other words, a fatherland. This
forms its earthly body as it were, which it may not allow to
fall to pieces or be taken from it by force, but which it is

310 § 33a. SECONDARY SPHERE OF RIGHT. THE STATE.

bound to maintain and defend on behalf of tlie great moral
personality of the State, just as it is the duty of every
individual to care for and protect his own body.

The State gives free scope to the individual in the exercise
of his various activities ; its law protects and promotes the
free development of his personality, by securing it against any
attempt to arrest it. Thus all the various kinds of individual
traits and talents move and act freely within the State ; it
prevents their collision, or renders such collision harmless, by
repairiug any injury that is done to right; and so, in its own
way, it contributes to the solution of the moral problem that is
set before mankind.

Contempt for the State is frequently exhibited by false
religious enthusiasm (the Anabaptists), or when the Church sets
itself up as a rival political institution (Ifoman Catholicism).

Note. — Friend sliip, Science, and Art on the stage of Right. —
Friendship is not directly affected by the idea of right, inasmuch
as right is what is universally valid, what is the same every-
where, whereas the formation of friendships rests primarily upon
special and individual grounds. Nevertlieless, in so far as
friendship unallied with respect is mere trifling, or is no more
than comradeship, the idea of right ennobles this relation too.
By means of the idea of right and the new spheres of life which
it creates. Science gains fresh regions for her activity. Never-
theless, it is not an accidental circumstance that Science and
Art did not flourish in the two nations which were the
representatives of the idea of right in pre-Christian times.
These were the Helirews and tlie liomans, who represented it in
opposite ways — the one in a theocratic, the other in a secular
form. Eight is the standpoint of keenly intelligent, practical
discernment. It is prosaic, it nmst not depend upon fancy,
feeling, or ideal apperceptions. Consequently it was not until
these nations began to decline that either of them showed any
appreciation or productive capacity with regard to Art and
Science. Neither is there room for a Church at this stage,
although the great political and theocratic lawgivers, in the
sacerdotal and secular States, were fully aware of the connection
that subsists between human law aird religion or the eternal,
unwritten laws. Previous to Christianity, the religious spirit,
the spirit of mutual fellowship between God and man, was not
so powerful in the world as to form a specicd religious com-
munity distinct from the State. Judaism as it exists at present,
in which every vestige of a State has disappeared, is no proof

IMPEKFECTION OF THE STAGE OF LAW. 311

to the contrary. For it is the ruins of the Theocracy ; in its
nature it seeks to be and hopes to become a theocracy, and it is
this hope alone which keeps it alive. It was only by force that
this religion was separated from the State ; in its essential
nature, therefore, this separation has never taken place.

SECOND SECTION".

THE IMPERFECTION OF THE STAGE OF LAW OR OF RIGHT.

CHAPTEE FIEST.

APART FRO:\I SIX.

§34.

Even apart from corruptions which may arise, and which
the law cannot prevent, the legal stage, considered by
itself, is an essentially imperfect one, with reference
both to the absolute and the secondary spheres. Wlien
the normal moral development of mankind has reached
the legal stage, the desire must arise for a higher
communication on the part of God than what is given
in creation and in the law ; and in like manner the
divine love is not content with the mere revelation of
law in the form of demand, even should it be love tliat
is demanded ; it is only satisfied when it reveals itself
in the hcstoival of love.

1. The imperfection of the legal standpoint with relation
to God is obvious, even apart from sin, from several points
of view. On the stage of right there is a necessary separation
between knowing and being ; man has a knowledge of the law,
but what he knoivs and what he is remain, as yet, apart from
each other. Now it might be supposed that this separation
could only last for a moment ; that the will would immediately,
and as a normal consequence, fulfil the demand that is addressed
to it, and thus return into perfect union with God. But the
attainment of perfect knowledge is itself a moral problem that

312 § 34. IMPERFECTION OF THE STAGE OF LAW IN

can only be solved by degrees ; with each advance in know-
ledge, therefore, new demands present themselves, and a new
separation takes place between what ought to be and what
is, between knowing and willing. As moral knowledge
increases, it penetrates ever deeper and deeper into the connec-
tions in which the individual himself is placed, and into the
wisdom and goodness of God. Therefore, although the will
should immediately take up into itself the precept which the
intelligence has discerned, still the stage of law is not yet
surpassed. On the contrary, since knowledge increases gradu-
ally, the separation between knowing and willing is always
renewed, even if it be but for a moment. In the normal
development of the will, again, it is necessary that obedience^
— which may have a moral import, even when it is nothing but
simple piety, and is without any insight into the inward good-
ness of the command that is obeyed, — that obedience should
grow into joyful pleasure in and love to the good, as the good
becomes more and more clearly known.

2. In addition to this, the stage of law cannot prevent sin.
On the contrary, it gives rise to temptation ; for it recognises
man's independence even with respect to God, and arouses
in him the sense of freedom. If the legal stage were the
highest and last, as Moralism will have it to be, then provision
would only be made for the distinction between God and
man, not for their fellowship ; and this is the position of Deism
and Pelagianism. But God wills a more intimate intercourse
with man than that brought about by the stage of law or of
right. On the stage of right God stands as Lawgiver and
Judge ; but in this there is no living fellowship between God
and man, they are only related to each other by means of the
impersonal law. Love is possible only toward a person, not
toward the abstract formula of the law. And on the legal
stage the personality of God is hidden, as it were, behind the
law. As long as the personal God reveals only what is
impersonal, namely, His commands or His will. He has not
yet revealed Himself fully ; nay, the divine law itself is not
yet fully revealed, not even when it is love that it demands.
Eor it does not as yet appear in the form of personal love,
which alone is its true fulfilment, and in which it possesses
attractive and inspiring power. Thus it is certain that

THE ABSOLUTE SPHERE. 313

" the law cannot make alive." When it is said (Lev. xviii. 5 ;
Gal. iii. 1 2 ; Heb. ii. 4), " Do this, and thou shalt live," it
might seem as if, after He had given the law, no further act
of God was necessary for the attainment of ^coj] on the part of
man, if only the latter would do his part. But the law, " Do
this," etc., points in its deepest aspect to religious duties also,
to humility and faith, to the longing desire for fellowship
with God and for acts in which God gives proof of His love.
For, according to Paul, the law also demands Tr/o-rt?, that
humility which permits no self-sufficiency or pride over
against God, but which, impelled by gratitude and a sense of
need, depends wholly upon Him and His Spirit and seeks
communion with Him. And this shows that the law points
for its fulfilment awa}^ beyond itself. But man cannot pro-
duce this fellowship of love with God ; he has no power over
God. In order that real pleasure in and love to God may be
awakened in man, a higher act of God is required than the
giving of the law, an act in wliicli God meets man in love,
communicates Himself to him, and establishes a living and
loving relationship between them. Then, and only then, is
the highest and permanent stage of morality possible.

Now, since man cannot be placed upon this stage at crea-
tion, and cannot reach it by the law or by any efforts of his
own, since, on the contrary, it presupposes a revelation on the
part of God, and one, too, that is not merely ideal or addressed
to the intelligence, but real, forming a fellowship between
God and man, — since this is the case, the following conse-
quences ensue. Man can only reach the highest moral stage
through the consummation of the revelation of God ; and the
highest and best that he can effect in a moral direction, before
this revelation has been made, simply cultivates his spiritual
receptivity and his longing after the self-revealing God.

§ 34ffi. (Contimcation.)

The LnjKrfcction of the Stage of Laiu in the Secondary Spheres

of Bight.

With regard to the secondary spheres also the stage of law
exhibits many imperfections ; and these are not got rid of,
inasmuch as moral energy cannot reach its full strength on

314 § 34a. IMPERFECTION OF THE STAGE OF LAW IN

this stage, nor can the law preserve these spheres from the
ruinous effects of self-will. This can only be done by love,
which restrains self-will in the right way (§ 31. 3, 4). The
law no doubt brings marriage and the family under the point
of view of duty (§ 33a. 2). But no arguments are required
to sliow that mere duty, although it is higher than natural
love, is not the perfect bond in these relations. Nature has
already infused into them a warmth and intimacy which,
while liable to change aiid not proceeding from inward moral
motives, yet could not be replaced by the mere consciousness
of duty. Besides, even should natural love continue to exist
along with this sense of duty, it could not be compared with
the closeness and firmness of the bond that is formed where
husband, wife, and the members of the family all recognise that
they are gifts of God to each other, and thus in Him become
objects to each other of mutual respect, love, and joy. A
similar truth holds good with regard to social intercourse.
Social enjoyment and friendship, when they reach their purest
and highest point, cannot but involuntarily point friends
upward. The love of friends, in its deepest form, has a
natural tendency to seek a foundation in love to God.

Even with respect to the State itself, which is the product
of the legal stage, it must be said that it cannot here reach
its perfect form. If there were no higher form of society
than the State, then it would have to be accepted as the last
and absolutely the highest of human communities, as the
representative of human morality in the whole of its compass.
Now, although it might not of necessity follow that finite
interests would thereby be deified, — for in that case sin
would be admitted, — although, on the contrary, men were to
remain mindful of the connection between human rights
and the divine law, still the only result would be a legal
theocracy, in which the religious and the political would be
side by side with relatively no distinction between them.
But this state of things could only be acquiesced in from a
religious point of view, if religion were still at the stage of
law; and this, as we have just seen (§ 34), is an intermediate,
not a final stage in its progress. When religion, that is, is still
in its legal form, it is quite in keeping therewith that the
chief stress should be laid upon visible, external actions, a

THE SECONDAKY SPHERES. THE STATE. 315

good intention perhaps being presupposed. But, on tlie
contrary, the more that advancing moral knowledge penetrates
within, and learns to attach an independent importance to
the inward disposition out of which acts arise, the more does
the human spirit outgrow the political form of religion, in
which religion is bound up with a particular form of national
life.

Further, the State itself would not be absolutely secure
in its right, unless morality were to reach its highest
development in the consummation of revelation and religion.
The individual and the community are not of absolute
value until they are actually moral. Before this time
arrives, their absolute worth exists only in hope, or hypo-
thetically. Now the State derives its divine right from
the fact that it protects this their ideal moral perfection,
or makes possible their free development towards it.
Hence, should the legal stage never be surpassed, sliould
therefore the principle of true morality never be realized,
the State would for ever lack the very thing which makes
it itself a good of absolute value. In fact, right derives
its majesty in the last resort from love, of which it is the
negative manifestation. Moreover, there must be progress
on the part of the State ; hence the State must exhibit pro-
ductive energy, even with regard to legislation. And such
energy cannot be derived from intelligence alone ; like all
faithful discharge of duty, it springs from love.

In the third place, the State cannot be the moral community
that embraces men in general. It is too weak and narrow a
bond for this purpose. If the principle of individuality is to
receive justice, the State must of necessity exist as one among
a plurality of States ; it must have its own distinct national
and terrestrial basis, its connection with a certain land and a
certain people. Thus each is a particular State, and the
existence of a universal State is utterly impossible. Each
one in maintaining its rights may come into collision with
other States, and this collision can be brought to a definite
close by force alone. In its own domain it is the highest
and sovereign source of right ; it must refuse to acknowledge
any earthly judge over it to settle the collisions that occur.
Finally, the State requires the positive principle of love, and

316 § 35. THE STAGE OF LAW IN KEFERENCE TO SIN.

not only of right, to form a bond of union between its
citizens ; for the crises which it must encounter it requires
patriotism, that pure productive sense for all progress in law
and government (cf. § 75).

Thus the State, that is, the community founded upon right,
points on all sides to a higher community, which reaches out
beyond the differences that separate nations, and releases them
even from the refined egoism of patriotism — a community
which has the power to control these differences, to knit the
nations together as members of historical humanity, and to
make them as it were brothers and sisters in one universal
family, founded upon the positive principle of love. And
this is the Church, the community to which religion when
perfected gives rise, in which the unity of humanity is for the
first time realized in a moral form — nay, in which it becomes
an ethical product and an ethical good. Man lives not by
I'ight alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the
mouth of God, and above all, by that Word which is the
consummation both of revelation and religion, the Word
that was made flesh.

CHAPTER SECOND.

the stage of law with reference to sin (ethical
ponerology).

§ 35, Cf System of Christian Doctrine, vol ii. § 72-78,
vol, iii, § 78-84, § 89,

The possibility of moral evil is given in the original constitu-
tion of man's moral nature. When it becomes actual,
the insufficiency of the law, without a new and in the
first place an atoning and redeeming manifestation on
the part of God, becomes still more evident.

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Grundlinien d. naturlichen Si/stems der praJctischen Philosophie.
Kym, Das Froblem des Bosen, 1878. Hartmann, Phdnomenologie
des situ. Bewusstseins. Scholteii, Der freie Wille, pp. 127-
166.— Ed.]

1. Sin is not a mere defect, involved in finiteness, which
is a natural necessity, nor does it consist in the mere fact that
the good which ought to be does not yet exist ; but it is a
false position, love of the creature in opposition to God, and
is therefore avo/xia (1 John iii. 4). To stand on the
wrong line is a different thing from standing at the com-
mencement of the right one ; the former means digression, the
latter progression. Palse creature-love may incline to the
form of love of the world, i.e. concealed selfishness, or to that
of more direct selfishness, but it always involves opposition
to God, our sense of God has become obscured and feeble.
Moral evil does not become actual without a sufficient cause.
That cause is freedom in tlie sense of self-will, which, though
it does not act without a motive, still acts without one that is
morally sufticient. In self-will, one factor in the whole notion
of freedom isolates itself and seeks to become the whole of
freedom. It breaks away from the law, which, as we have
seen, is an original and essential element in freedom (not,
however, in the shape of a mere compulsory power). Hence
there exists a general similarity among all the manifold
appearances taken by moral evil, a similarity arising from the
fact that in every case evil is a contradiction both of the law
of God and of the essential nature of man, and produces dis-
cord within him. And this it does all the more, because,
according to the constitution of human nature, every Actus
goes to produce a habit of action, a fact wdiich throws light
upon the connection of evil in the race. For the race is a
unity of solidarity ; moral evil, therefore, seizes, though by
degrees, upon the whole organism of humanity, ruins the
virtuous energy of man, his spiritual endowments, his moral
aims, and in consequence even his moral knowledge as well.

2. ]\Ioreover, sin makes clear from a new side the in-

NECESSITY OF A HIGHER REVELATION. 319

sufficiency or rather the powerlessness of the legal standpoint.
The law indeed does not give way, it offers resistance ; but
this only excites the false freedom still more. Further, it
threatens and punishes and puts a check upon outbreaks ;
but the only result is that one form of egoism is exchanged
for another. It gives notice of punishment, it pronounces the
sinner guilty and lays a ban upon him ; but the ban does not
make him moral in a living sense, it only robs him of vital
energy and cows him. It might perhaps prompt him to retire
within himself, to acknowledge that he deserves punishment,
and to be ready to bear the displeasure of God which he has
incurred; but actually to bear that displeasure would presuppose
a love of justice, a power of truthfulness, — in a single word, a
degree of morality which is just the very thing that the sinner
lacks, as long as he remains thrown back upon himself. And
he lacks it all the more for this reason, that actual sin passes
over into habitual, and thus a nexus of evil is formed both in
the individual and throughout the race, an evil tendency that
continually increases in power. Man cannot atone for him-
self ; and yet, since the grace of God like His displeasure is
always just, atonement is the first thing which he needs, in
order that he may again enter into that loving communion
with God which is the source of all true morality.

3. Although punishment is necessary, and even a blessing,
in the order of the world, yet the punitive justice of God
does not require that it itself should be His final revelation.
It is not necessary that God should leave moral evil to take
its own course, which inevitably leads to dircoXeia. As is
shown more explicitly in Dogmatics,-^ God remains free,
even when sin has arisen, to make an atoning and redeeming
revelation, as long as the evil-doer has not become absolutely
hardened and unimpressible. And this he cannot be before
the atoning revelation is made ; for only in it has the clearest
revelation of divine love been given. Hence it follows that
he who has not yet rejected it has not yet set himself in
absolute opposition to the Good in its fullest manifestation,
has not yet united and identified himself with the principle
of evil, — and therefore, that forgiveness is still possible for
him (Eom. iii. 25, 26 ; Luke xxiii. 34 ; Eev. xvii. 30).
^ Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, ii. § 61, iii. § 89.

320 § 3ia. ACTUAL EXISTENCE OF SIN IN HUMANITY.

In accordance with our Syllabus (§ 32), we have now con-
sidered in the First Section of our Third Division the advance
which is made in the ethical process by the stage of law or of
right; in the Second Section (§ 34, 35), the imperfection of
the legal stage, both apart from sin and with special reference
to sin; in the Third Section we have still to take up the stage
of love or of the gospel, as the contents of the ethical world-
ideal, in which the ethical process reaches its consummation.
Vicl § 32, p. 300.

[JSfofe. — At this point tlie author had, at an earlier period,
added two more paragraphs, treating of sin as it actually exists
in the history of mankind, and of that historical counteraction
of good against evil which formed the positive preparation for
the principle of Christianity. I give these paragraphs in § 35a,
35&.— Ed.]

§ 35a. The Actual Existence of Sin in Humanity.

The three stages which have been derived from the essential
nature of morality (§ 5. 3 ; 9« ; 18 ; 19 ; 32. 2, 3) are
also exemplified in history, which consequently affords
proof that the divine World-Ideal is actually realized in
the way which we find to be logically necessary when
we consider the nature of that ideal itself Moreover,
both Scripture and experience give their testimony that
sin — which is logically no more than j^ossihle — has
become a universal fact, assuming the two forms of
pagan and Jewish sin, of carnal selfishness and spiritual
selfishness or pride, eudaimonistic Antinomianism and
ITomism. Experience likewise confirms the truth that
an abnormal process goes on in which acts that contra-
dict duty pass into and become vice or evil habit, which,
on its side again, reacts upon human freedom, enslaving
and limiting it. The result of this action and reaction
is that the moral nature of man becomes more and more
corrupted, and he approaches that which is the opposite
of the Supreme Good — viz. Supreme Evil. And although
this corruption does not exclude the possibility of

HEATHEN AND JEWISH SIN". 321

redemption and final perfection, still the resistance made
to evil in pre-Christian times — and which has never
been wholly wanting — by conscience and the law, by
political enactments, sages, and rulers, was unable to
check it. In fact, the power of sin makes it all the
more necessary, from, a new side, that an act of God
should take place, of an atoning kind, in which revela-
tion is carried past the stage of law.

1. With reference to the universality of moral evil we shall
only mention the following passages of Scripture : Kom. i.-iii.,
V. 12f.; Gen. iii., of. vi. Iff.; Eph. ii. 3 ; 1 Cor. xv. 22;
John iii. 5 f. ; Jas. iii. 2 (C. A. II.). Although all evil
involves a turning away from God, yet it takes a double form,
and has a double course.

(a) The godless tendency of the person may take the form
of weakness as against the influence of the world of the mani-
fold, with which we are brought into connection by the senses.
In this case the natural will or the lower impulses are
stimulated and become predominant, while the rational nature
becomes feeble and passive. And this is sensuality. In it,
however, there is also spontaneity on the part of the person,
i'or after the temptation has seduced and mastered the will,
it makes the will and consequently the whole man its organ
for carrying out the sin which promises to give pleasure, and
thus he becomes the servant of the sensual side of his nature.
Here we have sin in its specifically heathen shape, that of
EudiBmonism, in which the will submits to the sway of carnal
desire or the sensual side of human nature, and resolves to
strive after its gratification.

(h) The other, more spiritual form of the godless tendency
shows perhaps more energy and independence as against the
influence of the world, owing to the increased strength which
self-consciousness receives from the law ; but it may for all
that take a form still more impious and alienated from God,
as when the spirit shuts itself up in self-satisfaction and denies
its creaturely dependence, or, should these characteristics be
hypocritically concealed, when it exhibits spiritual or moral
pride and legal righteousness. This form of sin has appeared

322 § 35a. ACTUAL EXISTENCE OF SIN IN HUMANITY.

under the Jewish law (in Pharisaism), and is all the more
dangerous because it is more or less veiled, and preserves the
appearance of obedience toward God. It is sin in its speci-
fically Jewish shape, the abnormal as it appears on the stage
of law. There are general principles, ever returning types of
evil, which have made their historical appearance in large and
compact forms, in heathenism and Judaism. Let us look a
little more closely at these two great divisions of the ancient
world, and trace the development of evil in them.

2. With regard to heathenism, as it appears in history, no
profounder derivation of it could be given than in the words
of Paul (Eom. i.), " They did not give thanks to God,
and thus they became vain in their reasonings." They did
not gratefully refer their enjoyments and blessings to God,
thus consecrating them and overcoming their /xaTat6rr]<i ; they
never got beyond these gifts themselves, and thus their sense
of the world became overpoweringly strong, while their sense
of God and their self-consciousness as spiritual beings became
weak. Heathenism acknowledges the supremacy of nature
over the spirit by deifying the former and secularizing tlie
latter ; it has as many gods as it has goods. Along with the
unity and absoluteness of the idea of God, which this worldly
bias breaks up into a multiplicity of gods, the absoluteness of
the moral law also disappears. The gods themselves commit
sin. Caprice and Fate at least take precedence of the moral
law. IMoreover, just as selfishness, which is the opposite of
love, lies hid in the carnal spirit, so the natural religions con-
tain what is the very opposite of true religion. Por their
gods are not worshipped from love to anything in them
that is worthy of love ; on the contrary, they both exist
and are worshipped for the purpose of being serviceable
and favourable to human aims. Accordingly, they are essen-
tially guardian gods of a country, a city, or a family.
And since they are thus worshipped chiefly on account of
finite interests, — a fact which is most apparent in the religion
of Eome, — a false bent of the heart here makes itself
apparent.

Connected with this thorough egoism also, there is the
exclusive spirit manifested by ancient nations. This is seen
in the opposition between Hellenes or even Eomans and

DEVELOPMENT OF EVIL IN THE HEATHEN' WOELD. 323

barbarians, in the East between sacred lands and profane ; as
well as in the distinction of castes, the treatment of a part of
mankind as slaves (a practice which Aristotle could defend,
without contradiction from the public conscience), and finally,
in the degradation of women — especially in the East and
in Hellas — and the tyrannical rights exercised by parents
over children, especially in Kome. The old heathen world
had no idea of the infinite worth of the individual human
being — a truth which is of such vast influence upon marriage
and the family. Nay, Art even, however much it flourished
in Greece, was too deficient in a sense of the infinite signi-
ficance of life. Hence it was that its palmy days were so few,
and its constructive power was so soon exhausted. With the
downfall of religious faith — to which the Mysteries only gave
artificial life for a little — art lost its strength and purity,
through the supremacy of the natural over the spiritual ; it
grew more and more rank, but more and more empty and life-
less. At the same time Science degenerated into scepticism,
and to this scepticism the followers of Aristotle and of Plato
alike succumbed.

With respect, finally, to the State, the highest moral com-
munity which the heathen world knew, Plato's Republic is
enough to show how the other moral spheres of life must
suffer, when the State is made the absolute moral community,
and everything else — e.g. the individual, marriage, family — is
regarded merely as a means for its ends. As we have seen,
the duty of the State is to afford, in the name of justice, its
protecting power to every good that exists, and so to guarantee
to it the possibility of development. But since antiquity
knows no absolute World-goal, so for the most part right itself
is not conceived of as having absolute ends to serve, and thus
it lacks objective stability. The good things which are distinct
from the State, but which the latter has to protect, are not
recognised in their absolute value ; thus the State remains as
the absolute end, and tliis involves an apotheosis of power and
finite interests, or of a particular nation. The greatest
attempt made by the ancient world in the way of a State —
Eome, namely — has no respect for foreign nationalities ; in its
gigantic egoism it seeks only to absorb them all in itself. No
doubt a kind of universality seems to be attained in this

324 § 35a. ACTUAL EXISTENCE OF SIN IN HUMANITY.

State; national limitations are broken down {jus gentium, jus
naturalc), nations are gathered into one kingdom, and the idea
of the unity of humanity can now assert itself with greater
freedom. Nevertheless, we have here only the shadow of
true universality ; it is preponderantly negative and empty.
All that has happened is that the particular national-
ism of Kome has attained universal power ; it has come
as a judgment upon the eudcemonistic world of sense, but
it has brought nothing better in the place of the latter.
And these very instruments of the judgment of God, the
Eomans, these murderers of the liberties of nations, are them-
selves overtaken by a righteous fate. This nation, whose
liighest good is power, fame, and dominion, and which has
made these its aims, has to fall at last under the despotism of
the Csesars. After the Eomans have crushed the liberty and
prosperity of all nations, it becomes clear that all the while
they have been digging a grave for their own prosperity and
freedom. They now drag out an empty, material existence,
filled with life's weariness; unless disgust with public and
national affairs impels them to seek that inward comfort and
consolation which just at this time Christianity comes forward
to offer.

3. The Hebrews too, even witli the help of the Old Testa-
ment, were not in reality more successful. We might point to
the facts that polygamy was not forbidden, and that an almost
unlimited wantonness prevailed in the practice of divorce
(]\Iatt. V.) ; that art and science were but sparingly developed ;
that the union of the political and the religious community in
a theocracy was a hindrance both to the State and to religion,
preventing each of them from shaping itself according to its
own principle ; and that when the two became separated in
consequence of the intervention of heathen power, the separa-
tion was submitted to unwillingly, and gave rise to impotent
attempts to set up a theocracy again. But apart from all
this, what we would chiefly call attention to is the intense
and sinful national pride which the Hebrews displayed toward
other peoples, — as seen, e.g., in the Book of Esther and the
Eeast of Purim, — a pride which drove them to that national
hatred of the heathen which the latter on their part returned
but too cordially, designating the Jews " odium generis

JEWISH FORMS OF SIN. 32o

hnmani." In addition to this there was also their pride in
the knovjlcdge of the law (Eom. ii. 18 ff.). But as far as the
fulfilment of the law is concerned, down to the exile the mass
of the people was constantly inclined to fall away into
heathenism, a tendency which continued at a later date in a
more refined but not a better form, viz. in Sadduceism.

After the exile, moreover, when the law as an external
principle was fully carried out, a spirit of mechanical legalism
and adherence to the letter became prevalent, in which the
chief place was given to outward works, while the inward side
of the law, the circumcision of the heart, the spiritual sacrifice
of repentance and thanksgiving, was thrust into the back-
ground (Deut. X. 16, XXX. 6 ; Lev. xix. 17, 18 ; Isa. i. 11-18;
Ps. 1. 16, li. 12 ; Hos. vi. 6 ; Prov. xv. 8, 26, xxi. 3 ; Amos
V. 24). An exuberant, casuistical ingenuity was shown in
setting fence after fence around the law ; men tried to advance
in righteousness by increasing the number of legal precepts,
instead of by giving heed to the relation of the heart to the
law ; they never thought of asking whether the inward motive
was a merely mercenary one, or the fear of punishment, or
whether it was love to God. And at the same time this legal
and not very difficult fulfilment of the law was combined with
moral pride, a self-righteousness which disowned both humility
toward God and love toward one's fellow-men. No doubt
upright souls were not wanting, who preserved themselves
alike from Pharisaism and Sadduceism ; but these were the
very persons who looked for a true atonement in place of
animal sacrifices, and awaited a new revelation, recognisincf
that even the Hebrew people had outlived its day, if the
regeneration did not come which the prophets had promised.

§ 35&. The Historical Counteraction of Good against Evil, and
the Positive Freyarcdion for the Fvinci'plc of Christian
Morality.

However great the power of evil became before the time of
Christ, and however great it still continues to be, yet
man's need of redemption has never gone so far as to
make him inccvpcible of redemption. The stages in the
ethical process which we have seen to be logically

326 § 356. COUNTEEACTION OF GOOD AGAINST EVIL.

necessary are not obliterated by the power of evil. On
the contrary, they continue to unfold themselves, and
are promoted by the good influences which are at work
in opposition to evil, due to the constitution of man's
moral nature and to the progress of historical revelation.
While sin was increasing, the capacity of man for re-
demption was being cultivated into positive receptiveness.
This took place in two ways, (a) Through the unceas-
ing reaction of the law, both ideal and real, — a reaction
which is seen partly in the political and religious institu-
tions of nations in general, and in ancient philosophy,
partly and most clearly in the Jewish theocracy with its
objective law. (h) Through prophecy, within the heathen
but more especially the Jewish world, which points to a
new revelation and communication of God, in which the
principle of virtue will be truly realized.

1. It cannot be said that in the pre-Christian world sin
alone was developed ; the normal development of human
powers and faculties also went on, as it would have done had
sin never entered at all. By this means preparation is made
for a perfect morality ; and these powers, in their highest
development, must be incorporated with the perfect ethical
principle when it has been actually realized. The stages, too,
which we saw to be logically necessary appear in history in
tlie pre-Christian world, and are clearly recognisable. Eemini-
scences of a comparatively pure and innocent golden age at
the commencement of the race run throughout the whole of
mankind. That age was followed by one in which the heathen
world saw more especially the predominance of evil, while the
Jewish spirit saw in it the fact of sin, which it recognises as
the source of all evils. Nevertheless, an advance has been
made in the course of this age ; the transition has now been
effected to the stage of law. Lawgivers appear, at first as
heroes ; in the heathen and the Jewish world humanity is
upon the legal stage. Among the most civilised nations too,
a high degree of culture was reached to some extent, even
before Christ ; a contrast was set up to the moral chaos that

CONSCIOUSNESS OF GUILT IN THE HEATHEN WORLD. 327

existed, a certain natural refinement was attained through the
power of culture and of growing intelligence. Heathenism
developed finely and fruitfully many parts of the moral
nature, especially in science, art, and politics. And thougli
there is still wanting the pure ethical spirit, to make all
these achievements its earthly body as it were and give them
life, and though they thus remain inlierently perishable, they
yet form a preparation for morality in its perfect shape. For
the latter requires an external form in which to realize itself ;
and in this direction the ancient world did much good service
in its own way.

2. Further, swi was opposed by the consciousness of guilt
and of punishment. "Arrj with her expiations plays a large
part in Greek Tragedy, in Aeschylus and Sophocles, in the
Prometheus myth, in the Antigone and Oedipus. The
Delphic temple in particular had expiatory rites. Apollo was
regarded as the purifying and atoning god, who does not
shrink even from exposing himself to impurity in order to
make atonement for the impure, and who submits even to
menial service in order to wipe away the impurity he has
contracted for the sake of men. The notion of guilt is
vitiated, however, by its being referred not to the personal
violation of duties, but merely to such outward acts as — un-
intentionally it may be (as in the case of Adrastus) — have an
unfortunate result, or to an immoderate prosperity that excites
the envy of the gods (as in the Polycrates myth). It is not a
law-making God that occupies the supreme place ; fate stands
over all the gods. Moreover, since expiations brought no real
peace, the tendency prevailed in heathen life either to seek
forgetfulness of guilt in friA'olity, and to relegate to Tartarus
those austere and gloomy deities that remind men of sin and
guilt, or to disregard altogether the inward spiritual discord,
both practically and theoretically.

On the other hand, the consciousness of guUt and punish-
ment was more vivid among the Helreios, because here the
law was set up in an objective shape ; and thus the religious
and moral history both of the nation as a whole and of the
individual had a steadier course. Here we have the funda-
mental moral perception that guilt is the debt not of mis-
fortune but of sin, that all guilt exposes man to punishment, and

328 § 35(5. COUNTEEACTION OF GOOD AGAINST EVIL. PHILOSOPHY.

that evil owes its existence to its connection with wickedness,
and not to the hostility of irresistible powers nor to a deiov
(pOovepov. Besides, the keener consciousness of sin and guilt
among the Hebrews was met by a divinely-appointed provision
for atonement. To heathen sacrifices there was no promise
attached ; but Hebrew sacrifices, in virtue of their divine
institution, vouchsafed something not to hope merely but to
faith ; that is to say, when the offering was made, the peni-
tent was warranted in feeling that he still remained a citizen
of the theocracy, and had his share in the promise for the
future.

3. In the heathen world, if we leave political regulations
out of sight, it is philosophy that corresponds to the law ; she
seeks as it were to play the part of moral lawgiver. We
see this in Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Epicurus,
the Cynics and the Stoics. The wise man is the Hellenic
analogue of the Messianic Ideal. This doctrine of ivisdom had
even something ^^ro/j/ie^t'c in it, especially when it bore a
religious character. Thus it was with Plato, to whom the
closest possible assimilation with God is the virtue that keeps
the State together. If, now, we inquire how inward personal
goodness is to be produced, then it is evident that knowledge
is insufficient, though the will is conceived as entirely
dependent upon it, for ^povqat'^ is not within the reach of all.
Hence Plato goes back in true Hellenic fashion to nature and
natural processes ; noble children are to be begotten by bring-
ing together noble parents, and he would make political
regulations for this end. Again, and this is still more
important, he says in the Mcnon that virtue can neither be
learned nor acquired by practice, but must be given deia
fiolpa. In the BcpuUic, moreover, he says that the appear-
ance of those high, wise, and just persons, on whom, according
to him, depends the hope of a regeneration of the disordered
commonwealth, must be expected as a " gift of God." As
the world now is — he says further and prophetically — were
the i^crfcdly just man to appear, he could restore faith in
righteousness only through suffering (even scourging and
crucifixion are mentioned), and would have to endure the
extremity of wrong in evincing his perfect justice.

The Stoics, moreover, although they occupy the legal stand-

HEATHEN ANALOGUES OF THE MESSIAH. 329

point of the stage of right, yet cannot deny the need there is
of bringing the good out of its abstract, legal form into a more
living one ; so they too draw their ideal of the wise man
who is free from sin. According to Chrysippus, he is a
king, who judges all things and is himself judged by no
one ; according to Zeno, he is a priest, made so, however,
through knowledge. In the wise man, who is both king
and priest, they have produced the Hellenic analogue of the
image of the Messiah. But where this wise man is to come
from — on that point the Stoics leave us in perplexity. They
are prevented by their false attitude towards religion, by their
want of humility, from going farther still and postulating a
revelation. They endow their wise man with the sense of
absolute freedom, and take great delight in drawing a picture
of him, as if no more were required than a beautiful ideal.
Finally, Stoicism lacks an absolute teleology with regard to
the world ; it makes the history of the world run in a
circle ; when the world's aeon is over, it is resolved again
into Zeus, through the agency of fire. Thus, in the last
resort, a fatalistic necessity rules the world. It rules even
the wise man — a striking contrast to that sense of absolute
freedom with which he is credited. The reason of this con-
trast is that his sense of freedom has only a pantheistic basis.
The wise man calls the essence of his being the " god in
him ; " but this god, like those of polytheism in general,
is subject to fate, and is no better in this respect than the
deities it has absorbed. It is worthy of notice that the
Hebrew analogue of Stoicism, namely Pharisaism, often
arrived at fatalism also ; for when God is thought of only
as the World - law or its representative, then as the law
does not arise out of His own essential nature, He cannot
be absolute. Above Him an absolute power is conceived,
which is not personal and free. The Eabbis make God a
student of the law.

4. Through the religious fact of the giving of the law, the
Hebrews were delivered once and for all from that vacillation
with regard to moral ideas exhibited by the Greeks, who are
always beginning over again to verify and state them. The
religious development of the Hebrews goes on steadily within
the limits of the law ; while their sense of the relation

330 § 356. COUNTERACTION OF GOOD AGAINST EVIL.

between God and man is firmly maintained. Pious people
living under the law, and continuiug to practise it, were of
necessity led more and more from what is outward to what is
inward. And this furthered their ideal appropriation of the
Iciw, that is to say, their religious knowledge. It came to be
recognised that good intention is better than mere external
works ; that the true offering, of which the outward one is
but the symbol, is that inward self-sacrifice on the part of
man, which if it were present would make the outward super-
fluous and without meaning. The ceremonial law and other
elements of the Jewish ritual had a similar effect. But there-
with an inner conflict sprang up with the whole system of
symbolical worship ; the longing after a true worship, after
reality, came to maturity. The increasing knowledge of the
Jews brought them pain, a deeper consciousness of sin and of
the gulf which separated them from God. Thus the law
fulfilled its end ; it quickened their consciousness of their
need of redemption. Faith in the God of their i'athers now
led them to liopc for new acts of God in the future.

The substance of this hope is as follows : {a) As God wills
that His glory be shown forth, so He wills a kingdom of
glory. This He will establish, and bring to pass the final
consummation through the Kingsliip of the Messiah. This
hope is expressed in the oldest psalms (ii., ex.) and prophets
(Isaiah, Micah). (h) It was recognised, further, that Israel
cannot at once be made glorious and perfect, that the kingdom
of God cannot appear as a kingdom of glory without media-
tion. True and permanent kingship can only spring from
inward majesty, that is, from righteousness ; and righteousness
manifests itself in lowliness and renunciation. The people
must become the servant of Jehovah in the full true sense ;
then only will the sure mercies of David be given (Isa. Iv. 3).
Such is the purport of Isaiah's announcement in chap. xl. sq.
There the people is at first described as the servant of
Jehovah. But the empirical people of Israel is not the
servant of God ; on the contrary, it is burdened with guilt,
and cannot become righteous without atonement. It can
neither wash away its sin nor hear it, and yet the perfection
of the kingdom depends upon the people becoming holy and
reconciled to God. Accordiugly, prophecy rises to the con-

THE MESSIANIC IDEA. 331

ception of the " Branch " of Jehovah, of whom earlier prophets
had already spoken. It presents Him as being through His
personal righteousness the manifested archetype of the people,
who represents them before God, and becomes the mediator
oi forgiveness and conscious recouciliation (Isa. liii.). This is
the Messianic 'priestliood. Here the Messianic hope had to
concentrate itself in the most definite way upon one single
person, who, righteous himself, makes the rest of the nation
righteous, and gathers them together into his kingdom, the
true kingdom of God. This kingdom is now pictured in the
most glowinsj colours, and in its all-embracin<:f and redeeming
majesty (Isa. lii.— Ivi.). By means of this process, which
began after the revelation of the law, Christianity is ideally
foreshadowed, while on the subjective side man is made ready
to receive Christianity, and is aroused to a longing desire
for it.

5. To sum lip. The condition of things in the pre-
Christian world makes sufficiently evident : (1) The religious
and moral helplessness of man, or his need of redemption.
Sin and guilt require atonement before everything else. And
this man cannot make for himself. Nevertheless (2) humanity
is not by this means rendered incapable of redemption, either
from the side of God or of man. On the human side, counter
agencies have always been at work in opposition to the power
of sin ; and these serve to prove that in human nature, in
spite of its ruin, a point was still left at which the Good
could enter, when it appeared in the form of a divine act.
Previous to Christianity also, and in spite of sin, progress was
made in many departments of life that are of moral value —
in politics, art, and science. Lawgivers and philosophers gave
partial assistance to the subjective voice of conscience. Even
among the heathen conscience was not lifeless, but oppressed
the evil-doer with the feelino; of gruilt and wretchedness. But
the most powerful of all agencies against sin were the institu-
tions of the Old Testament, — the fixed, objective law, and the
public ordinances that were established in accordance with it.
But history also affords confirmation of what we have already
perceived from the very nature of the case, viz. the imperfection
of the legal stage and its powerlessness to give life. It was
only the prophecy of new and higher acts of God that upheld

332 § 36. NECESSITY OF THE STAGE OF LOVE BY MEANS OF

humanity in its moral efforts and hopes. Humanity has
never been left altogether without prophecy ; it appeared even
in heathenism, it had its chosen seat in the Hebrew religion,
and it formed the one sustaining element amid the imperfec-
tions of the legal stage. In fine, the chief thing which came
to maturity before Christianity was merely the knowledge of
sin (Eom. iii. 20), the sense of need, the heartfelt yearning for
divine help and for the divine home from which man felt he
was ejected and estranged. In this way man was prepared
for a further manifestation on the part of God ; that is to say,
his need of redemption was intensified, while his capacity for
it had now become complete.

THIED SECTION.

THE STAGE OF LOVE OE OF THE GOSPEL, AS THE CONTENTS OF
THE ETHICAL WORLD-IDEAL (§ 31, 32).

§36.

[Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, ii. § 62, 70, iii. § 89. — Ed.]

The legal stage being imperfect both in itself (§ 34, 34«)
and in relation to evil (§ 35), the goal of God's
creative love can only be such a union of the human
will with the divine as will make the life of man divine
in wisdom and holiness. But human life can become
divine only by an act of self-communication on the
part of God, that is, by the divine life becoming human.
The will of God is therefore wholly directed to this end,
and must be met on man's part by a receptivity which
responds to the act of divine love.

1. The fundamental fact in Christian experience is tlie
union of the divine and human life. Accordingly, Christian
ethics has to show how the ethical in general and ethical
science are inwardly connected with this which is at once the
fundamental idea of Christianity, the central point of Christian
doctrine, and the central fact of Christian life. And this can

A REVELATION ON THE PART OF GOD. 333

be done in two ways ; either by considering human needs in
themselves, especially as affected by sin, or by starting from
the ethical conception of God.

2. The stage of perfect morality, which is of necessity kept
in view from the very first, demands that the divine life
become human in order that human life may become
divine. Even the Old Testament requires that heart and life
be at one with God (Gen. v. 24, vi. 9 ; Ps. li. 12 ; Joel iii. 1;
Jer. xxxi. 34). The doctrine of the divine image in which
man was created also involves the same truth with regard to
human life : for it teaches that man is designed to recognise,
of his own fiee will, that the Good which resides originally in
God is also the true essence of his own nature, that he is
intended to enter into full possession of it as a free yet
morally determined being. For there is only one morality :
the original of it is in God, the copy of it is in man. This is
also the meaning of 1 Tim. vi. 11, according to which we are
to become "men of God;" and of 2 Pet. i. 3, 4, where it is
said that Christians become partakers of the " divine nature."
(Cf. 2 Cor. i. 21, 22.) Whatever good there may be besides
God who is the first source of good, it cannot exist in inde-
pendence of God ; it is only a good so far as God is in it as
a quickening power. The law itself is not satisfied with
separate, single acts merely, in which self-will is restrained,
and obedience rendered to the external standard of the law.
When taken in its full compass, it refers not only to what
man does, but to what he is. AVithin it is the image of the
ideal man, of man as he is designed to be, although it is
powerless to realize that ideal. In fact, single acts done with a
good purpose are truly good only when they are the expression
of a will that loves and takes pleasure in the good as a whole.

Accordingly it comes to this : good must not merely be
wrung by force as it were from the natural man ; it must be
the product of a character that is good through and through, of a
leaning towards God that has become the true, higher nature
of man. For it is not good fruits that make a good tree, but a
good tree that brings forth good fruits (Matt. vii. 1 7). But man,
and es^^ecially sinful man, cannot elicit from himself goodness
in this its higher spiritual sense. And just as little can it be
supplied to him by creation. It could not be given him to

334 § 37. NECESSITY OF THE GOD-MAiST.

begin with, for then there would have been no possibility of a
really new and free life of love in the world, distinct from
God, although not independent of Him (1 Cor. xv. 45 ff.),
Man is created only with the vov^, receptiveness for the
'TTvevfia. Instead of overcoming man by a kind of natural
force, the divine love and its communicableness address him
as a, free being. They ask him, as it were, whether he will
allow himself to be determined by God, to be taken possession
of and swayed by the Divine Spirit, whether therefore he will
admit the divine spirit of love (Eom, viii. 1 ff.) to dwell
within him as an inspiring power, a higher spiritual nature.

3. FurUier, just as man, conscious of his need, yearns for
something more on God's part than what He has given in
creation and the law, so on the other hand the divine love is
not satisfied with the revelation of the law. For the law
does not perfectly reveal the goodness of God's holy love nor
its communicableness. It is only a communication to the
intellect, not to the inmost nature and will of man. It still
stands outside of these. In the law God makes demands ;
He gives nothing. But God intends to be something more to
the world than mere omnipotence and omnipresence ; some-
thing more than an object of knowledge ; something more
than One who stands over against the world in the attitude
of demand. He means to be in the world a power that
both loves and implants love. It is His purpose that His
cosmical relation to the world should become an ethical
relation, in which He is all in all (1 Cor. xv. 28). The
thorough exposition of this subject belongs to Dogmatics.

§ 37. The Necessity of the God-man from Ethical Points of

View.

[Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, ii. § G 2. — Ed.]

The revelation of God, as is shown in Dogmatics, is consum-
mated in the Incarnation, which gives to the world Him
who is strictly the God-man. From ethical principles
also it follows that the moral perfection both of the
individual and of the world as a whole depends npon the
realization of the idea of God-manhood. For the moral

INSUFFICIENCY OF THE LAW. 335

principle can arrive at full power, or, in other words,
love or a kingdom of love be realized in the world, only
throngh the consummation of the revelation or self-com-
munication of God. The God-man, moreover, must be
One, and must be unique, both in Himself and in rela-
tion to God, as well as in the essential relation which
He bears to humanity. In Him there must dwell a
reconciling and perfecting power ; uhe power of establish-
ing, through the Spirit which proceeds from Him, the
kingdom of God, or that absolute moral organism in
which is realized the ideal both of tlie individual and of
the whole world.

1. In § 31 and § 36 all that was shown was that the moral
life, in order to reach perfection, must be at once divine and
human. No conclusion, however, has as yet been arrived at
as to the uniqueness of a life at once human and divine, and
none as to the ethical significance of the incarnation of God
in a single being, who is both God and man. In the act of
God implied in incarnation, revelation reaches its climax ;
it is no longer a mere revelation, for love's sake, of God's
power, wisdom, and justice ; it is the revelation of love itself
as being the very heart of God. The proof from ultimate
principles of the necessity of this divine act belongs to the
science of Dogmatics. But it is also well worth our while to
recognise how important, from an ethical point of view, is that
form of the self-communication of God to the world in which
the perfect life of love appears at first in a single person, that
of the God-man, and then, starting from Him as a centre,
diffuses itself by a moral process throughout humanity.

2. It is true that the law is a revelation not merely of the
divine will but also of the essential nature of God, But that
which in Him is most essential, viz. His love, is not revealed
in the law. When love makes a demand, it does not yet
appear as love (not even when it is love that it demands).
It does so only when it communicates something, nay more,
only when it communicates itself. And the crown of the
self-communication of God to the world is just the incarna-
tion. By a personal revelation of Himself as love, God can

336 § 37. NECESSITY OF THE GOD-MAN.

become the object of love, and raise mankind above the stage
of law.

In itself the law cannot be an object of love. It may be
revered, but it cannot be loved. Only that which is personal
can be loved, only what is adapted to an interchange of love,
whereas the law remains cold and dead to the human heart
(Gal. iii. 2 1 ; Eom. vii. 6 f.). Only when the Good appears
not merely as law, but in the form of a person, does it show
that it seeks to communicate itself, and only then does it
become communicable. Accordingly, the personal life of Him
who is the God-man exhibits the law in its perfect form ; by
His fulfilment of it He brings to light that deep principle of
love on which it is based. The God-man, as being in Himself
the law unveiled and fulfilled, has an attractive power quite
different from that of the mere <ypd/jifia. The archetype is
productive. In the God-man, the Good that has its seat in
God not only becomes an object of perception, but offers to
enter into a fellowship of love with all who appropriate it.
And thus it is made possible for every one who does so to live
and act as a totality, in the power of his whole nature as
inspired by the spiritual principle of love. The legal stand-
point always tends to split life up into a multiplicity of tasks,
out of which no living whole can be formed ; it cannot produce
the higher spiritual nature, that entire bent and determination
of character which the principle of love alone can evoke (Matt.
vii. 17 ; 1 Cor. xiii.). On the legal stage, it is true, man is
not without a presentiment of what is wanting. Still, the
longing that is thereby awakened finds satisfaction nowhere
but in Him in whom the love of God appeared in intelligible
form, and who offers Himself to faith as the power of Good
in its totality, as the living source of all true life, of a life
that proceeds from Him, and may be received by all.

3. Further, it is of great ethical importance to observe that
human freedom, which is the indispensable characteristic of
moral progress, cannot be preserved in the transition to the
third stage unless by revelation reaching its completion in the
incarnation. If humanity were to be led up to the highest
stage wholly by means of an inward spiritual operation (the
" ideal Christ " or the " God-spirit "), it could not maintain
j)erfect freedom in relation to the divine act. Man could not

FAITH IN CHRIST MORALLY NECESSARY. 337

resist a merely inward spiritual agency ; for in order to act
upon him, it must already have inwardly determined his Ego,
— his feelings, disposition, and intelligence, — and thus his
freedom would be more or less impaired. An external revela-
tion, on the contrary, presents itself first of all to perception,
and taking its stand here, on neutral ground as it were, main-
tains its objectivity over against the Ego in such a way that
the will remains free with regard to it, and can therefore
freely appropriate the revelation that is giv ^n. The historical
revelation in the God-man is mediated first of all through the
senses ; it offers itself to objective perception, and the Ego
maintains its freedom over against the object presented to it.^
4. Again, when we decide to accept the God-man it is not
an act of caprice on our part, but an act which is morally
warranted and even morally necessary. This arises from the
uniqueness of the God-man; for in Him dwells the fulness of
the Godhead, and only through Him can the highest moral stage
he reached. Here, indeed, it might be objected that the mani-
festation of God in one man is in contradiction with the very
thing that is to be revealed, since God is infinite and cannot
reveal His fulness in a single being, subject to the limitations
of sense. If we say, then, that revelation must be consum-
mated in the person of the God-man, does this not necessarily
introduce confusion into the true idea of God ? To this it
may be replied, that if the infinitude of God meant indeter-
minateness, then a revelation of Him in the world of sense
would be a contradiction. But the infinitude of God is not

1 The necessity for an objective revelation is also evident from the following
considerations : God cannot be comprehended by finite creatures if He is only a
supersensible and omnipresent Being, if He does not, in Luther's words, become
" inclosed for us " in a definite revelation, wliich the spirit of man can apprehend
objectively; " if He does not summon us to some definite place where we are
sure to find and have Him." Therefore the eternal Word clothes Himself in an
outward manifestation in space and time ; and the gospel is the proclamation or
preaching of the Word become flesh. The necessity of the God-man for the con-
summation of revelation is in harmonj', therefore, with the universal principle
expressed in Rom. x. 17. Faith does not arise of itself or altogether from within.
It is an important maxim both for ethics and dogmatics, that the outward word
is necessary. For man's appropriation of the divine influence can preserve a
moral form in no other way than by the revelation of God entering into the
finitude and individuality which space and time impose, and by its becoming a
historical power alongside of others, so that man can maintain his freedom
towards it — that is to say, can reject or acquiesce in and accept it.

3:38 § 37. NECESSITY OF THE GOD-:\rAX. HIS UNIQUENESS.

indeterminateness, aireipov. On the contrary, it is intensive,
it belongs to His ethical nature, and being such, it is quite
compatible with determinateness. And a specific ethical
character can certainly be revealed. The world, moreover,
and man especially, is fitted to express not only what is finite,
Ijut also what is of infinite value, viz. the wisdom and love ot
God. Human nature has been created with special reference
to the perfect revelation of love, that is, to perfect self-com-
munication on the part of God.

Further, if God by becoming incarnate in a single person
appears to confine Himself within limits, and thus to contra-
dict His own universality, yet, on the other hand, it must be
remembered that this revelation includes all men in its refer-
ence. It is true that Christ is only a single individual, but
He has a universal significance. Regarded objectively. He is
the manifested love of God to mankind in general; while, at
the same time, regarded subjectively, or as a human being,
He is the love that embraces the whole of humanity. On the
legal stage what was wanting was a character wholly deter-
mined and animated by love. Accordingly Christ is unique
for this reason, that as He offers Himself to all alike, so all
see in Him the centre of humanity, since He is the man in
whom the divine love has appeared in historical shape. When
the idea of the God-man is realized, something of eternal and
universal worth for the whole of humanity is given, and hence
the God-man, the Bevrepo^; 'ABdfi, is wholly unique. A repe-
tition of the act in which the idea of God-manhood has been
realized would be superfluous, and would disturb the unity
of the world.

But now, what is the relation which different individuals
bear to this one God-man, this productive archetype ? The
life of love, indeed, appears in a multiplicity of individual
forms, but love is essentially one and the same. Since the
God-man reveals the divine love in the form of a person, it
follows that all men stand in essentially the same relation to
Him to begin with ; all alike need Him, and are capable of
receiving Him. In like manner, He stands in essentially the
same relation to all. He has not a peculiar afiinity to certain
persons, as if He were in a special sense their archetype, and
the source of a higher life in tlicni ; for this would imply that

FAITH NOT AN ACT OF CAPEICE, 339

He was not so closely and essentially related to others. But
although He is a single human individual as other men are,
yet He is also unique. For as He devotes Himself to all alike,
so all find in Him the objective historical centre of their
higher life. He is the central man among men, since in Him
the divine love, that invisible centre of the world, has appeared
in history in a personal form, and become the personal head
of humanity. From this it follows again as a matter of course
that only one man such as He can appear. He is the true,
predestined Head of humanity.

Thus, too, it becomes evident how faith in Him can be
demanded of every one ; in other words, it becomes clear that
the vofio^ TTLdTewi in Him expresses a duty which is just as
true and essential as any other. Faith in Him must be
required as a matter of universal obligation or duty. It may
be said, though with no real force, " Faith is an act of
caprice ; it cannot be exercised knowingly and consciously as
a duty, since that only can be called a moral duty which has
an essential connection with our moral nature and constitution.
But the God-man has onh' an accidental position with regard
to men, a position that is conditioned by the accidental fact
of sin. Consequently, when we put faith in Him we do not
act morally, but only from caprice, and our act therefore is
mixed up with sin, or is mere blind submission to the autho-
rity of the Church, just as the mission of the God-man is
itself due to the hencplaciium of God, and is therefore an act
of caprice." This objection, which, indeed, would strictly
exclude the God-man from the moral organism which has
existed in the thought and will of God from all eternity, is
refuted by the fact that the bond which connects us with the
God-man is not anything accidental to human nature. On
the contrary, God had in view the moral perfection of man at
the creation,^ and this His final purpose cannot possibly be
accomplished by a mere revelation of law, but only by the
highest revelation of all, namely, one of love (§ 34). And as we
have already seen, such a revelation cannot at first be wholly
and simply an internal one, but must take objective shape in the
God-man. Human nature, moreover, was constituted at creation
in such a way, that, in the event of sin arising, we can be

^ Col. i. 13-20 ; Eph. iii. 9 f., i. 9 f.

340 § 37. NECESSITY OF THE GOD-MAN.

redeemed by the God-man ; in that case we are referred to
Him for deliverance, and have the power to receive Him.
For from the uniqueness of His person the following results
may at once be derived. Since there is in Him universal
ethical power, sufficient for all, and since His relation to
all men is not a mere accidental, but an essential one, so
when sin arises He can represent them heforc God, can make
atonement for and perfect them. And not only has He the power
thus to reconcile and redeem men, it is His essential vocation
so to do, not a vocation which He enters upon arbitrarily.

5. Further, Christ is also He through whom the kingdom of
God really becomes the world's goal. His loving self-surrender
to mankind awakens the faith and self-surrender of mankind
towards Him ; men become willing to be determined by
His spirit and will alone, and to be filled with His all-
sufticient power ; and thus there begins to exist, both in the
absolute and secondary spheres, a community of love of which
He is the organizing principle. Believers now recognise tliat
in Him they are united both to God and to each other ; they
begin to have a far higher idea of what community is, and to
realize it in a far higher shape than what appeared in the
natural associations of the first stage, or the communities that
arose on the stage of right. Believers being united to Jesus
have Him as their centre — in a historical and not merely
transcendental, but also in an ideal and not merely an exter-
nal sense ; they find in Him their true unity, and yield them-
selves to be moulded by Him ; and thus they now form a
community of love, recognising that they are all members of
one organism, of that true humanity of which the head is
Christ. Now no such organic unity could result from a mere
immanent operation of the Divine Spirit. In that case the
unity that existed would be wholly inward and beyond
experience, residing either in human nature itself, if we take
the Pelagian view, or in God ; it would remain behind a veil,
and never be disclosed to consciousness. But the God-man,
who takes possession of individual believers and brings them
into organic connection with each other, is the real, historic
head of true humanity, the humanity which corresponds with
the ultimate destiny of man ; He remains indissolubly bound
up with mankind even after He has triumphed over sin and

HIS ABSOLUTE AND PERMANENT SIGNIFICANCE. 341

death, and men recognise their unity in Him as an objective
factor in the world's history.

"When once the absohite stage of religion and morality has
been reached, it never gives place to any other. For the
God-man does not occupy in it a merely accidental position,
such as is held in other religions by their founders and pro-
phets (Moses, for instance). In it, on the contrary, the divine
principle of mediation, which has taken historical form in the
person of the God-man, ever remains an integral element.
Were Christ to cease to be of permanent significance, it would
follow that even the absolute religion is awaiting another reli-
gion to which it will give place, and that even that stage
which exhibits the principle of morality in absolute perfection
will yet cease to exist.

6. According to the exposition that has been given, the
God-man is the means by which the world attains its con-
summation. But at the same time He is more than a
means. In order to be a means in this absolute sense He
must be love itself made manifest in a personal form. Xow
love, although it may make itself a means, yet contains also
its end in itself, and is even an absolute end in itself. Hence
we must not stop short with regarding the God-man as a
means merely, as a theophany given wholly for ends that lie
outside itself (Scripture speaks of a glorification of the person
and personal dignity of Jesus). While He is all this to
humanity. He is also in Himself a good within the world
which the world cannot want ; He is its crown and its shrine.
He is the full manifestation of morality, inasmuch as in Him
we have the unity of law, virtue and the supreme good. On
the legal stage these three still stand outside each other. But
as the God-man is the law unveiled and fulfilled, so in Him,
too, we see virtue and virtuous energy in a f)ersonal form. As
love manifesting itself jDersonally and in union with God, He
is the absolutely virtuous man, the virtue of our race.

Moreover, besides being a good in Himself, He is also the
beginning of the existence of the chief good in the world, both
in its subjective and its objective form ; He is the fertile
principle of its realization in humanity. Thus in Him the
highest moral stage is realized in a personal shape. The God-
man is necessary both as an end in Himself and as a means

342 § 37. NECESSITY OF THE GOD-MAK

for the realization of the kiugdoni of God, of which He is the
head ; that is to say, He is necessary for the consummation
of the divine order of the world. [For we see that only
through Him can humanity attain to the highest stage, whether
we take sin into account or look at the matter apart from
sin altogether. — Ed.]

7. The fundamental idea of which an exposition has been
given appears in primitive Christian thought (Col. i. 13-20 ;
Eph. iii. 9 f., i. 9 f,). It has also been accepted by great
theologians in every age, such as Iren8eus, Tertullian, Athan-
asius, Gregory of Nyssa ; while in addition to many in the
Middle Ages, Luther, Melanclithon, Calvin, Brentz, and
Osiander present clear traces of it.^ Here we would make
only two additional observations.

(1.) Tlie absoluteness of Christian Etliics cannot he maintained
sinless toe recognise that the person of Christ is and continues
to be essential to the absoluteness of the Christian religion.

(2.) What makes many hesitate to assent to the foregoing
proposition is the idea that it would make the incarnation,
which is the highest act of God's free love, not an act of free
will at all, but of physical necessity. But since free love is
something quite different from caprice, and is yet in itself a
moral though not a physical necessity, this scruple is easily
removed by the following considerations. When God, out of
love and for the ends of love, wills the existence of the world,
there is here no physical necessity, since the world adds
nothing to the divine cf)vac<;, and the latter cannot act by itself.
But, at the same time, neither is there anything of the
nature of accident or caprice. Whatever is in harmony with
the divine love is good, and so morally necessary. jSTow we
only proceed farther, as we must do to be consistent, and say
— if God had not willed the world, then in that case the in-
carnation would in no wise be necessary ; but since the free
will of God does will the world, it must do so teleologically ;
that is to say, it must keep in view the final consummation of
the world as its goal. Hence it must also will the existence of
the God-man, without whom that consummation is impossible.

1 Cf. my Doctrine of the Person of Christ, Div. II. vol. iii. p. 248 et secj.
(transl.), where the objections are discussed tliat have been brought against
certain forms in which this doctrine has been stated.

SECOND PART.

THE GOOD AS EEALIZED IN CHRISTIANITY.

§ 38. Sijllahus. [Cf. § 5. 3, 4.— Ed.]

Division I. Christ the Incarnate Good, or the Eealization,
in principle, of Morality in IMankind.

Division II. The Christian Personality.

Division III. The Organized World of Christian Morality, or
the Moral Commnnity of the Kingdom of
God.

Note. — Communities and individuals have already been con-
sidered in important and fundamental aspects — viz. in the
forms which they take on the first stage or stage of nature, as
well as in those which they assume on the stage of right. At
present they have to be examined from the point of view of the
second or spiritual creation, in which whatever was true in the
earlier stages is preserved and carried forward to completion.

FIRST DIVISION.

CHRIST THE GOD-MAN, AS THE REALIZATION, IN PRINCIPLE, OF
MORALITY IN MANKIND.

§ 39.

In Christ we have the perfect unity of the three fundamental
forms of morality, viz. the law, virtue, and the chief
good ; so that He and He alone is the principle that
has power to bring these into unity and coalescence.
Thus Christ is (1) the personal law of foAth and life —
or the personal conscience of humanity. (2) He is
absolutely pure and all-embracing virtue; and as such
He has become the 2'^crsonal satisfaction for our race

344 § 39. CHRIST THE REALIZATION OF PERFECT MORALITY.

towards God, a satisfaction that is offered to the faith of
reconciled humanity. (3) As King of Love He is the
beginning of the Kingdom of God, endowed with infinite
fulness of power.

1. Since Christ, as belonging to mankind, is the living law
or conscience of humanity, the virtue of our race, and its
fundamental moral good, ethical Christology forms the comple-
ment to the doctrine of the Offices of Christ. When these
three elements remain separate, it is a mark of moral imper-
fection, if not of sin itself. Their union is necessary to moral
perfection, and involves perfect knowledge, a perfect heart,
and perfect energy of will. It is true that we would have no
right to take this ethical view of the person of Christ if He
were a theophany merely, and not One who becomes man in
a true, personal and moral sense — if, therefore. His ethical
worth were not something which, while depending ultimately
on an act of God, He nevertheless gained through conflict and
development. But such is the case according to the Biblical
view (Heb. ii. 17 f., iv. 15, v. 7 f.). His moral perfection is
borne witness to by all His disciples (1 Pet. ii. 22 ; 2 Cor.
V. 21; Phil. ii. 8, 9; Eom. v. 19 ; Heb. ii. 10, iv. 15,
vii. 2G); by His own declarations — as when He asserts that
He is the Eedeemer, and therefore One who does not Himself
stand in need of redemption (Matt. v. 17 ; John viii. 29, 46 ;
Matt. XX. 28, xviii. 20), and that He is the judge of the
world (John iii. 36 ; Matt, xxv.) ; and finally, by the impres-
sion which the image of Christ makes at all times, and the
power which continually flows from Him. Let us now con-
sider one by one the three points which have been mentioned.

PIEST SECTION".

CHRIST THE PERFECT REVELATIOX OF THE DIVINE LAW.
§40.

Christ is the end of the law, inasmuch as He perfects it. And
He perfects the law through His being the will of God
unveiled and fulfilled. Thus He is, in His own person,

§ 40. CHRIST THE REVELATION OF THE LAW. 345

the perfect law of life and faith, permanently incorpo-
rated with humanity ; He is the conscience of mankind.
[Cf. System oj Christian Doctrine, vol. iii. § 111. — Ed.]

1. The authority which we here ascribe to Christ as the
" lex viva prasensque," can only belong to Him if He is not
merely a man like ourselves but a revelation of the Father ;
not only a man furnished with divine powers, but He within
whose person the Godhead dwelt. He is quite different from
other religious teachers. We must not regard Moses, e.g., as
if it were his person that laid on us the obligation to obey his
precepts. But Christ is the revelation of the Father in such
a way, that while He is a man related to us and approachable
by us, He at the same time has the knowledge of truth as His
own personal possession. Thus His knowledge is that of the
free Son of God. It is the archetype of ours and communicable
to us ; and more, it is the exemplar of ours, since Christ by
self-discipline increased in knowledge and wisdom, and abiding
in firm and faithful union with God became the conscience of
humanity.

2. Now the perfect law is a lavj of life and of faith
(§ 31. 3). Christ has become both of these, since (to use
Dr. Schmid's ^ apt expression) He has perfectly " unveiled
and fulfilled " the deKruia of God by His teaching and His
life.

(a) He is the km of life for us ; for He unveils tlie true
will of God by His teaching and life.

(a) By His teaching. The multiplicity of precepts enjoined
in the old covenant are gathered up by Christ into the unity
of the single commandment of love, which embraces all the
powers of man (Matt. xxii. 37 ff., v. 44; Luke x. 27 f.).
He thus gives man a deeper sense of what morality really
is, and opens ^^p in him the fountain of free, personal, moral
knowledge (John viii. 32), in order that his moral obedience
may be rendered free by his direct apprehension of moral
truth (John iv. 14, vii. 38 f., xv. 15). The unity of Christ's
law gives a united direction to moral effort (John xiii. 34).
Hence to Christ no work is good unless accompanied by a

1 Quceritiir de notione legis in theolorjia Christianorum morali rite con-
etituenda, 1832.

346 § 40, CHRIST THE KEVELATION OF THE LAW.

t^ood intention and disposition ; He rejects a mere mechanical
form of religion (cf. what He says concerning sacrifice and
the Sabbath, Matt. ix. 13 ; Mark ii. 27). Nor is an inten-
tion good unless accompanied by a good work (Matt. xv. 1 ff.,
Corban). But to Him those works alone are good which
spring from the totality of a good moral character (Matt,
vii. 17).

(/8) By His life. Christ unveils the law of life perfectly
and effectively by the example and pattern which He affords,
or in other words, He unveils it by fulfilling it. By this
means the law remains no longer in an impersonal form, a
cold, dead fypufi/xa ; but as personal, holy love, it assumes an
attractive and lovely shape (John i. 14). Christ encourages
us to fulfil the law by showing that it can be fulfilled, and
thus establishing our belief in its perfect validity. It might
Ije supposed, indeed, that since He was the Son of God, while
we are the children of the sinful race of men, we cannot take
Him as a pattern for ourselves, nor can He be a guarantee to
us that the law can be fulfilled. But to this we reply, that if
He had been sinless, holy, and just, not from His connection
with God but in His mere power as a man. He would not in
that case be a pattern for us, but a judgment against us.
Besides, He would be an incomprehensible phenomenon in
the midst of sinful humanity. But He is no such pheno-
menon as this ; for while man He is also Son of God, the
revelation of the Father, in whom God has made a new
communication of Himself to humanity. Moreover, the
revelation given in Him is intended for all men, in spite of
sin and as a gift of free grace. That is to say, Christ is not
only the law of life, but also and before everything else the
law of faith, and as such He can be a pattern for men.

(h) The law of faith. Christ unveils the whole counsel
and will of God from its very foundation. He does not,
therefore, reveal the divine will merely as holy and just and
so making demands upon us, but also in its pardoning and
sanctifying character, and so as bestowing something upon us.
The divine law of life, made manifest in Him, becomes fruitful
and efficacious only by His being at the same time the law of
faith. And this He is, because by perfectly fulfilling the
demands of the divine deXrjfia He has won in His own person

CHRIST THE LAW OF FAITH. 347

a good for humanity, which man has to receive by faith, and
in which the power of reconciliation and sanctification dwells.
This good is not merely something which He holds up to view
and instructs us about, but something which He has to win in
His own person as mediator (cf. Second Section). If He were
merely a teacher and moral lawgiver, His person would have
only an accidental significance, like that of Moses or one of
the prophets. But Christ is what He teaches.

3. Christ, moreover, though He is an individual man, can
be the all-embracing law for all men. The form of personality
is not a limitation for love; it is rather the means by wdiich
love manifests itself. It is in the nature of love to take up
its abode in individuals ; and the divine good comes to actual
historical existence in the person of Him who on His human
side possesses every ret[uisite for its manifestation. Thus He
is the Son of man ; He is of universal significance, and has
the same relation to all. It is a duty incumbent upon the
universal human conscience to acknowledge Christ as the law
of faith and life ; for he is the objective conscience of humanity,
its ethical truth and wisdom. Thus it is possible for iis to
put faith in Him, as an act of conscience and not of blind
caprice. The law given in conscience, which also has its
origin in the Logos (John i. 4, v. 39), is meant to act as a
" 7ratSa7&)70? " (Gal. iii. 24). In other words, by recognising
itself in Christ, and even finding in Him its own essential
truth, it thus forms a stepping-stone to faith, which confides
itself entirely to Him (John vii. 17). The eternal Logos uses
conscience as a means of drawing men to Him who became
flesh; in the first revelation, that, viz., which was made in the
natural conscience of man, the second and perfecting one was
kept in view ; while conversely, the latter links itself on to
the former. It is one and the same law which has its founda-
tion in conscience and is perfectly revealed in Christ, and
through Him it comes to universal realization.

This fact must give an ethical character to the whole
doctrine of the appropriation of salvation. It is in direct
opposition to that kind of faith which is satisfied with mere
intellectual motives, with acts that spring from the head or
understanding alone — the faith of Eationalism and of pseudo-
orthodoxy with its intellectual legalism. On the other

348 § 41. CHRIST THE ALL-EMBEACING VIRTUE.

hand, the true doctrine of Christ as the law of faith and life
is also opposed to the error of Antinomicmism. Antinomian-
ism takes faith as constituting in itself the solution of the
entire moral problem, and for this reason, — that in it a new
and all-powerful principle of life is given, a principle which
is regarded as the sum and substance of the whole matter,
including within itself everything that is necessary for its
own development. It is held that faith is not conditioned by
any external authority, since in it Christ lives in us, and thus
from its own inherent energy and power of self-development
it has the right to legislate for itself. The Evangelical Church,
on the contrary, rightly insists upon the tertius usus legis.
Faith does not enable us to dispense with Christ as an
objective, external law. For at first it is weak, and has to
grow up into strength, and it can only grow by means of the
same power that gave it birth — that is, through Christ. Thus
faith as being imperfect ever stands in need of counsel and
instruction, and must direct itself according to the standard of
the objective perfect law which is given in Christ. Of course,
to take Christ as the law of faith is not a relapse under mere
outward authority ; it is the means by which man is brought
to repentance, and grows in knowledge and in freedom.

SECOND SECTION.

CHRIST THE ALL-EMBRACING VIRTUE, AND THE MAN WHO
RENDERS SATISFACTION TO GOD.

§41.

Christ is tJie Love of God hecome Man ; and thus He is the
Virtue or Excellence of our race in a personal form, and
the Man who renders satisfaction to God.

[Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, § 122 (119). — Ed.]

1. As is shown in Dogmatics, the appearance of Christ in
humanity, in accordance with God's eternal purpose of recon-
ciliation, is sufficient to ensure the possibility of reconciliation ;
its actual accomplishment, however, is a work which must be

CHKIST THE SUBSTITUTE OF HUMANITY. 349

carried out by the God-man in an ethical way. If in Christ
only an act of God were to be seen, then we should have to
assume that God could at once, and apart from Christ altogether,
have forgiven all men alike, and absolved them from guilt
and punishment. In that case nothing would be gained and
accomplished by the work of the God-man which did not
already exist in God. At the most, Christ would only teach
and prove something, perhaps that God in Himself is recon-
ciled with sin from all eternity, although this would do away
with the absolute reprehensibility of wickedness, and its
absolute liability to punishment. But, on the contrary, —
while it is, of course, true that everything depends ultimately
on the act of God which sent Christ into the world, — the God-
man acquired a merit that has moral value in the eyes of
God, a merit which became the salvation of humanity, and
which, were it not for Christ's work, would be non-existent
even for God. His own personal virtue, of which love was the
centre, being put to the proof and tried, became a satisfaction
with regard to God, and thus He acquired a merit which
benefits the whole of humanity.

(ft) First of all, Christ is the 23crson in whom humanity
satisfies the universal law of God. Through His own per-
sonal virtue He has, as a man, rendered complete satisfaction
to the demands of the divine law, including the law of love.

(&) But inasmuch as He is also the man who stands in an
essential relation to all men, His love has a unique function
to discharge. Since His sinless holiness is exhibited amid a
race of sinners with whom He is in vital connection. His
love has assigned to it a vocation, a peculiar position and
duty, — the duty, namely, not merely of recognising or judging
the sin and guilt of humanity, but of taking the place of men
as their high priest, and of bearing, in sympathy with them,
their burden of sin and guilt, in order to wipe it away. And
to do this, Christ, in His substitutionary love and high-priestly
sympathy, had to take upon Himself the sense of the divine
displeasure that hung over a guilt-laden world : He affirmed
its justice, He tasted it, and would not save mankind in any
way that might lessen the gravity of guilt, or affect the justice
of that divine displeasure in which the whole punishment of
sin is summed up. Thus from His personal purity and the

350 § 41. CHEIST THE ALL-ExMBRACING YIETUE.

strength of His love on the one hand, and from His unique
position to humanity on the other, He had to evince His love
in a way that was quite peculiar and oflicial. And this He
did by converting the suffering He endured from the world's
sin into suffering for the world's sin ; and also by not shrink-
ing from what was the hardest thing of all, — to bear in
sympathy the sin of the world, become the substitute of
sinful men, and sacrifice Himself for their sake.

(c) His sacrifice, moreover, is a merit, a sacred possession
of humanity. For what the God-man did and suffered, God
in His love both can and will make to be a benefit for all
men, Not, indeed, on account of their relation to Christ, for
as yet they do not believe in Him and love Him, but on
account of Christ's relation to them, or because from love to
them He has become their substitute. The result of this
relationship of Christ to men is, that henceforth God no longer
looks upon humanity simply as reprehensible and failing in the
duty it owes Him. One who belongs to it has, in substitu-
tionary love, fully satisfied the divine law ; and He who has
done so is not a mere single atom of humanity, but One in
wliom the moral energy of the whole race resides, and who is
destined to be its centre and head. In the person of one at
least, humanity satisfies the love and justice of God ; He has
made atonement to the honour of divine justice, and rendered
what it demands : incorporated with humanity. He is a
historical power within it, and as Son of man has a lasting
relation to all men. Such a display and proof of love in
absolute union with justice, thus given in historical shape in
the midst of humanity, is an ethical good of absolute worth,
a sacred treasure laid up for all mankind, which, in the eyes
of God, mankind can never lose. It is an ethical product
which is itself productive, and continues to act with creative
power throughout all generations. It is set up in the midst
of the ages, in order that men by receiving it may have the
moral principle implanted within them in the fulness of its
power (Eom, iii. 25). For sanctification is the goal of atone-
ment and justification.

The God-man, moreover, also occupies an important posi-
tion in His state of exaltation. As intercessor He is tlie
substitute for the imjperfection of believers, so that they as

§ 42. CHRIST THE KING OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD. ool

being united to Him, and thus virtually sanctified, can go
forward courageously and in the peace of God. The historical
work likewise, which is carried on amongst unlelievers for His
sake, continues to advance through His power and His inter-
cession on their behalf. Hence the God-man is the noblest,
the most indispensable good in the ethical world. Through
Him that world is an actual " mundus, /cocryu,o9," partly because
it already belongs to Him, so far as it is pure and well-
ordered, partly because it is destined to become His.

THIED SECTION.

CHRIST AS THE PEINCIPLE OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD, AND THE
HEAD OF HUMANITY.

§42.

The archetypal and substitutionary or high-priestly love of
Christ is also invested v/itli power or efficacy. Christ
is the King of love, since He sends into our hearts the
spirit of reconciliation and love, and becomes the Founder
of a kingdom of God's children. These being conformed
to His death and life constitute together with Him a
Kingdom or Whole, the Highest Good upon earth. Thus
in Christ and His threefold office the chief good begins
its existence, in a personal form, and endowed with an
infinite fulness of power. [Cf. System of Christian
Doctrine, iii. § 110. — Ed.]

1. Christ was indeed born a king. He is the Word made
flesh (John i. 14), the reflection of the majesty of the divine
nature, and His Davidic descent symbolizes His natural claim
to be King of the kingdom of God (John iii. 35, xviii. 37 ;
Col. i. 13-20 ; Heb. i. 1-6). He ascribes to Himself h^ovala
over all flesh (Matt. xi. 27, xxviii. 18 ff. ; John xvii. 2).
But the ethical character of His person and work is shown in
the fact that He by no means enters into direct possession of
this kingdom of supreme power, but rather, and just as if He
were not in Himself a king, goes out to seek His subjects

352 § 42. CHRIST THE PKINCIPLE OF THE KINGDO.M OF GOD.

and win them to Himself by His love. He and God who
is in Him will have nothing to do with a kingdom in which
mere might and majesty are the ruling powers. God has
already such a kingdom in nature. No, Christ seeks to rule
in the hearts of men by first winning their hearts to Himself.
That kingdom which is His by right He first builds up for
Himself by ministering love, in humiliation, and consequently
by ethical means ; even as it is also in an ethical way that
He becomes that which in Himself He is (§ 40. 2). Nay,
even in His exaltation He withholds any display of mere
power, — in order to leave room for freedom of choice, — stakes
everything upon believing faith, and waits until His love,
which meanwhile suffers itself to be misjudged, shall lead
men to decide for Him inwardly and freely.

On the other hand, however, with regard to the time during
which His love is a suppliant, the time when His kingly
dignity is veiled in the lowliness of His person and king-
dom,— with regard to this period it is very far from being a
matter of indifference whether in Himself He possesses royal
rank and supreme power or not. For if in Him there
were no inherent sovereignty which stooped to humiliation,
but if, on the contrary. His dignity were entirely the
reward of His virtue, then the impression made by His
condescending love would lack an element of essential im-
portance,— the contrast, namely, between His royal dignity
and His lowly estate, which more than anything else gives to
the latter its wonderfully captivating power (Phil. ii. 6 ;
2 Cor. viii. 9). The mind and spirit of a king, the conscious-
ness of i^ovaia, appears in all that He does and says ; and it
is just by reason of His greatness and majesty forming a foil
to His love, that the voluntariness and grandeur of that love
are so clearly displayed (" Who for the joy that was set before
Him endured the cross," Heb. xii. 2).

Moreover, what makes Him absolutely trustworthy for
faith is that He has shown Himself to be a king, and is
thereby pledged to prove Himself the supreme power over
everything that exists, the founder and king of the one ever-
lasting kingdom, from which He will cast out all that is
impure and vile (Eph. v. 27, ii. 6, 18-22, i. 20-23 ; Matt.
XXV. 31 f. ; 1 John iv. 16 f. ; Heb. xii. 22-28). And

CHRIST THE PEIXCIPLE OF ItEPENTANCE AND EIGHTEOUSNESS. 353

although, during the course of the world's history, His kingly
majesty, considered as mere external power, is still kept con-
cealed by Him even as against His foes, yet the time is
coming when it will be outwardly revealed. And even now
His royal power is operative in the world, in an ethical form
namely, and therefore in a way which enables man to decide
freely for Him, not from prudence or fear, bnt from a longing
after divine good. His self-forgetful love is not without
effect ; on the contrary, it is ever efficacious. The precious
seed of the life of the God-man falls into the earth indeed and
dies, but only that it may bring forth much fruit. The high-
priestly love of Christ proves itself the true king of human
hearts ; for by His devotion to and for the sake of men He
leads them to surrender themselves to Him, and binds them
to Himself so that His spirit becomes a ruling power over
them.

(«) The first thing He does is to give to those who
receive Him His own spirit of righteousness and truth, the
spirit which led Him to suffer for the sin of humanity as
well as from it ; so that they now abhor what is evil, and
recognise, as He did, the guilt and punishableness both of the
individual and of the race (John xvi. 8). The power of His
suffering love becomes in them the principle of repentance,
and brings them into the fellowship of His death (liom. vi.

1 f.), so that they die to themselves, and knovir that in Him
they are at once judged and reconciled.

{h) But Christ brings the old nature to death through
repentance, in order that man may be filled with the spirit
of peace and sonship, and become a new man (Eom. viii.
15). From the first-born Son of God the rights of children
are transmitted to us.

(c) Moreover, Christ's fulfilment of the law is also shadowed
forth in believers (Rom. viii. 4—6, 9-14, vi. 15 f.), and there-
with Christ, as our archetype, enters upon a new form of
activity. He becomes our example. As archetype He
becomes productive in us. By our being made partakers
of the TTvevfjia (John iv. 14, vii. 38, xii. 24, xvi. 7, 13 f.;

2 Cor. V. 17), our souls become fashioned after the likeness of
the image of Christ. To SiKaicofxa tov vofiov liK-qpovrai iv
i-jfjbiv. Believers are now no longer SouXoi merely (Eom. viii.

354 § 42. ClIiaST THE PRINCIPLE OF THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

15 ; John xv. 15), with conscience and inclination still apart,
and with the principle that rnles their wills outside of them
instead of in them. For they themselves now have the irvev/xa,
having been apprehended they now themselves apprehend,
nay, they have become the possessors of the divine life, and
by them it is wrought out in the world. And therewith the
highest good also begins its existence in the believer ; the
three fundamental forms of morality which are united in
Christ are reflected also in him, and their union begins and is
carried on through the exercise of Christ's kingly power.

(d) But now, while believers make progress as single
individuals, and have their natural capacities purified and
animated by the Spirit of God, they do not remain in isolation
from each other, as a mere multiplicity of free citizens of the
kingdom of God, and forming a unity only through their
relation to Christ, their common centre. On the contrary,
they are all bound to each other in a fellowship of love in
that kingdom ; and besides, they group themselves together
and form particular communities within it, so that the king-
dom of God organizes itself in a plurality of different spheres,
which all belong one to the other as members of the whole.

In what has been said we have brought to view the
contents of the two remaining Divisions, which treat of the
World of the Good in its highest realization. (1) The Individual
Christian Personality. (2) The Organized World of Christian
Morality, or the Christian Communities. According to the
evangelical type of doctrine, we must begin with the first of
these, — and for this reason, because true Christian life cannot
exist unless through a death which the individual dies ; and
until individuals live this Christian life they cannot be true
members of a community, any more than the community
itself can take a Christian shape. The Eoman Catholic
Church, on the contrary, begins with the Church as an institu-
tion for the salvation of men. It does not permit the
individual to come into connection with Christ directly, but
only through the Church, the representative of Christ. By
this means the freedom and equality of believing members
are sacrificed to dependence upon the ecclesiastical institution
and the clergy. Moreover, since the religious community has
a sort of divine position assigned it, in which it is held to

CHRIST AND THE CHURCH. 355

control the operations of the Holy Spirit, it is set in a false
relation to other moral communities, and these are lowered out
of their rightful place.

It is true that according to the Evangelical Church also
preaching or word and sacrament must precede faith (Eom.
X. 17); but these are not the Church, they are simply the
continuation of the activity of Christ. Thus the Evangelical
doctrine avoids two opposite errors — the spiritualistic and the
empirical ^ (Roman Catholic)- — by teaching, on the one hand,
that there is no Church until there are i't'7'c creclentes, that it is
socictas field et Spiritits Sancti (Conf. Aug. vii. viii.) ; and, on the
other, that faith can only be attained by means of word and
sacrament. These are vehicles by which we arrive at imme-
diate fellowship with Christ. They are the bridge, way, or
path to Him, by means of which, even now, Christ Himself
in the Holy Spirit keeps up intercourse with men. But
Christ has by no means appointed the Church to be the sub-
stitu.te for His personal activity and His mission of the Spirit ;
it is only the organ tlirough which He carries out His purpose
that salvation be preached and offered to men. [Cf. System of
Christian Doctrine, i\. § 128. — Ed.]

SECOND DIVISION.

CHRISTIAN VIRTUE AS EXHIBITED IN THE INDIVIDUAL.

§ 43. Introduction.

The principle of moral perfection which is in Christ is designed
to be transmitted to us by our being receptive towards
the love of the God-man, or towards the communication
of His redeeming and perfecting power. This receiving
of Christ is faith. Faith is the fundamental excellence
or virtue (of a receptive nature) exhibited by the
redeemed, because it is the willingness to receive the

^ Empirical, because tlie Roman Catholic Cliurcli stops short with tlie empi-
rical Cliurch as the goal, instead of rising to Christ in faith.

356 § 43. CHRISTIAN VIIiTUE IN THE INDIVIDUAL.

love of Christ in its reconciling, sanctifying, and per-
fecting power. Moreover, since faith gives its assent to
Christ and His saving purpose, and allows itself to be
determined, yea, filled by His power as liedeemer, it
becomes an image of that union of law, virtue, and the
chief good whicli is exhibited in Christ. That is to say,
in faith the perfect Good beghis to be realized in a new,
spontaneous, and productive life. Of its own free M'ill
faith makes what it has received its own, and thus a
new, spontaneous, and productive life is created. This
new life reveals itself both as knowledge and as will.
When it takes the character of knoivlcdf/e of the highest
ideal aim, there arises tlie virtue of Christian hope
(or wisdom) ; when it takes the character of vjill, we
have the virtue of Christian love, which is the fulfilling
of the law.

1. Christ at first stands over against us objectively, as the
law of faith and life, and demands that we put faith in His
act of atonement and in His purpose to perfect us, while He
also demands that we imitate His life. But He also initiates
the fulfilment of this law by taking us into fellowship witli
Himself. He conveys His image and His Spirit out of their
bare objectivity into our inmost nature, and makes them our
own possession. And when this has been done, man has now
the law of his life and spirit within himself (Eom. viii. 1 ff.).

This, then, is the subject which our Second Division has to
take up, viz. the Christian in Ids individual personality. That
Division must contain the doctrine of the moral excellence or
virtue which is produced when the moral law has obtained an
entrance into man's heart, and has thus reached that personal
mode of existence which it is meant to have. It must there-
fore treat of Ethical Dynamics, or the doctrine of Moral Energy.
And this it must do in such a way as at the same time to bring
to light the operations or functions of this energy ; that is, those
acts of virtue {or of duty) hy means of icliich moved excellences and
moral communities are originated or maintained. For as soon
as the individual has become a Christian, there lies immanent

FAITH THE FUNDAMENTAL CHRISTIAN VIETUE. 357

within him, as an end and impulse, the activity which has to
he manifested in the kingdom of God. He cannot remain
idle, or enjoy a dream-life of mere egoism. For he has been
set down in the midst of a Whole, in the world, namely, which
has to be moulded into moral shape, and made the kingdom
of God ; and of this kingdom, which is the highest good,
the Christian himself is already a part, and that a productive
one. The compassion of Christ for the sin and misery of the
world is reflected in believers also, and arouses their readiness
to work and suffer for His sake, for His kingdom, and His
glory (Col. i. 24).

In the Christian personality itself there is a multiplicity of
energies, but these are all combined in it so as to form a unity,
in which the divine life and the human have entered into
union with each other. At first, Christ is the whole virtuous
energy of our race ; but this is not yet 07u^ virtue. Nay, His
virtue cannot, and is not to become ours so as to leave no
distinction between them. He is the God-man, we are to
become men of God. His virtue is that of the Head of
humanity — prevenient, redeeming, communicating love ; we
who are to be redeemed stand to Him in the position of
recipients, or as those who ^int faith in His creative, because
God-incarnate love. Hence, while our virtue must indeed
correspond with the Redeemer's, this does not mean that it is
to be a repetition of His redeeming love, but that through a
believing experience of His love we from being the recipients
of it are to become loving ourselves.

Further, in order that we may resemble Christ in all His
perfection, all our powers must enter as recipients into the
act of faith, and Christ must also be received in His entirety.
Intelligence, will, and feeling are alike appealed to by Christ,
until through His image and the working of His Spirit all
these functions are brouG;ht to converge into one focus, into the
living receptivity of the whole nature, and there the spark of
life can now fall, and the new God-created personality arise.
This receiving of Christ is not mere helpless passivity ; it
involves self-determination, a willingness to be determined by
the Eedeemer ; and for this reason faith is treated, both in
Scripture and in Church confessions, as a virtue (1 Cor.
xiii. 13).

358 § 43. CHRISTIAN VIUTUE IN THE INDIVIDUAL.

Since faith thus marks the fundamental position which the
Christian holds, or is the fundamental Christian virtue, it
contains in embryo the Christian character in general. Hope
and love, however, as we shall shortly see, are the essential
forms in which it manifests its life ; they come into existence
along with faith, and with it constitute the new man. In
faith man attains to a good state of being, of objective worth
while subjective in form, and out of this goodness of the new
man there now arise single virtues and virtuous acts. Faith
in the Christian is the copy of what Christ was as the God-
man ; what He became through the act of incarnation we
become, representatively, when we receive His redeeming
power. Through faith we become children of God, as Christ
is the Son of God. As firm, unbroken union with God in
Christ, as trust and confidence in Him, and also as simple
receptiveness, faith never ceases ; as imperfect knowledge,
however, it is destined to come to an end in perfect know-
ledge, that is, in sight. In 1 Cor. xiii. 13, love is said to be
greater than faith, just as the ripe fruit is better than its
sreen beginning ; nevertheless the beginning lives on in the
growth.

But now the question arises — if faitli is thus the unity,
in principle, of all Christian excellence, how are we to arrive
at the manifold variety of Christian virtues ? and more, how
can we, in order to preserve the unity, evolve the diversity
from it ?

2. Analysis and Classification of the Forms of Virtue. — In
the ancient world, ethics oscillates — to use the language of
Schleiermacher — between two extremes. On the one hand,
virtue is regarded as a unity which refuses to admit'of analysis
or separation into component parts (as in Stoicism) ; while, on
the other, we are presented with a multiplicity of virtues,
and still more of virtuous acts, which are taken up em-
pirically merely, and are not brought together into unity.
AiKaioavvri is almost regarded as the highest good, but is
too formal to admit of all the virtues being derived from it.
Rothe takes, as the basis of his analysis of the forms of virtue,
a consideration of the objective work, the moral good for
which they exist ; and defines virtue as that peculiar property
of the individual man, which makes him specifically fitted for

CLASSIFICATION OF THE FORMS OF VIRTUE. 359

the realization of the highest good. But virtue does not
exist merely for the sake of something else than itself ; in
itself it is also an ultimate end and a good. Objective works
too, if they are to be produced by human beings, must pre-
suppose that there is already in these beings something corre-
sponding with themselves. So we confine ourselves, to begin
with, to the person of the believer, in whom the virtuous
power resides, and inquire here after a basis for our classifica-
tion.

Now we have seen that in the human personality — (1)
distinctions of a mental kind are to be found ; especially that
between knowing and willing. The latter faculties, when
occupied with what is moral, appear as conscience and
freedom (§ 11, 12). (2) Further, we have in man the
distinction between mind and nature. We have now to
relate faith — this unity, this fundamental receptive virtue —
to both of these antitheses, in order to watch its development,
and so obtain the classification which we seek.

(a) A basis for the classification of the forms of virtue is
given us, first of all, from the mental side of the moral con-
stitution, in the distinction between conscience and freedom ;
and this distinction refers ns back to that between knowing
and willing, the union of which is, as we have seen, the moral
task which has to be accomplished. Now, if faith be really
the fundamental virtue, we must be able to show that in it
there is the unity of conscience and freedom, that in it the
process has actually begun by which these are to be truly
interwoven with each other. In faith, conscience is sharpened
and on the alert, caprice or false freedom is negated througli
repentance, and the will is turned towards the good, the
etliically free towards the ethically necessary. Accordingly,
there is in faith, in fact, the double germ of two moral forces
or virtues which are held by it in nnity, the one referring to
cognition and conscience, the other to the will. But these do
not lose their distinction in faith. Moral progress is possible
only through the fact that while the bond which unites them,
viz. faith, remains unsundered, it is at one time the cog-
nitive element, at another the volitional, which becomes
predominant.

Now the new man, as free and exercising will, possesses

360 § 43. CHRISTIAN VIRTUE IX THE INDIVIDUAL.

Christian love ; as exercising cognition, he possesses Christian
vnsdom. If faith is the fundamental receptive virtue of the
Christian, wisdom and love together form his fundamental
productive virtue. Both of these determine each other
reciprocally and act together, but each has its special
function. Wisdom constructs the aims of ethical production
— wisdom, of course, enriched by the spirit of love. Love,
again, is the basis of the Christian disposition, it gives the
will its virtuous character. Hence Scripture sees in love, as
the inward disposition of the believer, the unity of all free
moral excellence, the fulfilling and " avaKe(^aKaio3cn^ " of the
whole law (Eom. xiii. 8 f. ; Matt. xxii. 40). But, on the
other hand, in order that love may find active exercise, it is
necessary that ideals be properly formed, and that tlie right
means be found whereby they are to be realized. Hence love
itself gives to cognition the impulse to become wisdom —
wisdom based upon that knowledge, given in faith, which is
its foundation and beginning, the knowledge of God in Clirist.
Thus Christian wisdom and love spring simultaneously from
faith, as co-ordinate virtues which have their unity in true
faith. Of course, the concrete exercise of love presupposes
the exercise of wisdom, for what is willed from motives of
love must have previously existed in thought and been
recognised to be a good. Still, love, as the Christian dis-
position, must co-operate in the formation of ideals.

But now, how does what we have said agree with the fact
that in 1 Cor. xiii. 13 it is hope that is mentioned in the
place of Christian wisdom, and that our thesis treats hope as
tlie intellectual virtue which springs from faith ? Is not hope
a much narrower concept than wisdom ? Knowledge certainly
embraces a wider field than hope. Hope directs its gaze to
the future, while faith, as distinct from it, has regard to acts
of God in the past, and love lives chiefly in the irrescnt. But
if we leave out of sight the knowledge of past acts of God,
since faith already possesses such a knowledge, then Christian
wisdom is directed, before everything else, to the true xeXo?,
to the good things that are imperishable. And more than this,
it is not a barren knowledge, like so much that does not deserve
the name ; it is a knowledge that wills the highest ends, and
carries in itself the certainty of their accomplishment. But

CHRISTIAN WISDOM AND CHRISTIAN HOPE. 361

practical wisdom such as this is nothing else than hope,
which, inspired with faith, makes the future live in the
present, apprehends the true goal to which the world is surely
advancing, and holds it up before love, that love may take it
as its own ^oal and work for its attainment. No knowledge
can be ethically fruitful unless it be of a ideological kind ; it
must terminate in an end that has to be realized, and this end
forms the contents of Aopt'. Thus we may, in the strictest
sense, take Christian hope and moral wisdom together. For
the latter is wisdom animated with a practical purpose,
wisdom directed to the solution of a moral problem, and all
other knowledge is of moral value only as a preliminary con-
dition of this practical wisdom, and as the means which it
employs. It is the crown of knowledge ; it is Christian hope
consciously exercised, and apprehending that which is eternally
true and which will yet be realized.

In another and formal aspect the idea of hope is wider
than that of moral wisdom ; for hope also includes courageous
trust, assured confidence that the good work will be perfected.
But it derives such confidence from the knowledge that this
work has already been begun (Phil. i. 4, 6) — that is to say,
from faith. Hence, in hope faith still lives and acts ; or, to
look at the same thing in another way, hope, in order to
animate its courage, goes back to faith, which is its root, just
as love also derives its joy from the same source. Thus when
we survey the triad of faith, hope, and love, it is evident that
as hope and love proceed from faith as their source, so they
return into it again ; and consequently this triad forms the
complete whole of personal Christian morality,- — a whole that
is even separating into its component elements, and ever
returning to unity again.

(^) Thus we have the primary division of Christian virtue
into the triad " faith, love, and wisdom." A second principle
of division is now given us in the further antithesis that
exists in the moral constitution between natvre and sinrit —
spirit, that is, as the vov<i united with the vveu/xa. Nature has
a relatively independent existence. Hence it can limit the
Christian spirit, and it does so through the flesh. Thus it is
the task of the spirit to maintain itself against such restraints,
and not only so, but also continually to extend its dominion.

3G2 § 43. CHRISTIAN VIRTUE IN THE INDIVIDUAL.

And this it is possible for it to do, because everything it
does reacts npon its state or character (§ 11, 7). Now by
the practice of such self-assertion, Christian virtue becomes
hoMt or a second nature. Thus we arrive at the distinction
between virtue as an inward disposition and virtue as a habit
or settled tendency to manifest and assert itself. If we now
apply what has been said regarding virtue as a habit, or virtue
persevered in (viroixovrj), to the triad of faith, wisdom, and love,
there results (1) perseverance in faith, which is fidelity ; (2)
j)erseverance in wisdom, or sober - mindedncss ; (3) virtuous
stedfastness, or the vTro/xovr] of love. The principle of Chris-
tian virtue manifests itself in the second triad no less than in
the first. For it is a living power ; if it is through the first
triad that the Christian personality, as such, comes into Icing,
it is through the second that it continues to suhsisf.

Christian virtue, moreover, can only assert itself, in spite of
the checks and interruptions which it receives, by the faculties
which worked abnormally and in the service of sin being more
and more withdrawn from the sway of the sinful principle,
and by their being appropriated by and assimilated to the
renewed will. Christianity does not oppose evil desires with
mere cold reason, in order to control and restrain them. For in
that case they would always continue to exist inwardly. (And
hence, if a man were merely to restrain himself from outward
acts of sin, there would still be a contradiction between what
is inward and what is outward ; the apparent good would be
unreal — what Luther was accustomed to call "pharisaic
holiness.") Xo, Christianity drives out evil desires by the
power of a noUer one, by a higher passion or entlmsiasm^ so
that the lower appetites gradually wear out and disappear of
themselves. The more this takes place, the more completely
does the principle of virtue take possession of the whole person
and faculties of man, and the more thoroughly does the nevj
personcdity and its moral excellence {i.e. its virtue as a whole)
develop into a nevj manifoldncss of virtues and virtuous acts.
And further, the believer will, on cdl occasions, devote Ms
virtuous energies and efforts to that portion of the chief good, or
kingdom of God, lohich ought to he realized, — and this hoth as
regards his individual character and the outside luorld.
1 Cf. Ecce Homo, 4th ed. 1866.

§ 43re. SYLLABUS.

363

Accordingly, we have the following division : —
§ 43a. Syllaljus.

FiEST Section. The Genesis of the Christian Character, or

of the New Personality regarded as an

inward Suva/jH';.
Second Section. The Sulsistencc of the Christian Character

by means of Virtuous Self-preservation

(Ascetics).
Third Section. The Manifestation and Self-development of

the Christian Character.

FIEST SECTION.

THE GENESIS OF THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.

Chapter Second.

Chapter Third.

Chapter First. Of regenerating faith, the cardinal receptive

virtue.
Of love, the cardinal productive virtue of

the loill.
Of ivisdom (Jiop)e), which, active and inventive

in its own nature, becomes, when united

with love, the cardinal producticc virtue

of the intellect.

Note 1. — The l)lending together of willing and knowing, of
outward self-manifestation and inward self-culture.

Note 2. — Eelation of the four cardinal virtues of the ancient
world, avdpiia, diKaiodxjvri, Gojpposvvri, (ppo'r/jaig, to the three Christian
ones of faith, love, wisdom (hope). By Schleiermacher dixaioavvr,
is raised to the level of love, while faith is related to wisdom
(ffwppoff'jr/) and <pp6v'/i6ig), so that liope is left to represent rhdpsiu.
But faith is not identical with knowledge ; it is the principle of
love just as well. Faith is rather the principle of virtue as a
whole, the primary form in which all virtue exists, the principle
of love as well as of wisdom. Inasmuch as diy.aiosvvTj was very
commonly regarded by the ancients as embracing the whole of
virtue, its place is most properly taken by faith, the true
foundation of the Christian character ; while iyy-pa-zna and
ayhpiia, as belonging to the will, correspond with love ; cu^ppoauvr,
and <pp6y/i()ig (knowledge), on the other hand, being included in
hope.

3G4 § w. FAiTir.

CHAPTER FIRST.

FAITH.

§ 44.

[Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, vol. i. pp. 31-184, especially
§ 11 ; vol. iv. § 128 and § 131, 132. Also, Gcsammclte Ahhancl-
lungen {Ber Kicler Vortrag iiber Rechtfertlgung, 1867. Das
Prinzip unserer Kirche), pp. 48, 153. — Ed.]

When the gospel of Christ is received by the conscience,
repentance is produced. The course of repentance, when
it is pure and normal, is as follows. On the one hand,
sin and guilt are seen in the light of the righteousness of
Christ, and hence the knowledge of sin arises ; on the
other, there is an awakening of the will to resist evil
and the power of evil ; and these are so united in a
sense of remorse and pain that a feeling of personal
helplessness ensues, or — what is the same thing looked
at from another side — a feeling that higher help is ab-
solutely needed, and a longing that it may be bestowed.
And now, starting with this longing, a sceond loroccss
commences, in which the activity of the will is
predominant. The gospel, which initiated the process
of true repentance, now becomes a law of faith, a
command addressed to man to submit to be redeemed
by Jesus. By this means the conscience is enlightened
to perceive that faith in Christ is a moral duty, and the
human will, by yielding itself to be apprehended by
Christ, responds to His will which seeks to apprehend it.
Thus we arrive at that act of faith which has at once a
divine and a human side, that act in which man rises
clear of the thought of his own righteousness and merit,
as well as of his own guilt and sin, and not only sinks
and forgets everything of his own in believing con-
templation of Christ, but also gives his willing consent
to the substitution which Christ in His love has made

CO-OPEHATION OF DIVINE AND HUMAN ACTIVITY. obo

for US. Thus, in the third 'place, Christ can now dwell in
the heart and give it peace ; He now unbosoms Himself
to the soul that has put its trust in Him, and unites
Himself to it in the bonds of love, that it may realize
that the sin and guilt which belong to it have become
His, and are swallowed up in Him, while all that
belongs to Him is now its own possession. The blessed
sense of all this is the light of life to the new man ; at
one and the same time he knows Christ as his Eedeemer,
and himself as redeemed and a child of God ; it is a
human knowledge, but filled with divine certainty.

[Literature. — Kostlin, Bcr Glaule. Jonathan Edwards,
ItnnarJiS on the Trinity and tlie Economy of Scdvafion, New
York 1880, pp. 64-71. Gloag, A Treatise on Justification by
Faith, 1856. Frank, Systern der christlichen Gewissheit. System
der christlichen Sittlichkeit, i. § 4, 16, 17. llitschl, Bechffertif/iiw/,
etc., iii. cap. 9. Martensen, Christian Ethics, ii. p. 142 S(].
Itothe, Theol. Ethik, 1st ed. vol. ii. p. 434 sq.— Ed.]

Note. — In order to understand how faith or regeneration
arises, three points will have to be attended to. {a) At every
stage there must be a co-operation of divine and human activity
(Ij) This activity must l)e exerted in two leading directions — on
the one hand, in repudiating the old life; on the other, in turn-
ing to the new life of salvation in Christ, (c) As the entire
power of Christ was required for our redemption, and was
manifested in the threefold oflice in which He personally
revealed Himself, so the activity which is displayed from the
side of man, and which is, as it were, capable of admitting the
redeeming power of Christ, demands the exercise of the entire
energy of his nature — chiefly in the way of receiving. And
this whole energy of man is manifested both in rejecting what
is opposed to God and in welcoming what is good, until at last
it becomes indissolubly united with the moral power of Christ,
and his will too, as recipient, becomes one with the will of
Christ as communicative.

1. Tlce necessity both of the divine and the human side in the
ivorh of sahation is apparent enough in general. The whole
work of conversion is at one and the same time divine and
human. This fundamental principle is opposed both to the
Pelagian and the Magical theory. The Pelagian is irreligious,

366 § 44. FAITH. CHKIST ITS OBJECT.

tlie Magical is unethical. But true religion is etliical, and
rests on an ethical conception of God, while true morality
does not remain satisfied with mere human goodness by itself.
Thus the Magical theory is only seemingly and superficially
religious, the Pelagian only superficially ethical.

Now, if we ask more definitely wherein consists the divine
element in the work of regeneration, and wherein the human,
tlie first point (as belonging to Dogmatics) need not detain us.
The divine factor, to which man must surrender himself, is —
speaking generally — Christ, as we have shown in our First
Division. There we saw that Christ is the Eedeemer who
unceasingly offers Himself to humanity, — primarily in Word
and Sacrament, secondarily in the Christian community, — and
who through His Spirit creates and establishes a new persoiui,!
life in those who accept Him in the obedience of faith. The
image of Christ must be present and efficacious in each stage
of the saving process, it must accompany and direct them all.
Christ must be present as the living law of faith and life, a
law which addresses itself to our conscience, but still is more
than our conscience (1 John iii. 19 f.), since He prepares us to
receive Himself or to have faith in Him. It is therefore by
no means necessary that repentance and contrition should
first of all be wrought entirely by a law apart from Christ
altogether, and then, when the penitent is in despair, that
something should be communicated to him by Christ ; on the
contrary, Christ may, nay, means to work from the beginning
upon the hearts of children baptized into the Christian
Church. It would stamp the position of Christ as merely
accidental, and undertaken on account of sin, if an extra-
Christian legal economy had first of all to be brought into
operation, — the remnant, so to speak, of an order of the world
which did not include Christ in its original purpose at all.
He who is the perfect law is able of Himself to act as law, to
bring men, on the one side, to a knowledge of their sin and
guilt, and, on the other, to penitence and heartfelt shame.

Outside of Christianity the knowledge of sin and guilt is
not so easily brought into unity with penitence. There we
find only an alternation of moods ; at one time man in his con-
trition rejects what is evil as if sin had no power within him, at
another he knows he is under the bondage of sin, but now the

FAITH OX ITS HUMAN SIDE. 367

undaunted resolution to reject sin in spite of everything is
absent or extinguished. The objective word of Christ, on
the contrary, has the power of uniting these two things — on
the one hand, a recognition of the depth of sin and of the
bondage into which it has brought us, and on the other an ever-
hopeful struggle against the feeling of despair (a feeling which
is very apt to become disguised Pelagianism, either resting
satisfied with mere self-condemnation, or finding refuge in
lowering the demands of the divine law and minimizing its
gravity). For the gospel of Christ holds out help to every
one, and prevents despondency, without, however, encouraging-
recklessness or carelessness. The image of Christ in His
sufferings for us vanquishes pride, humbles us, and makes us
sensible of our worthlessness and of the punitive justice of
God, while it nevertheless restrains us from that slavish fear
which would kill love at the outset. For Christ is with us
and for us.

Note. — When the knowledge of Christ, of His holiness and
grace, enters into the first conscious beginnings of life, the pro-
cess of conversion runs its most normal course. The accusation
and judgment of the law do not then operate without any sense
of grace accompanying them, but the state of grace entered
upon at baptism can continue to last and be carried forward to
perfection. But notwithstanding, the process must take place.
This remains certain — that the old man must be put to deatli
through the will of the new man, through self-renunciation.
Christiani non nascuntur. sedfiunt renascendo.

2. Human activity must have a place in the work of con-
version ; man has to play his due part in it, with all the
energies of his nature. He must assist with his personal
volition ; the good cannot be forced upon him, because a good
produced in a magical way would be worthless, and no real
good at all. No one enters tlie kingdom by lethargy and
feebleness, the fiiacrTai take it by force (Matt. xi. 12 ; Phil,
iii. 12). Our salvation must be wrought out with ^o/3o? and
Tp6fjbo<;. So little is it the case that passivity and weakness
of will are the way to Christ, that, on the contrary, the
strongest will-power which can be exercised towards Him is
requisite in order to reach His kingdom. Only it must be
remembered that this activity is not productive ; its mani-

3C8 § 11. FAITH. EFFECTS OF THE GOSPEL.

festation is of necessity principally of a negative kind, con-
sisting in self-renunciation, the breaking down of self-will
and pride, and the bearing of the "cross of Christ" (Matt,
xix. 29, xvi. 24). The abnormal development that has
liitherto gone on must be cancelled ; we must be willing to
go back to the commencement of that false by-path along
which we have come ; for a new and pure development is
made possible only by our returning to the beginning and
becoming children again (Matt, xviii. 1 ff. ; John iii. 5). So
great is the self-conquest which is required here, that the
apostle often likens it to death (liom. vi. 2 f . ; Gal. ii. 19;
Cob ii. 12).

The gospel has the following effects: — (1) It gives us the
linowlcdrjc of guilt and sin, by setting over against us the holy
prototype we have in Christ ; the Holy Spirit eXey^ei (John
xvi. 8). (2) It avjaJcens the will, that is, it produces repent-
ance, dvacnpe(^ea6ai. (3) It arouses a longing desire after
the righteousness of Christ, after justification or reconciliation,
and sanctification (Matt. v. 6). When a man's knowledge of
his own wickedness and his repentance for it have come to
maturity in the fixed determination to reject evil, when,
further, he is aware of the power that evil has over him, —
which shows that his resolution or ideal rejection of evil is
not yet the victory over it, — and when, finally, his sense of
guilt and punishment is so quickened that to remain as he is
would be utter misery, — all this must serve to drive him
out of himself, and draw him towards the source whence a
Ijetter life-motive has come to him. And now, the more
simply and firmly that Christ (in His entirety), as set forth in
Scripture, tal^es hold of him, the more does he hnoiv that
in Christ is to be found whatever he needs, and in this way
the higher life-motive within him is encouraged by Christ to
manifest itself more and more clearly, just as the sun draws
a seed upward from the bosom of the earth (John iii, 19 f,
V. 38-47). Eecognising that unless new fountains of life are
opened up to him, he is lost and must remain a moral chaos,
he enters upon that stage of progress in which he sees it to
be his moral duty to accept the quickening influence of those
fountains to which access has been given. That is to say, he
sees it to be his duty to believe, to renounce himself, and to sur-

SELF-SURRENDEK TO CHRIST. 369

render himself wholly to Christ. The conflict and discipline
carried on by the believer against the old man has not taken
its trne form, until his determination to throw off the old man
includes the conscious and definite resolve to submit himself
to be determined by Ciirist. Where the will refuses its con-
sent to this, egoism still remains unbroken, whether it show
itself in the form of self-satisfaction and self-righteousness, or
in the form of a self-accusation that is more severe than Christ
Himself. The sacrifice which must be made of the old man
does not only mean that we are to give up sensual desires and
a sensual life ; it also means that we must give up the idea
of the insignificance of sin, — the idea, that is, of self -justifica-
tion, or that any help can be derived from ourselves, — and, on
the other hand, the idea that guilt cannot be pardoned at all.

Moreover, faith ought to rise above all these, as things it
lias left behind, into a quite legitimate idealism, in which it
takes Christ in His full significance as ^Mediator, and, on the
ground of that real union we have with Him in the sioht of
God, regards that which is as yet wanting in us as already
existent, since it has a real existence in Christ. Our resolu-
tion to be determined wholly by Christ is, however, very
different from a mere quietistic waiting for His help, or a mere
striving against the old man and everything which would
draw us away from faith ; it is an act of the obedience of
faith, resting upon the fundamental fact that we are drawn to
Christ and laid hold of by Him, a resolution to put our trust
in Him as our Redeemer as well as our Saviour.^

o. Accordingly, faith in the evangelical sense is not merely
historical in its nature — notitia — nor a mere general assent,
involving no personal relations, — assensus, — but along with
both of these it is also Jiducia. This third element, which
formed the central point of the Reformation and gave to it
its characteristic form, includes personal trust in the Redeemer,
the closest union with Him, and willingness to cast oneself
upon Him alone. It involves the following : —

(«) The person of Christ makes a powerful impression upon
the feeliivjs.

' What is the meaning of Luther's '^ mere passive"''. It applies to justifica-
tion ; without our co-operation, before we believe, God's forgiveness is olfered us
for the sake of Christ,

2 A

370 § 44. FAITH. CEETITUDO SALUTIS.

(h) On tlie cocjnitivc side, M'e are conscious that Christ is
worthy of our confidence, Christ, that is, as presented in the
word of God and preached by the Church ; and we know that
it is our duty to seek salvation in Him, although lefoi^e faith
has arisen it cannot be a matter of actual experience that in
Hini salvation is to be found.

(c) But fiducia is pre-eminently a matter of volition. It
is the willingness to be determined by Christ, to entrust one-
self to Him without reserve. In faith as Jidncla tliere is, to
use Schleiermacher s fine expression, a general movement of
the whole heart and soul towards Christ, in order to receive
from Him salvation and life. And whoever knocks, to him
it shall be opened (Matt. vii. 7). In confiding faith we reach
that point at which the Holy Spirit can bear witness to our
spirits that we are the children of God, and arouse in us that
first sign of life which the new man gives — prayer to God as
a forgiving Father (Eom. viii. 15 ; Gal. iv. 6). The heart is
relieved of its burden in the certainty that sin has been
wiped away ; our conscience becomes light and free, for we
have the peace that passeth all understanding, the experience
of justification ; while we are filled with joy in the Hol}^
Spirit, for we know that heaven is open, and that the way is
clear to our Father's house. This is what Scripture refers to
when it says we are sealed through the Holy Spirit {a(f)pa'yk)
(John iii. 33, vi. 27; 2 Cor. i. 22 ; Eph. i. 13, iv. 30;
Eev. vii. 3-8). And now the new birth has taken place,
and is consciously realized, and hence it is spoken of in the
Apocalypse as the giving of a new name (ii. 17).

This sealing (certitudo salutis), upon which the Keformers
universally lay so great stress, is therefore not to be identified
with the act in which even an undoubting faith accepts
Christ ; it is rather a divine ansvjer to the petition involved
in faith when it embraces Christ, an effect produced within
us by the object of our faith, and involving the knowledge
both of the divine truth of the object of faith and of the
saving and blessed relation in which we stand to Him. He
who has it has no right to regard himself as superior to one
who, although a believer, does not yet possess it. Nevertheless
man naturally desires to participate in this certitudo salutis,
and Christ purposes to give it to him. When therefore it is

FAITH, WISDOM, AND LOVE. 371

wanting, hindrances must exist which will have to be taken
out of the wav, and the knowledo-e that it has been denied
him is meant to stimulate the believer to have these hind-
rances removed. They will be found to disappear more and
more, the more that he accustoms himself to lay aside dis-
quietude, impatience, and restless haste, as well as spiritual
indolence and timidity, and to adopt a simple childlike
state of mind, in which, while fully aware of his sinfulness
and honestly striving against it, he can yet wait cheerfull}-,
patiently, and trustfully, without losing his longing desire for
the full experience of salvation.

Along with the assurance of salvation wrought in him bv
the Holy Spirit, man also becomes a partaker of divine know-
ledge. At one and the same time there is given him a real
knowledge of his own personal redemption, resting upon
experience, and also a knowledge of Christ as the Kedeemer
with whom faith has brought him into fellowship ; and
therewith conscience receives a new position (1 Pet. iii. 16 ;
1 John iii. 19-21 ; 2 Cor. i. 12 ; 1 Tim. i. 5 ; 2 Tim. i. 3 ;
Heb. xiii. 18). Thus the inward fruit of faith is a knowledge
which is the basis of all further knowledge, the beginning of
divine ivisdom. It is a knowledge on the believer's part that
he is known and loved by God in Christ; further, it is a
knowledge of the faithfulness, holiness, and love of Christ
Himself ; and, finally, it is a knowledge of what we become
through Christ and are designed to be in His kingdom.

o o o

Further, this knowledge becomes at the same time a living
motive to the will. Accordingly it furnishes a point of com-
mencement for love, and love, by uniting in itself both know-
ledge and will, gives us the union in principle of freedom and
conseicncc. Faith believes in the love of God in Christ which
is offered it, it evinces towards that love the trustful rever-
ence which it claims, it is that response to the love of Christ
which Christ seeks ; nay, more, as the thankful acceptance of
love, it is the felt need of love, the willing consent to he loved.
Thus in it egoistic isolation is abandoned, and in its self-
surrender there is a positive inclination towards God in
Christ. Hence it is that in the Gospel of John our Lord,
when speaking of faith under these aspects, calls it love.
And, finally, there grows up in faith a free desire to bestow

3'72 § 45. LOVE.

love, resting upon the acceptance and experience of the love
of God. For this experience kindles love in return. True
faith is not egoistic, eudfemonistic, looking only to remission
of punishment ; it is a hunger and thirst after righteousness,
and after that holiness with which it has been brought into
close connection by its apprehension of Christ. Thus faith is
love potentially ; that is to say, it can grow into love by
means of that which it has embraced and made its own.

CHAPTER SECOND.

LOVE.

§ 4.5.

Since faith, by involving repentance, overcomes sin in prin-
ciple, and since at the same time it opens the door
of the heart and admits the divine saving power to
take possession of a man, so that he becomes in his own
person the central seat of a new life, it follows that the
new man, born of God, cannot but image forth the divine
love. Eeceptivity becomes spontaneity and productivity.
The new creation is something that has to be preserved
and maintained, and the Spirit of God becomes tlie
motive power in the believer's life. The love of the
man who has Ijeen born into the new life turns naturally
towards its origin first of all, and becomes free, reverent,
filial love to the Three-one God who first loved him.
Then springing from love to God there arises in the new
man Christian love to his neighbour and love to himself,
and both of these are united and harmoniously balanced
in love to the kingdom of God.

[LiTERATUHE. — Piothe, Ist cd. i. 13. 385, ii. pp. 350, 371, 2nd
ed. i. pp. 500-557. Cf. Martensen, Christian Ethics, ii. 159 sq.
Lemme, Die christliche Nachstenliebe. — Ed.]

1. The Pioman Catholic Church is afraid that unless justi-
fication be made the reward of sanctification, zeal for sanctili-
cation would be wanting. And in consequence of this fear

FAITH NECESSAEILY PRODUCES LOVE. 373

there are also Evangelical theologians, such as Hengstenberg,
who agree with the rationalists in assuming different degrees
of justification, each one corresponding with the degree of
sauctificatiou that merits it. The fear lest the Evangelical
doctrine of justification might become an excuse for indol-
ence would be well grounded, did we not hold fast the close
connection between faith and repentance. For those who
truly believe, it is so entirely a matter of course to repudiate
evil, that a faith without repentance would be a self-contradic-
tion. In addition to this, the lioman Catholic and rationalistic
doctrine fails to give us the rationale of pure love. If the
purjDose of my love is to merit salvation for myself, then it
is not pure love. Such a love cares only for itself; in it I
make love a means for my own' ends; I do not make my
neighbour an end in himself The Evangelical doctrine, on
the contrary, knows that nothing can be thought of which
lays us under a deeper obligation than God's free love ; that
for those who are not altogether past redemption there is
nothing more shaming and humbling, nothing more likely
to bring us to sincere remorse and repentance, than the
prevenient love of God, which comes to the unworthy wnth
the offer of thorough and complete forgiveness. P>angeli-
calism recognises that such a love has the power to awaken
a kindred love (1 John iv. 10), which will never think of
caring merely for its own interests, or of meriting salvation —
for this it already possesses. As certainly as faith exists, so
certainly will it give birth to real love. For it has surren-
dered itself to Christ to be determined by His whole will.
And it is part of the will of Christ that love be wrought in the
believer's heart, and that he receive the power to love from the
Spirit of Christ.

2. We have formerly spoken (§ 7) of the essential nature
of God's love. Now the new personality of the believer
becomes more and more conformed to the image of God, and
is therefore conformed to the divine love. Hence it has the
amor covijjlacentice. It is taken possession of by the beauty
of the Good ; above all else, by that beauty as it is seen in
God and in Christ, who is the personal manifestation of the
lovableness of God. In like manner the true personality,
both our own and our neighbour's, is an object of love, even

374 § 45. LOVE. LOVE TO GOD.

if as yet it is not actually realized. With regard to the
amor concupiscenticc and amor Icncvolcntix, these are the two
opposite poles of true love, but always act in unison. In the
amor henevolcntim the tendency is towards communication,
even self-communication, which tendency, however, must never
he carried so far as to involve a real loss to our personality,
but must always have self-assertion bound up with it. Tlie
amor concupiscentim, on the other hand, tends towards self-
assertion in one's own interests. But this by itself would be
egoism. Accordingly, two things must be blended together —
we must appropriate another to ourselves, and at the same
time make that other an end to ourselves, and communicate
something to him. And this is attained when a communion
of love is formed, when there is a unio caritatis. For such
fellowship in love excludes everything of the nature either of
egoism or self-loss, because otherwise there would be no real
fellowship at all. This communion of love has its origin in
God Himself.

3. Love to God. At first God establishes a relation of love
between Himself and man by means of His prevenient love,
which expends itself wholly in giving, and is received by faith.
God is the universal Good, not, however, in an abstract, but in
a personal form, — not as a mere dead law. God does not
only bestow His grace and forgiveness upon us, or enter into
fellowship with us from His own side merely ; He also enriches
our faith with the energy of a new life, of a life of love, in
which we offer ourselves back to God, present to Him ourselves
and our powers, and therefore return His love freely and
spontaneously. Thus man from being a recipient becomes
also a giver, and God, who was at first only a Giver, accepts
our offering in order that a living, reciprocal communion of
love may be formed. It might be supposed, indeed, that the
divine love could not enter into such a relation of mutual
exchange, of reciprocal giving and taking. But as Julius
Mliller rightly says, " This is the unfathomable mystery which
is yet plain to every simple Christian heart, that love, which
is absolutely the highest element in the life of the creature, is
not subject to compulsion even from the omnipotent will of
God Himself. Consequently, love is a good which God cannot
give to Himself, but can only receive through the freedom of the

FALSE FOEMS OF LOVE TO GOD. 375

creature ; He can only attract man by His own infinite love,
can only fill and animate man's heart with the desire to give
God his love by an act of his own free will." There is, indeed,
a kind of mysticism which is nnable to bring giving and
receiving on the part of God into union with receiving and
giving on the part of man. And yet it is the fact that the
existence of a communion of love between God and man
depends upon each of them being both object and subject,
both an end for love or an object of love, and at the same
time a loving, personal power.

{a) Mysticism speaks sometimes of an unselfish love to God,
which does not desire to receive anything from God, but only
to offer itself to God or to lose itself in Him ; a love which
would love Him even were He to cast one into hell (Fenelon).
But it is evident that this would really be a very selfish sacri-
fice to make. For we should be dealing with God as if, while
He wished to be loved by us. He Himself were not love, but
merely a physical essence, absorbing whatever is external to
Himself; we should, in proud forgetfulness of our own need,
reserve for ourselves that which is best of all, namely, active
love, and ascribe to God recipient love alone. But this
would be sheer tvilfulncss and ingratitude on our part ; for v/e
truly love God only when we love Him as He is, and there-
fore because He is related to us as loving, nay, because He
first loved us. And to this relation which subsists between
God and us we must give our assent — as is demanded by our
absolute dependence upon God, and our position towards Him
as His creatures — in faith. To do so is the first thing that
is necessary, and it is here that Catholic Mysticism and the
Catholic Church make their mistake. It is just our conscious-
ness of the prevenient love of God, the consciousness that we
are loved by Him, which enkindles our grateful love to Him
in return.

(h) The othc7' false form of love to God is the quietistic^
which may also attach itself to a false form of the Evangelical
doctrine of saving faith. Whoevei^, after he has found all he
needs in communion with God in Christ, chooses now to
remain in the enjoyment of his experience, without proceed-

' Quietism of Molinos. [Cf. Heppo, GeschicJde cler quktldlschen Mystik. —
Ed.

37G § 45. LOVE. SELF-LOVE ANT) SOCIAL LOVE.

ing to the exercise of love toward God in return, treats God
merely as a means for his own personal enjoyment. But
this is spiritual eudcfcmonism, in which God is no longer
regarded as an end or object of love. Thus here again we
have selfishness, in the form, namely, of merely recipient love,
just as before in so-called "unselfish love" we had the selfish-
ness of pride, which will only impart love. Each of these
extremes, therefore, is in itself nothing but egoism ; it is only
when self-assertion and loving self- surrender are blended
together that true love and communion of love can arise.
To say that a person loves, is to say that he can be both end
and means, that he can will himself as both at the same
time, that he can find himself in another, and also find that
other in himself. Sucli love exists originally in God alone ;
by virtue of it God wills both Himself and the world, to the
end that a reciprocal communion of life and love may be
establislicd between Himself and it. Lut God also implants
this spirit of love in the world ; hence, although the Jirst thing
whicli the world does is to receive, and the Jirst thing which
God does is to give, giving is not the sole and last thing for
God, nor is receiving the sole and last fhing for man.

4. Self-love and social love in relation to love to God. When
love to God has been kindled in the believer, as his grateful
and reverent response to God's own love, it becomes a motive
within him, inciting him as a matter of duty to love both
himself and his neighbour ; nay more, it affords the prototype
of what is here of special importance, the union, namely, of
being in itself, or self-assertion, with being that goes out
beyond itself and finds its end in another. True love to God
cannot but seek to love what He loves, and to hate what He
hates. Now we have experience in faith that God loves us
as individuals ; further. He loves not only us, but also the
whole world ; and, finally, He does not love what is merely
iinite in us and the world, not what is altogether worldly and
sinful, He loves us and all men as designed and fitted to
be rescued from the kingdom of darkness, and to be built
up into His kingdom as living likenesses of God. Hence
love to God cannot but involve true self-love and social
love.

Let us now apply to both these forms of love what has

PERSONAL CHARACTER OF LOVE. 3 77

already been said concerning self-assertion and communica-
tion. Christian love is the reconciliation of the antithesis
formed by self-assertion and self -communication, rcceivinfj and
gloing, the 'personal and the universal.

(«) In the manifestation of love on the part of the believer,
tlie following process takes place. He receives the other, as
it were, into his own personality, and makes him an end or
object for himself; at tlie same time, he transfers himself to
that other, and identifies himself, as it were, with the other ;
and he does both of these in order to serve the other and be
a means for him. But all the wliile the love of the Christian
also asserts itself as love. For if the .self-sacrifice of love
amounted to self- extinction, the love would cease altogether
to be personal. Thus love has a double function to perform,
in which nothing else can resemble it. For the Christian
loves another just as he loves himself; he loves himself in
the other, and the other in himself. These go together, for
the Christian aim is to establish a communion of love, wliicli,
while it includes both the persons involved, is higlier than
either separately. The highest aim of all is the universal
life of love, the kingdom of God, in which every individual
is ennobled, and all are united to one another.

(h) Hence love also reconciles the opposition between the
universal and the individual or personal. The individual
person makes himself an organ of the iiniucrsal, of that com-
munity of love which is the ultimate purpose of God, and
thus the opposition is overcome. But although love con-
templates the universal good, and, whether in the form of
social or of self-love, is always in the last resort love to the
universal good, it nevertheless has an essentially i^rsonal
character, both in its objective and subjective aspects. The
universal Good is the personal God, manifested in Christ ; it
is not the impersonal law, which can only be resj)ected and
cannot be loved. The law attains its lovable form, its beauty,
only vi'hen it becomes personal ; and this it does primarily in
God and visibly in Chri.st, who is the fairest among the
children of men (Augustine, Hamann). It also belongs to
the nature of all spiritual excellences, that as they give t(»
personality its true worth, so they themselves only truly exist
when they assume a personal form. In like manner, the

378 § 45. LOVE. OPPOSITE OF SELFISHNESS.

personal character of love is also exliiljited on the siihjcctive
side. That is not love in which only some real thing,
something accidental to the person is bestowed, while the
heart is withheld ; and just as little is love shown when we
are concerned merely about the gifts and benefits to be
derived from any one, and do not rather seek the person him-
self as being himself the highest gift of love. But all the
same these gifts are, as we have pointed out, the language by
which love evinces its desire to communicate itself, to lay
itself open to another, and freely give him what it possesses ;
while the acceptance of the gift, not only with the hand but
with the heart, is likewise an act in which the heart opens
itself to receive another — it is a response to the love which is
presented in the gift.

5. Love as the ojjjwsite of sdfisliness. Love, as being the
cardinal active virtue, is opposed to self-contained egoism or
selfishness, both in its self-interested, worldly form, and in its
more spiritual form of pride. The loivcr Icind of egoism may
manifest itself both in receiving and in giving ; and this is
true also of the egoism oi imdc.

(a) The lovxr form of egoism is greedy only of the gifts of
love ; about the love which was given in the gifts, and is the
best one of all, it does not concern itself, or in other words,
it is suspicious of the gift of love. In it accordingly there is
no gratitude, in accepting anything it feels no answering love.
And this kind of egoism may be shown by the giver also, as
when he gives for the sake of thanks or of human praise or
reward, or when 1jy his gift he seeks to bring the recipient
of it under Ms 23ower. Such a giving puts on the appearance
of love, and enters love's fellowship in an external kind of way,
but behind it self-interest is concealed.

(Ij) The lovelessness of pride, which shuts itself off from
others, may be exhibited in refusing to accept as well as in
refusing to give. He who is rich, M'hether in a temporal or
spiritual sense, is the very one who must be willing to accept
love from those to whom he gives. He must look upon their
love, which is only of value when it is a free gift, as a good
that is unrequitable and infinitely higher than all his own
outward goods ; by so doing he proves that what he cares for
is their love itself, not control over them in any shape, but

EELATION BETWEEN COMMUNICATIVE AND llECEPTIVE LOVE. 379

fellowship with them as free spirits. Conversely, when any
one believes that he has nothing to give, and is therefore
imvvilling to accept, because he dreads being laid under the
obligation of manifesting gratitude, he too shuts himself up in
selfish pride. He rejects the fellowship of love that is offered
him in the gift, and fails to recognise that by his refusal he
is actually taking away something from the man who wishes
to bestow the gift. For were he gratefully to accept it,
he would confer upon the giver of it himself a free gift
that is of more value to genuine love than all outward
possessions.

But if it indeed be the case that love is itself the best gift
of all, does it not come to this — that we must regard the
distinction between communicative and receptive love as one
that is not valid ? For the following considerations may be
urged. Communicating love is in itself recipient love as well,
because the giver finds satisfaction in the very act of bestowing,
and requires no external reward, — he is blessed in his deed
(Jas. i. 25). Nay more, if it is more blessed to give than to
receive (Acts xx. 35), it seems that since blessedness is the
highest good, communicating love is more of the nature of
recipient love than the latter itself Finally, communicating
love regards itself as having received a gift, v/hen its own gift
is rightly accepted, lovingly acknowledged, and the heart of
the recipient opened. Conversely, — it might further be
urged,- — in true loving acceptance of a benefit there is also a
real giving of the best gift, that is, of love. To sum up : he
who gives in the spirit of true love always receives as well,
even should no gratitude be shown from the other side ;
and he who receives in the spirit of true thankfulness has
always something to give, namely, grateful love.

Now it is certainly of importance to direct our attention
to tins equalization — as it may be called — of communicating
and recipient love, since true communion of love cannot last
without it. For by means of it the guarantee is given that
receiver and giver are each an end in himself, that essentially
they are and remain equals, both in themselves and in the
service they render each other. Love can be truly bestowed
only when there is a real partnership ; that is to say, when
both are on an equal footing, when the relation is such that

380 § 45. LOVE.

pride is changed into humility, and even the poor man, though
externally in a lower position, can do his part as an equal in
mind and soul if not in fortune. The poor man can make the
advantages of others his own joy, and thus possess and enjoy
what he does not have himself; their sorrows, too, he can make
his own. In a partnership of this kind he can evince pre-
venient and therefore communicating love, even though in his
own person he is indigent, and outwardly does nothing but
receive.

Nevertheless there remains a difference between the love
which communicates, that is, which makes the first approaches
or sues for love in return, and the love which receives, or
exhibits gratitude. In the former, he who loves seeks to put
the recipient on the same level with himself, while in the
latter he seeks to set the giver above himself. Thus both
persons are engaged in a noble, loving competition, and by
this mutual interchange the living process of love moves
onward. We are reminded, too, of the necessity of insisting
upon the difference between recipient and communicating
love, by the consideration that gratitude would cease altogether
were the recipient to regard himself as bestowing something.
For it does not become the receiver, but only the giver, to look
upon moral acceptance of a benefit as being itself a gift. On
the other hand, were the donor to regard himself simply as
receiving something when he conferred a benefit, he would be
an egoist, he would not make the recipient the end or aim of
his act.^ Further, the receiver must not remind the giver
that he, the recipient, also gives when he accepts ; for it is
only wheii he feels that he is a recipient, and shows that he
is grateful, not in appearance but in reality — it is only then
tliat he really gives. And just as little must the donor bestow
his gift merely because the act of giving brings him a reward
and affords him satisfaction.

The two sides in this matter are connected in the following
way. When we give, we must never do so in order to receive;''
and when, on the other hand, we gratefully receive, we must

^ The j)^i'SOiHd character of love must appear in the object to which love is
directed and the gilt that is bestowed, as well as in the disposition from which
love springs.

- "He that givetli, let him do it with simplicity" (Rom. xii. 8).

LOVE THE UNITY OF THE PRODUCTIVE VIRTUES. 381

never have the consciousness that by our acceptance we are
giving something, for this would poison gratitude and make
it a mere pretence. On the contrary, communicating love is
genuine love only when it gives as if it were to receive nothing
in return (Matt. v. 42-47), it has attained its end when it is
solicitous for another's welfare (Phil. i. 4) ; and grateful love,
again, actually gives while receiving only when it receives as
if it were giving nothing, for it on its part has attained its
end when it acknowledges another's love. Only in this way
can the love that bestows be manifested on the one side and
loved on the other, only in this way can the person of another
and fellowship with him be made the aim both of giver and
receiver. The self-forgetl'ulness of love forgets egoism and
isolation, but it does not forget love and love's fellowship.
In love we seek to enter into communion with a fellow-being
and become a sharer both of his sorrows and his joys ; and in
doing so, we find that our self-surrender gives us what we did
not seek — it enriches and completes our own personal life.
And this takes place on both sides ; we tender ourselves to
another to advance as it were and develop his individual
being and character, and we receive this development our-
selves.

6. We have seen that in love the individual or personal is
brought into union with the universal, while the difference
between them is still maintained. We have also seen that
love is the union of giving and receiving, of communicating to
another what is our own, and participating in what belongs to
him. And this union takes place as follows — we conceive
of an evil that affects others as also affecting ourselves, while
we regard a good that belongs to us as belonging also to
others, as intended for our brethren as well as ourselves. (A
striking illustration of what has just been said occurs iu
Acts iv.) But in addition to this, love is also the unity
(avaKe^dXaioiai<i) of all those commandments that address
themselves to our spontaneity and productivity ; it is the
principle of all spontaneous and productive virtues, the virtues
that are manifested amid the manifold relations and circum-
stances upon which Christian vAsdovi must be brought to
bear (Eom. xiii. 9, 10 ; Matt. xxii. 36-40 ; John xiii. 34 ft". ;
1 John ii. 5 ; 1 Cor. xiii.; Mark xii. 31). Where love is not

382 § 4C. CHRISTIAN WISDOM.

present, we often see form and contents separated from each
other. On the one hand, the right act or work may be
purposed while the right disposition is absent ; and, on the
other, the right moral disposition may be present, but devoid
of contents — that is to say, the work is not done which the
occasion demands. But love unites both form and contents.
For when it is energetic, it does not rest satisfied with mere
good wishes ; it wills a good that is actually to be carried into
effect, and hence it impels us to know truly and definitely
what those ends are which ought to be realized. This leads
us to our thirel chapter.

With regard, moreover, to the form of moral action, when
we consider the motive — that is, the inducement to action
when taken up into consciousness — and the motive 'power —
that is, this inducement when it has passed over into the
vyill — we see that in love to God in Christ both motive
and motive j^ower arc united. For the motive is God's love
to us which He has manifested in Christ ; and this love, as
revealed in Christ, does not remain for the Christian a mere
external object, it becomes an end for his activity, and he
devotes himself to its service with responsive love. And
the love which he gives in return means that the love revealed
in Christ has taken possession of his feelings and his heart,
has seized upon and animated his will, and has thus become
the motive povjer that inspires his life.

CHAPTER THIRD.

CHRISTIAN WISDOM.
§46.

As faith (§ 44) directs itself to Christ who is the perfect
law, the law of I'aith and life, and by accepting Him
becomes the cardinal receptive virtue ; further, as
Christian love (§ 45) is the cardinal virtue of the
free, productive will : so Christian wisdom is the (spon-
taneous and productive) cardinal virtue of the intellect.
United with love it becomes ideal, productive, virtuous

GNOSIS. 3S6

energy ; its immediate aim is the chief Good ; and this
it conceives in two forms, both as already come and as
ever in the process of coming, Tlius true wisdom is the
same as Christian hope, which is neither ignorance con-
cerning the future nor uncertainty and mere empty
desire, but is the principle of that true Christian view
of the world which is quickened by love into fruitful
activity.

1. Love, without wisdom to determine what aims are to be
pursued and what means are to be employed in securing
them, could not be morally productive, but would remain a
mere inward loving disposition (§ 43. 2). It must of necessity,
however, be accompanied by knowledge, for it arises out of
faith, which contains knowledge in a germinal form (Eph.
i. 17) (§ 44), and which brings us into fellowship with Christ,
who communicates Himself to the intellect as well as to the
feelings and will. It is only when love is filled with wisdom
that it can 8oki/j,6^6iv to. hia^epovTa} those "excellent things"
to which it must devote its energy. Thus it is when love is
united with wisdom that it becomes the fruitful mother of all
those moral virtues which address themselves each to its own
specific w^ork. From Christian wisdom, which is essentially
and purely ethical in character and aim (Jas. iii. 1 3), we must
distinguish —

(«) Gnosis (1 Cor. viii. 1, xiii. 8). Gnosis is not, like
.wisdom, a matter of universal Christian duty ; it is a gift of
grace bestowed upon certain individuals, and intended to be
used by them for the edification of the whole community. If
it were something merely intellectual as such, without an
ethical and religious spirit (Col. ii. 18 ; 1 Tim, i. 6, 7, iv, 1 ff.;
Jas. iii. 15), then knowledge or wisdom of this kind would
be contradictory to faith (1 Tim. i, 19), which is the root of
all true knowledge. It would be valueless, it would be
eVtVeio? even should it talk of heavenly things, it would
remain psychical and even carnal, though it might appear
to be super-spiritual (1 Cor. ii, 13; Jude 10; Bai/xovicuSr]!;,
Jas. iii, 15),

' Rom. xii. 2, ii. 18 ; Phil. i. 10.

384 § 4G. CHRISTIAN WISDOM. HOPE.

{h) Wisdom must also be distinguished from Christian
■prudence (Luke xvi, 1 f., Parable of the Steward), tppovrjai^.
The latter has to do with individual cases as they arise ; it
has to comprehend these intelligently, and deal with them in
a manner suitable to the time and circumstances of their
occurrence ; its s^jhere is the world of means, while wisdom
is concerned above everything else with the determination
of ends.

Xow Christian wisdom, from which aw^poavvq derives its
strength, is above all things knowledge of the uXi]6eLa, which
is revealed in Christ. It springs, therefore, from faith, which
is called the "eyes of the heart" (Eph. i. 17, 18). It is
the knowledge of God's love as the absolutely true reality ;
it is consequently the knowledge of the absolute, permanent,
and divine world-goal, the supreme ideal, the highest good ;
and in this knowledge also the means are pointed out by
which the good is to be realized, for the end determines the
way by which the end is reached. Cognition in its receptive
form, or faith, is followed by cognition in its active form, or
wisdom. Wisdom now takes the torch of that higher know-
ledge of God and His love which has come through faith,
carries it into the inward sphere of self-consciousness and into
the outward sphere of the world around us, and teaches us to
understand more and more the divine thoughts which have
been wrought into these spheres, to recognise their abundance,
and to comprehend their connection with each other. But all
the while, amid the diversity of the knowledge thus acquired,
unity is preserved by the teleological direction that is given
to it throughout, since it is all brought into relation to the
highest good, the final consummation, which is the centre and
aim of all our efforts.

Further, so far as faith has not only a general knowledge
of the goodness and love of God and Christ, ])ut is also assured
of the unchangeableness and faithfulness of that love, we have
a knowledge of the future given us in germ, and so Christian
wisdom becomes hope. The invincible power and faithfulness
of the divine love is our surety that the final consummation
will be reached, the world-goal attained. Christian wisdom
is practically fruitful just because at its highest point it is
always Christian hope. And this involves that we not oidy

FAITH AND HOPE. 385

have the clear knowledge that the consummation is still at
a distance, but that we also have the no less clear and certain
knowledge that the good is real, and is not hoped and striven
.for in vain ; it is the knowledge, in fact, that the energy
resident in the kingdom of God is sufficient for its realization.
Thus wisdom as hope effects the transition from virtue as an
inw^ard power to the luorh to which virtue is called, to actual
labour for the coming of the kingdom of God. And this
it does in reliance upon the fact that the kingdom has already
come, a fact of which faith is assured, and to which it bears
witness.

It is true that hope looks to the future, — as faith looks to
the past, to the historical revelation made in Christ; but it does
more, it overcomes the limits of time before us, just as faith
overcomes those which are behind. As that would not be a
living faith which regarded Christ merely as belonging to the
past, as a mere figure in history, — for, on the contrary, it is
the function of faith to make the past live in the present
as an object of present experience, — so that would not be
Christian hope which looked upon the End or the World-goal
as something merely future, entirely absent, and therefore
without present efficacy. For then tliere would be no certainty
regarding that goal, and what it actually is ; and without this
there would not be Christian hope. But Christian hope
has a knowledge of the future and what the future contains,
since even now the chief good is present to it in Christ, and
in knowing Him it knows one who in His spiritual supremacy
holds the future in His hands. It is true that the object of
hope lacks visibility, that is, it lacks the element of external
reality'or realization, and in this respect faith and hope are
alike. Neither of them is sight ; they are, on the contrary,
wholly different from it. But, in rising above what is present
and visible to their invisible object, they have emancipated
themselves from the power of sense, and are conscious of the
fact. Thus by means of faith and hope the past and the
future are incorporated with the present, in the inward life of
the new free Christian spirit, the life of love (1 Cor. xiii. 13).
And hence the believer possesses an assured, joyful, and kingly
spirit, and enters upon the enjoyment and activities of the life
eternal, a life that is in time and yet above time {^wr} alcavio^),

2 B

386 § 4G. CHEISTIAN WISDOM. CHARACTER OF HOPE.

2. Peter is the apostle of Iwpc} (1 Pet. i. 3-5, 9, 13, 21,
iii. 5, 15.) With him, hope is not merely comfort and con-
solation in sufferings; it is not idle, on the contrary (i. 13),
it is a living principle that stimulates us to gird up the loins
of our mind. It is opposed alike to cowardice and to that
fanciful enthusiasm which would fain flee to the goal without
travelling the sober road of work. It is temperate and
sedate (iii. 15, i. 13, iv. 7, v, 8), far removed from self-made
fancies. It is not the mere natural outcome of a gay temper ;
it is submissive to God, willing to suffer, and yet amid all the
sufferings of time is sure of the consummation that will be
reached. Standing in view of the eternal, divine ideal, it
gives the Christian, on the one hand, the sense of pilgrimage,
of distance from his home, and forbids him to build everlast-
ing habitations here ; while, on the other, being assured of
the future, it enters heartily into the present, is practically
fruitful, and like a faithful steward puts its hand honestly
to its work (1 Pet. ii. 11 f., iv. 10, 11, 16, iii. 17). For it
knows that its work will be rewarded. Christian hope also
imparts its tone to our love for our fellow - creatures, and
makes our work among them of lasting value. For it
enhances the worth of individuals by taking their future into
account. It teaches us to treat them with confidence. When
we distrust a man, we depress him, enfeeble him, and thrust
him away from us ; when we confide in him, we raise and
encourage him. Christians love their brethren as those who
are partakers of the same hope as themselves (1 Pet. i, 22,
iv. 8). Hope embraces also the community, the spiritual
household of G-od ; it likewise embraces those who have yet
to become brethren, and lays claim to our love and zeal on
their behalf (ii. 9, 10, 12).

3. The object of Christian hope is, speaking generally, the
chief good, and therefore everything that belongs to it. And
this embraces —

(a) The perfection of the individual character, its emanci-
pation from error and sin, and its harmonious development.
It is no light task that is set before the Christian in his daily
life, to hold it as a matter of divine certainty that he both
can and is intended to become sinless and holy. The ever-
^ Cf. Weiss, Petrinischer Lehrhec/rif.

OBJECT TO WHICH HOPE IS DIRECTED. 887

recuniug experience which we have of sin, which continues
to break out in spite of all our resolutions, leads us too readily
to the tacit supposition that sin makes a holy life altogether
impossible for us on earth. And although such a belief may
at first humble and sadden us, yet it is very apt to result in
a lowering of our ideal, and in a moral levity that makes us
Loo lenient with our faults. Christian hope alone can obviate
these errors, both the Manichajan and the Pelagian. For by
setting our goal vividly before us, and thus showing us all
that we yet need in order to have our imperfections remedied
("hope that is seen is not hope," Eom. viii. 24), it opposes
our indolence, and calls upon us to exercise vigorously our
will and our love.

Further, since in faith hope has already tasted the airap-^T]
of the Spirit (Eom. viii. 23), and of perfection, as an earnest
of that which is still lacking ; or, in other words, since through
faith hope sees in the kingdom of God, as it has already
come, the surety for that which is yet to come, it inspires
love with the confidence of victory, and fills it with good
courage (1 Cor. xiii. 7 ; Eph. i. 11-14; Phil. i. 6, ii. 13) and
Christian joy, xapd (Phil. ii. 18, iv. 4). There is some truth
in what Spinoza says when he calls tristitia the mother of
much evil, especially of the powerlessness of good impulses.
Only he omits to point out the way to true joy. This lies
in Christian hope. In it that which humbles us, viz. our
dissatisfaction with our actual state, becomes a negative factor
in our progress, an incentive to prosecute our own self-
improvement with vigour. Thus tristitia, when incorporated
with the whole moral nature of the Christian, is deprived of
all that would have an enfeebling effect, and what remains
has only a salutary influence. It becomes godly sorrow,
which is not irreconcilable with inward Christian blessedness,
but is at one with it, and necessarily promotes its richer and
richer development (2 Cor. vii. 10; Eom. viii. 15-17, 23-25,
28-30).

(h) But Christian hope, allied with love, also extends 'beyond
the individual. It takes in the Chief Good in the whole of its
extent, and hence it embraces nature and the spirit-world, and
the final perfection of both in and along with each other (Pk,om.
viii. 18-22 ; 1 Cor. xv. 23-28, 40-50), as well as the various

388 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WOELD.

iudividual excellences that belong to the ethical spheres of
life. Accordingly, Christian eschatology becomes an active
element in Christian virtue. Hope presents ns with an image
of the individual and of moral communities in their perfection,
and by this means the future is made an operative power in
the present, and its realization is brought about. Under the
old covenant, prophecy was sporadic and momentary ; under
the new, hope furnishes every true believer with the prophetic
spirit. For Christian hope is not mere subjective wishing,
nor does it mean nescience with regard to what the future
contains, — such a nescience as we are entertained with oftener
than is desirable in New Year sermons ; it possesses certain
knowledge of the essential contents, the v7r6arTacn<i (Heb. xi. 1),
of the future, and above all, it is knowledge concerning that
which is most remote — the final end of all things.

§ 47. The Christian View of the World.

■Christian wisdom, united with love and based upon faith,
leads us to a view of the world that is opposed both to
Pessimism and Optimism. As against the former, the
Christian knows through faith that the supreme good
has already come and is present in the world ; as against
the latter, he recognises that the chief good has still to
come, and has yet to be realized through love. Thus,
through Christian wisdom in the form of hope, love is
guided to the particular work which must be performed,
in order that that part of the chief good may be realized
whose time of realization has come. And so love effects
the transition from virtue as an inward impulse to outward
virtuous deeds or acts of duty, and in these manifests its
productive activity. And this takes place in such a
way that every true act of virtue is a product of the ivholc
virtuous energy of the Christian, and in it faith, love, and
hope are in essential union with each other.

Note. — Leibnitz, in his Theodicy, has tried to explain the e\'il
— both moral and physical — that is in tlie world, without pre-
judice to the wisdom and goodness of God, by maintaining that

OPTBIISM AND PESSIMISM. 389

this is the best of all possible worlds. Here the gooduessand
wisdom of God are acknowledged, but at the same time it is
asserted that a world without evil is an impossibility, even for
the Divine Omnipotence. This view was called Optimism. But
Optimism in this sense is different from what we here mean by
the word, and from what it is usually taken to mean. It com-
monly denotes a way of thinking that takes a superficial view
of physical and even of moral evil. [Optimism of this latter
hind is advanced by Strauss in Der alte unci der neue Glmibc,
Herbert Spencer in First Princi]ples, especially § 176, and by
other materialists. — Ed.]

So far as Leibnitz holds that finitude in itself necessarily
introduces evil, and that the world therefore, as long as it
remains finite, i.e. as a world, must be afflicted v/ith evils, — to
this extent his theory contains a pessimistic element, resting
upon a species of dualism ; and this remains true although he
holds that good preponderates over evil. The Evangdinui der
armcn Sccle expresses the same pessimistic idea when it main-
tains that God cannot be tliought of as omnipotent, if we hold
fast, as we must do, to His goodness in presence of the evil that
is in the world. Others, like Stuart Mill, come to the conclu-
sion that we must doubt whether God exists at all ; since, if He
did exist. He would necessarily be all-powerful, and so would
not endure the mass of evil that is in the world. Atheism is
also the basis upon which Schopenhauer and Hartmann have
raised their pessimistic theories ; and among Oriental systems
the same thing holds good of Buddhism, which is originally a
system of philosophy. The torment and misery in the world,
which would make its non-existence a blessing, are held to
consist in this, — that the human will must necessarily always
will something, and that everything which it does will must,
in the nature of things, be individual, and so cannot bring satis-
faction to the soul, but only satiety and discomfort. Existence
always involves particularity and finitude, and these are of
necessity accompanied with misery, suffering, and a painful
sense of want, since the particular or individual is not the
whole. Among leading exponents of this form of pessimism are
Taubert and Volkelt. (The latter, in his Das Unheivusstc und
der Pessimismus, attempts to show his connection with Hegel.)
[Frauenstadt. Bahnsen, Zur FJiilosophie der Geschichtc. Main-
lander, Fhilosophie der Erlosung. Plumacher, Der Kampf iim's
Unhewusste (pp. 117-150, Litteraturangaben). — Ed.]

Among the opponents of Pessimism are — Haym, Frcussische
Jahrhiicher, 1873, Nos. 1-3. Weygoldt, Kritik des pMlos. Fes-
siiiiismus.

[Eehmke, Glossen zu Hartmann s Flianomenologie. Zeitschr.

390 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WORLD.

fuT Philoso^hie unci philosophiscJie Kritik, 1879, No. 2. Der
Pessimismus vnd die Sittenlehre, 1883. Michelis, Philosophu des
Bewusstscins. 'EVjYSiTd, JTartmann's Philosophie dcs Unheunissten,
1876. Golther, Der moderne Pessimismus, edited by Vischer.
E. Ptieiderer, Der Pessimismus. Lasson, Pluilosophische Monats-
heft, 1879, Nos. 6 and 7. Gass, Optimismus und Pessimismus.
A. Schweizer, Philosophie d. Unhewusstcn. Ztschr. f. wiss. Theol.
1873, p. 407 sq. Huber, Die religiose Fragc. Secretan, La
nouvcauM metaphysique. Phil, de Vinconscient. Revue chr^tienne,
1872. Sommer, Per Pessimismus und die Sittenlehre. Christ,
Der Pessimismus und die Sittenlehre. My article, " Hartmann's
pessimistische Philosophie," Studien und Kritlken., 1881, No. 1.
Prantl, Die BcrccJitigung des Optimismus. Euckeii, Geschichte u.
Kritih d. Grundhegriffe, p. 236 sq. Hoekstra, Dc Tegenstelling
van Optimisme en Pessimisme, 1880. — Ed.]

Frank advances the idea that Pessimism is the truth of the
life of unbelief. But it is Martensen especially who has given
an ethical estimate of Pessimism as it appears within Chris-
tianity {Christian Ethics, vol. i. p. 164 sq., vol. ii. p. 199 sq.). The
fundamental error in these systems is that liniteness is looked
upon as necessarily involving imperfection. That is to say, all
determination, without which there could, of course, be no
world at all, is regarded as negation, instead of as a specific mode
of being ; and conversely, the unlimited or indeterminate is
regarded as true and perfect being. But such being, like Nir-
vana, cannot be distinguished from mere nothingness. These
form.s of Pessimism, closely connected as they are with Dualism
or Atheism, are for us made untenable by the Christian doctrine
of God.

However, there is a certain trutli in this pessimistic view of
the world, if only it be taken apart from the grounds upon
which it is made to rest. That is to say, if the world be con-
sidered as it is, apart from redemption, apart from the salt of
Christianity which preserves it from corruption, then to sober
observation penetrating to the truth behind the appearance of
things, it is a state of misery, a huge grave ; it is that vale of
tears wdiich the Preacher saw it to be when he declared that
the true verdict upon the pre-Christian world was, " all is
vanity." But revealed religion, even in Old Testament times,
made a great advance beyond all the positions of absolute
Pessimism, by referring the evil that is in the world neither to
God uor to a power inaependent of God, but to human sin, and
by deriving death from the same source. By this means, it is
true, man is made to suffer a still deeper pain than the so-called
world-pain, with its complainings ; for physical evil reminds us
of human guilt, and is thereby armed with a still sharper sting.

THE TWO FORMS OF OPTIMISM. 391

A greater than physical evil is brought to light in the world,
viz. moral evil. Nevertheless, faith in God is now preserved,
faith in His goodness and power, and this affords a resting-
place for hope. Evil is now regarded, not as something neces-
sary, due to existence itself, but as relatively accidental, since
it is made to depend upon the sin and the freedom of man.

Finally, the evils that do exist would themselves be bearable,
if only the greatest of them all, viz. guilt, were wiped away
through divine forgiveness. For the sting of evil, which con-
sists in its being punishment, would then be taken away, and
evils themselves, while still continuing to exist, would be looked
upon as a means of education and purification, and consequently
as a good. And if, besides, the power of sin. as well as of guilt
were broken by God, then all other evils would be checked at
their source, and hope might rejoice in the prospect of a condi-
tion of things in which evils will have wholly disappeared. This
is the Christian view of the world. And it is opposed not only
to the error of Pessimism but to that of Optimism as well.
Although the Christian jjrinciplc is in the world, and thus the
salvation of the w^orld is something real and present, we must
not overlook the work that has still to be performed and the
battle that has still to be fought before victory is won, nor must
we lull ourselves into premature contentment with our own
state and that of the world. Even in Christian times it is
possible to find mild forms of Optimism and Pessimism at work,
which alike exercise an enfeebling and enervating effect, and
are therefore most pernicious. But Christian hope is able to
withstand both of these errors ; we have only to turn to it and
then our moral vigour is restored, and true Christian motives
aroused.

1. Along with hope there arises the Christian vieiv of the
Woiid. Its character is clearly brought out by its opposi-
tion both to Optimism and Pessimism. Optimism is moral
apathy, and takes two forms. On the one hand, it may over-
estimate earthly well-being and its influence upon morality ;
on the other, it may U7ulervalue the -power of evil in the
world, refuse to look at evil, disregard its power, and lull
itself to sleep with rose-coloured illusions concerning the
power and practice of virtue in the world. In one word, it
treats the world and the individual person ideally : it does not
take them as they are, but anticipates their perfection in its
subjective imaginings. When those who have arrived at such
hasty satisfaction with everything proceed to act, they would
fain overleap the stages which must first be traversed before

392 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WORLD. THE TWO FORMS

the end is reached, and so their action is applied at the wrong
place. And just as their conceptions of the nearest aims to
be pursued and the means to be employed are wrongly-
formed, so no result follows their efforts. Optimism is morally
superficial ; it lacks depth of earth, 7?} ttoWt] (Matt. xiii. 5,
20). Those who from love of ease would like to flee at once
to the goal, make no progress, because they disdain to labour
in the sweat of their face, and to mount upward step by step.
In short, Optimism is too much satisfied with the present, and
therefore it has no hope to urge it forward.

Opposed to Optimism is Pessimism, which has as its
moving power the imperfection, the evil, and the sin which
are in the world. Pessimism assumes tivo forms. It may
appear in a more passive form, and then it leads to passive
renunciation of moral effort, resignation, melancholy despair
of the coming of the chief good. This is moral impotence,
unbelief. If an interest is still taken in the kingdom of God,
yet work is done with spiritless hands and progress is made
with feeble knees (Heb. xii. 12), whereas faith demands us
^eeiv TTveu/xari (Rom. xii. 11). Here too, it may be, instead
of honest and zealous work, there is the expectation of extra-
ordinary events which will make everything turn out for the
best • (in the highest, Christian form of Pessimism, it is the
second coming of Christ that is expected) ; but meanwhile all
moral labour, except perhaps what is expended on directly
religious objects, is regarded as vain, futile, or even sinful.
Here there is exhibited a sour, censorious disdain, a barren and
pernicious mistrust.

The second main form of Pessimism is the active. Here we
find a restless haste which will not enter confidently into the
present and the work of God that is in it, but is at variance
with it, and thinks to reach a better state of things by some
abrupt way, by the use of force, the violation of rights, or by
fanatical means — in short, by a single spring as it were, and
so by breaking off in revolutionary fashion from the past
course of historical development.

Pessimism of both kinds proceeds as if the kingdom of God
were altogether absent and had yet to come. According to
the first species of Pessimism, its coming is to be brought
about by a sudden act on the part of God, which must be

OF PESSIMISM. PESSIMISM WITHIN THE CHURCH. 393

passively awaited, — tliis is the position of the Darbyitcs with
their objective chiliasm. According to the second, it is to be
brought about by human intervention, which has to lay the
foundations, alike of society, the State, and the kingdom of
God, entirely by human effort, or which at least has to prepare
the way for the second coming of our Lord, — this is the form
in which Pessimism has been held by many parties from
the Ancibaptists of the Eeformation time onward.

In accordance with the principle on which it rests.
Pessimism gives rise to all sorts of ideals, set up by fanaticism
in the various spheres of life, — especially the political and
educational, — such as the dreams of comnnmism and socialism.
In the ecclesiastical sphere, moreover, we find all kinds of
church-ideals : that, for example, of Donatistic purity, either in
morality or in piety and intelligence. Here we find separa-
tion and exclusion advocated, either from men wishing to
form a Church composed of the regenerate alone, or from their
demanding perfect purity in one department at least — that of
public instruction, in the teachers of the Church. This means
a pure creed, and brings us back to the demand that at least
the clerical order shall consist of the regenerate alone, if the
Church is to be a Church. For according to evangelical
principles, we can demand a creed only as the product of
evangelical faith, so that to require a pure creed is identical
with requiring regenerating faith. Donatistic Pessimism
refuses to be satisfied with a lowly condition of the Church,
in which it includes unbelievers among the ministers of the
word as well as among its members at large ; it seeks by
means of force or compulsion to rid itself of such as are not
or not yet at one with the Church in its creed. Of course, it
cannot hinder hypocrisy, but may very readily increase it.

Others, instead of allying themselves with the beginnings of
the kingdom of God that are in history and in the present,
would like to make a new beginning, to bring back again,
perhaps, a past period of history, such as that of primitive
Christianity or of the Eeformation time — the Irvingitc restora-
tion of the apostolate is an instance in point. But if the king-
dom of God has in nowise come as yet, it cannot come at all,
for it is ethical, and can therefore be established only in an
ethical and not in a magical way. And whatever is ethically

394 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WOELD.

produced in any spliere must have a living point of connection
with the present. In Pessimism, which seeks to break with
the past and present, and to destro}^ them in order to intro-
duce what is new, there is something dualistic, something
Manichsean, just as in the premature satisfaction of Optimism
there is an element of Pelagianism. It rends asunder the
unity and continuity of the world as a whole, since it opposes
to the actually existing world a world of the imagination ; and
so, wholly unsatisfied with what has been, it loves to talk of
a future state, a future Church, a future religion. It may
cherish hope, but it is a liopc witliout faith, — that is, it is
purely subjective, not a hope that is the outcome of the past
and the present, of faith and love. Pessimism is restless
haste and impatience ; not, like Optimism, premature rest and
contentment. But mere restless movement results only in
stagnation, and Pessimism, however hostile it is to all con-
servatism, never makes any real advance. For, in accordance
with its principle, it always acts abruptly ; it is continually
starting from the beginning over again, and thus all progress
is rendered impossible, and a perpetual standstill is the result.
While Pessimism in its active form is that restless haste
which never makes any advance, because it always begins
anew and breaks with what has hitherto taken place, Optimism,
on its side, is even less cafcthU of progress. It is mere immo-
bility ; it lowers its ideal, and denies the imperfections of the
present. The Xew Testament represents the kingdom of God
on the one side as already come for faith, and on the other
as still coming.^ But this ethically necessary association of
two apparent opposites is dissolved both by Optimism and
Pessimism, and that in opposite ways. Optimism holds to
the first alone, to the fact that the kingdom of God has come ;
it is faith without hope to impel it forward, since it has no
conception of the richness of the Christian principle, or of the
far-reaching moral problems which the latter brings to view; it
is therefore faith of only a superficial kind. Pessimism, on the
other handjholds to the second alone, to the fact that the kingdom
of Gocl is yet to come. But it does not do this on the ground

1 Luke xvii. 20 ; Matt. xi. 12, vi. 33 ; John iii. 3-5 ; Matt. xxv. 34 ; cf.
Matt. vi. 10, Th}' kingdom come. Chap, xiii., The mustanl-seed. 1 Cor. xv. 50 ;
Kom. xiv. 17.

CHRISTIANITY AND THE PAIN OF PESSIMISM. 395

that the kingdom has already come ; and so> while it may
have a higher idea of the problem to be wrought out in the
conversion of the world, it has no faith in the power of grace
that is already in the world ; its hope is a hope without faith,
not Christian hope, but one that is ever ready to fall back into
legalism.

2. Whereas in Christian hope, joy {■^(apa.) is associated
with true Xvirr] (2 Cor. vii. 10 ; Col. i. 24), we find in
Pessimism and Optimism a false sadness and a false joy.

{a) The pain of Pessimism is superficial, as is seen when
we consider its two forms. (a) It may take a merely
ocsthetic or eudaemonistic form, in which it is aroused only by
the physical evils that exist, or by the lack of worldly bless-
ings ; it may be by evils that affect a whole community, such
as the failure of one's country to secure power and glory, or
the want of external splendour in the condition of the Church.
The last of these plays an important part in the modern forms
of cliiliasm, e.g. in Darhyism and Irvingism, where pain is
chiefly felt at the imperfect appearance of things. (/8) Again,
the pain of Pessimism may directly refer to the sin of the
world, its might and dominion, or to the power of Satan over
the world. But sin is here taken as absolutely unconquer-
able, so that the first Parousia of Christ is unable to meet it,
and only the power of His second coming will be sufficient to
overcome it. In the meantime, Pessimism opposes to sin no
hearty labour of love, least of all a labour undertaken in
common, but only action of a violent kind, for the most part
negative, separatistic, and uninspiring ; or its opposition con-
sists in mere passive resignation, at most in bearing a Christian
testimony in the world. Pessimism doubts the possibility of
the gospel still being what it once was — a power that is
able to overcome every form of individual and social sin.
Accompanying this renunciation of loving, inspiring activity,
we find, as a matter of course, that the Pessimist regards
himself as opposed to the world, which he looks upon as lost,
and the judgment of which he is awaiting. Nay, he even
takes pleasure (Matt. vii. 1) in assuming the office of judge,
and anticipating the verdict of God, by uncharitably suppos-
ing the worst of every one, and so keeping up within himself
the feeling that he is a stranger and pilgrim in the world. It

396 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WORLD. CHRISTIANITY AND

naturally follows from this, that, since the heart is concealed
from human view, a tendency is manifested to devise after a
legal fashion certain tests, by which the Christianity of each
one may be gauged.

Now Christianity deepens the pain of Pessimism. If the
latter appears in an aesthetic form, then Christianity enlightens
it as to the connection that exists in all departments of life
between evil and sin, and also between Christianity and the
highest blessings. Again, if the pain is felt with reference to sin
(a legalistic spirit being predominant), then Christianity deepens
it, by taking the man who has set himself apart as a judge,
disclosing to him the sinfulness of the uncharitableness and
pride which he exhibits, and thus surrendering him to inward
self-condemnation. Christianity takes the edge off pessimistic
pain. For it comes to him who so willingly finds pleasure in
taking up the role of an accuser or judge, or who would
fain play the part of a misunderstood benefactor of the world,
tells him that his true position is one of humility, and exhorts
him before everything else to accuse himself, and to recognise
the connection between the common sin of humanity and his
own personal share in it. And then it assures him that
absolute reconciliation with God is to be found in divine
grace, and, by reminding him of what a load of guilt has been
lifted off his own soul, weans him from his spirit of exacting
and censorious arrogance towards his fellow-servants. Further,
since in absolute reconciliation with God we are already made
partakers of the chief good, Christianity takes away all bitter-
ness from the pain that is felt at the deficiencies everywhere
visible, and teaches us to be thankful for the good that exists
(Col. i. 12), and to cease from over-estimating what as yet is
wanting. Especially does it teach us not to put too high a
value upon the secondary spheres, as if in these by themselves
the absolute good could be found. It therefore gives a deeper
ethical character to the dissatisfaction of Pessimism, and by
this means paves the way for that contentment with the lead-
ings of Providence, tliat inner peace and joy, in which alone
there resides the power to yield us true serenity of spirit amid
the contradictions of the world.

(5) Christianity, too, imparts a deeper tone to the joy of
Optimism. It brings to bear upon it the pain which is

THE JOY OF OPTIMISM. CHRISTIAN COURAGE. 397

experienced at sin both within and without ourselves, and so
leads us to find joy in that good which alone is worthy of the
name, — a good which now exists, but which no less ever
points us to a future that demands our labour in the present
time. Thus Christianity sets both Optimism and Pessimism
right ; in these the human spirit is at a false point of view,
and Christianity brings it back to the true one. Christian
faith gives it its true starting-point, and Christian hope its true
goal. The joy of the Christian is a noble joy. Treading the
path of sorrow, and mortification of everything that is impure,
it becomes joy in the possession of a good that shall never
pass away (1 Pet. i. 6, ii. 19 f . ; Jas. i. 2 f.). It is true that
this joy gives rise to a new kind of sorrow, viz. to compassion
for the world with its mistaken ideas of happiness. But it
is not a sorrow that manifests itself in cold separatism or in
stubborn despondency ; it is a sorrow that carries its consola-
tion in itself, that enters into Christian love, inspires it with
active courage, and gives it vigour. Thus we see that
Christian hope, since it tlow^s out of faith and finds an outlet
in active love, is opposed to both the extremes which have
been discussed. And so what has already been said is once
more confirmed, that Christian hope contains the germs or
buds, as it were, of the Christian spirit.

3. Christian courage (avSpela). The perversity of the
world is often so overwhelming, that goodness appears to be
overborne by wickedness. It is this which furnishes materials
for tragedy, and these are to be found not only in poetry, but
often enough in actual life. Now, in our conflict with sin,
both within and witliout, we may be apt to regard the powers
of evil as too strong or even as invincible. And this is the
trial of our faith ; for faith cannot remain sound if its hopes
for the future are broken. The assurance which it possesses
wears away when hope, into which it must blossom, gives
place to despondency and cowardice. At such a time it is
needful, above all things, that the foundation be renewed, that
is, that faith again be made strono;. We must make our-
selves clearly conscious of the fact that in Christ the kingdom
of God is already in existence, and that He is the truth and
the power of the present. Against the world which stands in
contradiction to Christianity, that world which spreads around

398 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WORLD.

US, and yet in its inner nature is so unsubstantial, we must
bring into force the idealism oi faith, or faith on its mystical
side. When this is done, then to faith the world, so far as
it is opposed to God, ceases to exist: faith becomes again
assured of the powerlessness of this world against the world
so far as it is in harmony with God ; for apart from God the
world has only a semblance of life. In this way the human
spirit again enters its stronghold, and there regains its freedom.
To it the power of sin and error is already judged, and in the
growth and spread of wrong it sees only the development of
evil toward certain destruction. The bitterness and harsh-
ness of the pain that is felt when the kingdom of God in
Christ seems itself to be threatened, disappear when we
recognise the folly and vanity of all attacks that are made on
the kingdom of God. Nay, when the Christian has recovered
himself in faith, he sees that his former anxiety about the
kingdom of God was itself but folly, no less than the blindness
displayed in assailing it : and so even that which was most
terrifying and tragic can now draw forth a song of triumph
such as Paul's, " 0 death, where is thy sting ? 0 grave,
where is thy victory ? Thanks be to God which giveth us
the victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ ; " or the words of
the Psalmist, " Why do the heathen rage," etc. (Ps. ii.).

Here we have what may be called Christian humotir} But
it is humour of a high and Christian kind, only when the
spiritual serenity that has been rescued out of the confusions
of things temporal does not fall into Optimism and become,
as in the case of Friedr. Schlegel, an irony that is wholly
indifferent to the conflict which goes on in the world; an
irony that refuses to take any part in that conflict, either in
the way of sympathy or of action. Whoever, in order to
maintain a mood of ostensible superiority, takes only a bird's-
eye view, as it were, of earthly activity, and looks upon all
that men busy themselves about with such tragic earnestness
as folly and vanity and so as a kind of tragi-comedy, — such a
man is given up to sensuous egoism, and only betrays folly
in another shape, that, namely, of frivolity and life-weariness.
On the other hand, it would hardly be possible to find a wise,
observant, and courageous Christian, who has not again and
^ [Cf. F. J. Meier's address, Htimor mid GhristentJmm. 1876.— Ed.]

CHRISTIAN HUMOUK. 399

again indulged in Christian humour, and found it give an
impulse and zest to his life. It is wholly justifiable and even
a duty, especially in times when in the Church, for instance,
or in any other community, error and perversity have grown
to a gigantic height. Then the conflict which we carry on
would lack the circumspection and courage that are needful,
did we not, by taking a true Cluistian view of things, attain
that self-control which enables us to apply the proper
standard to the appearance of power possessed by opposing
forces, and which strengthens our joy in the present and future
kingdom of God. But Christian humour is a salt in our
life, not only when we are opposing hostile powers, but also
when we turn to ourselves, for it serves to keep us from
becoming dull, despondent, and slothful. It is the source of
that speech seasoned v/ith salt which is so pleasant to hear
(Col, iv. 6). It demands, therefore (and this is a test of
its purity), that we set ourselves not only against the per-
versities that we see around us, but also against that sinful
reflex of them which is in ourselves, which consists in
despondency and fear of the power of wickedness, and in
an exaggerated estimate of that power, and which often
expresses itself in bitter and passionate judgments upon
others.

Further, Christian humour must be accompanied by the
most living interest in the struggle that is waged. When
this is the case, it becomes a moving power in that spiritual
serenity which inspires the Christian with the bright and
joyful hope that the kingdom of God will prosper even by
means of its very adversaries, and sends him forth assured of
victory and prepared anew to fight and to conquer. When
the Christian has retired upon himself and regained his
spiritual energy, the sympathy of Christian love now becomes
the means of bringing him out once more into the sphere of
external activity. Since Christian humour maintains the
liveliest interest in the good and its realization, it cannot
remain shut up in solitary and selfish enjoyment. It cannot
make the follies and perversities of the world the material
of its enjoyment, or a background to it, — this is diabolical
pleasure, and requires the continued existence of evil. On
the contrary, as soon as the Clnistian has won that inward

400 § 47. CHRISTIAN VIEW OF THE WORLD.

self-control and strength, which makes the opponents of the
highest good seem no longer dangerous, there arises within
him the feeling of compassion, when he sees how men are
shut out from the highest good through their own perversity.
Thus his newly-won sense of the reality of the chief good and
of its worth rouses him to active love. Love, however, does
not treat men merely as objects of compassion, as suffering
and sick, — it treats them in accordance with their idea, as
being all equals and free, and so it enters upon a chivalrous
conflict with wickedness (Eph. vi. 10 f.). The compassion
of the Christian is not a mere sentiment, but issues in
action, when, in conformity with his calling, he takes up the
contest with wickedness, and makes himself the organ of the
<Tood and of its honour — militia Christi. But whether the
duty of the Christian soldier calls him to suffer or to act,
the ^^Xo? which inspires him, and which is Christian love,
moves him all the while (just because its aim is the good)
to love, in his ideal form, the man whom it combats as
wicked.

Christ gives us an example of the courage that springs
from a true Christian view of the world. At the lowest
point of his humiliation He acknowledges freely that He is a
king, a fact which at other times He concealed (John xviii.
36 f. ; cf. vi. 15 ; John xvi. 33 ; 1 John v. 1 ff.). He is in
heaven, while He is upon earth (John iii. 13), and in spirit
He sees the fruits appearing (John iv. 35) which, neverthe-
less, can only be brought forth through the death of the corn
of wheat (John xii. 24). He announces His final victory,
and lets the world recognise in Him the majesty of the
world's judge, even while He is being judged Himself and led
to His death. But this conscious dignity in which He
anticipates His triumph does not estrange Him from the
world. In loving sadness He gazes upon Jerusalem, which
is about to reject Him (Matt, xxiii. 37), and purifies the
temple, while, nevertheless, He predicts its approaching
downfall. His grief and compassion never lose their practical
energy. " Weep not for me."

4. Hope, thus rooted in faith and united with love, now
makes every effort of the Christian fruitful in realizing some
portion of the highest good. Christian virtue is not solicitous

PKODUCTIYENESS OF CHRISTIAN VIRTUE. 401

about results. But neither is it indifferent towards them. The
opinion is often held, that results do not rest in the hands of
man at all, and that the goodness of a volition must not be
measured by the result. If this were absolutely true, it would
mean that it does not matter what we purpose, so long as it
arises out of a right disposition. But if no good comes
of an act, then we have not willed the right thing, and
therefore also not in the right way — that is to say, we have
not been guided by the virtue of Christian wisdom. What-
ever is willed rightly is done in God and willed by God;
and when this is the case beneficial results are sure to
follow, although it nevertheless remains true that the
thoughts of man and of God in nowise coincide. Only we
must keep this fact clearly in mind, that the kingdom of
God may be celebrating its triumphs when to all appear-
ance it is suffering defeat. Accordingly, the Christian, even
when he is apparently unsuccessful, does not move in uncer-
tainty; he is not beating the air (1 Cor. ix. 26). Christian
virtue does not consist in an aimless ijrogressus in infinitum,
which would be no better than standing still or revolving in a
circle ; on the contrary, at each moment it attains something,
produces either inwardly or outwardly some portion of the
highest Good, some definite result, which in its turn yields
fruit in the future.

SECOND DIVISION.

THE SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER BY xMEANS OF
CONSTANT RENEWAL AND EXERCISE.

§48.

The self-maintenance, of the Christian personality, which is the
same thing as its growth, gives rise to a new series of
virtues. It is realized by means of imrification, and also
by exercise, which becomes expertness in virtue. When
faith, love, and hope become aptitudes, we have the trinity
of fidelity, stedfastness, sober-mindedness. Through puri-
2c

•102 § 48. SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHKISTIAN CHARACTER.

fication and exercise, however, Christian virtue, although
in principle a perfect \vhole, enters upon a process of
growth, or a life of successive stages, in which it is
gradually unfolded. For virtuous aptitude is strength-
ened only when an ever more and more successful course
of self-discipline is pursued, and when at the same time
all the powers of our nature, spiritual and physical,
those which are the same in all and those which are
peculiar to the individual, are taken possession of or
inspired by the principle of Christian virtue, which by
this means gains so many organs and capacities for its
own manifestation. When the principle of virtue has thus
put its stamp upon the personality of the individual in
all the manifold variety of his powers, — these powers all
the while continuing to form a complete and harmonious
unity (a7rXoT779, elXiKpiveta), — we have the Christian
character in the stricter sense of the word.

1. Biblical Doctrine. The new personality continues as
such only by constantly renewing itself (Col. iii. 9 f. ; Eph.
iv. 24), and thus accomplishing its work of self-sanctification.
This renewal is carried out — («) negatively, by a process of
purification (Kadapai'i) (1 John i. 9 ; 2 Cor. vii. 1 ; Eom.
vi. 1 ff. ; Col. iii. 9 ; Phil. ii. 12 ; Tit. ii. 12), the putting off
of the old man ; and (b) positivcljj, by exercise ('yvfj,vaaia)
(1 John iii. 7 ; Heb. v. 14, xii. 11 ; 1 Cor. ix. 24-27). Both
the negative and the positive element may be comprehended
in aaK7)(TL<; (Acts xxiv. 16). The N"ew Testament makes
the general demand that the Christian " a<^vi'C,uv kavrbv "
(1 John iii. 3 ; Jas. iv. 8 ; 1 Pet. i. 22) ; this is " sanctification,"
which comprehends both the negative and positive element.
It demands that the new man keep himself rrjpeiv kavrov
(1 John V. 18), that he be renewed dvaKaiva)ai<i, avaveovadai,
(Col. iii. 10 ; Eph. iv. 23 ; Rom. xii. 2 ; 2 Cor. iv. 16 ; Tit.
iii. 5), that he grow (Eph. iv. 12); and it represents these as
the work of the Holy Spirit (1 Pet. i. 2 ; Phil. i. 4-7 ; 2 Thess.
ii. 16, 17), but also as an end and task for the personal effort
of the Christian (1 Thess. iv. 3, 7). And finally, it holds out to

SELF- ACTIVITY OF THE CHRISTIAN. 403

the Christian increasing proficiency in virtue, ability iKavoTrjq,
as the fruit of his eftbrts, and demands that he acquire it
(Col. i. 12 ; 2 Cor. iii. 6). The power of virtue, moreover,
which in its entirety is comprehended in faith, hope, and love,
now comes under a neiu as'pcct, when virtue becomes ])rojidcnci!
or liahit. Then faith becomes fidelity, that to which the IsTew
Testament sometimes gives the name ir'iari'^ again, or hoKifxiou
TYj'i TTiaTecof (Jas. i. 3 ; 1 Pet. i. 7) ; love becomes the sted-
fastness of the good will, virofiovrj (Eom. v. 4, ii. 7 ; Luke viii.
15 ; 1 Tim. vi. 11 ; 2 Tim. iii. 10 ; Tit. ii. 2 ; Jas. i. 3, 4 ; Rev.
ii. 19, xiv. 12) ; and lastly, wisdom, when it becomes a habit,
is cr«<^/jocrw77, sober-mindedness (1 Tim. ii. 9-15 ; Acts xxvi. 25 ;
<Tco(f)povi(T/ui6<i, 2 Tim. i. 7 ; (T03(ppoveiv, Eom. xii. 3 ; 1 Pet. iv. 7).
2. With the new nature of the believer a divine life is
incorporated and becomes his own, and this new life he must
now deal with as with the gifts of the first creation, which
are talents, as it were, entrusted to him to be put out to
interest ; although it remains true that it is only through
communion with the same Spirit of God from whom he
received the new nature, and through His power, that it can
be maintained. But the believer is no longer merely recep-
tive, but spontaneous, free, and co-operative in its maintenance.
To him who hath shall be given (Matt. xiii. 12). Synergism
must indeed be rejected when it means that at any time, and
of our own strength, we can do anything that is good apart
from God altogether, or that any such doing of ours could
even partly effect our justification. But it must be accepted
in the sense that man is not destined to remain a mere passive
channel for the divine will to flow through, as if there were
here only isolated divine acts which created no new per-
sonality in man to be the focus of a higher life. ISTeither can
the believer be kept and protected by any absolute decree ; he
must determine to be protected, and so protect himself. In the
present life there is no finished state of grace (2 Pet. i. 10);
each state constantly gives birth to another, and is therefore in
constant movement. And in order that this process of repro-
duction may be firmly maintained, it is necessary that there
be no want of vigour in waging war with present evils, but
that disorders and failings be at once taken by the conscience
of the Christian as signs which tell from what side the power

404 § 48. SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHEISTIAN CHARACTER.

of the enemy is threatening, and that these signs be taken by
his will as a real summons to, a real conflict. Here there are
two points to be noticed.

(a) The new man is at first still vrjirio'^, and has to grow up
unto rfkiKia XpiaTov (Eph. iv. 1 3). He is feeble and unprac-
tised, although there exists in the centre of the Ego a real
blending of divine and human life.

(6) The new personality of the Christian is in the old, which
is accustomed to devote itself and its powers to the service of
another principle ; and thus the enemy has still dominion over
a portion of that which belongs to the unity of the personal
life. Now, since the Christian is determined by whatever
determines him on either side, the bad as well as the good, he
can assert himself as a new man, in spite of this persistent
complication with sin, only by showing that he suffers
unwillingly the impure influences that affect him, and so is
foreign to them in his inmost nature ; by setting his will in con-
scious opposition to them, and casting them off by an inward
process of disseverance from them, which always goes deeper
and deeper and costs him painful self-denial. The new per-
sonality, in which sin has lost its power, can show resistance
to the sin of the old nature that still cleaves to it, only by
opposing and weakening temptations through self-discipline ;
and this discipline must be pursued in such a way that as
the new personality grows stronger it ever continues to sub-
jugate new portions of that region from which temptations
arise, and to make them living organs of the Good. There is
no vacuum in the personal life. Whatever part of it remains
unsubdued by the new man finds a master for itself, or rather,
it keeps the old one, who does not abdicate of his own accord.
There is the closest connection between the subsistence of the
new life and the death of the old, between the preservation of
faith, love, and hope on the one hand, and Christian purifi-
cation and self-discipline on the other, and it is by means
of this connection that growth is maintained. The new man
can only live at the cost of the old.

Accordingly, (a) with regard to the maintenance of the new
man, it cannot take place unless we engage in a warfare with
the evil that is in us. It is a dangerous illusion to regard the
state of grace as a state of rest ; for sin does not and cannot

MAINTENANCE AND GROWTH. ASCETICS. 405

remain at peace (Gal. v. 17). Peace without conflict there-
fore would be overthrow, a surrender to evil. The strife
ceases only with the death of the one combatant or the other.
(^) Likewise, the groivth or strengthening of the new man
can only take place at the cost of the old, that is, by the
powers which were in the service of the latter being made
organs of the new man (Eora. vi. 15-22). And finally, (7)
growth and maintenance are combined in the closest way. For
it is self-evident that there can be no growth without main-
tenance. Inversely, self-maintenance in the form of exercise
of our powers, as, for instance, in conflict with sin, tends to
strengthen them. Continued purification and exercise result
not only in daily renewal of our inmost spirit, but also in
growth, which ensues as virtue becomes habitual. Growth
consists in this, that the old nature, which not only has
never hitherto been taken possession of by the new person,
but has been under the sway of ungodly and unregulated
propensities, is more and more made subject to the new person
and becomes its willing organ. By this means virtue becomes
habit and a second nature, and takes the forms of fidelity,
stcdfastness, sober -mindcdiiess [cf. § 43, 2, p. 362. — Ed.].
Even involuntarily also the maintenance of the new per-
sonality becomes its growth. For the spiritual vitality it
possesses, acting from within outwards, impels it to develop
all its individual powers ; while it is continually being en-
riched by its assimilation of something new, derived from the
world, from God, from increasing self-knowledge, etc. But of
this we shall treat farther on.

3. Ascetics is the doctrine of the 2^urification, 'pj^escrvation,
and strengthening of the spiritual life} Since faith, love, and
hope constitute Christian virtue in its totality, any system of
purification adopted for the purpose of preserving and exercis-
ing the new life must be related to all the three ; for none of
them can be healthy apart from the others. Now any one of
these virtues may, of course, be specially weak and imperilled ;

^ Literature : Ktinhard, I.e. iv. § 416-v. § 478. Schmid, I.e. pp. 63 sq.,
589-615. Sclileiermacher, Christl. Sitte, p. 141 sq. Grundlinien einer Kritik
der hisherigen Sittenlehre, 307 sq. Eothe, I.e., 1st ed. vol. iii. § 869-873,
878-894. Martensen, I.e. ii. 1, p. 485 sq. Zockler, Kritische Geschichte der
Askese, 1863.

406 § 48. SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHEISTIAA^ CIIARACTER.

but it is specially important that the life of faith be strength-
ened, because the impulsive power of the whole life pro-
ceeds from it, and it alone makes possible a progress which is
real growth, and not merely something acquired by external
practice. It is important above everything else that fellow-
ship with God in Christ through the Holy Spirit, which has
been checked by the impurity of sin, be re-established by
means of a course of conduct chiefly of a purifying kind. But
now the question arises : when we engage in self-purification,
in order to subdue the predominance of the life of sense, are
we at liberty to impose upon ourselves privation, abstinence,
seclusion, vigils, sparing enjoyment of food and drink, in
short, fasting of every sort, whatever is comprised in so-called
negative Asceticism ?- And then, with reference to positive
exercise, — ought there to be actions in which exercise is the
sole aim, or ought exercise only to take such forms as are of
moral worth in themselves, and consequently be always allied
with moral production ?

]\Iany distorted ideas have crept into the Roman and Greek
Chiircli with reference to asceticism, so that the very word
has almost an evil ring in it. Here renunciations and self-
tortures, voluntarily imposed or taken upon oneself, are
accounted good, meritorious works and a proof of virtue,
while no attention is paid to the motive and disposition which
prompted them. As if mere abstinence from enjoyment, from
the possession of property, from marriage, or the undergoing
of pain were in itself something well-pleasing to God, although
such abstinence or suffering does no good to any one ! This
would only be the case if these temporal blessings or relations
were evil in themselves, or if God took pleasure in the pain of
the creature for its own sake; — and this would be Manicheeism.
The " stylites " of the Greek Church and the ascetics of the
Roman have performed wonders in the way of exercises of
this kind, and after the fashion of athletes have gained admir-
ing spectators. It is clear that anything of this sort is
reprehensible, which is of no moral assistance to the man
himself and is of no use to others. Such pretended saints, in
all that they do, are not in the least occupied with the realiza-
tion of any good aim, they do not have any good end in view
which they mean to attain when they have trained their

PERMISSIBILITY OF ASCETICISM. 407

bodies to be serviceable iustruments ; on the contrary, they
injure the body, and set up the mere formal display of
power, either of a negative or positive kind, as in itseK a
good work or an end in itself.

But while such asceticism is reprehensible, the question
is not yet settled whether asceticism is morally permissible.
Schleiermacher,^ Marteusen," and Eothe ^ call attention to the
following considerations against it.

(1.) An action is morally good when in it the good as a
wdiole is willed, as well as some particular good ; and con-
sequently it must involve a reference to the common aim of
all moral action, the realization of the objective supreme
Good in the world. Hence — it is urged — action of an
ascetic nature, since it is directed merely to the moral per-
fecting of oneself, is morally blameworthy. But it is quite
conceivable that asceticism may be practised for the pur-
pose of self-improvement, because the latter is held to be the
necessary preparation for working in the best interests of tlie
whole. These two things are quite reconcilable.

(2.) The second question is of more importance : Can the
practice of asceticism actually promote one's moral improve-
ment ? Are we at liberty to recommend that by means of
asceticism a supply of moral force should be stored up, to be
afterwards used with vigour in the concrete relations of life,
just as a soldier has to learn his drill, certain formal acts and
movements, in order to prepare him for war ? May we per-
form actions whose value is entirely formal, in order to learn
to act with full moral power ? Is not such power only to be
gained by means of acts that have aims of a real and not a
formal kind as their contents, just as we can only learn to
swim by going into the water ; and is it not therefore the
case that we only come to act morally by practice in a moral
element, namely, in the spheres of actual life ? It is certainly
true that action which effects absolutely nothing, or is purely
formal, is not moral action. But one's own person is such an
element as we have spoken of, and here it is requisite that
labour be expended, though not without regard to the Good

^ Kritih der Stttenlehre, p. 307 sq.

^ System der Moralphilosophk, p. 74 ; I.e. ii. 1, p. 485.

^ I.e. iii. p. 113.

408 § 48. SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHKISTIAN CHARACTEE.

in general. It is at least certain, that no one can accom-
plish anything for the good of others until he possesses
virtuous energy in himself. Thus we see that, in accordance
with the right moral order of duties, each one should first of
all attend to the strength of virtue in himself. And here
even abstinences and practices that are self-imposed have
their moral right, for through them the superiority of the flesh
is broken, and temperance and sober-mindedness are secured.
Without these, faith is impossible, and if faith were gone there
could be no origination on the part of man, flowing from the
living fountain of his virtuous energy.^ While we are minors
we must undergo training of every kind.

But we have still to distinguish between the asceticism
which is permissible in the life hefore faith, and that which
peculiarly belongs to the Christian life as such. Previous to
faith, ascetic practice cannot be the outcome of the power of
Christian virtue ; but it may be the outcome of a longing
for it, and so its aim must be to remove everything that
stands in the way of faith and of the birth of the new
man. Tor this end, still self-communinfr self-knowledcre, and
temperance are means to be employed. Hence abstinence
societies are quite legitimate, in which those members who
have greater moral strength impose restraints upon themselves
for the sake of other weaker ones, in order that by such
fellowship the latter may be led to self-discipline.

In the case of Christians, on the other hand, everything —
fasting of every kind included — must proceed from faith,
from the pleasure that is taken in the growth of the new
man (for whose sake hindrances are taken out of the M-ay),
from the desire for spiritual increase (Matt. vi. 16 f.), and
from the dissatisfaction that the Christian feels with the

^ Accordingly, we agree with Eothe in the following particulars. On the
one side, he rejects that asceticism which is nothing but ascetic, that is to
say, whicli is exclusively taken up with the individual self ; but, on the other
side, he acknowledges that asceticism to be good and moral which diffuses
itself throughout the whole of the moral life, as long as the latter has not
arrived at its full power. It follows as a matter of course, that when those
discords in the individual have been overcome, which asceticism was meant to
bring to an end, there remains no further need for it. It likewise follows
that the moral necessity for asceticism, which exists in this life, is matter
for humility, so that asceticism can never become the subject of ostentation
nor the ground of meritoriousness (cf. iii. pp. 114-117).

MEANS OF VIRTUE. 409

humiliating want of freedom which he still experiences.
Tasting of this sort is no mere sadness of countenance ; it
is a manifestation of freedom and of the pleasure that is
felt in the new life : it does not arise from pride or vanity,
but always contains something that is humbling, the sense,
namely, that it is still required. But at the same time it is
productive, for it promotes the freedom of the Christian ; and,
because it is a strengthening of the moral spirit, it is an
increase of moral good which will yet become of general
benefit. Such asceticism — springing as it does from the
virtuous energy of the Christian, which is ever desirous of
growth — also has in itself a standard to oppose to subversive
extravagances of every kind. For while it is the aim of
the Christian to overcome those habits and tendencies in
his natural energies which are opposed to his spiritual life,
he seeks all the while to take these energies themselves and
preserve them, by making them the organs of his Christian
freedom.^

4. Means of Virtue. Since, in accordance with what has
been said, even mature Christians may and ought to practise
asceticism, we have now to inquire as to the measures or
means ^ to be employed, in order to bring to a successful
issue that process of self-training (in the way of purification
and exercise) by which the Christian develops his virtuous
energy to its full extent. This is the doctrine of the means
of virtue, which has, indeed, been often stated in such a way
as to split up the unity of virtue, or make of it a mere
patchwork, and consequently to give countenance to the
spirit of legalism. The means of virtue are the ethical
correlate of the means of grace, with which they stand in
close connection. Means of virtue are acts of man, means
of grace are aets of God. The former are such acts as have
for their aim the promotion of personal virtue. Strictly
speaking, to the Chris'tian all the relations of life, suffering
included, and especially his vocation and private relations,
must be means of grace. Nevertheless there are also special

^ [It is self-evident that, in the author's opinion, the manner and measure of
ascetic, practice must be left to the judgment of the individual conscience. — Ed.]

2 Cf. Rothe, 1st ed. iii. p. 120 scj. § 878-894. Reinhard, vol. iv. § 416 to
vol. V. § 478.

410 § 48. SUBSISTENCE OF THE CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.

arrangements, partly in existence already, partly to be found
out by the Christian himself, which serve to strengthen
virtue. Eenewal, by means of which virtue is maintained
and grows, is partly negative — purification, partly positive
— exercise (§ 48, 2). It embraces primarily the maintenance
and strengthening of faith, but it also includes the invigorat-
ing of the intellect and the will. Now a course of purification
and exercise which has faith as its object demands the so-
called religious means of virtue ; while those means of virtue
which are directed to the purification and strengthening of
the intellect and the will, may be characterized as moral in
the narrower sense of the word.

{a) Eeligious oneans of virtue. To these belong prayer,
contemplation, use of the word of God, and sacrament, and
also association Math the Christian community in which these
are the ruling standard. All these, while they have a religious
effect in the way of purifying and training the Christian, not
only benefit faith, but also do good to the intellect and the
will.

(h) Moral means of virtue. To these belong: (a) so far
as purification is concerned, self-examination on the side of
the intellect (1 Cor. xi. 28), dcnOi penitential discipline on the
side of the will. In self-examination, calm introspection,
in the light of God's word and in solitude, holds the most
important place ; while penitential discipline consists chiefly
in fighting against the predominant influence of the carnal
nature, and in humbling ourselves before God, also before
our neighbour should circumstances require.

{jB) The positive culture and increase of knowledge or of
Christian ivisdorn are gained principally through our contem-
plating the image of Christ as our ideal; but it is also of
service to have intercourse with rich spiritual minds in
literature or in life. Further, we acquire virtuous habits of
will, or of love, partly by learning perfect self-command (so
that our sensuous nature, in particular, is always becoming a
more pliable organ for the spirit of love that is in us), and
partly by accustoming ^ ourselves to forget and sacrifice our-
selves, and to open up our heart and mind more and more
in love towards others. Finally, it is requisite that we
^ Giving, for example, must be learned by practising giring.

vows. 411

appoint for ourselves a regular order of life and division of
time — and here our choice of associates takes an important
place — -in order to afford full satisfaction to all that is required
for our purification and growth. Further particulars may be
deferred to the next division, in which, as we have now spoken
of the origin and subsistence of the new personality, we shall
treat of its self-manifestation and self-development. For the
outward activity also of the Christian must, as we have seen,
iioiu from the principle of virtite implanted within him, and
must therefore be a self-manifestation and self-development.

Note. — Are vows, too, means of ^'irtue '. From what has
already been said, it follows that all vows are reprehensible
which result in an arbitrary imposition of laws upon ourselves.
All tlie powers that we possess belong to the Lord, and we
may not arbitrarily dispose of them for the sake of a vow which
has no moral necessity in it ; for we are not our own. The
law, which is the will of God, lays claim to the whole life ; and
this condemns monastic vows, pilgrimages, vows concerning
almsgiving, mortification, and whatever is akin to these. But
is it in all cases reprehensible to make a vow ? such a vow,
for instance, as to be obedient to something which is really
God's will ? It has been held that even here a vow is irreligious,
because it makes it apj^ear as if apart from the vow we were
not bound to obey the divine will, and therefore, as if that
which is God's will had no binding power until our promise
was made. Or else — it is urged — a vow makes it appear as
if it were entirely within the free power of man to fulfil the
commandment, as if he were not dependent upon God's grace
to enable him to do so. Now where the one or the other of
these is the case, a vow is no doubt repreliensible, but such
errors are by no means necessarily connected with vows.
Vows only presuppose that man can refuse to acknowledge
even that which is morally incumbent on him ; that, while God
is always ready to help a sincere will, man may, on the one hand,
refuse to do a certain duty, or, on the other, may make up his
mind to be obedient to God. Hence a vow simply means that
he fixes this resolution, and enforces it upon himself, as the
aim of his future unremitting efforts. Thus making a vow
is closely connected with faith \_" Gelolen" and " Glauhen"],
Unless it were morally permissible to make such a vow as this,
which is identical with the resolve to lead a better life, we
should be landed in ethical Quietism, and man's share in the
work of his own moral culture denied. It follows, however,
from what has just been said, that, strictly speaking, there is

412 § 49. SELF-MANIFESTATIOX OF THE CHEISTIAN CHARACTER.

only 071C vow, a vow referrini:^- to the whole life and corre-
sponding to the one all-embracing covenant M'hicli faith makes
with Christ in baptism. This one life-vow of fidelity to Christ
{confirmation) comprehends everything. Vows which cannot
find a place in it are not allowable, and especially a vow that
involves something which is not a duty, but merely a project
that can only be carried out at the cost of actually existing
duties.

THIED SECTION".

THE SELF-MANIFESTATION OR SELF-DEVELOPMENT OF THE
CHRISTIAN CHARACTER.

§49.

The new personality is even in itself a part of the highest
good, by reason of its inherent filial relationship to
God, and it is so not merely on the ground of the
enjoyment and blessedness which it involves, but because
in its very essence and being it is thoroughly good and
pure. And more than this ; each separate person-
ality, as Christian, is a good of an individual kind,
for the natural individuality of each is sanctified and
brought to pure and vigorous maturity. There are as
many Christian characters as there are Christian per-
sons. But the Christian personality is a good only
because, by acting out its own inner life, and thus mani-
festing what it is, it is constantly engaged in the work
of increasing the highest good.

Chapter First. The IVIanifestation of the Godlike Person-
ality in its Absolute Eelation.
Chapter Second. In Eelation to Itself.
Chapter Third. In Eelation to Others.^

1 [With reference to this division the following remarks may be made : —
(1) According to the author's view, the doctrine of the Christian jjersonality is by
no means a mere doctrine of virtue ; the personality is itself also a part of the
supreme good, and shows itself in the acts and works which duty demands.
Hence the latter are spoken of as the outward manifestation of the person-

§ 50. THE CHRISTIAN PERSONALITY AS EVINCING PIETY. 413

CHAPTEE FIEST.

THE GODLIKE PERSONALITY IN ITS ABSOLUTE RELATION ; OR THE
CHRISTIAN PERSONALITY AS EVINCING PIETY.

§ 50.

A. — Christian Piety in itself.

Christian piety is the immediate activity in which is embodied
the filial relation towards the Triune God. Eooted in
faith, it is full of joyful thankfulness for the salvation
that has been experienced ; in the presence of affliction
and sin it is at once trustful, courageous, and humble.
And having regard, not merely to God's gifts, but also
directly to God Himself, it is the loving response of a
child to the fatherly love of God. Nor does the child
ever forget reverential fear, which, on the contrary,
increases with every advance in the knowledge of the
deep things of God, of His majesty and love.

[The Literature.— Eothe, 1st ed. iii. § 987-999.]

1. The object of the Christian's love is God in Christ, God
Himself, and not merely His gifts, Matt. xxii. 40 ; 1 John
iv. 19; Col. iii. 17; 1 John ii. 5, 15; Jas. iv. 4, 8; cf.
Deut. vi. 5. From passages such as Matt. xxv. 40, according
to which we ought to love Christ in our brethren, it does not
follow, as some think, that we can or ought to love the Head
in the members only, and to love God in men only. God is
also a personal being in and by Himself, and we can enter
into moral relationship wdth Him. Love to God and love to

ality. (2) In all its activities the Christian personality is a unity ; and there-
fore faith, love, and ■wisdom (fidelity, stedfastness, and sober-mindedness) are
operative throughout them all. (3) The self-manifestation of the personality,
or the active energy it displays, is divided according to the objects to which it
is directed, because here we are dealing not merely with a doctrine of virtue, but
with the personality as engaged and manifested in the performance of acts of
duty and the production of external works. Hence the author is occupied
with a complete delineation of the personality, in which, as Christian, virtue,
duty, and good are already naturally united. — Ed.]

414 § 50. THE CHKISTIAN PEESONALITY AS EVINCING PIETY.

man, while in themselves inseparable, are nevertheless distinct,
1 John iv. 20 ; cf. iv. 9, 10. Further, when it is treated as
idolatry to pay divine honours to Christ^ something is imputed
to Christianity from which it knows itself to be free, viz.
polytheism. At the same time, it is certainly true that the
Church regards Christ as Eedeemer and Mediator because He
is the revelation of the personal love of God, not only the
way, but also the truth and the life ; not a mediator who
separates us from God, but rather one in whom is God Him-
self ; so that we see and find the Father in the Son, who is
the absolute image of the Father. We love God truly as a
Father when we love Him in the Son, His perfect revelation.
Since love to God in Christ surpasses all other love, even
that belonging to marriage and family relationships, Matt.
xvi. 24, X. 37, it is the principle that ought to regulate all
love. All individual forms of good are subordinate to the
good of being a child of God ; if any other good takes the
highest place in the heart, then idolatry arises. It is this
which secures our freedom in all circumstances and fortunes.
The good of fellowship with God, which the world cannot
take away, is able to elicit spiritual joy even from suffermg,
and to sanctify our joy, Jas. v. 13. But love to God
assumes the chief place in the heart in such wise as to be
the germ and motive power of all other love which is of a
truly moral kind, and keeps its due place. All sin has been
defined by Augustine as " amor inordinatus." N"o individual
thing can be truly loved as a good, unless in it we love the
Good as a whole, which exists originally and personally in God.
2. The subjective side of Christian piety or love to God.
This is, first of all, according to Christ's example, grateful love
for spiritual and physical gifts, Matt. xi. 2 5 ; John vi. 11,
xi. 41 ; Eph. v. 20 ; also for gracious acts of God, above all,
redemption and forgiveness of sin, and for blessings conferred
upon others, 1 Thess. v. 18 ; 2 Cor. i. 11, iv. 15. But
especially is it thankful for love itself; and here gratitude
rises to the very fountainhead of the Good, and becomes
praise of God. Every virtue which is evinced may be derived
from pious gratitude, as is done by the Heidelberg Catechism,
but contentment and patience more especially are inseparable
' rf. System of Christian Doctrine, iv. § 127, 7.

REVERENCE AND LOVE. 415

from it. A pretentious and discontented man is always un-
thankful. On the other hand, Christian gratitude is also the
mother of trust. Ho who has bestowed upon us the best of
all things in Christ, will not withhold any smaller gift, Heb.
ii. 13, iii. 6, x. 35 ; Eph. iii. 12 ; 1 John iv. 17 ; Eom. viii.
15, 32; Gal. iv. 6; PhH. i. 6.

3. Reverence and Love. The Christian's love to God, being
filial love, is a union of opposites — of reverence and childlike
trust, Eeverence seems to keep its object at a distance,
while love encourages familiarity. In Christian love to God,
however, there is none of the fear of the Old Testament,
Eom. viii. 15; 1 John iv. 18; while, nevertheless, it is not
irreverent, not a love, so to speak, such as one has to a
companion. There is aitm in it, Heb. xii. 28, that which is
also called " (f)6^o<i " in the New Testament sense of the word.
It dreads extending its fellowship with God to undue famili-
arity. It is not love on equal terms. It rests on gratitude ;
the Author of mental and spiritual life ever remains an
absolute authority to His child ; this is a part of the child's
piety. But the Christian, too, like a child that looks up to
his father, looks up to heaven, into which he has an entrance,
Heb. X. 19 f, nay, of which he is a citizen, Eph. ii. 19. Thus
the majesty of God does not alienate but attract him, and is
the sure ground upon which his childlike confidence relies.

4. The filial relationship exists even before perfection, even
along with much weakness, error, and sin ; nay, without it
perfection could never be attained ; it is the highest personal
good, because it is fellowship of the individual person with
the Triune God, not merely so-called moral fellowship, but
participation in God's life and spirit, 2 Pet. i. 4. The
believer is a brother of Christ, the first - born, Eom.
viii. 29; 1 Cor. xv. 20, 49; Col. i. 18; Heb. ii. 11, 17.
He knows that he is thought, known, and loved by God,
that he has been translated into the sphere of light,
and given the hope of a crown that fadeth not away, Col.
i. 12 ; 1 Pet. v. 4. The separate moments in this good of
sonsJiip are — (1) on the negative side, emancipation from a
state of disunion with oneself and with God, Eom. v. 1, from
the consciousness of guilt and j^unishment, Eom. viii. 1, and
in addition, freedom from legalism and fear, Eom. viii. 15,

416 § 51. CHRISTIAN PIETY AS CONTEMPLATION AND PEAYER.

Gal, iv. 6, and from hondac/c to human authority, Gal. v. 1 ;

1 Cor. vii. 23. (2) Its positive moments are — the feeling of
peace through experience of the love of God, Eom. v. 5, true
knowledge of God, the unfathomable depths of God, and above
all of His love, being opened up through the Son of His
love, and the neiu irrinciijle of love to God. All this is
(Eom. viii. 21) comprehended in the "glorious liberty of the
children of God" which the iiaTaiOT7]<i of the world and its
ills cannot affect, for ills themselves now become •uaihda,
and consequently benefits, Heb. xii. 5. ISTay, mention is even
made of a (rvii^acrCKeveiv of believers with Christ, Eom. v. 1 7 ;

2 Tim. ii. 12. But love to God has also an active side.

§ 51.

B. — Christian Piety as Inward Activity, or Contemplation
and Prayer.

The (inward) activity of piety as such consists in — (1) a
turning of the soul from without inwards, i.e. spiritual
contemplation, or knowledge in the character of edifica-
tion ; (2) a movement from within outwards toward
God, i.e. prayer, which consists partly of petition and
intercession, partly of thanksgiving, adoration, and praise,
and attains perfection both of form and contents by being
offered in the name of Jesus. [Cf. System of Christian
Doctrine, ii. § 48 ; cf. p. 446 : ii. 2, § 127, 6, 7, 146&.]

The LiTEiiATUKE. — Stiiudlin, Geschichte der Lehre von den
Vorstellungcn vom Gebet, 1824. Fenelon, Discours sur Ice prih-c.
Lober, Das Lelcn in Gott. Die Lehre vom Gebet, 1860. Gess,
Vortrag ilber das Gebet. Eieger, Herzenspostille, VJ4l2, pp. 40 f.,
412 £, 765 f. [Schleiermacher, Der Christliehe Glaube, ii. p.
430 f. Monrad, Aus der Welt des Gebets, 2nd ed. 1878.
Culmann, Christl. Ethik, i. p. 157 f. Eitschl, Rechtfertigung
unci Versohnung, iii. c. 9. Martensen, I.e. ii. 1, p. 207 f.
Eothe, 2nd ed. ii. pp. 173-194. Hofmann, Theol. Ethik, pp.
129-155.]

1. The Christian has access to the fountain of a higher
spiritual vitality than that which is open to other men, a
vitality which is not of an external kind, either physical or

CONTEMPLATION. 417

psycliical, but is inward and spiritual, Eom. xii. 1 1 ; 2 Tim.
i. 6, ava^coTTvpelv ; Col. i. 11. From this fountain there flow
to him quickening influences, that aflect the soul, nay, even
the body. The irvevixa imparts living efficiency to the higher
impulses, strengthens intelligence and will, and quickens
feeling, and all these effects in union constitute " inspiration."
Inspiration in its highest and purest form is no ecstatic
excitement, but a steady, pure flame, coupled with clearness of
spiritual vision, while life preserves its steadiness and balance.
Thus it is that spiritual warmth of life which is opposed alike
to coldness and lukewarmness, Eev. iii. 15, 16 (■x\(,ap6<;,
^jrvxpo'i, ^ec7T09). The Christian has a ferment in his spirit,
(^eeiv TTvevfiari,, Eom. xii. 11, a good f^Xo?, that in his inward
life shows itself specially in the desire to be occupied with
(rod and divine things. This desire is carried into effect in
the two forms of contemplation and prayer, which mutually
quicken each other, and are characteristic of the pious life,
both individual and social.

2. Necessity of contemplation and prayer. These are neces-
sary, not only as a manifestation of piety, but also as a means
of strength, as a religious means of virtue (§ 48, 4). The sin
which cleaves to us is always making us languid and indolent,
Heb. xii. 12. In this state of matters our work is apt to be
carried on from a mere force of habit due to some former
higher impulse that we have formerly received, whilst conflict
and victory call for the constant renewal of such impulses.
Hence we must collect ourselves again, and not let ourselves
live upon our own strength, for, in other words, this would
be to fall into Pelagianism. The fundamental relation of the
Christian never changes ; he seeks, by means of contemplation
and prayer, to derive power for good from the one original
Good, viz. the personal God in Christ; and for this end,
whatever good he already possesses is brought into requisition.
We will consider more closely —

I. Contemplation.

§ 52. Continuation.

I. Contemplation.

1. The necessity of contemplation is borne witness to in
various ways by Scripture and its injunctions, see John v. 39 ;

2 D

418 § 52. CONTINUATION.

1 Cor. X. 11 ; Acts xvii. 11 ; 2 Tim. iii. 14 f. ; 2 Pet. i. 19 ,
in which passages sacred Scripture is frequently pointed
out as a means of edification, on the ground of its being the
record of the chain of saving acts which God wrought on
humanity, and of its presenting us with the classic form of
piety. And here the Old Testament is included along with
the New, but with this qualification, that it is Christianity
which first gives to it its true interpretation, 2 Cor. iii. ; 1 Cor.
X. 1 f. In contemplation, the spirit, collecting itself from
amid the distracting " many things " of life, and falling back
upon the " one thing," Luke x, 42, breaks loose from that flood
of daily thoughts, cares, and occupations in which its vision so
soon becomes limited and dim, brings all things into the light
of the divine, and views them in a religious aspect, sub sjjecie
ceternitatis. This has a purifying effect, and aids self-examina-
tion and self-knowledge. Through contemplation we are
consciously raised from time to time above external things,
instead of becoming their slaves, and regard them in some
measure as God does. But from the one thing we again
return to the many, and see in the world the revelation of
God and the sphere of His activity, and thus consecrate our
daily work and the field where it is plied, be it small or great.
Let us now dwell upon the nature, the object, and the mode of
contemplation.

2. The essential nature of contemplation is cognition under
the character of edification, otKoSo/jbt], as is shown by the fact
that when contemplation fulfils its aim, it naturally passes
over into prayer. For although contemplation is religious
cognitio7i, it is not wholly or even chiefly taken up with the
extension of knowledge, as if it could be completely satisfied
with making new acquisitions. But Christian contemplation,
having edification as its aim, seeks, above all things, to give
life to the knowledge that is already possessed, and to main-
tain the living stedfastness of the spirit in the truth. At the
same time, of course, new views of truth are continually
opening up of themselves. Thus to make truth that is old,
yet ever new, a living power in the hearts of men is the main
art in preacliing, and a difficult one. It is easy enough to say
something new, especially in such an intellectual age as our
own ; it is still easier to launch out into constant repetition

THE OBJECT OF CONTEMPLATION. 419

of traditional dogmas and formulas. But it is a more difficult
matter for the preacher actually so to place his hearers in the
kingdom of truth, that they observe for themselves, that they
breathe, feel, and think in it as in a really existing world, and
feel that they are built up on a divine foundation. But
wherever this is done a divine work has been accomplished, a
part of the progressive history of redemption, of the history of
the divine life in the world, has taken place, Eph. ii. 20 fi'.,
iv. 12, 29 ; 1 Cor. xiv. 26, x. 23. Without such substantial
oIko8o/j,7] every new thing soon becomes old, and loses its
charm and its savour. Christian contemplation accomplishes
the ends we have mentioned when it is not merely objective
thinking or a statement of the Jidcs historica, whether of a
learned, scientific, dialectic, or speculative kind, but when it is
aflame with living faith and love to God, and consequently
the whole soul is engaged in it.

3. The object of contemplation is God and His deeds in
creation and the government of the universe. Its most
important field is history, especially the sacred history that is
stored up in the Bible. Since the deeds recorded in sacred
history reveal what is eternal, sacred history is both fruitful
and applicable with regard to the present and the future. It
is well known that simple people who read nothing but
the Bible, nevertheless gain from it a treasure of Christian
wisdom for the conduct of life. The Old Testament supplies
us with a rich history of families and peoples, as well as of
individual lives ; a connected account, typical for all time, of
the divine education of humanity, a key that also enables
us to understand the history of Christian nations. For the
latter, too, may and ought to become more and more an object
for Christian contemplation, since it would be unbelief to
suppose that in the Christian age God's guidance and govern-
ment are less real and have less purpose in them than in
ancient times. Were this done more than it is, and had we
such a clear, religious comprehension of the way in which
each nation has been led, as the historical books of the
Old Testament afford with regard to the history of Israel,
we should have something substantial wherewith to counter-
balance the theories of the moment, something to oppose to
the distraction and confusion of judgment caused by th3 aber-

420 § 52. CONTINUATION.

niLioiis of the present time, and the discordant voices that are
heard in literature, in journals, etc. It is much to be desired
that we had also a literature clearly and truthfully exhibiting
the deliverances God has wrought and the deeds He has done
for "humanity and for our own nation, and deeply impressing
upon our people their conversion to Christianity. A begin-
ning has been made on the side of the Church for diffusing
among the people information of this kind concerning the
lieroes of the Church and the great deeds of God in the
Church's history. This is the idea of the Evangelical Christian
Calendar, an idea already entertained by Melanchthon. And
from the calendar annals might arise.

But not only history, nature too is an object of religious
contemplation for the Christian. It is true that nature is
perishable, Eom. viii. 20 ; but still it is a sphere where God
reveals Himself, Ps. xix., xxix., xxxiii., civ., cxlviii., Eom. i. 20,
and intercourse with it refreshes botli soul and senses, and is
therefore of great importance for the work of virtue in which
the Christian is engaged. Our Saviour, too, was far from exhibit-
ing any super-spirituality or alienation towards nature. His
eye dwelt with love upon the lilies of the field and the birds
of heaven. His parables especially evince His holy love of
nature, and show at the same time how He recognises the
inner harmony that subsists between the first creation and
the second. To Him nature furnishes types or similitudes
of those laws of life which appear in their higher potency
in His kingdom. He preaches that God provides for animated
nature also, and from it He derives the fairest images in that
realistic language of His which is so full of plastic force,
John X. 1 ff., XV. 1 ff. To Him God is present and visible in
nature also. But none the less, God is to Him, not merely
the God of nature, but a Father. Our religious contempla-
tion of nature and history must not, however, so lose sight
of the real world, as merely to rise to universal views of
the divine attributes ; the important thing is to lay hold, as
it were, of God in His living activity in nature and history.
When this is done, contemplation is altogether detached from
mere curiosity or the mere accumulation of knowledge — that
is, from the deification of nature or of man. The tliircl main
object of contemplation is oneself, and all contemplation must.

SELF-INSPECTIOX. 421

in the last resort, liave reference to sclf-lcnowkdfje, 1 Cor. xi. 28.
Even the old heathen saues recognised the importance of
self-knowledge. Here self-inspection, which is a means of
purification and growth for the Christian, must be taken into
consideration ; and as this is an important subject, we will
add a few remarks as to the right manner of conducting
self-inspection, and so acquiring self-knowledge.

4. The kind and manner of CJiristian contemplation in
self-inspection. On the subjective side, stillness and collected-
ness are requisite, in order that the objective means — the
word and sacraments of God, and the contemplation of nature
and history — may take eifect. Christ by His example
])ermits and recommends us not to be always in society,
but to seek solitude from time to time, either in the stillness
of nature or in the closet. Matt. vi. 6 ; John vi. 15; Luke
vi. 12. It is no good sign for a man's conscience or for his
spirituality, when he shuns solitude, whether it be that
he is afraid of his own thoughts, or because he finds self-
contemplation to be a weariness and a duty which he has not
strength to discharge. Self-examination and self-inspection
may be steadily maintained by the use of diaries, which
are a means of resisting frivolity and distraction, and are
fitted to accustom us to turn our attention upon ourselves,
and to give account of our day's work or of the different
portions of our time. Still there are also dangers to be
avoided here. Slackness of conscience and self-love are ever
ready to make self- inspection an occasion of self- display,
of comparing ourselves with others, Luke xviii. 11 ff., of self-
complacency, and of taking a poisonous pleasure in self.
Such Narcissus-like thoughts unhinge us, and must be expelled
by the stern earnestness of God's holy law. Again, when the
conscience is more active, Ave must avoid the danger of Ijrooding
over our sins, a habit which, taking the form of self-accusation,
may either cause us to feel pleased with ourselves (in secret,
at least) on account of our very self-censure, or may quite
dishearten us. Instead of this, the Christian looks at himself
as a whole, and in the consciousness of his own impotence,
fixes his gaze in childlike confidence on Christ, who alone
has positive power to heal. For even though he knew all
his sins one by one, the knowledge would not cure him. The

422 § 53. CONTINUATION.

important matter is, that his knowledge of himself as a whole
should impress him powerfully, not that he should lose him-
self amid the casual details of his life. Speaking generally,
self-inspection must not degenerate into a magnifying of our
own small importance. Nor does it afford any real help to
the Christian merely to gaze unweariedly at his sins and
infirmities, instead of comprehending all this multiplicity in
one piercing, humbling glance, and going with it to the true
Physician. Forward to the goal, upward to Christ — this must
be the cry of him who is in earnest about his soul. Self-inspec-
tion which does not draw us to this centre, however severe
and earnest it may seem to be, nevertheless misses the funda-
mental error of all, and is but a distraction.

With men of a more earnest stamp the habit of brooding
has special reference to indications of regeneration, and these
are only too apt to be laid down in an arbitrary way. But
we must not forget that it is not signs that make us good,
but that a good tree bringeth forth good fruits. If a man is
troubled lest he be not among the elect or the converted, let
him only see to it that he has faith, that he looks to Christ,
that he keeps the doors of his soul wide open to receive the
gifts of Christ, among which in due season will be numbered
an established heart. For our future we need and can find
no other guarantee than the faithful and gracious purpose of
Christ, Phil. i. 6, who will perfect the work that has been
begun. The chief means of fellowship with Christ, however,
is communion with Him in prayer.

§ 53. Contimtation.

II. PllAYER.

For the Literature, cf. § 51.

1. The simplest definition of prayer is that it is the talk
or conversation of the soul with God as a present Being ; not
a monologue, as was the prayer of the Pharisee in the temple,
Luke xviii. 11.^ In numberless passages the New Testament
exhorts us to prayer, Matt. vi. 5, xxvi. 41 ; Luke xviii. 1,
xxii. 43 ; John xvi. 23 ; 1 John iii. 19-22 ; Eom. viii. 26.

PRAYER. 423

Christ Himself prayed in the form of petition, thanksgiving,
and praise, Matt. xi. 25, xiv. 23 ; Luke vi. 12 ; Matt. xxvi.
36, 39, 42,44; John xvii., xi. 41. Prayer is the specific
means of growth in the inner life. Other things may stimu-
late us to use the power we already have, but prayer increases
our stock of spiritual life by drawing down upon us in richer
measure the fulness of the Holy Spirit, and thus making our
human life divine. Through prayer Christ Himself was made
perfect ; and so are all the children of God. Thus it is a
means of virtue in quite a special sense, and not merely a
manifestation of the life already possessed. But prayer is
intended to lead the Christian life to a purer form of mani-
festation, to childlike converse with God ; and this is in itself
a valuable good. The wings of the soul are strengthened
through prayer ; fervour, zeal, and enthusiasm are kindled, and
by this means our natural gifts are inspired and become
charismata. But further, in learning to pray aright, watch-
fulness is a great assistance. " Watch and pray " — self-
recollection ; Matt. xxvi. 41, xxiv. 42; 1 Pet. v. 8; Eev.
iii. 2 ; 1 Cor, xvi. 13. Watchfulness and sobriety of mind
remind us at once of our own weakness and of the power and
love of God. Seeking God presupposes self-distrust, and peace
presupposes seeking God ; and we must seek God before we
can have peace. We can, moreover, only learn to pray by
praying, however awkward our attempts may be. The
principal rule for successful prayer is first of all to will to
pray rightly, and therefore we must first of all ask for the spirit
of prayer, to be enabled to pray aright. By this means we
combat dissipation, dulness, dryness, and the spirit which
shuts itself up within itself. The suppliant confesses that
he is involved in all these failings, but against his will ; and
so he gets the blessing of collectedness, lively aspiration,
clearness and openness to the Spirit of God. Thereupon he
can proceed to drink refreshing draughts from the divine
fountain ; and then follows his response to the divine gifts —
joy in God, love and thankfulness toward Him. Christian
prayer has two chief forms, according as it is meant to express
a need or joy at the satisfaction of a need. It is petition or
thanksgi-ving .

2. Petition with intercession. With Christ, petition and

424 § 53. CONTINUATIOX.

thanksgiving were never separated. In the very act of
asking for anything, it was His custom to give thanks. He
gives thanks because it comes ; and it comes because He prays
who makes all prayer acceptable. What He prayed for came
to pass ; He is the free Son of man,, who, whilst praying, takes
part in the government of the world. The Son stood con-
sciously within the Father's will, nothing happened to Him
that He had not ordained ; so utterly removed was He from
all passivity ; so completely in His case was fate trans-
figured into freedom. Now we cannot pray directly in this
fashion ; but we are encouraged by Christ to pray in His
name. In so doing, we put ourselves by faith into Christ,
into His place ; in such wise that we beseech Him to
embrace us in His substitutionary love, or to pray for us,
and thus be what Scripture calls our mediator or intercessor
with the Father, Eom. viii. 26, 34. When this rci'p'port has
been established between the Head and the members, the
promise attached to the prayers of Christ holds good also for
those of His members. Their prayers, offered in His name,
are a continuation of His life. Very numerous passages of
Scripture describe the value of prayer in the name of Jesus,
and its acceptation with God, Matt. xxi. 22 ; Luke xi. 13,
xviii. 7 ; John xv. 7, 16,xvi. 23 ; Eom. xv. 30 ; 2 Cor. i. 11 ;
Phil. i. 19 ; 1 Pet. iii. 12 ; Jas. i. 5, iv. 2, 3, v. 14. Prayer
in Christ's name is therefore prayer proceeding from our
fellowship with Christ and Christ's fellowship with us, so
that we enter into His mind and spirit, and speak as
commissioned, authorized, and enabled by Him, Wherever
this takes place, wherever the mind of Christ is, there too
that which is right will come into our mind ; at all events,
everything will be discarded at the outset, which, according
to God's decree, ought not to be prayed for ; everything,
whether of a material or even of a spiritual kind, if it lie
outside the dispositions of divine wisdom. Such prayer, being
believing prayer, is then powerful and acceptable with God.
Here we must assume — as is shown in Dogmatics ^ — that
the efficacy of prayer, being interwoven with the divine world-
plan, is entirely consistent with the divine government of
the world. Christian prayer and its fulfilment harmonize,
1 Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, i. § 32, 5, ii. § 48 ; cf. § 37.

PETITION WITH INTERCESSION". 425

because they have 07ic and the same supreme source. Peti-
tionary prayer in the name of Jesus is a presentiment wrought
in us by the Holy Spirit, and its fulfilment is the correspond-
ing activity of God, which He puts forth because the prayer
of the believer proves that the world is ready to receive it.

From the exposition that has been given, we see that
petitionary prayer, offered in the name of Jesus, excludes ttvo
extremes. There are some who indeed regard faith as necessary
to prayer, but only in the general sense of trusting that God
will do all things ivell. They therefore deny that prayer
should refer to anything definite and iiarticidar. According
to them, sid)mission alone is Christian ; to apply the divine
promise to any particular thing is presumption. Such is
the verdict of Ammon upon that prayer of Luther offered
during the sickness of Melanchthon, although it was heard.
But if Christians ought not to ask in confident faith for
anything definite, they would still be in their minority, not
knowing what their Lord doeth. They could never under-
take any work in joyful faith, in the assured confidence that
it would succeed. On the contrary, their participation in
any matter would be only hypothetical, for we must never
engage in anything to a greater extent than we can give
expression to in prayer. And then the question as to
wliether prayer is heard would be settled by saying that the
believer ought not to pray that anything definite should be
granted. But this would mak^ the life of the Christian poor
and colourless, and deprive him of that wisdom whicli
anticipates what the kingdom of God requires at the present
moment. The New Testament speaks quite differently. It
tells us we should be related to God as children to a father,
Ptom. viii. 15 ; Gal. iv. 6. No barriers prevent us from
bringing all our concerns before God. One thing only is
demanded — that our prayer be offered in the name of Christ,
i.e. that our wishes be purified by our fellowship with Christ.
And this does not mean that we are to desire nothing, to be
simply resigned ; on the contrary, it means that out of its
submission to God's will, faith should rise again, well advised
as to what the will of God really is, enlightened and ready to
act with confidence. Simple submission is often necessary,
since humility always remains the fundamental characteristic

42 G § 53. CONTINUATION-.

of the Christian as a child of God. But submission is never-
theless short of perfection. Even the prayer of Jesus in
Gethsemane was more than mere submission; it became
assured conviction of what the will of God was, allied
with the will and the power to fullil it. The other extreme
is Theurrjic Prayer, which simply adheres to the fact that
Christ has said, " Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, ye
shall receive." Here God is conceived of as compelled
by prayer, or a kind of magical power is attributed to
certain formulas. This would be to make God entirely passive
in relation to man, just as in the other case man was made
entirely passive in relation to God. But this is irreverent and
unchildlike. The cure for this extreme lies once more in
prayer in the name of Jesus. When we pray in His name,
we lay every wish before Christ, and before giving it a fixed
shape, seek to realize that fellowship with Christ which,
wherever it exists, not only sweeps away all carnally egoistic
and foolish wishes, but also makes the prayer that now
ascends an agency of the Spirit of God, and consequently a
prayer that is heard.

Although the question whether prayer, which is a free act,
introduces any change into God's government of the world,
belongs to Dogmatics, still it is clear on etliical principles also
that we must hold an active reciprocal relation to subsist
between God and His children. Accordingly, the so-called
passive prayer of Molinos is also objectionable. According to
him, God alone is said to pray in man. To this we reply : it
is true that no prayer is successful in which we have not the
co-operation of the Spirit of God in our hearts ; but this does
not mean that He becomes our substitute, to the exclusion of
our own activity, but that His operation is positive, and
a definite act. And the act of the Holy Spirit is the cause of
prayer in this sense, that the prayer of the Christian is at
once human and divine, and its imperfection is compensated
for by fellowship with the Triune God.

Petitionary inayer, if only it be offered in the name of
Jesus, may have reference also to hoclily 2vants,—a,s we see
from the Lord's Prayer, — although these must come in their
proper place. Spiritualism insists that the "bread" here
spoken of is spiritual bread. He, however, who is unwilling

THANKSGIVING AND PRAISE. 427

to pray for what is necessary for the body, will not give
thanks for it. A test of the purity of all our petitionary
prayers is whether they contain intercession. This shows if
the individual he concerned about the whole kingdom of God.
Without intercession prayer becomes egoistic, the view and
the heart narrow. When piety lacks expansion, it also lacks
intensive force. And then our prayer is not prayer in the
name of Jesus our Head.

3. Thanksgiving and imiisc. Thanksgiving also must be
nmde in the name of Jesus, in order that we may give
thanks for the right thing and in the right sense, and that
we may not misunderstand God's kindness and His gifts,
which may be shown even in the infliction of suffering and
loss. Here, too, both the universal and the particular must
be made the subject of thanksgiving. The test of the
purity of this form of prayer is whether we give thanks
for the good that happens to others as well as for that which
happens to ourselves. This makes thanksgiving the Christian's
victory over envy, jealousy, and pride. Thanksgiving, more-
over, shows the measure of our gratitude, and gratitude of our
humility. Where there is ingratitude there is much pride.
All wilful, restless desires sink to rest when we give thanks
for what we truly ought. Such thanksgiving, although it is
some individual thing that gives rise to it, is praise of God
Himself, and is pleasing to God. In thanksgiving, man
renders back to God as a spiritual offering the divine benefit
he has received, by bringing it clearly before his mind in the
sacrifice of prayer as something presented to him by God ;
and then receives the gift again in a higher form, enriched
with the consciousness that in it God's love is bestowed
upon him. The more our thanksgiving melts into joy and
delight in this love of God and Christ, the purer will it be.
It then becomes p-aisc of God. Further, just as no peti-
tionary prayer is Christian which proceeds as if there were
as yet nothing to give thanks for, so Christian thanksgiving
must also include petition as a moment. This, too, is
pleasing to God. The kingdom of God is here, but it is
also coming. Premature contentment would be self-deception
with regard to oneself or the world, if not indifference and
lovelessness. The prayer of petition that springs from a

428 § 53. CONTINUATION.

grateful heart, asks for new strength in God, in the knowledge
of His majesty, holiness, and blessedness, and then passes
over to the thought of the practical life, to the world in
its alienation from God, and the valiant conflict we must
wage therein. This is the course followed by the Lord's
Prayer.

-i. TJie form of jjraycr. Its inner form has already been
determined in requiring that it be offered in the name of
Jesus. But the question still remains as to the position of
oratio vcrhalis and mentalis. Is it not sufficient that prayer
should exist inwardly, as a longing, an inward emotion or
affection ? Can it serve any purpose to clothe our prayer in
words and give it outward expression before God, aloud or in
a whisper, when we remember that God looks into the heart,
and knows all our desires as well as all our wants ? Matt. vi. 8.
The inward emotion must indeed be the first thing, though it
be no more than the desire to be enabled to pray. But when
this emotion does not clothe itself in definite thoughts and
words, prayer is still imperfect, not in intensity, but in
definiteness — although it is not always possible in the stress
of circumstances to clothe our prayer in thoughts and words.
Itom. viri. 26. At such times a-revayixol dXaX.rjroc rise from the
heart. The prayer of the publican in the temple was hardly
anything but a sigh involuntarily expressed, yet it was more
pleasing to God than many words. But still, outward
audible words are of importance, and react upon the inward
prayer. Mere internal emotion is very apt to fade into
indefiniteness, and to lead to feebleness in prayer, unless it is
laid hold of by the formative and practical power of Christian
will and thought. When prayer remains entirely inward, it
is prone to be crossed by a world of prayerless thoughts ; but
when expressed in words it draws our scattered thoughts more
together, and presses our energies into its sei'vice. Eeal,
audible prayer places us more directly in the act of prayer,
and by the mastery we thus obtain even over the external
world, our sacrifice of prayer is kept from distraction. In
words prayer attains, as it were, its body, its earthly frame.
It is also beneficial to set apart our accustomed place of prayer
as a lioly spot, to surround it as with a sacred circle, and thus to
make it a templum in the old sense. Every study should be

FORMS OF PRAYER, 429

such a templum, from wliicli we look out to lieaven and upon
the world.

Again, which is preferable — fixed forms of 'prayer, or free
prayer from the heart ?- The former have this disadvantage,
that they allow the thoughts to wander too readily, whereas
free prayer brings our powers much more into requisition.
Forms of prayer are also apt to become a kind of mediator,
keeping God and man apart ; so that the opiis operatum is
looked upon as sufiicient, and the inwardness of immediate
fellowship with God falls into the background. Accordingly,
spontaneous prayer ought at all events to be practised and
learned, and this is very easily done even by children. It is
not difficult, if only we do not try, in the words we use in
prayer, to appear better than we really are, but bring
before God in a childlike, natural, and inartificial Avay what
we feel and what we long for. Only we must not aim at
speechifying, Matt. vi. 7 ; on the contrary, prayer had better
be short than too long. It helps us to learn to pray I'rom
the heart when we divide our prayer into thanksgiving,
deprecation, petition, and intercession (Eieger). Nevertheless,
forms of prayer have also their own peculiar advantages, and
that not merely in times of dryness, in order to strengthen and
cultivate within us the true sense and spirit of prayer. Here
we must again distinguish between private and social prayer.
The former belongs to the closet, and to those occasions when
in the nature of things free heart-prayer must prevail. ]\Iatt.
vi. 6. But since all association demands order and stability,
forms of prayer have more power to keep the individual
members together than subjective, spontaneous prayer. Iix
family devotion, indeed, the father naturally represents the
whole family, and consequently his position as priest will find
expression in free heart-prayer also, which will take up all the
common interests of the household, and have also a more
stimulating and living power. The most suitable counter-
poise to any imperfections that arise here may be found in
conjoining free prayer with contemplation, — especially reading
iind explaining of Scripture, — and perhaps with sacred
song. But in pithlic ivorship the prayer-book is to be pre-
ferred. It is necessary to congregational prayer in the true
sense, that the whole body of the people should actually irray,

430 § 54. TIMES OF PRAYER.

and not merely learn God's word in a new form. And sucli
prayer is hardly possible, if the members do not know before-
hand what is to be prayed, but are dependent upon the
clergyman, upon his subjective production of the moment, and
liave only to follow this. Without a prayer-book all prayer
would be conducted in too subjective a fashion, the churchly
tone would be lacking. It is in keeping, therefore, with the
freedom of the congregation and the dignity of public worship,
that the best prayers of every age, which have been bestowed
upon the Church in the course of her Christian life, should
be collected and used. At the same time, as particular and
accidental cases arise, the gift of prayer possessed by the
individual may retain its place even in the church. As for
the quality of formularies of prayer, the Lord's Prayer is
typical, with respect alike to its correct estimate of blessings,
its sense of fellowship, its childlike mood, and — with all its
brevity — its superlative excellence.

§ 54. Times of Prayer and Contemplation, or the Order of Life
determined hij Christian Piety.

The whole life of the Christian must be a life of prayer ; and
it becomes so by this means and in this way — the spirit
of prayer arranges the life and divides it into smaller
and larger portions, in order to obtain supremacy over
the entire lifetime. Contemplation and prayer are works
of absolute worth in themselves, to which the Christian
expressly devotes special seasons. This organization of
life is based, in the narrowest sphere in which it is
carried out, upon the fact that our physical nature, in
accordance with a beneficent law of life, requires an
alternation of work and rest, of daily labour and recess,
— a law which is reflected in the life of the spirit, so
that times in which we are engaged with the duties of
our calling alternate with times of vacation, in order
that our corporeal, psychical, and spiritual powers may
be renewed by relaxation and spiritual tranquillity.
Accordingly, the Christian spirit of prayer, in the

TIMES OF PKAYEE. 431

exercise of wisdom and discretion, sanctions an order
of life determined by Christian piety, in which our life
is formed into an organism made up of smaller and
larger portions, so that a regular rotation takes place
which is indispensable to the rhythm and harmonious
progress of the Christian life. These divisions are in
part daily, in part weekly {Sunday), and in part are
sacred seasons occurring at longer intervals.

The Literature. — Cf. the Denlfirlirift dcs Emngeh Ohcrhirch-
enrathes ilher die Sonntagsfrage, Berlin 1877 (by the author).
Calvin, Instihctio, ii. c. 8. Catechismus Gcnev. ad mandatum, iv.
Heidelhcrger Katceliisvius, 4 Gebot. Conf. Aug. ii, art. 7. Katc-
rhism. major Dekal. 3. Cf. the works of Schaff', Liebetrut,
Sonntagsfeicr, Kraussbold in Die Zeitschrift f. Protest, und
KircJie, 1850, p. 137 ff. Oschwald, Die Sonntagsfeier, 1850.
The English work, The Pearl of Days. Hengstenberg, Dcr
Tag dcs Herrn, 1852. Alex. Beck, Der Tag dcs Hcrrn und
seine Heiligung Vortrag v. Schmid. auf dcm Kirchcntag, 1850.
Mtzsch, Praktische Theologie, i. § 56. [Wilhelmi, Feiertagsheils-
gung, 1857. Haupt, Der Sonntag und die Bibel. Zahn,
Gescliichte des Sonntags, 1878. Uhlhorn, Die Sonntagsfrage in
iJirer socialen Bedeutung, 1870. Eieger, Staat und Sonntag,
1877. Eohr, Der Sonntag vom socialen und sittlichen Stand-
jpunld, 1879. Baur, Dcr Sonntag und das Familicnledcn.']

1. We are repeatedly enjoined to pray without ceasing,
Luke xviii. 1 ; 1 Thess. v. 17. But inasmuch as the special
act of prayer is not compatible with every task, though the
latter may nevertheless be a moral duty, such an injunction
must refer to the spirit of prayer, which may and ought to be
heard like an undertone through all our work. But this spirit
of prayer would soon disappear without special seasons for
recruiting it. In the spirit of prayer we feed upon the grace
we have already received. But we do not have grace at
our command once for all ; we need grace for grace ; main-
tenance and growth, which here also are inseparably connected,
demand cessation of work from time to time, that we may
again apply to the fountain of strength. Only in such an
alternation as this, where at one time we collect strength and
at another exhibit it, can there be prosperity and progress
either in physical or spiritual life, and accordingly we can

432 § 54. TIMES OF PEAYER.

hardly say that this law is connected witli our earthly exist-
ence alene. Even Christ set apart seasons of prayer for
Himself. But in the rationale we have given it might appear
as if work alone were our proper aim, and prayer only the
means of supplying ns with the power to perform it, as if
prayer were therefore only a means of virtue, and the amount
of time to be given up to it had to be determined by work,
which is the real aim. This standpoint, however, is altogether
false. Prayer and contemplation are in themselves ethical acts,
ends in themselves, and of absolute worth. As the Triune
God is an objective Good in Himself, and not merely by
reason of His works, so, too, our action has an absolute moral
value when we are directly occupied with God, and not merely
when we are occupied with individual moral relations. Nay,
such action is the centre of all action, as it refers to the moral
centre of the world, to God in Christ. It is a divine work,
and communion with God, which it enables ns constantly to
realize afresh, is an independent good in itself, which can only
subsist by being continually renewed. Since prayer and
contemplation are central, they are regulative ; appointing
their times to all our tasks by quickening the sense of God
within ns ; and thereby most surely enabling us to set about
our work in the right spirit. There must therefore be special
times of jyrayer in the Christian life. Not as if these alone
were divine, sacred, and religious, and times of work pro-
fane, but quite the reverse. Their object is that no moment
may be left profane, without God, or irreligious, but rather
that everything may conduce to quicken the Christian's sense
of God, to keep the spirit of prayer in constant activity, and
to teach us to discover in everything the side which connects
it with God, in other words, to view and treat everything in
the divine light.

2. Many, liowever, resist a fixed order. They liold that
it should be left to the free sjDiritual impulse of the moment
to determine when a time should be set apart for prayer and
contemplation ; that only in this way can prayer have inward
truthfulness, and only thus can we be delivered from a new
spirit of legalism. But, with regard to the individual life,
this would mean, either that in the life of the believer
times of slothfulness never occurred, or else that he can

A FIXED OEDER IN PEAYEE. 433

do nothing against them, but only wait until the spiritual
impulse returns. This would be mere passive resignation, the
ethics of Mohammedanism. But, as we have already seen
(§ 48), self-discipline has a part to play in the life of the
Christian. And as far as the fear of legalism is concerned, it is
only necessary that it should be the spirit itself which wills and
arranges the order, that it should do so freely, recognising
it to be something good, and adhere to it as a means of
resisting the ilesh, which ought to be disciplined and held in
subjection by the spirit, until perhaps Christian wisdom per-
ceives that the necessities of the case have altered. If
this order be fixed by the Christian spirit in prospective
wisdom, there is nothing arbitrary about it. There would
rather be arbitrariness where there was no order, and it would
be unethical to leave the maintenance of a right inward state
of heart to the mercy of accident. Christian freedom is not
disorder nor monotony, but a freedom duly organized, and the
new man is sustained by establishing a definite order, and
adhering to it. Hence the striking saying of Augustine :
" Keep order, and it will keep thee." The only thing
required, therefore, is that the believer should either, in
the exercise of his own wisdom, form a fixed order for
liimself according to his needs, or should fall in with that
which already exists, and there walk at liberty. It is impos-
sible to see why in every other instance the regulation of the
practical work of love should be regarded, not as hampering
the exercise of freedom, but as promoting it, while in the work
of contemplation and prayer alone — a work, too, of absolute
ethical value — order and freedom should be looked upon as
incompatible, and even contradictory. Further, in the
practice of piety the life of the believer ought not to remain
an isolated one, but to embody in itself the generic conscious-
ness. Thus individual 'piety demands also association in the
worshijj of God, and is raised and stimulated by it. This
must be taken into account by Christian wisdom when insti-
tuting a pious order of life ; otherwise, by falling into separation,
it undervalues the blessing to be derived from the spirit of
fellowship, and the essentially organic position which the
individual holds. And now, should a common order of pious
duties be established, ix. an orde^- of life for the Christian

2 E

434 § 54. TIMES OF PRAYER.

community, the individual must also shape the order of his ]
own religious life so as to he in harmony with it, so as to
promote and not to hinder it. This last consideration is of
more importance for the longer, regularly recurring portions of
time set apart for prayer and contemplation, while for the
shorter ones that occur each day it is sufficient to take into
account the necessities of the individual life. But such a
division of our time, both into longer and shorter portions,
is only possible if men are not so constituted that each one
must, in order to have a right order for himself, have one
different from that of everybody else ; that is to say, only if
there is a univcrscd law of life, in human nature, the same for
every one, upon which to base the regulation of our life, — a
law that demands pauses in our work, points of rest, without
which human life would fall into mere mechanism.

3. Now, as a matter of fact, the essential identity of
humanity does not merely go the length of making all men
stand in need of such a pious ordering of life. It goes
farther than this ; so that three circles of religious duties,
each exceeding the other, and expressing the form which the
regulation of Christian freedom takes, may be described.

The first of these especially, but also the second, depends
upon the laws of terrestrial life ; the third arises more
immediately from the necessities or laws of spiritual life
alone.

{a) The first is that of daily life. Daily life, from the
general conditions of earthly existence, is divided into waking
and sleeping. When we awake we naturally first of all look
upward and give thanks, then we look forward into the
day, survey the duties that lie before us, make our plans as
to how we shall spend our time, what tasks we must engage
in and in what order, and for the accomplishment of these
seek strength and calmness in God. In the evening we look
just us naturally backward, in order to regain the harmony we
have lost, and to give ourselves to rest in renewed assurance
of reconciliation with God ; and in general, to bring the past
to mind, and appropriate its blessing for the present. For
that man is frivolous and undervalues the leadings of God in
sorrow and joy, whose efforts are all directed to the future,
and who never collects his thoughts to look back upon what

SUNDAY. 435

liG has lived through in the past. The outcome of such efforts
and such work is mere restless movement, it is not real gain
nor progress.^ Time is a capital entrusted to us by God, a
capital that consists not merely of the present or the uncertain
future, but also of the past, which is meant to live on in
the present in the form of remembrance ; and the more we
iniT'posdy attach importance to the past, the more faithful
will memory become. If, then, in the evening it is the past
that is naturally uppermost in our mind, in the morning the
future, while during our day's work it is the present — we
may say that in the morning piety appears as lioipe, arising
from faith, that love, has to inspire our daily work, and that
in the evening piety comes back from work to the rest of
faith in God,

During the day, too, certain natural pauses occur, in which
the physical life recovers its strength, and in these it is a
good and salutary thing to restore the balance between the
sensuous and the spiritual side of our nature, by lifting our
souls to the Giver of bodily strength. Besides, thankfulness
requires this at our hands {vicl. sup. p. 427). This is the first
circle of pious duties, and a fundamental one for the individual
life and for the Christian character of family life. And it is
not difficult to observe these home religious duties.

(b) It is not so easy to construct the second circle, that, viz., of
wechly religious duties. Here the Sunday question is involved.
Within the last ten years this question has been discussed
in many and various ways, as indeed it deserves to be,
from its importance for individual and national life. A
whole literature has been formed in connection with it. In
addition to the articles already mentioned by Oschwald,
Liebetrut, Kraussold, Schaff, etc., the Proceedings of the Stutt-
gart Church Diet, 1850, are worthy of notice. These contain
a striking address by Dr. Schmid, in which he shows at
length how at present the Sunday has almost become the
most occupied day in the week, whether as regards work, or
amusement, or even debauchery. Things have come to such
a pass that, according to statistics, most crimes are committed
on Sunday ; that it strengthens the secular spirit, and instead

1 Hence it is right even to set apart days to commemorate important events
in onr own life and in the lives of onr friends.

436 § 54. TIMES OF PEAYEK.

of seasoning and consecrating the national life, has rathet
become a pest within it. . Various causes are assigned for
this by Schmid. One of these is a false Evangelicalism,
tending to antinomianism ; others are that men are gradually
ceasing to feel the need of intercourse with God in prayer ;
that the ttudy of the Bible is put low in the scale of
importance, as, for example, in the spiritualistic delusion that
he who has once become a Christian finds everything already
given in his Christian consciousness, and does not require, for
his growth, that word of God through which he became a
Christian at first ; and, finally, that the ties of domestic and
church fellowship are being relaxed. If the members of a
Christian family were as heartily united as they ought to be,
they would eagerly welcome those still hours which Sunday
affords, free from the stress of everyday business life, in
order to give to education its true intellectual and spiritual
centre in the family, and to bring down a Sabbath blessing
upon family life. In like manner, too, if Christian life had
less of an individualistic and more of a common spirit, the
need of joining in congregational worship would be more
generally felt, both for our own good and that of others.
Nitzsch says (PraU. Theol. i. § 56, p. 345 sq.), " If the
distinction between work days and holy days were abolished,
and work as well as worship were left to any day that each
one might choose, the result would be the dissolution of the
Church."

What has been said might be of itself sufficient to commend
the Christian observance of Sunday, which, as is shown in
the case of Great Britain, is favourable both to the intellectual
and economical welfare of the people at large, and especially
of the lower classes, and in which more than in anything else
a people can manifest its Christian life.

In the ancient Church some Christians kept Sunday as the
day of the resurrection ; others, according to Ignatius, held fast
to the Sabbath ; while others, again, kept both days. The
Confcssio Augustana rests the Sabbath almost entirely upon
the fact, that people must agree as to a day for the common
worship of God, and the Catcchismus major does not advance
beyond this point of view in any essential respect. At the
Reformation the Lutheran and Eeformed Churches (Calvin,

SUNDAY. 437

Iiistitutio, ii. c. 8. Heidelberg Catechism. Fourth Command-
ment), in opposition to spiritual legalism, laid special emphasis
in this connection upon evangelical liberty, on the ground that
a little leaven might leaven the whole lump. Still a fixed
rule for the observance of Sunday, which the Christian spirit
freely makes for itself, is quite consistent with Christian
liberty, and we are indebted to the Puritans and the Scotch
for having been the first to direct attention to this matter.
However much the Puritan movement, which spread like a
flood over the whole of Great Britain, afterwards retreated
within more moderate limits, the introduction of a settled
Sunday observance, dating from that time, has proved a
blessing to the whole national life of England and Scotland, a
blessing which later ages have not allowed to be taken from
them, and which, transferred to North America, has become an
essential condition of the spiritual health of the nation. For
in these busy commercial countries, with their artisan and
manufacturing populations, the Sunday is tlie power which
maintains the balance between the inner life and its nurture
and the restless outward life. It was a sound instinct which,
soon after Elizabeth's time, demanded the Sunday as the
regulator of the whole national life, and has hitherto main-
tained it as such : for without fixed rules for Sunday observ-
ance, these nations would have been liable to be swallowed up
in the mechanism or materialism of work, and thus a large
portion of the population would have been degraded to the
position of Helots, while the remaining portion would have lost
much of the ideal import of life. It may be said in general
that the English Sunday is the foundation of English freedom ;
it is the subjection of time to the ordinance of God, and this
acts as a pattern for bringing the national life in general into
subjection to God's ordinances and laws. And it is only when
rooted in the soil of law that freedom can flourish. The
history of Germany has hitherto been a different one. The
German people as a whole did not run so much risk from the
tendency to mere mechanism ; they have been for the most
part an agricultural race. From their habit of mind, too, con-
templation, even during the week, occupies a larger place in
their life than it does in the case of the nations we have men-
tioned, and by this means elements of Sabbath-life are inter-

438 § 51. TIMES OF PRAYER.

woven with the week days. Still this is not enough to render
Sunday unnecessary. With reference to commerce and manu-
factures, a state of things is being developed amongst ourselves
which is already analogous to what exists in these nations.
For one thing, family worship has, to a large extent, to be set
up over again in Germany as a customary practice. Still, the
individuality of the German race will have to be taken into
account when we contemplate the necessary improvement of
our observance of Sunday, a work which will be of the greatest
importance to the energy of our national life as well as to
our self-respect as a Christian people. And in many ways our
age is favourable to such an improvement. Our workmen and
day-labourers are already making their voices heard with ever
increasing strength, both in the towns and — to some extent — in
the country, demanding that a Sunday should be given them ;
and this is no wonder. We here see the harmony that subsists
between God's ordinance and man's natural requirements, for,
even according to a wholly worldly standard, it is reasonable
and advantageous that man should have a Sunday, it is a free-
dom to which he is entitled to have a free day ; and when once
he has secured it, it will be the duty of the Church to redouble
its zeal, and see that it is worthily employed.

Foundation of the Christian Sunday. The observance of
Sunday cannot be based upon the Mosaic law by itself. For
in that case the Sabbath, the seventh day, would have to be
made the day of rest instead of the first. And the legal penal
sanctions which were given in connection with the Sabbath
would also be still in force. Christ Himself took up a free
position towards the Sabbath. My Father worketh even until
now, and I work (John v. 17). To the same effect is Mark ii.
27, the Sabbath was made for man. Similarly, Paul (Eom.
xiv. 5 ; Col. ii. 16 f,) enjoins Christians not to make it a
matter of conscience to keep new moons, Sabbath days, etc., —
that is, not to regard the Jewish observance of holy days as
indispensable. He wishes the whole life to be holy and con-
secrated to God. Nevertheless he nowhere says that it is
morally wrong to set apart special times for collecting and
recruiting our energies. On the contrary, he recommends
self-examination (1 Cor. xi.). Further, he directs collections
to be made anion"- the Corinthian Christians at their regular

FOUNDATION OF THE CHEISTIAN SUNDAY. 439

weekly gatherings (1 Cor. xvi. 2);^ and Christ Himself not
only assumes, without a word of blame, the continuance of the
Sabbath by His disciples (Matt. xxiv. 20), but also says — the
day of rest was made for man. Accordingly, that which is
abolished is looking upon the Sabbath as something rendered to
God, as an offering of time. But here too the saying applies,
that from the beginning it was not so. On the contrary, it
was instituted, according to Gen. ii. 1-3, as a day of blessing,
a gift which God Himself has sanctified ; and prophecy
already to some extent again conceived of it in this way : it is
tlie day which is to be kept holy as a blessing to man (Ezek.
XX. 12, 20, xxii. 8, 26 ; Isa. Ivi. 6). To this beginning the
gospel returns, setting forth, as the fundamental idea of the
Sabbath, rest in God, — that supreme good which was sought
after under Old Testament forms and in Old Testament times,
but was not found until Christianity appeared (Heb. iv.), — a
rest, indeed, in which the whole life is to have its share. This
end is attained by having fixed seasons for collecting our
thoughts and raising them to God, and by both public and
family edification. Sunday is not given for idleness. No
part of life is to be devoted to sloth. The Old Testament
Sabbath is a creation- festival, designed for bodily rest and
relaxation, but also for spiritual strengthening ; for it is to be
kept holy. In the New Testament it is at the same time a
memorial of Christ's resurrection as the sign of the new
creation.^ But the institution of the Sabbath (Gen. ii.) has a
permanent significance. It expresses, namely, that this peri-
odical recurrence of pauses is a law of life implanted by the
Creator,^ and must be kept sacred like other natural laws
implanted by Him — as, e.g., the regular alternation of sleep
and waking hours. The order of nature is no less an
expression of the divine will than the positive divine law;
just as the State, for instance, is a divine ordinance, without
its being established by a positive law of God.

^ Kara fji.iav ffa,p,^a.Tuv, i.e. on the first day of the week, which was therefore the
day for assemblies.

- It is called y.-jpiayJ,, the Lord's day, and was at first kept as a Christian holy
day along with the Sabbath, but soon afterwards instead of it.

* At the French Revolution the tenth day was tried ; but the attempt only
served to prove that in the old custom there was a true perception of natural law,
and accordingly it was soon reverted to.

440 § .54. TIMES OF PKAYER.

With regard to the eynployment of the day of rest, the OhI
Testament gave but few definite directions. Abstention from
everyday work leaves hours of life disposable at once for
l)odily relaxation and physical refreshment. No time must be
devoted to actual idleness, but it may be devoted to the
restoration of the physical powers, and to means suitable for
this purpose. Even in Old Testament times the Sabbath was
a day of joy. It is wrong to ignore this aspect of Sunday,
and to hold that the enjoyment of nature and social inter-
course ought to be avoided. At the same time, a relaxation
that means fresh excitement, a rest that only brings unrest
and fatigue, friction and not recreation, cannot be defended on
ethical principles. But the most important thing is mental
recreation and refreshment, and of these the most active source
and centre is the rest in God that is found in family and
public edification. The prophets show that the Sabbath is
not kept holy by doing nothing, but, in particular, by the
worship of God (Ezek. xx. 12, 20, xxii. 8, 26; Isa. Ivi. 6).
In the time of Christ, Sabbath-day divine service was already
prevalent. Eeligious work must be the regulator of this day.
The contemplation of the fieyaXeia Oeov, the raising of the soul
above time to eternity — this is the most worthy employment
of Sunday. Further, the Christian Sunday has been given us
for visiting and comforting the poor, the sick, the prisoners,
and for works of Christian love in general, — for all that is
comprehended under the name of home mission work, and
which lies outside the ordinary duties of our vocation.
Schleiermacher ^ has shown how such works are necessary
alongside of our special vocation, since they refresh our
business life and preserve it from mechanism. The full
ideal of Sunday does not lie in discontinuance of the Sabbath,
but in the whole life being sustained by rest in God, as we
see the life of Christ to have been (John v. 17). But we
shall attain this end all the more surely, the more we grant
that it is right to have a fixed order of Sunday observance, and
the more we arrange one in such a way as Christian love and
wisdom may require.

^ Chrislliche Sille, p. 154 sq.

§ 5.5. CIieiSTIAN EELIGIOUS ZEAL. 441

comprehensive periodical recollection and invigoration. In
many respects we cannot be conscious of our backsliding or
our progress after days or short intervals. But it is needful
for the new man to survey, from time to time, his spiritual con-
dition as a whole, and to pass judgment upon himself ; and then
ail that is defective in him, and which in its separate items
escaped his notice, is seen in its connection and significance.
Such times of self-examination, moreover, will always make
us sensible of our special need of comfort and strength, to
enable us to carry out the life-resolves whicli we form anew.
Hence they will lead the Christian to the feast which Christ
has instituted for this very purpose, that He may slay death
in us by His own death, that we may find life in Him.

Note. — The second and tliird circles have already directed our
attention from private to social piety ; contemplation and prayer
must be engaged in along with others. By this means the
Christian generic consciousness is brought into association with
these religious exercises, and this is of great importance to its
development.

§ 55. Christicai Religious Zeal.

We have seen that prayer is at least an inward exercise of
piety. Now, the outward expression that is given to
the inward act is not the precise end that is contem-
plated ; it is more in the nature of an accidental and
involuntary accompaniment. Piety, liowever, seeks also
an effectual and intended manifestation in the form of
religious zeal, which shows itself on the one hand in
confession of the truth (6/xo\oyia, ^aprvpla, witness-
bearing), and on the other in the 2^'>'Oclamation of it
(Krjpvyfia). Thus the common object of both is Chris-
tian truth. The fundamental moral quality, however,
that characterizes confession is truthfulness, which, by
rejecting temptations to deny Christ in speech or act,
or by undutiful silence, evinces and displays conscien-
tious fidelity towards itself and towards Christ, and
shows that it esteems the good of fellowship with Him
to be higher than any other good. On the other hand,

442 § 55. CIIItlSTIAN RELIGIOUS ZEAL.

love is the standard in the lorodamation of the truth ;
love, which asserts the truth not only as something
l)elonging to itself, but also as belonging to others, and
therefore makes others its object.

Schleiermacher, Christliche Sitte, p. 580 ff. Cf. Eothe, I.e.
1st ed. iii. § 997.

Note. — It is true that confession and martyrdom include a
reference to others. For part of their purpose is to make
manifest, for the sake of others, the sincerity of the inward
conviction. But this is only done in order that fidelity in
faith may be shown to be a matter of duty — that is, a duty to
God and to oneself. In the proclamation of truth, on the other
liand, which accordingly belongs to the social sphere, we make
our fellow-men our first aim.

1. The Christian makes no secret of his own faith, for he
knows that Christianity is not merely a private matter or
possession of his own, but a salt, a light for the world. Out
of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, Matt. xii.
34 ff. If we confess with the mouth the faith, namely, which
is in us, Eora. x. 10, we shall be saved through such faith
courageously asserting itself in confession. The Christian
seeks to make his whole life a confession of gratitude, Koni.
xii. 1. To deny Christ would be to Him shameless ingrati-
tude, infidelity towards his most faithful friend, Mark xiv.
29 f . ; Luke ix. 26, xxii. 34. The Christian, therefore, is
not afraid of letting his whole being bear the Christian
stamp, in intercourse with others, in tone and bearing, in
dress and speech, etc. In all these confession is made. Here
several duties are still in the background ; although love to
God in Christ is the soul of all we do, nevertheless our
relations to our fellow-men do not supply our chief, our most
immediate aim. And yet we do not act without a purpose.
Our purpose is to assert our union with God in Christ, and
to assert by truthfulness our Christian self - identity. In
confession the Christian is actuated by the inner necessity
alone, of not denying outwardly what he is inwardly. How
different confession is from proclamation of the truth (the
means of giving it currency) may be seen especially from the
fact, that in the latter we have to proclaim something that
is much better than ourselves, for then we are preaching to

CONFESSION OF CHRISTIAN FAITH. 443

ourselves as well as to others. But confession, which reaches
its culmination in martyrdom, is a declaration as to our
personal position in the matter. Here it is not only objec-
tive truth that is required, but personal truthfulness. We
must not, however, allow any self-importance to be mixed up
with this personal element. Christianity does not depend
upon us ; we must not take pleasure in a zeal for confession
that has its roots in vanity and pride, and which would
therefore be impure — nay, a lie before God. In such a
personal matter as this we must act with modesty. J. J.
Eambach says with truth, " Confession for its own sake is
nothing but leaves, it is blossom and fruit that are of value."
And yet even an unseasonable confession of Christian truth.
Matt. vii. 4, when it threatens to involve us in injury and
danger, is more honourable, because it costs self-denial, than
one which promises to be to our advantage. Confession may
become fashionable ; but wherever it is the fashion, there
indeed we need fear no martyrdom for confessors, but we
may very well apprehend harm to their souls. This is the
time for honest Christians to evince the self-denial that ought
to be found in those who make confession of Christ, by
testifying against mere fashionable virtue, by bearing witness
that living faith must precede confession, that truthfulness
is the life of confession, and that there can be no faith
without humility and spiritual modesty. The Christian will
not seek for opportunities of speaking about himself and his
(jwn faith ; but he will certainly seek for opportunities of
making the trutli hnoivn to others. And this he can do by
word or deed ; for it is not the function of a special order
only. The Christian waits until the duty of personal con-
fession— i.e. confession of his own personal position with
regard to Christian truth — is laid upon him as a duty by his
Christian profession ; until he is placed in the status con-
fcssionis — i.e. until silence would mean indifference to truth,
or positive denial of it, or consent to its denial. Then, indeed,
lie boldly makes confession. It would be a false thing to be
willing to appear worse, more unbelieving than we really are ;
it would be ingratitude to Christ, whose kingdom is increased
by such acts of courageous confession as spring from our
Christian standing and involve self-denial. But altlioush

444 § 55. CHRISTIAN RELIGIOUS ZEAL.

truthfulness is the soul of confession, yet this trutlifulness
is not severed from love. There is nothing heartless, nothing
of the judge, nothing defiant about the Christian, not even in
his confession, Jas. iv. 2 ; Matt. vii. 1 ff. Confession may,
indeed, have the result of bringing about a definite verdict
and a separation, but it must not seek to assume the character
of a judgment. It is all the more irresistible, the more it is
seen to be an imperative act of conscience prompted by our
Christian profession, the more it is evident that for God as
the highest Good of the soul we are willing to give up
everything else, the more our words and demeanour make
it manifest that our sincere wish is to make others parti-
cipators with ourselves in Christian salvation, its peace and
its joy, and not merely to impose faith upon them as a duty.
This is the spirit also of true martyrdom, of which Christ is
to us the pattern. That man will be the first to become
like Christ who is afraid lest he may not stand the test.
Obstinate self-confidence has already fallen, Luke xxii. 34.
St. Paul is an illustration of how love is included in the
martyr-spirit of the Christian, Acts xxvi. 29 : "I would thou
wert such as I am, except these bonds." In proclamation
of the truth, on the contrary, which is an influence brought
to bear upon others, we seek opportunities unweariedly and
with the inventiveness of love. This subject belongs to the
chapter on Social Love.

2. The inward limit of religious zeal as onanifestccl in
confession is love. Its relation to the various Christian
confessions is determined by the principle — Christ the common
faith of believers is above every particular system of faith. To
reverse this order is sectarianism, bigotry. At the same time.
Christian tolerance is no less distinct from indifferentism.
Fanaticism is the passionate, and therefore egoistic endeavour
to make the divine a power in the world — the divine, that is,
according to one's own conception of it. In this sense
fanaticism is common to all pre-Christian stages of religion,
so far as they are not indifferent but zealous ; for they seek
to uphold the Divine, and maintain its glory by means of the
State ; as yet perfect faith in the power of the Divine is
lacking, nor is the necessity of a free process as yet recog-
nised. With the fanatic everything depends upon submission

§ 56. THE NEW PERSONALITY IN RELATION TO ITSELF. 445

to the religions tenets which he favours. He is all the while
unconscious of the fact that such submission is not religion —
nay, that real religion is not as yet in his own heart, however
much he may think so.^ Hence fanaticism is akin to hypo-
crisy. Mere objective religious zeal for the constitution or
dogmas of the Christian Church is not yet religious zeal in
the Christian sense.

3. The oath of the Christian is also a confession of faith
in the Triune God as the omniscient judge, but its aim is a
social one — that of making a statement worthy of credit.
But inasmuch as an oath is permissible for this end alone,
and not as a matter of individual choice, it beloncrs to the
doctrine of Christian truthfalness.

CHAPTER SECOND.

THE NEW PERSONALITY, CREATED IN THE IMAGE OF GOD,
IN RELATION TO ITSELF.

§ 56.

Christian Self-love ; the necessary Grounds on vjhich it rests.

True, i.e. Christian, self-love does not, like natural self-love,
exist of itself, but arises from love to God, through
renunciation of self, or hatred of self, as it is also called.
The new personality, being formed after the Divine
image, is an ethical good of absolute worth ; nay, it is
a microcosmic system of goods, which must be prized,
protected, and promoted on all their sides, but in the
order determined by love as manifested in the absolute
sphere.'^

J^ote. — The system of goods involved in the new personality
is divided in accordance with the idea of God ' (§ 6). This

' Christianity must be treated as favour, grace, election, and not as law and
the performance of works.

" [Of course, when the author speaks of self-love, he conceives of it in all its
manifestations only in its union with faith and wisdom, or hope, and therefore
as an activity of the whole Christian personality. — Ed.]

'■> [Of. System of Christian Doctrine, i. § 21-27.— Ed.]

446 § 5G. THE NEW PERSONALITY IN RELATION TO ITSELF.

results from the personality being made in the image of God ;
it is determined by the categories of Life and Poiver, of Moral
Beauty and Harmony, of Wisdom and Will. Further, its
activity is also determined by the fact that its honour, " 8o|a,"
is also to be manifested.

1. Our race is highly esteemed by God (Gen. i. 26). The
wisdom of God delighted in the children of men and
rejoiced in them (Prov. viii.). It is an honour to be a man.
Humanity confers nobility (Jas, iii. 9; Acts xvii. 28; Matt.
vi. 26-30). But this does not arise from, man's empirical
nature without regard to its deficiency and corruption, but
from the fact that he is destined to be perfect even as our
Father in heaven is perfect (Matt. v. 48) ; and this remains
his destination even in spite of sin, and attains realization
through the gospel. We belong, indeed, like other natural
beings, to a particular species. But whereas, in the case of
the latter, the notion of a species is formed by taking together
those characteristics which are common to all the individuals
of the species, and excluding those which are not found in all,
as being accidental with reference to the notion, — in the case
of man, this logical method of forming a notion from mere
empirical considerations is insufficient. In order to form a
true concept of man, logic must become teleology, must there-
fore become ethical. For since there are also degenerate
individuals belonging to our race, the Aristotelian application
of logic would result in an idea of mankind which would
leave out precisely what is best, what is most human in man,
because it does not exist empirically in all. Nay, since there
is sin in all men, were we to adopt this empirical method of
forming the concept of man, we should have to make sinful-
ness an essential characteristic in it. What the elements are
which belong to the idea of man in his true dignity, which
alone are capable of making mankind a unity, and therefore
also of forming a true and not merely a negative universal —
this does not depend upon whether these elements are charac-
teristic of the whole range of human individuals. And so
Christianity, in opposition to that ancient logical method, has
the boldness to form its concept of mankind and of true
humanity from the standard presented by one individual,
viz. Christ. In doing so it appeals against empiricism, to

THE CHRISTIAN CONCEPT OF HUMANITY. 447

which it bids defiance, to the sense of duty, to the moral
imperative which is in all men ; and forms its concept of man
in accordance with this distinctive property of man, a property
wdiich belongs also to Christ. It constructs the notion of
mankind, on the one hand, from the archetype of Divine-
human moral power which has appeared in Christ, and, on the
other, from man's susceptibility, his capacity to receive Christ's
power. Thus Christ is humanity personified ; for He is true
humanity, endowed with divine power ; He is the honour of
our race (Eom. viii. 17). Moreover, as He Himself numbers
Himself with mankind, to be a blessing and a sacred possession
to them, and gives Himself for them in His love, so God, too,
numbers Him with men, and believers with Him, so that His
86^a is transmitted to them, and the Son becomes the first-
born among many hretlircn through the Holy Spirit (Eom.
viii. 29 ; 2 Cor. v. 14-17 ; Col. iii. 9 ; Eph. iv. 24). Look-
ing upon Him as a common possession of mankind, God, on
account of His connection with humanity, bears patiently with
those who do not as yet believe, but may become believers.
Those who are united to Christ by personal faith are personally
objects of His love (1 John iii. 1), and this fact is the
foundation and justification of our love to ourselves, or of
Christian self-love. The latter rests, therefore, as being Chris-
tian, upon prevenient Divine love, upon the fact that we are
loved (1 John iv. 10). We, as simply empirical beings, must
not be the objects of this self-love, except in so far as we are
capable of being redeemed. Besides, where fellowship with
God in Christ does not exist, the suhject of Christian self-love
is non-existent ; whence it follows that it is only in Christians
that true self-love is to be found. Apart from Christ, on the
contrary, self-love has a false goal, and is a non-moral dis-
position ; it is rather a degenerate self-love, a self-love run
wild, inasmuch as it is not directed to the ideal of one's own
personality as found in Christ. We love ourselves, we love
our true self, by denying our empirical self, by conceiving
and holding fast the true image of ourselves as it lives in God
and is hid in Christ.

2. As it is a matter of experience that self-love is very
often selfishness or egoism, many have held that it ought to be
banished from ethics altogether. But wrongly so. God, at

448 § o«. THE NEW PERSONALITY IN RELATION TO ITSELF.

all events, is an object of love to Himself, and men are to be
likenesses of Him. It may, indeed, be said quite truly that
all the subjects included in this Division may be treated as
coming under the duty of love to God ; and we have, in fact,
referred to this source all our religious duties to ourselves. It
is true that Christian self-love arises out of love to God. But
whenever we give ourselves unconditionally to God, He
makes us objects of His complacency, ultimate ends to Him-
self, wills that He should dwell as a gracious Father in souls
made like unto Himself, and that we should regard ourselves
as He regards us. And from this it follows that our love
would not love what He loves, would not will what He wills,
if we did not also become objeets of our own love. In
opposition, therefore, to di false mysticism, which would remain
in mere passivity, in opposition to a false repose in justifying
faith or in the assurance of election, it is a definite article
of doctrine, a cardinal point, that the moral necessity — not
20crmissihility — of Christian self-love should be acknowledged.
When Christ commands us to love our neighbour as ourselves
(Matt, xxii. 39), He thereby presupposes self-love, and in
nowise blames it. Without self-love, the " rrjpecv eavrov "
of 1 John V. 18 would not be possible; nay, we could not
even be thankful for the Divine gifts vouchsafed us. But, to
be sure, one might think — no one needs encouraging to self-
love ; it exists of itself. By no means ! Selfishness exists of
itself, whereas Christian sclf-lovc does not exist of itself and
apart from self-denial, any more than any other virtue. Its
irrcrequisite and inward regulator is love to God. For we are
to love ourselves because God loves us. And further, we are
to love ourselves as God loves us and as He would have us be.
Again, Christian self-love is the prerequisite and standard of
Christian love of one's neighbour. For, on the one hand, there
cannot be such a thing as love to one's neighbour unless
there is a moral personality to exhibit it, and in that
personality, as such, there must be self-love; while, on the
other hand, the nature of self-love is determined, above all
things, by the fact that we must first of all know how we
have to love ourselves, since we are to love our neighbour as
ourselves. Thus love to God descends to and assumes the form
of that self-love which is godlike, the amor amoris ; love to

§ o7. CHEISTIAN SELF-LOVE. 449

the personality as loving, and not in any other way. But if
true personal self-love means love to the loving personality, we
see that in putting others upon the same footing as ourselves,
it is necessary that we love them as manifesting love [to
others]. And therewith love acquires its ethical character
and contents ; the necessity for self-love passing over into
social love is so strong, that the individual loves himself truly,
only when he loves himself as loving, as embracing his fellow-
man in his love ; and this in such wise that he is at first a
mere recipient of love, and then also one who spontaneously
loves. Thus Christian love takes shape as unselfish love to
our neighbour, especially to Ids unselfish love ; the deceitful
bond of apparent, i.e. of selfish love is destroyed, and an
indissoluble, sacred interchange or chain of love is formed,
such as Zinzendorf especially has so often sung of in his
hymns.

In what follows we have now to treat of the separate
points indicated in our thesis. We consider, in the first
place. Christian self-love in general, and then Christian self-love
in its s]3ecial characteristics.

§57.

A. — Christian Self-love ; its Nature in general.

Self-love in the Christian is the principle of progressive self-
culture, filling him, on the one hand, with humble and
grateful joy in the work of God which is begun in him,
and, on the other, turning him in Christian hope and
with living earnestness to the goal that is set before
him. In particular, however, it manifests itself as
follows. (1) In relation to itself, it reveals itself («)
negatively, in constant self-purification, denial of the
natural man, and protection of the whole system of
goods which belong to the personality ; in other words, in
active self-respect in opposition to everything that would
dishonour the personality. This is Christian self-love
under the aspect of righteousness. Further, it reveals
itself (h) positively, in Christian culture in the widest sense
2 F

450 § 57. CHKISTIAN SELF-LOVE.

of the word ; or iu other words, by infusing an ethical
spirit into (making ethical) the physical and mental
energies, enjoyment and work, even on their individual
side. This is positive Christian self-love. (2) With regard
to others. Christian self-love asserts itself iu the form of
Christian dignity of character ; negatively, in Christian
independence and self-reliance ; positively, in Christian
care for one's good name, and legitimate 'personal influence.
The realization and combination of these different
elements is effected by a truthful self-manifestation on
the part of the Christian, and by his choice and exercise
of a vocation.

1. From the fundamental Christian virtue, in which /a^^5A,
love, and hojvi etre united (§ 43, 2), Christian self-love issues
spontaneously. For the new personality is self-conscious, not
unconscious ; it cannot therefore exist without the Christian
being joyfully aware of the work of God which is begun in
him (Phil, i.), and this knowledge fills him with thankfulness
and humility, and also with courage. Looked at more closely,
tlierefore, Christian self-love means that we value highly and
keep pure and holy the divine work in us, a work which is
tlie forming of a, neio j^crson, the realization to us of a part of
the highest good. And for this very reason, Christian self-
love is infinitely far removed from that spiritually impure,
Narcissus-like, self-admiration, in which the Ego falls in love
with its own image. Such conduct is only possible where
there is a lack of humble acknowledgment of God's grace and
of the effects of sin in defacing our image ; and further, where
God's work in us is regarded as something complete, a dead
product as it were, whereas it is an ethical product, that has
to be constantly reproduced. In this w^ork, the new per-
sonality which has to be reproduced is itself actively engaged,
its energies are directed to itself, and it points to a future in
which all its powers will become normal and appropriated by
the Christian principle, so that all discords among them will
cease. It is therefore impossible for the new Ego to remain
at a standstill in self-satisfaction. And it is this Ego, not the
empirical one, which is the object of Christian self-love. This

IN RELATION TO OTHERS. 451

Ego is, indeed, not a Platonic Idea but a reality ; it exists,
however, only in communion with Christ, and is at first a
reality in principle merely, or, as it were, in emhryo. But
there is in it the impulse to develop into the pure and perfect
form of personality, of which the archetype has been given
us in Christ (Col. iii. 9). This growing manifestation and
unfolding of the principle of Christian virtue, not merely in
momentary acts but as a habitually animating force, is the
process in which the personality branches out, as it were, into
the Christian virtues. But the personality can only succeed
in bringing its whole inward domain into subjection to the
principle of Christian virtue, by carrying on a purifying course
of discipline with regard to itself, i.e. with regard to the
empirical personality, or through the old man within us dying
more and more. In this way, the claims of justice are satisfied
with reference both to the old and the new man. This is,
therefore, the negative aspect of Christian virtue towards itself, the
aspect of righteousness, the self -respect of the new man, in which
he protects his purity and honour, and at the same time executes
justice upon the old man. The latter point does not mean
that the natural energies are to be weakened, for this would
rob the new man of some of the organs of his activity, but
that we are to contend against the evil which exists together
with the new, God-given nature.

2. In relation to others, Christian self-assertion may legiti-
mately take the form of separating ourselves from our
neighbour so far as his sin, but not so far as his person is
concerned. This negative aspect of Christian self-love, mani-
fested in self-assertion with reference to our empirical Ego
and to other men, must then be supplemented by a positive
activity, the object of which is the improvement or culture of
that personality given us by God, the promotion of its life and
growth, in order that we may be able to be of some service to
the whole community, more especially in our particular voca-
tion.

452 § 58. CARE FOR PERSONAL HONOUR.

B, — Christian Self-love ; its Special Characteristics both in
Itself and vjith regard to Others.

I. CARE FOR PERSONAL HONOUR IN ITSELF.

§ 58.

Care for the honour of the personality in itself comprehends
the acquiring and perfecting of the goods which belong
to the personality, both of a temporal and spiritual
kind. It therefore includes —

1 . With reference to the tcmjjorcd life of the senses :

(a) Care for our Physical Existence, Health and Strength,
and for the maintenance of the right relation
between Work and Eecreation ; in other words,
care for virtuous Well-being ;

ilj) for virtuous Beauty and Purity ;

2. With reference to the mental life :

On the intclleetucd side, care for virtuous Refinement;
on the side of the loill, care for virtuous Self-control and
Stability of Character.

§ 59.

la. Care for our Physical Existence.

1. Care of the body and bodily hecdth. Although life is not
the highest of goods, yet it is sinful to neglect to shorten,
or to destroy it. There are many passages in Scripture
referring to self-destruction. Job xiii. 13 f., ii. 9 ; Judg.
xvi. (Samson); 1 Sam. xxxi. 4 (Saul); 2 Sam. xvii. 23
(Ahithophel) ; Matt, xxvii. 5 (Judas Iscariot) ; Acts xvi. 27.
No express prohibition is given against it (except in so far as
it is forbidden in the Fifth (6th) commandment) ; but its

§ 59. CAr.E FOR OUR PHYSICAL EXISTENCE. 453

sinfulness follows from the universal proposition, that as
Christians we and all our powers belong no longer to ourselves
and our own wills, but have been bought by Christ, and are
dependent upon the Divine Spirit. Eom. xiv. 7 ff. ; 2 Cor.
V. 15; 1 Cor. vi. 19; Phil. i. 21 f. The act of suicide
does not consist in our purposely bringing death upon
ourselves. E.g. in war on behalf of our native land, or
to save another's life, we may, in order to fulfil our duty,
have to venture upon an undertaking which must end in
death. In like manner, the Christian martyrs, who pressed
forward to death in order to evince their love to Christ, must
not be called suicides. But in suicide, in addition to the
outward act of destroying life or of its arbitrary renunciation,
there is also this, that the subject has himself and his own
advantage in view, and wishes to escape from certain evils,
that there is no self-sacrifice for an ideal or for a social good.
Its guilt therefore consists in the fact that life is thrown
away wilfully, whether from fear of physical or moral evils,,
or in hope of a higher gain, as is the case in the suicide of
fanaticism. The awful thing about this crime is, that in the
wicked self-will which it displays, there is a renunciation of
obedience, a denial of dependence upon the Creator, a rebellious
interference with His will as Creator and Preserver, allied
with unbelief in the avenging God, except where the act
proceeds from fanaticism or superstition. The suicide does
not merely sin against one side of his nature, but so far as he
can, he destroys the very possibility of all moral activity. The
impiety of suicide appears most clearly when it arises from
worldly motives. If one has lost his wealth or his reputatioa
among men, it looks as if it might be from a feeling of honour
that he commits suicide. But it is rather from cowardice,,
which makes him wish to escape from pain and evil instead of
bearing them manfully, preserving his inward honour, and
winning for himself by moral effort a new stage of his activity,
and of outward respect as well. Fear of moral temptation also
is no justification for the evil deed. Finally, the incurring of
disgrace, violation in the case of virgins, or the fear of it, are
just as far from making suicide permissible. For that which
is endured helplessly is dishonouring neither in the eyes of
intelligent men nor in the sight of God. Moral temptation.

454 § 59. DUELLING.

moreover, when we have not wantonly rushed into it, is not
to be avoided by death, but to be overcome.

It is self-evident that self-mutilation also, which the law
indeed forbids, as well as every approach to suicide through
brutal debauchery, is included in what has been said, since they
too employ the great gift of life as a means for the ends of
egoism. E.g., cutting of the flesh on occasions of mourning.
Lev. xix. 28, xxi. 5 ; Deut. xiv. 1 ; Jer. xvi. 6, xli. 5, xlvii. 5,
xlviii. 37; cf. 1 Cor. vi. 19; Phil. iii. 21.

§ 59ff. Duelling.

Single combat is the settlement of a private matter of honour
by engaging in personal, mortal conflict with the
offender. It is undertaken in order to compel the
offender to risk his life in return for the damage done to
our honour ; and especially to show on the part of the
injured person that he values his honour more than he
does bis life, and thus to re-establish it. But however
differently duelling has to be judged at different times,
it must be repudiated as immoral, when regular legal
proceedings can be taken.

The Literature. — Reinhard, Moral, i. 481 f. linger, Der
gerichtliche ZweikamjJ hei den germanischen Volkern. In the
Gottingcr Studien, 1847. [Schleiermacher, Christliche Sittc,
pp. 625 f. Zur Philosophie, vol. i. pp. 614 f. Rothe, iii. pp.
326 f. De Wette, Christliche Sittenlehre, iii. 288 f. Martensen,
ii. i. p. 425.]

1. It is evident that we must pass a different verdict from
the above upon judicial combats, ordeals, appeals to the judg-
ment of God, etc., among ancient nations, where single combat
was also a public affair in which whole nations were represented
(Horatii and Curiatii). But in a settled state of society
duelling is a relapse into the state of nature, for here other
means are available and ought to be tried.

2. Duelling is to be condemned —

(a) Because in it the guiltij and the innocent are un-
justly placed upon an equal footing. It is true that in

. § 51). DUELLING. 455

a judicial trial they are also placed on an equal footing
before a decision is arrived at, but in the latter case it is right
that decides, while in a duel it is bodily strength and
dexterity. He who has been wronged has in the first place
to risk his life, while it may be that the offender risks nothing.
If I am the guilty party, I have no right, in addition to this,
to threaten a good possessed by the innocent, viz. his life.
If I am innocent, I ought not to have to seek satisfaction by
risking my life, which is a good of mine. That would be
prodigal magnanimity. Consequently, two persons cannot
engage in a duel without sin. And if it is a matter of
dispute which is guilty, no decision can be arrived at by
means of a duel.

(h) Further, should a duel take place, it is morally futile,
inasmuch as its end is not really attained, for to risk one's
life cannot possibly be a proof that one is an honourable
man, since there is a contempt of life that is immoral.^
ISTatural courage may exist together with the meanest disposi-
tion. Besides, he whose cause is not superior in point of
justice may be superior in point of skill. In a duel, there-
fore, we have recourse to the right of the stronger, and this is
no right at all. When public opijiion assumes that a man's
honour is re-established because he has fought a duel, it
deceives itself, it is too lax. Other proofs are required.

(c) Duelling being thus immoral, we can only defend our
outward honour by means of it, at the expense of inward
lionour. Since the duel is inadequate to accomplish its
end, a true inward sense of honour must show itself, wherever
false notions of honour have crept into a comnnmity, by
bravely checking these, and thus awaking a common spirit of
rectitude, which, when it is vigorous, will find out suitable
means for the protection of outward reputation. And here
organized means of protecting outward honour must certainly be
taken into consideration. Courts of honour, when properly
instituted, will be a more effective safeguard of our rights

^ Ko one can engage in a dnel without taking into account the danger to which
he exposes his own life and the life of others, and thus implicitly giving his
consent to the worst results that may ensue, and being responsible for them.
American duels are consequently not so very different in principle from others
as is supposed.

456 § 60. CONTINUATION.

than duelling. And all suspicion of cowardice is obviated
in the case of one who refuses to engage in a duel, when he
shows in his whole life that he is honourable, manly, and
Christian.

Note. — Among military men, where bravery and manly spirit
are professional virtues, the stain of cowardice is an absolute
disqualification. Here the mere conventional rule that, in certain
cases, injuries must be expiated by means of a duel can of course
have no authority. But when in their case the state itself appoints
courts of honour, with the j)ower to determine that a duel should
take place, and thus in a certain measure lends it its sanction,
still more when it makes one who avoids such a duel sulTer for
so doing, then a duel becomes injudicial combat. But although
an individual may thus engage in a duel without sin, the
guilt of it, while taken off his shoulders, falls upon the legal
ordinance. In other instances, on the contrary, duelling inflicts
an injury upon the state, especially where it is defended as a
custom that is moral in the case of the nobility. The state, it
is then said, cannot attach that value to honour which class
notions demand. But it is a usurpation of the power that Ijelongs
to constituted authority, for any one thus to take the law into
his own hands. In well-ordered states, no one has the right —
apart from self-defence — to seek self-redress, and employ force
in protecting a good which the state as such does not recognise.
In early times all freemen, and not merely the nobility, had the
right to prosecute private feuds. There is thus all the less
reason why the nobility should claim a position of moral
exemption in this matter. When, in consequence of false
prejudices on the part of the nobility with regard to their class
honour, the practice of duelling is made persistent and contagious,
it becomes the other classes of society to maintain their inde-
pendence, not by imitating the example that is given them, but
by offering a gallant resistance to it from the standpoint of
Christian culture.

§ 60. Continuation.
Care of the Body.

1. On its positive side, careful attention to life, health, and
strength is incumbent upon us as a duty, since the body — not
merely the gross matter of it, but also that spiritual quality in
it, that plastic power, namely, which remains the same amid

CARE OF THE BOD 7. 457

the change of bodily elements and nutritive substances, but
which may be impaired as well as strengthened — since the
body is not merely accidental to man, but is that side of him-
self which gives him actual existence in the world. In order
to recommend the old " mens sana in corpore sano," we do not
need to show in detail how important for the mind of man are
the health and strength of that organ by means of which alone
he can directly influence the world, and how intimately even
mental powers, especially imagination and memory, are con-
nected witli the constitution of the body. Care of the body is
therefore a moral duty (Col. ii. 23, /ir? ev dcpetBia crcofiaTO<i), and
in performing this duty we must not only see that the powers
of the body are not wasted, that the necessaries of life are not
denied it, that our vital energy itself is not weakened by
austerities in the way of exertion and needless abstinence, but
we must also endeavour to make the body capable of exertion.
It is essential to the freedom of man that he should seek to
render himself independent of terrestrial influences, of wind
and weather, and so train his bodily organ all round as to
make it ready to accept the impulses of the spirit and carry
them energetically into execution. Eom. vi. 13, 19 (/xeX?; for
the 7rvev/j.a). 1 Cor. vi. 13 (o Kvpio<i Ta> acofiari). Eom.
viii. 13 [irpd^ea a-co/Maro'; Oavarovv). Training of the body,
in the case of the male sex more particularly, has to be carried
out by means of gymnastics, drill and the like. Female
culture, on the contrary, nmst not be carried on by gymnastics,
but to early participation in household duties ; let there be no
emancipation of women. With regard to attention to health
in particular, each one must adhere to a certain diet. It is a
necessary part indeed of full self-consciousness to distinguish
between what is beneficial to the body and what is injurious ;
but, unless sickness or the doctor prescribes otherwise, we
must also beware of scrupulosity, or at all events be able to
dispense with it, since it may degenerate into a slavish and
legal spirit, which becomes a burden both to ourselves and
others. Finally, as regards strcnrjth, what we should attend to
is not so much to make ourselves capable of great mouientary
achievements, explosions as it were of power, but rather
to cultivate endurance within the limits of our individual
strength ; endurance imparts more of an ethical character to

458 § Cl. CONTINUATION.

our strength, and we derive more real advantage from it than
from exercising ourselves with a view to great, athletic,
momentary achievements. Bodily endurance is the earthly

support of VTTO/XOVi].

2. Attention to the body and to bodily health is, however,
something pitiful and unworthy, when — as happens in various
ways, and especially in the bathing season — it becomes a
worship of health, in which the moral act is almost entirely
swallowed up in the pursuit of one object — viz. to vegetate.
It is a disgrace for a sensible man, not to speak of a Christian,
to make this the end and centre of his life-functions, the
point upon which he concentrates all his active energies.
Plato refuses to provide a physician for sucli people in his
Eepublic. This seems harsh, but it may be just as humane,
as wlien bath-keepers and doctors contend for such men as
their prey — nay, it might help to set them all the sooner on
their feet. The body is not an end in itself, but a means.
We ought not to regard even death as the greatest of evils.
Love of life must have its limits, as well as fear of death
(Matt. X. 28, xvi. 25 ; John xii. 25 ; 1 John iii. 16). It is
irreligious for a mature mind to succumb to death only with
reluctance. Eor then the last moment of life becomes a con-
fession of bondage, of a separation of our will from the will of
God. To the Christian, on the contrary, death does not come
as a surprise, because he has learned to carry " memento
mori " into the midst of life, and can thus turn even death
into something that he does, not merely that he suffers, and
make it a work of willing and joyful surrender. He goes
from this eartlily scene, he is not dragged from it like a
prisoner.

§ 61. Continuation.

Christian Care for Virtuous Happiness.

Christian self-love consists further (§ 58a) in care for
virtuous happiness, to which belongs especially the
moral relation between work and enjoyment, including
recreation.

1. It is a matter of dispute whether enjoyment and

CHRISTIAN' CARE FOR VIRTUOUS HAPPINESS. 459

recreation may be made objects of moral volition, or whether
they are to be regarded not as objects especially aimed at, but
simply as concomitants of a moral' act directed to something
else. There are moralists who look upon everything which
is not directly an act of will as indolence, and something
immoral, or at least refuse to recognise any moral element
in enjoyment and recreation. Fichte holds that no other
recreation than a change of work is necessary, and it is indeed
true that many do not require anything more the whole day
long. Some also appeal to the fact, that every moral action
has an inward pleasure accompanying it. But if active work
is to be carried on without intermission, then even though
there be a change from one kind of work to another, men
become mere working machines ; they lose the clearness of
self-consciousness, as well as freedom, and the result is that
work itself loses its intrinsic moral value. Sleep, at all events,
remains as something that must receive ethical construction,
and is a proof that the ethical must not be confined to
positive and active work in opposition to enjoyment and
recreation. Death likewise, which cannot be regarded as an
act in the productive sense, nevertheless falls within the circle
of moral duty. On the other side, that life becomes dull and
empty which is wholly given up to enjoyment. It is pleasure-
seekers and idlers who, for the most part, are overtaken with
a disgust of life. Xow that we have indicated the two
extremes, the way is clear for a solution of the question
in hand.

2. It cannot be denied that all morality depends upon
every moment being determined by the will, so that an act of
will may continue to operate throughout a series of moments.
Now, we found at an earlier stage, that with relation to God,
two forms of self-determination must be distinguished, viz.
a receptive form (faith) and a spontaneously active form (love).
Consequently it is morally right, and even a duty, to afford
cpportunities for hath of these in our earthly life. But this must
be done in such a way that everything may bear the stamp of
personality, while the vvevfia gives to everything its pervading
tone. Whatever is natural in the way of enjoyment and
recreation must be brought about by an act of personal
volition. It is the duty of every one, not to renounce the

460 § 61. CONTINUATION.

corporeal side of his nature, but by an act of will to submit
to be determined by it in accordance with the laws of physical
life, and therefore to accept freely whatever tends to promote
life. But since to the Christian physical life is required
merely as an organ, — not as an end in itself — for he remains
a Christian even in enjoyment, — we have here the necessary
limitation of what has just been said. It is immoral and
base, especially for the Christian, to surrender himself abso-
lutely to enjoyment for even a single moment : i.e. to suffer
his personality to be swallowed up in the mere natural life,
and the mere spirit of nature. This holds good of all sorts of
enjoyment, of eating and drinking, sexual love in marriage,
the excitement of social pleasure, amusement, and the like.
And since the moral element in all enjoyment and recreation
depends on their being brought about by an act of personal
volition, moral freedom is preserved. And this holds good
even with regard to sleep. The rule should be, the day for
work, the night for rest. Any subversion of this rule is
opposed to the laws of physical life, and also anti-social.
Among healthy men, sleep ought to be determined by an act of
will, both as regards its time and its duration. Our moral
strength ought also to be sufhcient to determine the hour at
which we shall awake, no less than to enable us at times to
dispense with our nightly rest altogether ; it ought, finally,
to give us sleep at the proper time, and bring our spirit into a
state of peaceful harmony before we lay ourselves down, so
that we may not be robbed of sleep by care or sense or by
carrying on our work in our dreams. If we have mental self-
control, our mind will not continue to work like a machine
against our will, but will succeed in willing to partake of such
recreation as may fill up in a moral manner the time devoted
to the strengthening of the bodily organ. It ought to be a
rule with every one, never to lay himself down to rest before
he has brought his soul into the peace of God. If this rule
were followed, much of that morbid stuff would be done away
with, which accumulates and is the cause of confusion and
perversity in our sleep (cf. Prov, vi. 6-11, xx. 13, xxiv. 33 ;
Matt. xxvi. 40 f. ; Luke v. 5 ; 2 Cor. xi. 27 ; 2 Thess. iii. 8).
Now, when the spirit, by an act of moral determination,
has given itself to enjoyment and opened itself to the influ-

ENJOYMENT AND RECREATION. 461

ences of nature for the purpose of recreation, it has voluntarily
retired for the time being from active productivity. Con-
sequently, it is opposed to ethical principles to turn recreation
again into work, since it is a necessary means for restoring
strength to the bodily organs, which are also required by the
spirit for its purely spiritual work. But all the while, the
personality of the Christian is not absorbed in nature ; it
remains awake in its position of authority, even in sleep. It
is a personality made in the image of God. Consequently, it
wards off whatever is wrong and impure ; in the midst of
recreation and enjoyment conscience never ceases to act, —
it does not lie in wait outside our enjoyment, meditating
and fretting about it, and so destroying it, but is innnanent as
an ever-observant eye and pure impulse, which suffers no
injury to be done to it, and it summons us to work again at
the proper time, viz. when the sense of physical life is once
more aroused within us, and we are conscious that our strength
is restored. And this holds good both when we are awake
and when we are asleep.

3. In enjoyment and recreation, moreover, the true freedom
of the Christian is preserved by that unceasing and vital
communion which he maintains with God in Christ, and
which, though differing at different times both in measure and
degree, is yet essential to his nature as a new man. For then,
even when he is determined by nature (in a free, moral way),
he can regard himself as determined by God, and can be thus
determined through his own volition. Our enjoyment is con-
secrated, is at once enlmnced and idealised, when we regard
the means through which it comes as a gift of God, and
render Him thanks for His gift. Thus it becomes clear how
even in enjoyment and recreation the Christian maintains his
filial relationship to God. It is a false spirituality, due to
pride and ingratitude, that would exclude this region of life
from the sphere of Ethics. The pleasure, too, which we de-
rive from the senses need not be changed into or lost in
the thought of God ; but while the sense of God ought to
be present in our enjoyment, we should experience a real
pleasure in the gift itself. E.g., if in walking in a garden we
come to a beautiful flower and stop to admire it, it is not
necessary, in order to make such a moment a Christian and

462 § 61. CONTINUATIOX.

moral one, that tlie flower should give rise to contemplations
concerning the attributes of God, or that our enjoyment should
be transformed into formal prayer. The pure enjoyment which
we feel is in itself quite consistent with the spirit of prayer,
Col. ii. 23 ; 1 Tim. vi. 3, iv. 3 K ; Eom. xiv. 2-6, and is, in its
own way, an honouring of God and well-pleasing to Him,

4, The sympathy which is always a property of personality
is connected with the fact, that we prefer to enjoy physical
'pleasures, such as eating and drinking, in the society of others
rather than by ourselves. For ]iersonal fellowslivp includes the
individual self-consciousness and stimulates it, so that the
mere enjoyment we derive from the senses is raised to the
rank of a social pleasure — always, however, on the supposition
that those who meet together do so harmlessly, and can thus
really " enjoy " each other's society. To this end it is requisite
that those in company should yield themselves to each other,
with no other purpose than to reveal themselves as it were, to
let themselves be seen, and without calculation or constraint
to bring to view what is in them — of course in a harmless
sense. On the one side it is necessary that, instead of dis-
playing vanity or sensitive reserve, one should possess some
sense of humour or irony with regard to liimself, and accord-
ingly that he should learn to surrender himself to good-natured
humour on the part of others, and thus to look at himself from
an objective point of view. On the other side, it is necessary
that we unsuspiciously appropriate whatever is said and done
by others : over-wise criticism is folly ; it destroys pleasure
both in ourselves and others, and leads to cynicism. The
pleasure of the fault-finder is folly ; it is a parasitical plant
that preys on the trunk of humanity, Thersites, the critical,
censorious character, would be less common, if only men made
it clear to themselves that unloving, heartless egoism was at
the bottom of it.

It follows, further, from the same principle of personality,
that it is a sign of moral imperfection when people know
no better way of spending the time of social recreation than by
engaging in amusements where every one puts himself at the
disposal of chance — as in games of hazard — instead of finding
recreation in the free play of minds, whether in serious or
sportive conversation. Card-playing is objectionable in so far

MEANS OF EECREATION. 463

as chance is made the one power to which all the players
must passively submit. And since there is little charm in
such amusement of itself, a further means of attraction is yevy
apt to be added, in the shape of a money-stake. Now, it is
true that this might simply show that we are inwardly inde-
pendent of what we possess ; but we have quite other oppor-
tunities of showing this ; in a mere empty amusement it is
really the hope of gain that is the attraction. Amusement,
too, runs the risk here of forfeiting its proper character; for
it ceases to be what it ought when it becomes a work, a desire
for profit, or even when it excites the passions instead of restor-
ing the balance of our physical and mental powers. The
highest form of recreation is to be found in free conversation,
which should therefore be regarded as an art. It is onlj^
successful when it is not a work in any sense, — for it must
continue to be a recreation, — and is at the same time neither
arbitrary nor desultory, but when speech and reply fit in
easily with each other. Further, the conversation must not
be usurped by one individual ; for whatever is said should be
fruitful, and stimulate some response in those who listen. The
Apostle requires our speech to be with grace, and to have salt
and seasoning. Col. iv. 6 ; Mark ix. 50.

5. The means to be employed for the purpose of recreation
and enjoyment, as well as the method of using them, are, on
the negative side, dependent upon the limitations arising from
the other moral spheres. These must not be injured but
promoted by enjoyment; for enjoyment, while in itself a
proper object of volition, is such, not in the sense of being a
final aim, but only as a means. On the positive side, the
means of enjoyment must be made to depend upon the
principle which is peculiar to this sphere, viz. the ccsthdic
principle. Here the question is. What will promote a sense
of harmonious personal life ? Too much eating and drinking,
as well as epicurism, must therefore be characterised as
morally reprehensible, Phil. iii. 18, 19 : the gastronomist is
simply a man who is all tongne or palate.^ But by a
beautiful arrangement, it is the tongue itself that we use in
speaking, and in that table-talk which alone gives to a meal

1 With regard to intemperance, vid. Gen. ix. 21 f. ; Luke xxi. 34 ; 1 Pet. iv. 3 ;
1 Cor. vi. 10 ; Rom. xiii. 13.

464 § G2. VIRTUOUS PUEITY AND BEAUTY.

its true moral seasoning and consecration. Since work is the
real aim in enjoyment and recreation, and since the latter are
therefore objects of moral volition only for this reason, and not
for their own sakes as though they were final aims, — it might
seem as if the best course were to take such things for means
of enjoyment as are a work in themselves. The more refined
esthetic pleasures, for instance, combine the two in various ways.
It is indeed true, that virtuous happiness must be sought not
merely in enjoyment as such, but also in work itself. But if
work itself be made a means of enjoyment, then the latter is
the real aim, and the former cannot be content with such a
subordinate moral position : what is morally requisite in work
is not satisfied. Dilettantism in art or science can only be
morally justified as a higher kind of play on the part of our
powers ; it must not seek to replace the true moral work
which belongs to these spheres — nor, indeed, can it do so.
And just as little ought the spheres of the beautiful and of
science to be put forward as absolute ends in themselves, at
the expense of the other moral spheres [as if they alone
brought true happiness]. Sound science points of its own
accord to practice, and true art does not idolize its objects nor
suffer itself to be idolized, but seeks to lend grace to morality.

§ 62.

11). Virtuous Purity and Beautij.

1. Their connection. Purity and beauty are closely con-
nected. The former is the negative condition of the latter ;
hence simplicity and modesty are requisite above everything
else in the sphere of art, or the world of the morally beautiful.
The beautiful must not indeed, any more than science, be
measured by a standard external to itself; but it is in secret,
inward alliance with morality, it is a manifestation of the
latter, although it obeys its own law. And since this law
demands, above all things, that the world of phenomena or of
forms be inspired with life, that matter, or at least its forms,
be brought under the sway of the ideal, it follows that the
beautiful is corrupted by every intrusion of an element of
sense that has not been thus subdued. Wherever, says Eothe,

PUEITY. THE PASSIONS. 465

sensuous brilliancy of colouring is meant to dazzle, or sensual
wantonness to allure, the beautiful is destroyed. The same
thing happens also when the material element is so predomi-
nant as to cause loss of buoyancy, dulness, and insipidity.

2. With regard now to each of these by itself, what has
been advanced (§ 61) concerning enjoyment applies also to
furity ; but at the same time the latter must also be brought
into relation to our active powers in the narrower sense of
the word. Christian purity therefore demands not only that
we preserve self-control, self-command, temperance in enjoy-
ment of every kind, but also that an inward measure or
restraint be exhibited in all that we do.

The "pasdons especially must here be brought under con-
sideration. Many are of opinion that these are altogether
reprehensible, because they imply the being affected by a
sensual stimulus. And they adduce in support of this posi-
tion, James i. 19, 20 : "The wrath of man worketh not the
righteousness of God." This is no doubt only too common ;
but this is only a reason for being slow to wrath and main-
taining self-control (v. 19). In Eph. iv. 31, Col. iii. 8, it is
true that that anger is forbidden which is accompanied witli
bitterness and contempt ; but on the other side, the New
Testament often speaks of o/37>; on the part of God, and
therefore of an anger that is akin to ^7}Xo?, and such f>}Xo9
accompanied, too, by mental emotion is related also of Jesus.
It is certainly true that Christian purity demands freedom
from passion, for the Christian ought never to act from mere
passion ; but it does not follow from this that our 'pa&sions~
are reprehensible. As certainly as all passions are unethical,
in which the spirit submits to the domination of the senses,
so surely do such impulses contribute to the goodness of
human nature, since the latter has been constituted, not only
with a view to common, but also to extraordinary occasions..
When our passions are enlisted in the service of the good,
they increase our strength to do what is right ; they double
a man, as it were, and are given him not only as a means of
protection for his physical and moral life, but also to promote
the energy of his self-manifestations. Consequently they are
not to be eradicated. He who cannot grow indignant at what
is evil has lost all strength of will, the elasticity of his moral

2 G

466 § 62. VIRTUOUS PUEITV AND BEAUTY.

life is relaxed. The one thing of importance here, as in the
case of enjoyment, is, that no loss should accrue to the Christian
personality itself. It must therefore never suffer itself to be
carried away by those sensual impulses which it cannot
approve — such as revengefulness, heartlessness, envy, selfish-
ness, over-self-estimation. And even when the personality
is the source of the impulse, and the Christian allows his will
to go along with the emotion that takes powerful possession
of his spiritual and physical life, the personality must by no
means lose itself either wholly or in part; it must not be
" carried out of itself," by suffering the mere physical emotion
to escape from under its own central control. It must, on
the contrary, remain at the helm, like the steersman, who,
while he permits himself to be swept forward on his course
by wind and wave, still keeps full and clear possession of his
senses, and retains his power to guide. By this it is not
meant that the ruling will should merely stand calmly on the
watch, and, as it were, outside the effect which is l3eing
produced. In such a case, the strength of the passion would
be broken at the outset by a duality. For the whole person-
ality would not be given to it, and yet the strength of a
passion depends upon such a personal unity and totality.
But at the same time, the personality must continue to be
immanent in the passion ; if it loses itself for even a single
moment, the purity of the effect produced is forfeited. It is
evident from what has l^een said, that for a passion to be
moral, presupposes the acquisition of some moral capital,
which operates of itself without any special design and con-
sideration. He who has none cannot yield to passion without
sin, nor indeed can he act at all without sin. Passions,
therefore, bring to the test the moral acquisitions we have
made. They do not lie, they are honest. The ISTew Testa-
ment speaks not merely of %«/?«, but also of ayaWcdadai,
^eeiv TTvev/jiaTi, efx^pi/ubdadai, with opyt], ^t^Xo? (Eom, xii. 1 1 ;
1 Thess. V. 19 ; Matt. v. 8, 22 ; Eph. iv. 26, 31 ; Mark iii. 5 ;
James i. 19 ; 2 Cor, vii. 1 ; 1 John iii. 3). But where there
is a natural tendency to passionate anger, it is of special
importance that a discipline of " katharsis " should be adopted,
for such a tendency deranges the harmony both of individual
and social life, and is a hindrance to the life of prayer.

VIRTUOUS BEAUTY. 467

3. Ill particular, is cJiastity an essential part of purity ?
Here, too, the fundamental law is — the life of sense is not
meant to rule over the spirit, and this is always what happens,
unless it is itself governed by the spirit. Every extra-matri-
monial gratification of the sexual impulse is sin, a desecration
of the temple of the Holy Spirit — a degradation. Vid. 1 Cor.
vi. 13-20 ; Gal. v, 19 ; Col. iii. 5 ; Eom. i. 24 sq., where various
other forms of unchastity are named. The general expression
is iropveia. But married intercourse is not sin, and it is
immoral to regard it as not belonging to the beneficent order
of nature (Matt. xix. 4 f . ; 1 Tim. iv. 3). But in marriage,
also, chastity must be practised — i.e., decency, modesty.
Everything is summed up in saying that the body is, and is
ever to continue, a temple of the Holy Spirit ; that thus the
spirit may have dominion over the body, not the animal
nature over the soul. Hence inward chastity is above all
things necessary. And this requires the suppression of impure
images that arise in the mind, and easily lead to impure
desires, or to " alaxpoXoyia" (Eph. v. 3, iv. 22 f.; Col. iii. 8 ;
Matt. XV. 11); and the avoidance of wanton pictures and
books. Christian chastity also demands modesty in dress
(1 Cor. xi. 5; Matt. v. 8, xv. 18 ; 1 Tim. iv. 12, v. 2;
Acts xxiv. 25 ; 1 Cor. vi. 13-20).

4. Virtuous heav.ty. — The sphere of the beautiful and of
art reaches much farther than art pure and simple. Every one
should have his share in the beautiful, and every Christian
does have it. Nay, the idea of art — the informing of the
natural by the ideal — is much more perfectly realized where
the material that is so informed is a person, than where it is
marble or canvass (%api9, grace, Eph. iv. 29; Col. iv. 6).
Now it looks, indeed, as if it were an exaggeration to demand
beauty as a virtue, and many are fond, in this connection,
of referring to Socrates. But yet it is certain that the body,
especially the countenance and the eye, is and should be a
mirror that reflects the character, just as the sway of evil,
on the other hand, gives the body an ill-favoured appearance.
It may, indeed, happen that a man's endowment in this
respect is meagre to begin with, but even the most unpro-
mising physiognomy becomes ennobled by nobility of mind.
This implies that when we speak of virtuous beauty we cannot

468 § 62. VIRTUOUS PURITY AND BEAUTY.

mean that tempting beauty to which the French, with some
degree of frivolity and yet not without puugency, have given
the name of " beaute de diable," thus indicating those attrac-
tions which, like the flowers, have their time to bloom, but
also like them, and all the things of earth, have their time to
fade. No, we mean that beauty which lasts and can increase
with age, which can be displayed not merely in face and
figure, but also in glance and mien, in bearing and behaviour,
as well as in grace and charm of speech. In woman, the
essential character of this beauty, that does not wither but
increases with age, is grace, — and this can be exhibited even
when the body is not beautiful by nature ; in man it is
dignity. And in both cases, each sex, starting with its own
characteristic beauty, should appropriate to itself the excellence
peculiar to the other. Thus the beauty of woman becomes in
old a^e that of the dignified matron, while on the other side
we have the beauty of the kindly old man. Virtuous beauty,
moreover, should not be exhibited in personal appearance only,
but also in dress and in the liomc (1 Pet. iii. 1 ff.). Here, too,
the aesthetic principle should receive its due place. In con-
sequence of the progress of humanity, inventions of many
kinds, such as photography, have made art a good much
more within reach of all, and introduced it into family life.
We should preserve a style of living suitable to our position ;
personal honour demands that in this connection, too, the out-
ward appearance should be dignified and pleasing. But too
much importance ought not to be attached to it, as if the coat
made the man. Slavish dependence upon fashion is a weak-
ness, indicating emptiness of head and hollowness of heart.
Among our own people, along with the breaking up of
corporations, etc., a levelling process even in respect of dress
(the so-called French costume) has come in with the dress-coat.
But Ethics must insist upon this — that countless evils and
miseries now existing amongst us will not give way until
more truth is introduced into dres.s, until it is more in keep-
ing with personal position. And this can only happen by the
masses once more organizing themselves, and of their ov;n
free-will forming a standard of honour and of custom for the
various ranks of life. A general custom thus established
would afford the individual direction and a fixed line of

CHRISTIAN MANAGEMENT OF PROPERTY. 46 9

conduct to be pursued with regard to liis expenditure in
general, and his dress in particular. This leads us to the
subject of luxury. It is true, in a general sense, that it is not
only what is indispensable and necessary that is morally
permissible, and this altogether apart from custom, which
demands of the higher classes a certain degree of luxury in
their household arrangements. The a3Sthetic principle may
also be carried out in one's own house ; everything is not to
depend on mere economy. And here, it is not only comfort,
in the strict sense of the word, or convenience, that has to be
attended to, but also the exhibition of taste, and this demands
a certain measure of profusion. God Himself has so con-
stituted the world that not only herbage, but also flowers grow
upon the meadows (John xii. 1-8, ii. 1-12). But in this
matter, too, the Christian spirit must be expressed. And we
manifest it, when we do not allow our hearts to cleave to
luxury, when it does not tend to effeminate us or encourage
impure fancy, and when, if need be, we are willing to sacrifice
luxury for the sake of the community or of our suffering
brethren.-^

§ 63. Conclusion.

Virhious OiunersTiip, or Christian Management of Property.

1. The possession of property is also necessary to the
dignity of the Christian personality, because it enables the
Christian to take his share in the subjugation of the world,
which is one of the tasks assigned to our race. It is the
duty of a man to have property, and he who renounces it
renounces important ethical functions. For it is altogether
inconceivable that one wdio had absolutely no property should
achieve anything in the various moral spheres ; he would be
extremely ill-provided, both as to material and means of dis-
playing his activity, if he possessed nothing belonging to the
kingdom of nature but his own body. On the other hand,
the property he acquires for the purposes of bodily life or of
his calling, is the first thing to give an extension to his mere
corporeal existence, just as the earth is, in a wider sense, the
body of the race. Fidelity is demanded even in the things
of earth (Luke xvi. 1 f . ; Matt xxv. 14-30). Acquisition of

{} See in addition the following paragraph.]

470 § C3. CONCLUSION.

property is a duty (2 Thess. iii. 12 ; Epli. iv. 28) ; but only as
a mediate, not as an alDSolute aim. The efforts put forth by
the Christian to become a possessor of property must be noUe
in their purpose or ultimate end, and conscientious in the
choice of the means to be employed. Now, the goodness of
our aims depends upon the use to which we put what we
acquire, and this should be {a) to support those who belong-
to us, and (h) to relieve poverty and aid the general interests
of the kingdom of God. The moral quality which has to do
with the preservation of property is frugality as opposed to
cxtravarjance, that which is taken up with its augmentation
is industry as opposed to negligence. Niggardliness is not an
excess of the virtue of frugality, and covetousness is not an
excess of the virtue of industry. On the contrary, although
in appearance they differ only in degree, yet internally, as
far as regards motive and disposition, frugality and industry
on the one hand, and niggardliness and covetousness on the
other, are as different from each other as virtue and vice. The
latter make the mere earthly possession their sole aim, while
the former seek to obtain it as a means to be employed by
the spirit, and for the service of the moral kingdom. Those
who display niggardliness and avarice think they will acquire
more personal worth, more power and freedom. But here we
see how sadly sin deceives its friends ; for they are made all
the more dependent upon the world, upon what is earthly.
Since they give their whole souls to worldly gain, they make
it the satisfaction of their spiritual needs, their highest good
as it were, even their God (1 Tim. vi. 6-10 ; Matt. vi. 19-22 ;
1 Cor. vii. 30, 31). But the Christian preserves his freedom,
since he does not cleave absolutely and therefore immovably
to what he possesses, as if it were the supreme good ; he has
as though he had not, he has his treasure Avithin himself, and
having it he is independent of all externals (Col. iii, 5 ; Eph.
V. 3, 5). ^ _

2. The Collisions ■wJiich the stand2')oint of Plight (per se Private
Bight) introduces into the Sj)here of Property (cf. § 3 oft). At
an earlier stage (§ 17, cf. § 18), we considered the beginnings
of Property. Man, as the being in the likeness of God, has it
as his right and his vocation to take possession of the earth
(Gen. i. 28), and to impress upon it the stamp of his dominion.

COLLISIONS IN THE SPHERE OF PEOPERTY. 471

But this is first of all the right and duty of mankind as a whole.
How then does the individual come to hold property exclusively ?
or how does it happen that what belongs to one, just for that
reason does it not belong to another ? This is only possible
by means of the idea of right, which makes what we possess
to be our property (§ 33a). It is the idea of Rigid that
determines how that work of occupying and ruling the whole
earth, which is incumbent upon mankind, is to be carried out.
Property necessarily arises in the following way. The
individual takes possession of some one thing, some part of
nature, which he occupies, makes serviceable to his will, and
upon which he expends his labour. What a man has thus
appropriated and occupied, and on this ground has made the
object of moral exertion, cannot be seized upon by another
without violation of right ; the latter must recognise the prior
right of the former. Thus Paul was resolved, even with
reference to his spiritual avocation (Pom. xv. 20), "not to
enter upon another man's labours." It is a sin " to encroach
upon another man's office" (1 Pet. iv. 15). Hence the right
to private property is a well-established one, and includes
also the right to dispose of it, e.g. by sale, exchange, presenta-
tion, or by legacies and wills. And here it is to be specially
noted, that the property of a person who is dead passes of
itself to his family, without a will (succession by law),
because the possession of property by an individual member
of a family involves the right of the family to an eventual
claim upon it. It is, however, only too true that the
right of property is accompanied with much injustice and
sin. Wealth may be polluted by being wrongfully obtained,
or through injustice of a coarse or more refined kind, and
nevertheless pass lawfully from hand to hand, e.g. may be
inherited. The distribution of wealth may in the course of
history arrive at a condition in which, wliile one person is
excessively rich, another is shamefully poor, and has not even
so much as the means of self-culture or of moral activity. It
was in anticipation of such evils that the Old Testament
instituted the Sabbatical year, the year of Jubilee, and other
laws, with the purpose of restoring a healthy condition of things
by means of a fixed and regular adjustment of property.
These evils increase like an avalanche as if by a law of

472 § 63. CONCLUSION.

gravitation ; the greater mass of wealth, as it now exists, has
a greater attractive power, and Right, which gives to what we
possess its higher meaning and consecration,has so little power to
avert these evils, that it rather serves to perpetuate the wrong
and sinful way in which wealtli is divided between the rich
and the poor. For right merely gives security to property
and the differences that exist in its division — as it finds them.
It is not productive, it cannot create a right distribution
of wealth by its own power. It is only divine justice that
can do this, that justitia distributiva, which is essential wis-
dom directed by love. Thus things may arrive at such a state,
that right becomes the servant of Egoism, and the rich are
established by Divine right in the possession of property to
the exclusion of the poor, wdiereas God gave the earth to man,
not to the rich. We are here presented with a serious
antinomy, viz., that an unrighteous state of matters, such as
this unjust distribution of wealth, is confirmed by a Divine idea,
the idea of right. This antinomy cannot be resolved from the
simple standpoint of right. For right even in its law-making
capacity, although it may introduce to some degree an adjust-
ment with regard to the future, must not go the length of
plundering the property of an individual, nor reduce the
individual personality to a state of pupilage. The function of
the state is simply to protect personal freedom and the possi-
bility of personal development. It must not take the first
result of free activity, the acquirement of property, out of the
hands of individuals ; it must not constitute itself a uni-
versal guardian and manager of wealth ; this would be con-
trary to its right and duty. It must not make a division of
wealth, — by giving the same to each, for instance ; this would
be to offer a premium to idleness, and to impose a punish-
ment upon industry and skill A similar result would ensue
were families not allowed to keep an inheritance, a property
that had been gained : this would discourage individual
spirit and industry. A succession-duty is alone permissible.
Otherwise, the united work of mankind would be interrupted
in revolutionary fashion. Humanity would become a mass of
drones, and a universal moral corruption and chaos would
soon intervene. Even progressive taxation, which might render
some help to an adjustment, would, if it were to encroach too

MODIFICATION OF THE IDEA OF PEOPEETY. 473

far, pamper laziness and discourage the spirit of enterprise —
and this is a leading argument against the modern theories of
Comvuvnism and Socialism. The enforcement of poor-rates is
also unable to remove the evil thoroughly; nor is any system of
Political Economy adequate to the problem. Here, therefore,
we again see clearly enough the powerlessness of Eight to occupy
the highest place. Unless it relies upon other spiritual powers
besides itself, it cannot even make it possible for every man
freely to develop his personal life. It is love and wisdom
alone which, without injury to right, can go back to fulfil the
original will of God, according to which it is manhind, and not a
part of it or only some individuals, that is to possess the earth
— that Divine will which cannot be realized by Eight alone,
whether in its private or public form, since, in order to avoid
a chaos, it must rather serve as the protector of Mammon.
Christianity found proprietorship grown stiff and exclusive ; it
made it again free and mobile, broke down its inflexibility,
and softened the rigidity of right by first of all relaxing it in
the heart of the owner himself.

o. Modification of the idea of Property hy Christianity.
There is a difference here between the Old Testament and the
New. It was a temporal future that was set before Israel.
The Holy Land had for the Israelites a religious significance.
Their possessions, distributed according to tribes and families,
were, like the people itself, God's property. It was not
merely a right but a duty, for each family to hold a piece of
property in subjection to Jehovah. And this was not to be
for ever alienated from a family. The Christian religion has
no connection with any particular land. The promise of
earthly blessing to the pious falls into the background behind
the promise of salvation, and even as compared with the
granting of spiritual blessings in the present. But Chris-
tianity does not help to solve the problem by destroying the
idea of property, and inviting men to a distribution of goods
under some such banner as that of Liberty, Equality, and
Fraternity. Nor does it merely demand the establishment of
a state of things in which all shall possess the same amount.
It is wrong to adduce the Church of Jerusalem as a proof that
Christianity introduces the abolition of property (Acts iv. 32,
V. 4). It was love that then put property at common dis-

474 § 63. CONCLUSION.

posal to meet the needs of others. Community of goods was
not a law, it was not universal. Christianity did not directly
abolish even the worst species of property, that of slaves, nor
did it prohibit it by positive laws. But, without directly
altering anything in the absolute right of property with
respect to others, without demanding of the legislature a
direct change in favour of the lower classes, Christianity
simply established a moral and religious way of regarding
property. Property has been given by God ; He gives it every
moment, and that for good ends, and we must give account of
how we use it. That is to say, that which in relation to men
is the right of property, is, when looked at from a religious
point of view, or in relation to God, only the right of
administration of a good, not our oivn, hut entrusted to our care
(1 Pet, iv. 10). Man only holds it in fee from God, there-
fore for good and Divine ends. Consequently, when he
dissociates it from these ends, and uses it selfishly, he thereby
robs God of what is His ; from being a steward he becomes an
embezzler, although no one of his fellow-men has a right to
take his goods from him because he does not use them faith-
fully. For the right of stewardship is with respect to others
nevertheless a right ; to them he remains a proprietor, as long
as the lord of the house does not take his office from him
(Luke xvi. ; Matt. xxi. 3 3 f .). To this lord he is only faithful
in his stewardship, if he uses his good as the giver intended.
But God, when He imparts to an individual anything of which
he is to have the management, does not have regard solely to
him, although it is meant to be a blessing to him also
(Ps. cxii. 3, xxxiv. 10; Prov. iii. 16, viii. 18, x. 22; Deut.
xxviii. 2-8). God's purpose is never confined to an isolated
individual, but includes the whole community. But at the
same time, this general purpose is to be wrought out through
the free-will of the individual. Thus the right of property is
preserved uninjured, while scope is given for softening the
rigid harshness of laws relating to private right, and making
compensation for inequalities that are becoming notorious.
But it is the spirit of free-love that does the work. Here
accordingly we have the grounds of the ethical right of the
church to the care of the poor, of the diaconate, which as
early as Acts vi. appears as one of the earliest of Church

UNEQUAL DISTEIBUTION OF PEOPERTY. 475

institutions, and of the Inner Mission, the many ramifications
of which embrace, both in a fixed official manner and also
freely, the whole sphere of Christian and national life.

The unequal distribution of property rests, undoubtedly,
upon a Divine order [talents being unequal to begin with, the
acquisitions made by their use must be different; cf. p. 509]
(Prov. xxii. 2; Eccles. ix. 11 f.; 1 Sam. ii. 7; John xii. 8).
But in order to incite lis to communicative love, Christianity
also warns us of the dangers of riches. The essential equality
of all men, which Christianity proclaims, nay, realizes (1 John
V. 1), takes away the chief support of the separation between
rich and poor ; but also makes Christianity a stumbling-
block to Egoism, and occasions a crisis, in which the rich are
exposed to greater danger than the poor (Luke vi. 24 ; Matt.
xix. 21 f.). Since the blessings which Christianity confers
involve the essential equality of all men (Gal. iii. 28), and
mitigate from within outwards the sharpness of the difference
l)etween rich and poor ; since, too, the charitable duty of
giving to the poor is incumbent upon the rich, it naturally
follows that it is harder for the rich to become Christians, and
that it demands more self-denial on their part (cf. Matt.
xix. 21 f, the rich young man). In addition to this, wealth
soon makes us satisfied and proud, increases worldliness and
worldly desires, and conceals from us our spiritual poverty.
Accordingly we find such passages as Luke vi. 24, "Woe to
you that are rich," which is not a curse, but a lamentation
(cf. Luke xvi. 19 f , xii. 16 f. ; Jas. v. 1 f.). So, too, the desire
to become rich (1 Tim. vi. 6-10 ; Prov. xxiii. 4, xxviii. 22),
instead of contentment (xxx. 8), is described as a snare ; and
in Matt. xix. 23 f., Mark x. 23, Luke xviii. 25, it is said of
the rich, that it is harder for them to enter into the kingdom
of heaven than for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.
But in exchange for what is given up, Christianity gives new
riches, which are none the smaller because all men, even the
poor, may possess them. In the case of the Church of
Jerusalem, it was a natural expression given by Christians
of their sense of the new riches they had found, when to a
certain degree they had all things in common. Xot that the
renunciation of property would be in itself a virtue ; we
might thereby renounce also our vocation, our stewardship.

476 § 63. CONCLUSION-

But the Christian in his freedom can be at once rich and poor
(Phil. iv. 11, 12). Tliis inward freedom from the fetters of
wealth, and from its temptations, found expression in that
sense of common interests, which made the early Christians
put all their property at the disposal of the wliole community
for the ends of the kingdom of God (Acts iv. 32 ff., v, 4j.

4. It was the Church first, and afterwards the civil com-
munity and the State, which took charge of the poor ; in
the latter case, however, poverty increases. In the Catholic
Church, care of the poor, through the influence of the erroneous
doctrine of justification by works, gave rise to begging, a
practice that was repressed by the Old Testament, that
personal dignity might not be injured (Deut. xv. 4) : " There
shall be no beggar among you." Such was to be the result
of care of the poor. And it is possible to secure it by distin-
guishing the various kinds of poverty. These are (1) Wilftil
poverty arising from laziness. (2) Unmerited poverty from
physical causes. (3) Social poverty.

V/ilful poverty, where a man will not work, must be
repressed by the State, by its police and by punishment ;
here the apostolic saying holds good — " He who will not
work, neither shall he eat " (Eph. iv. 28 ; cf. 1 Thess. iv. 11 ;
2 Thess. iii. 10, 12; Ex. xx. 9). There is no obligation on
the part of State or Cliurch to feed the lazy. It is only in
the way of furnishing work that both of them have to provide
for poverty. And this preserves the dignity of a man, which
will make him willing to eat his own bread. The sick,
orphans and widows, etc., should be provided for without
having to beg, by means appointed by the Church for the
care of the poor.

Those who are socially poor, wlio desire work but cannot
find it, must be provided for by the state and conmiunity, in
connection with voluntary associations for that purpose. The
state must also act by legislation.

Note 1. — Socialism and Covmmnism.

The Literature. — Stein, Dcr Socialismus und Communismus
dcs hcutigcn Franhrcich, 2nd ed. 1848, pp. 574-590. Litera-
ture on this subject. Engels, Die Lage dcr arheitenden Klassen
in England. 1845. Quintessence of Socialism. Alexander
Meyer, Der Emancipationskampf des vierten Standes. Wichern,

SOCIALISM AND COMMUNISM. 477

Vortrag auf dcr OJdoberconferenz, 1872. v. Treitzsclike, Dcr
Socialisnius und seine Gonner. Freussische Jahrhucher, vol. xxxiv.
part I. Schmoller, Ueder cinige Gruiidfragen des Beclits und dcr
Volksicirtlischaft. 1875. JNIartensen's Ethics (Clark's transla-
tion), vol. ii. p. 142 fF. Lasselle, System dcr crivorhcncn Ecclite.
Marx, Das Capital. Scliteffle, Capitalisonus und Socialisnius,
2nd ed. 1878. [Eeischl, Arhcitcrfrage nnd Socialisnius. 1874.
L. Brentano, Das Arhcitsvcrh'dltniss genidss dcni hcutigcn Rcchtc.
1877. E. Owen : A list of his writings is given in Eeyband's
Etudes sicr les reformatcurs contcniporains. Lange, Die Arhcitcr-
frage. 1875. Cf. also Uhlhorn, Die cJiristliche Lichcsthdtigkeit in
dcr cdtcn Kirclie, im Mittelcdtcr. Wach, Die christlich socicde
Arhcitcrpartci. Dove, Die Vcrwcrthung dcr Kirchcngcmcinde
und Sjjnodcdinstitutioncn zur Losung dcr socicdcn Aufgahen.
(Eeport at the German Evangelical Church Conference.) A.
Dorner, Kirche und Beich Gottcs, pp. 363 f. Hartmann, Phdno-
mcnologie des sittlichen Beivusstscins, pp. 589-652. Cf. Eoscher,
Gcscliichte dcr Nationcd-dkonomie in Dcutschland, especially
pp. 1004 f.]

The development of national industries that has taken
place in more recent times has been the cause of a great
inequality in wealth, while the enormous extension of manu-
factures especially, has given capital the control of labour — a
state of things that has given rise to pauperism and pro-
letarianism. Parallel with this state of things, there has
been a hitherto unheard-of increase of the self-consciousness
of the lower classes, in consequence especially of the French
Eevolution, with its proclamation of the equality and liberty
of the individual. An equal share in wealth and the enjoy-
ments of life is demanded as a universal right of man, at
one time by theories which are indigenous to France especially,
at another, by action in the way of revolutions and strikes,
and also by more rational means. The most important
socialists in France are St. Simon and Fourier and their school ;
Pierre Leroux, de la Mennais, Proudhon and Louis Blanc ;
in England, Jeremy Bentham, E. Owen, and Stuart Mill, who
is of kindred spirit (cf. his Life, 1874). Communism made its
appearance during the first French Eevolution in the person
of Babeuf, spread more widely after the revolution of July
(Cabet, Voyage en Icaric), until in 1870 and 1871 it for a time
obtained full sway in Paris. Socialism and Communism have
also been propagated in Germany, especially by Marx and

478 § 63. CONCLUSION.

Lasselle. It was in England that workmen first sought to
extort higher wages by forming imions and strikes in opposition
to employers, but in this way they have only injured themselves
and the national prosperity. In the so-called Chartism ^ they
proceeded to enforce their wishes in a legal way, through
Parliament and Parliamentary elections. In like manner,
among ourselves, Lasselle looks to state aid to carry out his
ideas, and in this way he is opposed to Schultze-Delitzsch,
whose watchword is self-help on the part of working-men by
means of associations. Communism seeks, in the supposed
interests of freedom and equality, to abolish personal property
for ever and in every form." There is also to be no such thing
as subordination, not even such as arises in a republic from
the common will of the people. Every one is to have a claim
to everything, and this idea is also extended to community of
wives, etc. From the emphasis it lays upon liberty and
equality, it seems to be inclined to republicanism ; nevertheless
it is essentially anarchical, because even a republic demands
subordination of the individual will to the general will of the
state. Communism destroyes the state ; it will not even let
civil society stand, as Socialism does. The latter only aims
at a better constitution of society with regard to the division
of labour and property, at an organization of labour, but still
undoubtedly on the principle of equality, and therefore also
in a chimerical manner, because inequalities would necessarily
ensue from the inequality of individuals, in talents, in industry,
and in honesty. Both Communism and Socialism involve the
assumption that the Divine right of every man is the same ;
both are manifestations of Individualism — fragments or
caricatures of the Reformation principle, which civilized
Erance, while remaining Catholic, has managed to pick up.
Both talk of rights, not of duties ; and rights are conceived in a
2mrely eudcemonistic form [labour is essentially regarded only
as a means to enjoyment]. For the most part they hate all
religion, deny God and immortality, and hold that the chief
good is to be found in the present world, in the grati-

^ [On tlie Chartist movement, cf. the article by L. Brentano, Preussische
Jahrhilcher, May, June, 1874 ; and Gammage, History of the Chartist
Movement.'\

- Stein, I.e. p. 446.

SOCIALISM AND COMMUNISM, 479

fication of desire. At the same time, however, they are fond
of talking as if they only wanted to realize the aspirations
of the Church of Jerusalem, and accordingly, to their
watchwords, freedom and equality, they have added another —
fraternity. Of the socialists especially is this the case. But
the difference lies here : the primitive Church, animated by
love, desired to give to each a share of the general wealth,
those who had property supplying those who had none
according to their need; whereas socialists desire to take
each his share. In the latter case we have egoism, coming
into conflict with right ; in the former love, raising us above
the stage of law, law being admittedly inadequate to meet the
collisions that have arisen.

The great evil from which society is suffering may forebode
a helium intestinum, such as was the Servile War in ancient
Eome. It cannot be remedied by any panacea — e.g. by
societies or political rights, or by any one ethical sphere apart
from others, whether State or Church or Inner Mission ; but
all must work together in a free and legitimate way (the way
in which the Inner Mission has taken up this work^), State,
Church, the Community, voluntary associations and individuals
as well. But one thing especially will be necessary. The
breaking up of the organization of the artisan and labouring
classes due to the abolition of corporations, the introduction of
free emigration rights and a universal election franchise, has
begun, on the one hand, to reduce society to one level, and on
the other, altogether to effect its disintegration. It is there-
fore necessary that labour should be reorganized, and his
appointed place thus allotted to each, in order that men may
not foolishly act as if each of them were the whole community
in himself, and had a right to everything ; also that no attempts
should be made to bring all men to the same social level (which
is just as disorganizing), but that each one should have his place
in the organism, as a member of it, — differently constituted
indeed from other members, but still co-operating towards the
general welfare, and in this way enabled to prosper as a part
of the whole. Accordingly, apprentices must be trained, pro-
gressive training schools instituted, and the difference between
masters, journeymen, and apprentices established.

' [Cf. the author'.? address at the Inner Mission Conference in Magdeburg.]

480 § G4. SELF-LOVE WITH RESPECT TO THE MENTAL LIFE.

Note 2. Interest. — Cf. Joh. Dav. Michaelis, Mosaisclies RecM,
iii. § 147 f. ; Luke vi. 34 f. ; Matt. v. 42. Aristotle was opposed
to interest ; Cato, too (who, however, is said to have been a
usurer himself). In the Christian Church it was at first
regarded as unbecoming in clerics to engage in worldly matters
of commerce, and accordingly they were forbidden to accept
interest. But this prohibition was soon extended to the laity ;
numerous councils and popes condemned the taking of interest
as contrary to the command of God in the Old Testament, and
to the precept of Christ — to lend or give to him who asks,
demanding nothing in return (Luke vi. 34 ; Matt. v. 42).
However, it was only the name that was changed. For it
was not reckoned sinful to purchase annuities (rents, yearly
revenues), to let houses, or to lease estates. Escobar even
directs that in money matters we should reserve a fixed sum for
ourselves under the title of a sliare in the profit, and only avoid
the term interest. Hence he is satirized by Pascal, Salmasius,
and Molenteus. Cf. Eeinhard, iii. 25 ff. Boehraer, Jus. EccL,
V. pp. 330 ff. The Old Testament laws are not binding on us,
so far as they were of a national theocratic kind. Israel was to
be founded not upon trade and intercourse with the world, but
upon agriculture. The merehant-spirit, which was asleep in
Israel, was not to be awakened. The Canaanite merchant was
the empirical, worldly Ego of Israel, which had to be curbed by
the law. The words of Christ, moreover, refer to Christian
charity towards the poor. Christ is not speaking at all of the
case where one uses another's money, not simply to relieve his
own indigence, but to make profit out of it. On the other
hand, it certainly follows from His words, that it does not
become a Christian to be severe towards the poor, much less to
bring them to ruin by the demands he makes with regard to
either interest or capital ; in such cases the Christian ought
rather to be willing to lose. That Christ does not condemn the
taking of interest is evident from Matt. xxv. 27.

§ 64.

Self -Love with rcsjjeet to the Mental Life.

2. With respect to the Intellect (§ 58. 2), Christian self-love is,
on the side of Feeling and Cognition, care for a virtuous
liberal education, while on the side of the Will it is
care for virtuous stability of character. (Cf. Eothe,
FthiJc, 1st ed. iii. pp. 250, 337.)
1. True culture embraces, of course, whatever is ethical.

TRUE CULTURE. 481

but by prevailing usage it applies more to the culture of the
understandmg and the mind, of sensibility and taste. At the
same time, hoAvever, it gives a polish to our natural instincts,
although it in no way enhances their intrinsic value. Educa-
tion indicates a way of thinking rather than a way or system
of living, although there is no doubt that true culture cannot
exist unless the will too is pervaded with the ethical spirit.

(a) True culture consists in an enlargement of our mental
horizon beyond the narrow individual interests of person,
position, family, city, or country ; it is openness of mind to
the idea of humanity and its highest interests. In this
meaning of the word, humanism — a sense for what is purely
human — forms one side of the Gospel portraits of Christ, a
side specially brought out by St. Luke. But here more
accurate definition is necessary.

(/3) True culture forms as great a contrast to that vague
cosmopolitanism, which has no home, but lives in a world of
wholly chaotic and elementary ideals, as it does to a narrow
I'hilistinism. Abstract universalism is just as much a per-
version as self-contained individualism. It would simply
reduce all individuals to one and the same dead level, it
would smooth away all personal differences in a characterless
uniformity, and would fatally injure the idea of an ethical
organism, by breaking it up as it were into atoms. And the
individual personality would also be injured by both extremes
alike ; on both sides there is about an equal want of culture.
No doubt it is on its culture that this abstract cosmopolitanism
or humanism particularly prides itself, as we see from its
exponents, who are to be found more especially among
literateurs belonging to that unfortunate and homeless race,
the Jews, and among the discoverers and preachers of the
rights of man. It points out how the barriers that separate
different classes are everywhere falling away, and how the
universal solvent of culture is causing everything that is
fixed and rigid to disappear, and thus bringing men closer to
each other. But while it is certain that progress involves as
a moment the breaking up and decomposition of outlived
institutions, it is just as certain that such an equalization, as
is here spoken of, is in itself so unfruitful and poor in ideas
that it requires its opposite in order to exist. And if this

2 II

482 § Cjl. SELF-LOVE WITH RESPECT TO THE MIND.

Opposite were abolished, there would exist but a chaos, a
barbarism, only distinguished from that barbarism which this
innovating tendency reproaches with paleology by the fact that
it requires a universal equality of individuals, i.e. an equal
barbarism of all. Culture must not resemble a faded picture,
but be like a diamond, which increases by polishing in the sharp-
ness of its angles and in light and brilliancy. Hence we are
equally in opposition to true culture when, adopting this merely
negative ideal, whose true content is the primitive nothingness
which it regards as Paradisaic, we surrender ourselves to the
desire for novelty which likes to be called Liberalism; and when
wo have no ideal at all, but are satisfied with things as they are
(cf. § 47 on Optimism). Christian culture, on the contrary,
both recognises and insists on personality, to which the indi-
vidual and general factors are equally important. Christian
culture is not such merely general humanity, but the instilling
of the general interests of mankind in individuals, — a process
which makes them bring forth fruit, and attain to a condition
whereby the entire community is profited. Or, if regarded in
a personal aspect, it is a development of our inmost nature,
the bringing into a normal state our natural onesidedness of
temperament, etc. As the world, however, is constituted, the
abstract universal and the abstract particular cannot give up
their contest with each other ; they cannot let each other alone,
nor — even leaving sin out of the question — be really recon-
ciled, apart from that higher Christian principle which unites
them by placing them in a normal state. In Christ was
manifested true universality, true humanity, and yet in a
personal form. The highest Christian aim equally excludes
a vague generality, which is but empty and colourless, and a
particularity which shows itself cold and reserved. On the
contrary, it gives intrinsic worth to both these qualities, which
they then seek and find in each other. Empty and negative
universality seeks both to be filled and to have a more
concrete definition, and lience delights in and desires multi-
plicity ; cold particularity, when its view and interest are
expanded, comes to its truth, and desires its i^osition as a single
nicmher of an organized lodg. And this involves the percep-
tion of its own limitation ; in other words, modesty, which is
an essential attribute of culture. No one can be a master in

VIRTUOUS STABILITY. 483

everything, and it is by his true self-limitation that a master
is known. It is, moreover, a mark of an uncultured mind,
to have no appreciation of, or feeling for, the mastership of
others, and, by rashly giving an opinion on every subject, to
credit ourselves with productive ability in a sphere in which
we do not possess even receptive capacity. The true culture
of a man for his position as a member of an organism requires
two things, first, personal education, and then also the cultiva-
tion of receptivity, of a feeling for and appreciation of others.
Hence it is a capacity for transferring oneself to the stand-
point of others, for entering into their special cases (" I am
made all things to all men," 1 Cor. ix. 22 ; Acts xv. 4), a
quality which is the prerequisite of all influence upon others,
all mutual giving and receiving. The memory and imagina-
tion must also have their especial share in this education
(cf. Nitz.-ich's sermon, Die Hciligung dcr Phantasic), nor must
the culture of sentiment be omitted. This in its ethic form
is feeling, its opposite is insipidity and affectation. The over-
culture of the imagination induces to luxuriating in mere
diversion, to a preponderance of a;stheticism, to that intel-
lectualism which is now a tolerably cheap quality, and very
different from intelligence (Geist). It is a quality readily
combined with vanity, affectation, and mannerism, and, more-
over, with extravagance and over-sensitiveness. On the other
hand, the non-cultivation of the imagination makes a man
both prosaic and pedantic. Its culture is of great importance
to piety, which needs the power of a lively conception of God
and of Christ, that it may surrender itself thereto. And such
co-operation of the imagination is, so far as it is necessary,
not untrue, but is in pre-established harmony with the truth,
with God and Christ.

2. Virtuous stability. It might be thought that this was
a gift, and not to be required of all. But when any
one gives us the impression of having a light and shallow
character, when our intercourse with him gives us the feeling
that there is a lack of mental stamina in him, we do not
regard this as entirely the fault of nature. On the contrary,
highly gifted and ingenious men may also leave this impression
and the dislike connected with it, which destroys confidence,
and consequently cordiality. What, then, do we mean by

484 § 65. SELF-ASSEKTION AND SELF-MANIFESTATION.

stability ? It is that quality in a man wliicli creates the
impression that he is constantly, and not only momentarily,
influenced by his moral will, i.e. by his conscience, or, to
speak more strictly, by the thought of God, and therefore
possesses self-control. To such a man we involuntarily accord
our confidence, however small his gifts, or however limited
his sphere of operation. If we are but certain that any one
submits to the decision of conscience, or indeed of Christian
piety, we know also that he is not shallow, that there is in
him depth and trustworthiness, that under every variety of
endowment and function such an one will ever be at unity
with himself, and therefore neither untruthful, vacillating, nor
capricious, but simple airXom, a sharer in the Divine unchange-
ableness. Thus the inward multiplicity is collected into the
focus of simplicity, is concentrated in singleness of moral aim
and effort, is devoted to communion with God and the
kingdom of God. Not till this concentration takes place is it
possible that all his powers and gifts should undergo the
process of penetration, and every single virtue come into the
service of all his gifts — an ethic Treptp^wpTyat?. Not till then
is he a complete whole, 6\6ic\7]po<i, an aviip reXeio^; (Matt. v.
48, vi. 22 ; Jas. i. 4, 6).

Having now considered Christian self-love with respect to
one's own bodily and mental state, we proceed to contemplate
it with reference to others.

II. CHRISTIAN SELF-LOVE AS SELF-ASSERTION AND SELF-
MANIFESTATION WITH EEFERENGE TO OTHERS.

§ 65.

The negative agency by which personal dignity is outwardly
preserved and promoted, is Christian endeavour after in-
de-pendence and respect. Its inward limits are humility
and love, which exclude unrestrained love of freedom, —
avofiia, — and ambition no less than servility. The
positive agency by which personal dignity and due
personal influence are promoted, is self - manifestation.
Its animating principle or impulse is communicative
love, in alliance with the negative condition of truthful-

CimiSTIAN ENDEAVOUK AFTER INDEPENDENCE. 485

ness, which requires that we should manifest what we
really are, and not a mere semblance of ourselves. In
self-manifestation, truthfulness and love must never be
separated, and thus while all lies, even so-called " white
lies," are excluded, it must always have the good as its
object. Christian wisdom so directs self-manifestation
on the impulse of love, that it is always united with
truthfulness. In particular is self-manifestation exhibited
in tlie choice of a vocation, which occupies the same place
in the intellectual and social spheres, that property does
in the physical. This conducts us into the social sphere.

1. Christian endeavour after independence has respect to («)
the mind, and is thus opposed to servility (Jas. ii. 3) ; it is
an assertion of personal dignity, and is also opposed to the
fear of man and to men-pleasing — in fact, to every species
of idolatry that is paid to persons or things in matters
intellectual or spiritual. It includes whatever places us in
false dependence upon others — e.g. entering into secret associa-
tions or factions, a thing which is especially ruinous in
Church life. For through party interests of a factious kind
we are brought into a position where, for the sake of obtaining
success, we support impure measures or men, or become their
advocates, and carry about with us two standards of judgment,
one to be used when we are among our party-associates,
the other among other men (1 Cor, i.-iv.). (h) Christian
endeavour after independence has respect also to the tody, for
as long as a man is not master of his own body, he cannot
manifest his personality freely — e.g. he cannot choose his
vocation. Accordingly the New Testament, though it does
not directly forbid or abolish slavery, yet purposes its abolition
in a moral way that respects the rights of property. " If
thou canst become free, use it rather" (1 Cor. vii. 21 f . ;
Philem. 12 f.). Christianity does not indeed allow a slave,
who is lawful property, to tahe his freedom. In slave States,
the working power of a slave has become of money value, and
comes under private right. Help must be derived not from
upsetting the rights of property, but from a recognition of
them, though after a Christian manner (§ 63). Thus, for

486 § G5. SELF-ASSERTION AND SELF-MANIFESTATION.

example, the redemption of the slaves in the English colonies
by the State was a magnificent Christian sacrifice on the part
of the State, an imitation of ancient Christianity when it
ransomed Christian slaves. In North America, too, slavery
has of late been legally abolished. But at present the
important thing is to afford a possibility of independence to
those who are slaves, and this the Emperor of Paissia, for
example, has attempted to do for the serfs. For this purpose,
however, it is necessary that the moral sense of the com-
munity should be raised, and that public opinion should
advance to a higher conception of the worth of the Christian
personality ; and here again it is Christianity that can render
the best service. Thus Wilberforce, Buxton, and their friends,
together with the Quakers and Baptists, prepared public
opinion in England for the emancipation of the slaves. When
once the Christian idea of personality has attained universal
validity, the conviction will not be wanting that it is a sin
to treat a man as a mere thing, that, on the contrary, his
dignity as Christ's free man must be recognised, and efforts
will be made to supply the slave with education, and in parti-
cular to bestow upon him the blessing of Christianity. It is
a process of this kind which, working from within outwards,
has led to the abolition of slavery and serfdom in European
Christendom. On the other side, when the Christian idea of
personality has been aroused among heathen slaves by means
of missions, it does not follow that they have received the
signal to burst their chains. But the power of Christianity
shows itself conspicuously in this — that even in such unfavour-
able circumstances it knows how to rescue the personal
dignity of the slave, and to make him independent of his lot.
The slave, who has become a Christian, is no longer inwardly
a mere thing, although outwardly he is so still. Inwardly he
is the Lord's free man, and has to show his thankfulness for
being so by consoling himself with this inward freedom
which is the chief good, when he cannot alter his lot without
sin and rebellion (Eph. vi. 5-8; Col. iii. 11, 22 f . ; 1 Pet.
ii. 16, 18 ; Philem. 16). And in so doing he has, in truth, a
greater share of freedom than his master, who, ignorant of
higher things, is a slave of sin. "With regard to political
freedom also, a verdict similar to the above must be passed,

CARE FOR A GOOD NAME. 487

or even a still stricter oue. Christianity, and especially
Protestantism, is not directly, but only indirectly, a political
principle. Onr filial relationship to God makes us all
essentially equal with respect to the highest, the eternal
sphere ; and by virtue of this supreme good we can patiently
dispense with anything that is still wanting to our comfort.
It would be sinful for the Christian to regard political rights
not as a secondary, Ijut as an absolute good, or to try to secure
them by a breach of right, and thus to strive after a merely
relative good at the cost of doing injury to one that is absolute.^
2. Care for our Good Name. Importance is attached to a
good name (Ps. xli. 6 ; Prov. xxii. 1 ; Eom. xiii. 7 ; 1 Pet.
ii. 17). It is a good of great value, a condition of influence
in society. But our Christian care for our good name must
find its standard in humility as opposed to ambition, as well
as in Christian independence of the world and of what the
world means by a good name (against the passion for rank
and titles, see Matt, xxiii. 7 ; John v. 41, 44, xii. 43). The
way of duty leads not merely through good, but also through
evil report, especially as the judgment of the multitude is so
changeable and capricious (2 Cor. vi. 8 ; Luke vi. 26). This
care for our good name, moreover, does not consist in a merely
negative warding off of whatever is hurtful, it is not mere
freedom from vice and crime ; it demands in addition to this
that the Christian should be something positively good, and
make it manifest that he is so. In this way he becomes an
authority in his own sphere ; and since no one can avoid
acknowledging spiritual worth and pre-eminence, he thus
acquires a position of influence. But such acknowledgment
cannot be compelled, it must be merited.

§ 66. Continuation.
TriUhfalness.

The Literature.— Krause, Ueher die Wahrhaftigheit, 1844.
Eeinhard, iii. pp. 163 f., 195 f., 199 f. ISTitzsch, System der

^ [Here the author evidently opposes secondary political goods, such as
political liberty, to what the State is in its essential nature. The idea of right,
which it protects, makes the State an object of worth in itself, and the latter
therefore must not be subverted for the sake of merely secondary political goods.
In addition, of. what is said farther on, concerning political liberty, in the
chapter on the State. — Ed.]

488 § 6G. COI^TINUATIOX,

Chrktlichen Lchre, 4th ed. p. 312 f., § 172. Harless, Christian
Ethik, p. 295 sqq. De Wette, Sittenlehrc, iii. 126 f. Eothe,
1st ed. iii. § 1073-1075. Martenseu, Christian Ethics (Clark's
Translation, i. 205-236).

1. Truthfulness is repeatedly and urgently recommended in
the New Testament (Matt. v. 37 ; Jas. v. 12 ; John viii. 44 ;
Eph. iv. 21-25 ; Col. iii. 9 ; 1 Tim. i. 10). We are members
one of another. No rational being makes one member of his
body deceive another. The manifestation of the Christian
personality with regard to others has truthfulness (which is,
besides, a duty to oneself) as its negative, and love as its
positive characteristic ; while both in contents and in form
it is determined by wisdom. Truthfulness is of a negative
character, and hence it does not form a complete act by itself,
it is only a moment in an act. Truth does not demand that
all that is in a man should be brought out ; else it would be
a moral duty for him to let also the evil that is in him come
forth, whereas it is his duty to keep it down. Truthfulness,
therefore, can never be the impulsive power in self-manifesta-
tion, it is love alone that can be this, unless we except cases
where to abstain from self-manifestation would amount to
positive denial, as in the statiis confessionis (although here,
too, love to Christ is ever the motive). After what has now
been said, it is not difficult to come to a decision respecting
untruths, falsehoods, and white lies. An untruth considered
in itself is something of a wholly objective kind, and does not
necessarily imply nntruthfulness. It takes place whenever
something else than the objective truth — perhaps its very
opposite — is set forth, and error thus produced in the minds
of others. But at the same time the speaker may be himself
in error, and consequently subjective truthfulness maintained.
On the other hand, untruthfulness — that is, subjective un-
truth or falsehood — takes place when the speaker speaks
against his own conviction, even should vjhat he says he true.
If along witli this he intends to deceive, then his lie acquires
also a social aspect that is hostile to love. And here actions
are included as well as words. The use of rouge, e.g., involves
the intention of making others l^elieve that there is mor«
beauty or youth beneath it, than is actually the case. On the
other liand, where the artificial means employed have created

TRUTHFULNESS, 489

a false appearance, but at the same time this is not the
intention of the act, then there is no falsehood. The pur-
pose, e.g., may be to cover a bodily blemish, or to conceal some
repulsive natural defect, or for health's sake to seek an
artificial compensation for something that has been lost.
Here there is no falsehood, for it is not a duty to expose what
is offensive, or to endure it, when the power we have over
nature enables us to supply the deficiency. ISTevertheless, if
the means that may be used to cover a defect are changed
into a means for making a dazzling display of beauty, then
falsehood arises. The case is somewhat different with regard
to our conventional phrases of politeness.^ These certainly
contain many false exaggerations, that have arisen from the
effort to talk in a complimentary fashion, or from people
trying to attain some end by means of flattery. The Quakers
are wholly averse to such forms of speech, and have broken
with them, and we can accept their attitude in the matter as
a Christian protest against the continuance of tliese habits and
forms. Still we must not characterize such customary modes
of expression as lies, since they resemble worn-out coins,
which in the course of exchange have acquired a different
value from what their inscriptions denote. If an individual
were to attempt to alter these forms, he would occasion
another false impression — namely, the appearance of inten-
tional impoliteness or insult. The Quakers run no risk of
doing so, because every one knows that, in refusing to use
these forms of speech, they have no intention whatever of
giving offence. But Quakers also go too far with their
universal use of " Thou ; " for it is important to human
society that politeness, too, should have a sphere of its own
where courtesy and deference alone are manifested, a sphere
half-way between non-acquaintance and intimacy. This is the
outer court of the temple of social intercourse, and we may
not enter in by any other way. Men must still continue tu
respect each other, though they are not on a footing of intimacy.
2. But now are there cases where lying is alloicahle ? Can
we make out the so-called white lie to be morally permissible ?
The insane, the sick, children are involved, in manifold ways,
in false ideas, in a world of appearances. Is it right for us to
^ Of. Schleiermacher, Christlkhe SUte, p. 654 f.

490 § G(3. CONTINUATION.

accommodate ourselves to them out of love ? To let them
remain amid appearances when to dissipate these would be
precipitate, to withhold the truth from them when it would
not benefit them, and they would form a false conception of it,
— this is permissible beyond doubt ; for all moral communica-
tions have love, not truthfulness, as their impulse (John
xvi. 12 ; Matt. vii. 6) (Kvve^). But is it also allowable to
carry accommodation so far as to give assent to errors, even
should it be with the purpose of afterwards overcoming them,
when we have thus won confidence ? Or, what comes to the
same thing, is it allowable to cixate a false appearance {fucum) ?
In general, and in accordance with what has already been
said, it must hold good, that whoever regards something that
is really a lie — a so-called white lie — as permissible, must
also look upon it as a duty. But how shall ethics ever be
brought to lay down a duty of lying, to recommend evil that
good may come ? (Eom. iii. 8). The test for us is, whether
we could ever imagine Christ acting in this way, either for the
sake of others, or — which would be quite as justifiable, since
self-love is a moral duty — for His otvn sake. To accom-
modate ourselves to oilier^— e.g. to children or those who are
sick — is no doubt a duty, but it must have its limits ; and
these are given in saying that we must not contradict our-
selves— that is to say, there must be no contradiction between
our inward mind or opinion and our outward words or acts.
In particular, to withhold the truth from one who is dying, to
give him false hopes when all hope is gone, is questionable for
this reason — that we thereby take something from him, the
incentive, namely, to prepare himself for death both outwardly
and inwardly, that he may take the last step, the step from
life to death, consciously and willingly. We overestimate
the value of human life, and besides we in a measure usurp
the place of Providence, when we believe we may save it by
committing sin. There are certainly cases, however, where
the ai^pcarance produced is -quite honed, where the untruth is
confessedly an untruth, and is by this means preserved from
being immoral. Thus playful fictions may be propounded by
friends amongst each other, after the manner of riddles, in
which, by way of free mental diversion, they have to guess
what they are to think of them. In war, too, something like a

DEGREE OF GUILT IN LIES. 491

game of this kind is carried on, when by way of stratagem
some deceptive appearance is produced, and a riddle is thus
given to the enemy. In such cases there is no falsehood ; for,
from the conditions of the situation, — whether friendly or
hostile, — the appearance that is given is confessedly nothing
more than an appearance, and is therefore honest. On the
other hand, I should be unwilling to extend what has just
been said to the social phrase in which a person denies him-
self to visitors. Unless, perhaps, it has become conventional
to understand the formula " not at home " as meaning " I am
prevented from receiving, lait wish you to regard my refusal
not as if I had repulsed you, but as if you liad missed me "
(as against Rothe).

3. With regard, however, to the degree of guilt attaching to
lies, of necessity a distinction must certainly be made. If the
lie is selfish, as so-called white lies generally are, it is simply
dishonourable, and a fraud ; and whoever as a matter of prin-
ciple allows himself to tell such lies for his own advantage,
shows that his sense of truthfulness is fundamentally im-
paired. But the amount of guilt must be otherwise estimated,
if the lie was told in the interests of love, and in defence of a
good legitimate in itself. In such a case, however, there must
be no indifference to the preservation of truthfulness, for then
the love that is displayed would probably be altogether super-
ficial. But an act may amount to a lie even when it was
originally intended to be pure, and to preserve not only love
but also truthfulness uninjured. We may intend, e.g., not to
tell a lie, but only to maintain a conscientious silence, and yet
in carrying out our intention fail to fulfil the duty of keeping-
truth and love united. Here the will was good, but from
want of moral skill or wisdom our act has so fallen out that
silence has become deception. This is again a case that puts
to the proof our moral advancement, and its solution therefore
depends upon the degree of discretion and prudence we have
attained (Matt. x. 16). The impulse to act must always
come from love ; truthfulness is only the negative side of
action, except in the status confcssionis (§ 55). Consequently,
whenever revealing the truth is opposed to love, it would
show want of love to communicate it. Now, should a case
arise where an act is not intended to deceive, but truthfulness

492 § 07. CONTINUATION.

is meant to be preserved, and should the result be that, in
guarding the interests of love, we do injury to truthfulness,
then it must be said that, relatively speaking, it was better
that the chief moral requisite of the situation — viz. love —
should not suffer loss. Still the act itself, though perhaps,
with the degree of moral strength existing, unavoidable, must
be to the Christian an object of regret and repentance, — and
that not merely on its own account, but because of the state of
character to which the fault was due.

§ 67. Continuation.

Oaths.

In an oath we solemnly, and in spoken words, connect a
statement with the thought of God as the Omniscient
Witness and Eighteous Judge of untruth. Where it is
found to be necessary, it points to a sinful condition of
society, and is accordingly destined to cease along with
the evils which occasion it. But in itself an oath is not
a sin ; on the contrary, when the truth cannot in im-
portant matters be otherwise established, it is our duty
both to put a person on his oath and to give our own.

Literature. — Stiiudlin, Gcschichtc dcr Vorstellungcn unci
Lehrcn vom Eid, 1824. Bayer, Betrachtimgen ilher den Uid,
1829. Bauer, Ueber den Eid, moralisch-thcologischer Versuch.
Nitzsch, Predigt uber die Heiligkeit des Eides. Goschl, Der
Eid nach seinem Prinzipe, Begriffe und Gehrauche, 18.37.
Sti-ippelmann, Der Gerichtseid, 1855. Eothe, 1st ed. iii.
§ 1076.

1. Its Idea. The various kinds of oaths make no essential
difference to the idea of an oath. A distinction is made
between («) civil oaths (word of honour) and (h) religious oaths.
Both of these classes, again, are divided into judicial and
imvatc oaths. According to their occasion or their contents,
oaths are partly those of conviction (jarcmienta- credulitatis),
where a subjective conviction concerning some matter is
stated on oath (as in the case of a jury, for instance), and
partly corrohorative. The latter are either negative — oaths of
2)urgation {juramcnta piirgationis), for the purpose of rebutting

OATHS. 493

an assertion — or positive — assertory oaths (juramcnta assertoria).
Among the latter are oaths connected with the giving of
evidence and with promises, the oath of citizenship, of office,
and of allegiance, as well as cases where a confession of faith
is accompanied with an oath and a vow or promise, as, for
example, in the so-called religious oath. An oath has been
regarded under the aspect both (a) of a covenant, and (6) of a
confession; the former chiefly in the last century.

(a) The oath as a covenant ; (a) loith God. In an oath, it
is said, the highest goods are put in pledge. To include God
Himself among these goods would give no sense, and therefore
it must be eternal blessedness that is meant. But such a
relationship with regard to God as a contract implies, would
be immoral in itself; it would be opposed to humility. And
then, how can it be right for a man to pledge salvation for
any earthly thing whatever ? Further, however certain a
statement may be to which we give our oath, it ought not to
be as certain to ns as God and the blessedness we have in
fellowship with Him. How, therefore, can a true Christian, to
whom God is more certain than the empirical world, nay, who
has derived true assurance from God alone — how can he ever
say with truth, that any earthly thing whatever is as certain
to him as God and fellowship with God ? With those, how-
ever, to whom not God and salvation, but something that is
earthly, is the highest good or the clearest certainty, an oath
in this conception of it would afford no guarantee of truth.
And thus it follows that pious Christians could not take an
oath in this sense of the M'ord, and that those who do take it
would not be pious.

(/3) Michaelis represents an oath as a contract between the
person who gives it and the person to whom it is given
(acljurans). Here God is the fjuarantee of the contract. But
this would look as if a special contract were necessary in
order to make truthfulness obligatory, and as if God were not
the judge of all untruth. This conception, therefore, tends to
moral laxity with reference to declarations not made upon
oath.

(7) Instead of this juridical conception of an oath, we have
the moral conception, as in the civil oath, where one's word of
honour is passed, or moral honour is pledged. Even an

494 § G7. CONTINUATION.

atheist could take an oath of this kind. But while moral
honour is no doubt rightly comprehended in an oath, it
includes religious honour, and the latter must be made promi-
nent in an oath, because it alone affords security that the person
who takes the oath occupies a fundamentally moral position.

(h) Consequently, Goschel's conception is more to be com-
mended, according to which an oath is a religious confession,
an act of worship. Still, it is again incorrect to regard this
as exhausting the meaning of an oath, for in that case it
would be a wholly desirable act, and no disapproval could
attach to it (in opposition to Matt. v.). This would mean that
an individual is here performing a religious act, an act of
worship, in the presence of his fellow-men, in order to assure
them that he is a religious man. But, while one of the
results of an oath may very well be to convince iis that we
are dealing with a religiously conscientious man, still this
must not be the purpose of him who takes it ; for then the
act of worship would be performed, not for its own sake, but
in a manner to suggest display. On the contrary, since the
statement that is to be attested refers to a single finite fact,
which may be altogether separated from the thought of God,
while at the same time it is necessary to arrive at certainty
concerning this fact, the essential nature of an oath consists in
this — that he who makes it brings his statement into connection
with the thouglit of God, and makes confession that he is
speaking hcforc God in all good conscicjice.

2. NeiD Testament passages witli regard to an oath are
Matt. V. 33 ff., xxiii. 16-22; Jas. v. 12. Here swearing is
forbidden oXw?. Some hold that it is only an oath attached
to a promise which is forbidden, because we are not nostri
juris (Grotius). But the command is — Swear not at all
(oXw?). Others maintain that it is only extrajudicial oaths
which are forbidden. But no grounds can be shown for
excluding these, if judicial oaths are allowed, because we may
lie brought into the status confcssionis in private, as well as in
public circumstances. It has further been held that we are
only forbidden to swear by finite things, such as the temple,
heaven, or earth, etc., but are not forbidden to swear by God ;
the reason being that in the former case we are apt to be
betrayed into thoughtlessness in the matter of taking an oath.

OATHS. 495

But what Christ says is, that in swearing by finite things we
are in reality swearing by God, and that we ought not to
swear at alL Hence it need not surprise us that scrupulously
conscientious parties, such as Quakers and Mennonites, reject
oath-taking altogether. And there is much to countenance
this position. An oath arises from sin, it is sin alone whicli
calls for it ; for it can only be necessary when society is much
infected with the vice of lying, when a simple yea, yea, nay,
nay, is no longer sufficient, and statements unsupported by an
oath are exposed to suspicion. Further, where oath-taking is
practised, the duty of telliyirj the truth when not upon our oath
seems to be 'put lotoer than the duty of telling it lohen upon
oath. But by this means the sense of duty is weakened in
the sphere of ordinary life, the truthftdness of a people is
undermined, oaths become more and more common, and by
reason of their very frequency become useless and even per-
nicious, since tlieir evidential value is constantly decreasing.
This injury, which may be inflicted on the general truthfulness
of a people, cannot be measured, but the mischief is as great
as if oaths were to be discontinued, and many single facts
were to remain unproved, especially as the security which an
oath affords is so often merely formal. In addition to all
this, the honour of the Christian is affected. He speaks the
truth plainly and simply ; to demand an oath from him
implies mistrust of his simple assertion, and therefore, if he is
really a Christian, his honour is injured. Ought he to submit
to this ? Further, among those parties that refuse to take an
oath, there by no means seems to be more untruthfulness
than where statements are made upon oath. On the contrary,
their release from the obligation to take an oath is for them a
mark of distinction, and an incentive to truthfulness, while at
the same time it justifies the State in making the punishment
of any abuse of confidence all the more severe, and hence it
may be doubtful whether a community would not be better
off were oaths abolished altogether, and the precepts of the
Xew Testament literally followed.

On the other hand, we must also admit that Christ Himself
on various occasions confirmed His words with an " Amen,
amen ; " and that when the High Priest adjured Him to speak
the truth upon an oath which he proposed, Jesus replied,

496 § 67. CONTINUATION.

" Thou liast said," and thus consented to the oath, Matt.
xxvi. 63. Similarly we tind Paul also frequently making
asseverations, Eom. i. 9, ix. 1 ; 2 Cor. xi. 31, xii. 2 ; 1 Thess.
ii. 5, 10; 2 Cor. i. 23 ; 1 Tim. v. 21. In Heb. vi. 16, an
oath is called the end of all strife. Further, in the Old Testa-
ment, oaths are spoken of as acts that are moral, or are even
legally enjoined, and God is described as swearing by Himself,
Ex. xxii. 11; Lev. vi. 3; Gen. xxii. 16, xxvi. 3; Num.
xiv. 21 ; Ps. Ixxxix. 4, ex. 4 ; Ezek. xxxiii. 11 ; Isa. xlv. 23.
In fact, it cannot he shown why there should he anything turong
in an oath, if the truth cannot be otherwise made credible ;
for if it is sincerely taken, it merely bears witness to the fact
that God is remembered in connection vi^ith the statement that
is made. But, all the same, the thought of God should be
continually present to the Christian, so that an oath contains
nothing new or foreign, but only something that is good.
We cannot compel men to believe our simple word ; in a
court of justice all must be treated alike ; and since lying
exists in our social life, every one who would be a member
of society must assist in bearing like a Christian the burden
to which falsehood gives rise. Moreover, where oaths are
administered, it does not necessarily folloiu that statements not
made ujwn oath have their value Imvered, or that the spirit of
truthfulness in general is weakened. Means can be devised
to obviate these dangers without forbidding oaths entirely.
But at the same time we must always endeavour to render
oaths less and less frequent, and more and more dispensable.
If only the objective duty of truthfulness is enforced with
sufficient earnestness, a community will be none the worse for
oaths being permitted ; they will serve as a reminder of the
duty of truthfulness in general. Consequently, the sayings
of Christ directed against oaths must be understood as follows.
Oaths ought to be strictly excluded as between Christians,
because, although they are sincerely taken, they are neverthe-
less superfluous. Further, the principle remains, that our
object should be to make oaths dispensable, and bring about
their entire discontinuance. Hence they are rightly employed
only, when at the same time the duty of truthfulness in general
is enforced in such a way as to make the taking of oaths,
itself a step toivards rendering them n/) longer necessary. Christ

OATHS. 497

therefore does not set xip a mere empty ideal or aim, but
presents truthfulness throughout the whole life of a people as
the real aim of the Christian. Within these limits an oath
can receive its due ethical place, as something that is
transitory, as the expression of a momentarily imperfect
condition of society, but the expression, too, of a real and
ceaseless striving after the true goal. It belongs to the
freedom of the Christian to take upon himself, in the spirit
of love, something that is not necessary for himself, but is
occasioned by the average ethical state of society. From
what has been said, however, it follows that an increase in the
frcqiLcncy of oaths is a disgrace to a Christian commonwealth,
a sign, if not of levity, yet of indolence on the part of judges,
and of the decay of truthfulness in the community at large.

3. An oath does nothing to raise the objective duty of
truthfulness to a higher level, for objectively there are no
differences of degree between duties. But subjectively, and
in a religious way, it does enhance our obligation to tell tlie
truth ; he who takes it must either say what is true, or else
grieve the Spirit of God, who is warning him to be truthful,
and thus become a worse man than he was before. The guilt
of untruthfulness is thus incalculably increased by perjury.
Accordingly, (a) an oath must not be taken without well-
tested conviction. (/S) No one must be compelled, or allow
himself to be compelled, to take an oath ; for if swearing be
altogether contrary to a man's moral sense, then if he did
swear, he would sin against himself. (7) Still less must he
who administers an oath allow one to be taken for statements,
when the contrary of these has already been affirmed upon
oath. (8) Further, since an oath does not create a new duty,
but only makes an objective duty more binding subjectively,
it also follows that just as nothing impossible must be pro-
mised on oath, so, too, nothing immoral can become a duty
by having an oath attached to it. But we must certainly
maintain, that if the oath was on the whole permissible, it
ought to be kept. If, on the other hand, it was immoral,
then, while we refuse to adhere to it, we ought to be filled
with earnest contrition for our sin in entering into it, and
with penitent sorrow for the offence and confusion of moral
ideas to which our conduct so readily gives rise. Finally, we

2 I

498 § 68. CONTINUATION.

ought also to be willing to accept all the injurious conse-
quences of our sin, in order to make atonement for the offence
we have caused. Hurtful consequences of an external kind,
injuries that follow in the secondary spheres, and the like, do
not release us from an oath ; it is only plain immorality that
can make a promise null and void in itself. He who would
make any damage he might sustain in consequence of keeping
his word to be something immoral, shows that he is material-
istic in his ideas, and unbelieving with regard to God's bless-
ing on fidelity.

§ 68. Continuation.

Our Vocation.

There is also and essentially an individual side to the activity
of the man created in God's image (§13 ff'.). Moreover,
since, though he is endowed with individual gifts, his
feeling for the general good is constantly evidencing
itself in a moral manner, his self-manifestation and
self-activity are carried out in a particular vocation.

1. In what has hitherto been said in treating of Christian
character, we have not given any special prominence to the
individual or social factors. We have regarded both the
physical and spiritual duties which Christians owe to them-
selves more under this aspect, without absolutely defining the
individual point of view. Even such matters as truthfulness
and oaths have not been brought 'pvimo loco under the social
or individual point of view, but under that of Christian honour
and its self-assertion. In this paragraph we turn away from
the personal to the individual side. In so doing we seem to
be farther removed than ever from what is social, while
nevertheless personal honour is inseparably connected with the
moral position which one bears to others, to the social sphere
at large. But, in truth, it is just the individual side of the
Christian personality, which forms the transition to objective
communities, and conducts us from the subjective to the
objective form in which the highest good is realized. Tor
moral individuality on the side of its power of manifestation is

OUK VOCATION. 499

talent (or when Christian, 'x^dpia/jia), which is indispensable to
the formation and self-preservation of an organized, moral
world, just as this world again assigns to talent its place or
vocation (1 Cor. xii. 4 ff, 28 K, xiv. ; Matt xxv. 15 ff.;
Luke xix. 13-25). Every individual is indeed a microcosm,
reflecting the whole of existence, both God and the world ;
each one, however, does not reflect everything in the same way,
but in a different way from every one else. That is to say,
the predominant characteristic is different in each individual,
and modifies all his energies. When a person is pre-eminently
endowed on one side of his nature, he is of necessity limited
on other sides, so far at least as productive power is con-
cerned ; and it is only within its proper limits that his special
skill can be exhibited. They are for us the negative condition
of concentration. At the same time, such limitation forms a
strong social ho7id, rendering it necessary for the accomplish-
ment of work that all should reciprocally sujpylement each
other. With regard to our inward disposition, however, no
such process of supplementing can be admitted, because
inwardly each one ought to be devoted to the whole, with open
heart and in faithful love. If there were only identity,
individuals would, on the other hand, remain like so many
atoms alongside of each other in their action. And an infinite
repetition of one and the same would never make an organism.
It is true that the idea of God is reflected in its totality in
every single person. But different sides of this idea are
reflected individually in separate individuals ; these become so
many different talents, and constitute a diversity that aims at
and establishes the different spheres of vocation or different
communities, in which is realized the awiia Xpiarou, the
kingdom of God, — that greatest and holiest of all works of
art, that splendid temple of God, that is luilt not of stones, hut
of persons. And although persons die, yet these communities
endure, and have a relative immortality, since new individuals
are constantly arising to caoTy on those essential functions,
through which every community is loroducccl and organized.
Attaching himself, with his individual capacities, to these
communities/ each individual is now raised, and has his

^ In treating of the genesis of vocations, we can either begin with individuals
and proceed to communities, or begin with tlie communities themselves in which

500 § 68. CONTINUATION.

moral life raised, to a higher level ; for it is now essential to
his personal honour, as belonging to a particular vocation, that
he should not so much act of himself, as that the moral spirit
of his sphere of life should act through him. Individuals,
indeed, remain the vehicles of virtues, for Vinet is right in
maintaining that the moral communities are not possessors of
virtuousness. Individuals, however, are the vehicles of the
virtues of their vocation by this means alone — that they do
not merely think and act as individuals, but that the Ethos,
the spirit of the whole community (which, in the case of
Christians, is the Holy Spirit), is the principle which impels
and animates them, whether in the Church, the State, in
Science or in Art. The physical person becomes the organ of
a higher, of the moral person or community. An individual
has not truly found himself, until he has found his moral
vocation, which makes him a useful organ, animated by the
consciousness and will of the whole community.

2. Vocation ; its Universality. Since the gift possessed by
each Christian is held by him for the common good (1 Cor. xiv.
12, 26), it naturally follows that Christian society ought not
to have any drones who merely consume, and do nothing to
nourish it. Every man must have a vocation, a special one,
not merely the fundamental or family vocation, arising from
his position in the family, which is the basis of all other
moral communities. It is woman alone who has the latter as
her proper vocation,^ and hence she is also the vehicle of the
universal human. But every man must have a special
vocation besides the family one. " The man must not be a
stay-at-home" (Rothe). Marheinecke^ and Rothe^ I'ightly
declaim against private gentlemen and squires, who make
such a figure in the " Visitors' List " at watering-places, and
are not producers, but only consumers ; and with striking
force compare them to beggars, the parasites of society. If
any will not work, neither let him eat (2 Thess. iii. 10-12).
When men have no longer the strength to carry on their
own calling, civic duties and church work are still open to

individuals are assembled. [Here the first method is, of course, the one adopted ;
for the second, see below, § 72, note. — Ed.]

' [Cf. supra, pp. 141, 142, 419.] - Theologische Moral, p. 394 f.

3 1st ed. iii. § 947 f.

CHOICE OF A VOCATION. 501

them. In these they may find, to their own benefit, a new
vocation adapted to their powers, and be supported by the
experience of age and the respect accorded to it. Therefore let
every man have a calling (1 Cor. vii. 20 ; Matt. xxv. 15).

3. It is a more difficnlt matter, however, to say anything
definite regarding the cJioicc of a vocation. If a wrong choice
is made, it is a serious misfortune both for the individual
himself and for the community. When the life of a man is a
failure so far as his vocation is concerned, his own inward
moral development is rendered more difficult, while the com-
munity is deprived of a member in the place where he ought
to be, and at the same time is furnished with a member in
the wrong place. He thus acts as a hindrance and check to
the free movement of the whole. Accordingly, the utmost
conscientiousness and strictest self-examination are necessary
here. From a moral point of view, the most dangerous thing
of all is to enter upon the clerical or theological vocation
without an inward call. For since this vocation rests upon
religious enthusiasm and love, hypocrisy can hardly be avoided
where the inner call is wanting. On the other hand, when
the requisite gifts are forthcoming, it is the easiest and, so to
speak, the most natural A'ocation. For that which is the
universal Christian duty is here made, only because of the
possession of the necessary talents, the special duty. This
vocation has a peculiar dignity. It stands among others like
Sunday among the days of the week. None of the other
professions, indeed, is deprived of fellowship with God ; each
one catches and reflects some ray of Divine light. But in the
clerical vocation a man is professionally occupied with the sun
itself. Should the student, moreover, fall into doubt with
regard to the faith, this must not lead him astray. It is just
when he is anxious about his truthfulness, that he is specially
fitted for this line of study. No more is required of him
than would still be requisite w^ere he to abandon his profession,
if he desires to continue a Christian. Doubt with regard to
Christianity must become doubt with regard to salvation. But
such doubt can, nay, ought to be changed by every one into full
assurance of faith ; and this change takes place in a practical
way, not by means of demonstration. If by faith he has only
the elements of Christian truth, he has that knowledge and

502 § G8. CONTINUATION.

certainty which is the fouudation of every other, and starting
from this all other doubts will gradually be cleared away/

The moral cJioice of a vocation in general is made through
an act of an individual kind, in which a decision is arrived at
on purely individual grounds, subject to the direction of con-
science. Thus there is a side to the choice of a vocation,
which is altogether removed from the judgment of others ;
nevertheless, from an ethical point of view, one additional
remark of a general nature may be made. The good, which
forms the sphere of each separate vocation, has ever been
already realized in the course of history, though the division
of labour must still go on. The manifold varieties of
vocation and of work already realized make it possible for
every person, by careful survey and comparison, to arrive at a
self-knowledge which, if it is only sufficiently aroused, will of
itself become a knowledge of what his vocation ought to be.
Still it is a dangerous thing for any one (a) to follow solely
his inward inclination, without receiving the consent of that
objective sphere of life to which he is inclined, by means of
those who are authorities in that sphere. To do so is to
follow what Schleiermacher calls the maxim of Lilertinism.
On the other hand, it is just as false, and even immoral (&), to
be guided by mere external calls and grounds of decision,
^\hen there is an inward reluctance (cf. chapter on Marriage).
Accordingly, to carry on a profession for the mere sake of
making a liveliliood is ethically reprehensible. This is what
Schleiermacher calls the maxim, of Cynicism. It is immoral,
because here that very thing is wanting which must be the
animating principle of all productive work — viz. pleasure in
and love for our profession. Class divisions, e.g., which
compel men to adopt particular vocations, have a mechanizing
tendency and are immoral. In the choice of a vocation, if one
of the two factors (the objective and subjective) should, how-
ever, have less influence than the other, love for our vocation
must at all events never be wanting. It is the first requisite,
even in point of time ; for in the case of many professions, the
necessary preparation would be quite impossible, unless it
could be made upon the foundation of subjective inclination.
Objective approval from the side of that sphere of life in which

1 Cf. Glaiihenslehre, i. § 10.

MOKAL CHOICE OF A VOCATION. 503

our vocation lies comes afterwards. Besides, there are alway.s
new vocations to be discovered.^ It may also happen that
experienced and friendly persons do not express their opinion,
but that we are nevertheless able to anticipate the rational
will of the community from our knowledge of its needs. Only
thus much, therefore, can be laid down ; our decision must
never be a merely subjective one, nor, on the other hand, must
love and inclination ever be wanting ; in some way or other,
inward impulse and an outward call must always go together.

Note. — No vocation that is taken up for mere display admits
of an ethical construction. Such professions as those of the
acrobat, the juggler, the dancer, or those for the exhibition
of physical dexterity, grace, or beauty, do not exist so far
as ethics are concerned, for they only consume and do not pro-
duce. These are the breadless (hrotlos) arts, so called because
it is only occasionally that they yield daily bread, and because
many are ruined in them ; but in addition to this they have no
ethical basis. The case is somewhat different with regard to the
drama. The life of the actor may degenerate into the mere
playing of a part, in which he loses his own individuality, and
may thus become mere di.splay and notliing more. A man may
act the part of a hero, and be so pleased with it, and so lose him-
self in it, that he becomes a hero in his own thoughts. But this
is inartistic as well as unethical. Art demands that one should
assume an objective attitude to the part he plays, and never sink
his self-consciousness in his part. To do the opposite is as
unseemly as it is unethical, for the sphere of art is the sphere
of beautiful appearances. But when the actor takes up the
stage as his life's vocation, he runs a great risk. It is no
^\'onder that the Christian Church has never been willing
to regard acting as a legitimate vocation, however friendly
it may be to the art itself. Classic antiquity during its prime
in Athens had the dramas — tragedies — but no professional
actors.^

^ E.g. Wichern originated a vocation that had no existence before his time.
■ [As supplementary to what is here said, cf. the chapter on Art.]

504

CHAPTER THIRD.

THE CHKISTIAN IN KELATION TO OTHERS, OR THE LOVE OF ONE'S
NEIGHBOUR IN GENERAL.

§ 69.

Christian love to one's neighbour is derived, like self-love,
from love to God ; but it is through self-love that this
derivation takes place. On its negative side, again, it
takes the form of respect or justice, on its positive side
it is love in the form of kindness. It is variously
modified, however, in the different social spheres.

The Literature. — Rothe, Thcologische Ethik, 2nd ed. i.
p. 500 f., 1st ed. p. 380 f., iii. pp. 252 f., 452 f. Martensen,
ut supra, ii. 1, p. 237 f. Lemme, Die Nachstenliehc.

1. He who is born of God, loves also whatever is born of
Him (1 John v. 1), by a kind of higher natural necessity,
arising from the kinship of the new creature with Christ.
The personality formed in the image of God must resemble
God, must love what He loves. Self-love and love of one's
neighbour are so related to love to God, that the latter
demands both alike, and as co-ordinate the one with the other.
For that which sanctions self-love in the Christian — namely,
the value of the new person in the eyes of God — also makes
the love of his brother binding upon him. In point of time,
however, self-love must precede love of others, for the new
self-determining person mu,st itself exist before it can love
others. Express exhortations to love of one's neighbour are
given in Matt. xxii. 39 f. ; Luke x. 27, 31 ; John xiii. 34
1 Cor. xiii.; Eph. v. 2 ; Col. iii. 14; Gal. v. 14, vi. 2
1 Tim. i. 5; Jas. ii. 8, 10; 1 John iii. 11, iv. 7-9, ii. 10 f.
1 Pet. i. 22, iii. 8, 9 ; 2 Pet. i. 7 ; Heb. xiii. 1. The name
given it is not ep(o<;, in which the sensual side predominates,
but ajaTrr) (2 Pet. i. 7) ; among relatives, ^iXoaTopyo'i (Rom.
xii. 10) ; while ^LkaSeXcfyia is Christian brotherly love (2 Pet.
i. 7). With regard to a non-Christian, it is the future Chris-
tian, the Candidatus viUe, that is loved in him, on the ground

LOVE OF one's neighbouk. 505

that Christ loved the world (Eom. v, 15), and died for it.
Since Christian love for others flows from love to God, it can
never place men or human societies higher than God. And
just as little can the love we show to others be opposed to
Christian self-love, or sanction anything that involves a loss
of our own soul. For then it would itself cease to exist.
But there is a gradation in the measure of ardent affection
shown in Christian love for others (Gal. vi. 1 0) ; the olKeioi r?}?
7ri(TT€0i<; have the first claim upon us (1 Tim. v. 8). As com-
pared with men in general, moreover, those who are naturally
connected with us are adjudged to have stronger claims upon
our love (Matt. xv. 4; Eom. xii. 10; 1 Tim. iii. 4, v. 8).
But when the second creation has taken place, all the rights
of natural love are suspended in favour of Christian love for
the brethren (Matt. x. 37, xii. 47-50 ; Mark iii. 32 f., x. 29 ;
Luke viii. 19 f). It receives this high place because it is
born anew out of love to God, wliicli is the measure and rule
of all love. The negation involved in faith presupposes an
ideal severance from all merely natural love ; but when once
this has taken place, the natural love that subsists between
relatives is again, and in a higher degree, established in its
rights.

2. Christian social love, like self-love, has both a negative
and a positive side. On the one hand it appears as respect or
justice, on the other as positive love, i.e. kindness, '^prjarorrj^,
and these must never be invxtrdhj separated. Outwardly,
however, love must often be veiled in justice ; but thougli thus
kept in restraint so far as manifestation is concerned, it
must be present inwardly — nay, it is love itself that must
impose this restraint. Further, since it is directed to man-
kind as a whole, it also brings into requisition in due order
the whole nature of the Christian. On the side of feeling,
(christian love for others appears as good-will ; on the side of
knowledge, as cultured public spirit (§ 64) ; on the side of
will, as effort for the common welfare (§ 68) (1 Cor. xii. 7).
It is the Christian vitality of the generic consciousness.
Inspired by it, the Christian seeks to have fellowship with
his fellow-men as far as possible ; at first inwardly, by cul-
tivating good-will, and then outwardly, in the way directed by
justice and wisdom, which are immanent in love. Love gives

50G § g;i. love of one's neighbour.

the impulse to social intercourse, and in doing so it aims at
real reciprocity, for otherwise the fellowship would only be
apparent, there would only be a desire either to give or to
receive. Accordingly, in social love we must be sincerely
willing hoth to give and receive, no matter which of these two
elements may predominate. Here we must — though gradually
and not too hastily — give ourselves to our neighbour, jMSi( as
wc arc. In like manner, we must seek to unite ourselves to
him just as he is. That is to say, we unite ourselves (a)
positively to what is true in his individuality, so far as it
has already been developed ; and, on the other hand, (6)
negatively to that which mars his individuality, so that our
love helps to set free the true ego of our neighbour. Chris-
tian huvhility here becomes modesty ; we do not regard our-
selves as rich and having need of nothing, nor overestimate
ourselves as so highly endowed as to be meant to give only
and not to receive. For there is nothing that does more to
check or split up human fellowship than self-conceit. It is
contrary to justice both with respect to God and our fellow-
creatures. In no less a degree would it be opposed to justice
and to the sincerity of love, if our sole object in associating
with another were to obtain in him a serviceable instrument
for our own ends, or to make him a mere copy of ourselves.
On the contrary, love will make us treat our fellow-man as a
real end in himself. We shall always entertain a sacred
reverence for his God-designed peculiarity, even when our
love to him is communicative rather than receptive. True
love points away from itself to Christ, and desires only that
He may increase (John iii. 30). Hence Christian love for
others helps to strengthen and perfect the new creation in
which all these individual differences are implanted. Justice,
which grants suum cuiquc, by its recognition of these, that is,
of what is pure in them, helps to confirm them ; it promotes
the development of the various individual characteristics.

Love and justice might here seem to be in contradiction,
since the former seeks by means of mutual giving and taking
to reconcile existing differences, while the latter aims at con-
firming them. But love will never seek to efface any dis-
tinction that justice wishes to see maintained. Nothing that
is pure in individuality can be an obstruction to love ; on

CAKE ¥011 HIS SPIRITUAL WELFARE. 507

the contrary, it enriches social life, § G8. 1, 2. Love does
not seek to make all alike ; what it tries to do is to make
the interest of one the interest of all, to make us regard the
joy and sorrow of another as our own (1 Cor. iii. 22), and to
enable each member of a community, although he does not
directly possess all that is within it, to enter m soone degree
into the enjoyment of everything, and so to feel that he has
a share in everything. On the other side, he possesses what
is his for others also.

3. It is not necessary to go into detail as to the separate
ways in which social love is actively carried into eftect.
We manifest it by helping our fellow-men to promote and
care for tliose goods that are included in the circle of
individual life. These have been examined with some
minuteness in § 57-68, and consist of such goods as the
body, life, health, property, good name, legitimate influ-
ence, outward and especially inward honour and our voca-
tion. There are just two points on which we will dwell
for a little. Many, who in other respects are ready to make
sacrifices for love's sake, frequently omit to show a loving-
care for the so'ul made in the image of God, and thus neglect
to promote the spiritual welfare of their fellow-men. Such
conduct, if it does not arise out of worldliness, yet involves
the secret presupposition, that Clnistianity is not equally
necessary for all, and therefore that salvation is not such an
absolute requisite for all as food and clothing. It therefore
implies a secret doubt whether Christianity is as necessary
to others as it is to us, and whether their case must not just
be left to the ordinary course of events. But persistently
continued silence concerning salvation in familiar personal
intercourse with others may become a denial of Christ, may
bring to a standstill that productive process of love which, as
the Christian well knows, draws its energy and its nourish-
ment from Christ. The decisive means of counteracting this
error is the practice of Christian intercession. When the
Christian remembers his neighbour before the throne of God,
he cannot forget his spiritual needs. And whatever we
earnestly pray for, we shall work for too. The second point
refers to love for others when directed, not to individuals,
but communities, and concerns the relation that subsists in

508 § eo. LOVE OF one's neighbour.

them all between the universal and the 'particular. Here
Christian love for others transcends both abstract cosmopoli-
tanism and narrow party spirit. For it holds the proper
balance between the universal-human on the one hand —
which in its essential truth is the universal-Christian — and
particular communities on the other. And for this very
reason it exerts itself to maintain a living fellowship between
individual communities (cf. § 64). The cosmopolitan, on the
contrary, sets little store by his own particular community and
depreciates it ; he stands far removed from the actual world,
indulging in an impotent love for universal humanity, which
naturally dwells more in a realm of ideas than of actions ; he
has therefore no spiritual home, and evinces neither justice
nor love towards that which is most closely related to him.
The opposite extreme is that oi party spirit, which seeks to
elevate its own particular community at the expense of others,
and is therefore lacking in justice and love towards other
communities. Party spirit may pervade like a disease the
various spheres of moral life, it may be found in science and
art, in the different schools and tendencies of thought ; but
it has always taken up its chosen seat in the regions of the
State and the Church, and is seen in the relations of individual
States and Churches to each other, as well as within the same
State or the same section of the Church. It is not the true
spirit of association, nor true love to our own community,
which we show when we idolize that community, deny the
gifts that have been bestowed upon others, and wind up a
part into the place of the whole ; such proceeding is a cari-
cature of churchmanship ; it is in principle sectarian, even
though exhibited by a great Church community. For the
principle of sectarianism is, that the part tries to swell itself
out to the dimensions of the whole, and forgets catholicity
for its own particular confession or national Church. Such
party spirit is exposed to great moral dangers from the in-
justice and lovelessness it manifests towards others, and its
contempt for the gifts which have been conferred upon them,
— gifts which were by no means meant for their possessors
alone, but which, on the contrary, are needed by the whole
body of the Church. Further, since our own party has
become a mere extension of our individual Ego, the deification

ADJUSTMENT OF DISSIMILARITIES. 509

of it is, from a Christian point of view, only an intensified
form of self-idolatry, though we may be quite unconscious of
the fact. Outwardly, party spirit becomes Egoism, wliich
may even take the negative attitude of hatred. Finally,
party spirit in the Church, and elsewliere too, while thus
encroaching upon truth and Justice, is also opposed to freedom,
since it makes us more or less dependent upon men (1 Cor.
vii. 23). What makes the Apostle Paul so large-hearted is,
that he puts all Christians alike in subjection to Christ, and
requires them to consider themselves ixeXtj XpiaTov. He
allows Christ to be preached in different ways, provided only
He be really preached, and preached as eaTavp(o/u,€vo<i (Phil.
i. 15-18 ; 1 Cor. ii. 2, iii. 11-15). And the history of the
Church and of doctrine shows that there is never perfect
agreement in belief or in the apprehension of Christ, but that,
on the contrary, the differences which exist in this respect are
necessary to progress. In Eph. iv. 13, perfect unity, even in
the apprehension of Christian faith, is put forward as a goal to
be attained, not as something to be required at present. And
notwithstanding their differences, the apostle tells his readers
that they belong to the awfia Xptcrrov. Such differences as
do not injure the Oep.ekio'^ are borne by Christian hope in the
unity of the spirit of love, with a patience which is not, how-
ever, indolent.

4. The Dissimilarities which Christian Brotherly Love strives
to adjust. Some of these dissimilarities rest upon the con-
stitution of the world, apart from sin altogether {e.g. the
difference between those who in the main are ill-provided
with regard to things spiritual and physical, and those who are,
on the other hand, capable of communicating), while others
are due to sin ; to the latter class belong the relations involved
in strife.

(a) The first difference arises from the fact that the older
and the younger generation, § 17. 3, parents and children,
teachers, masters and scholars, exist contemporaneously.
Educational influence must aim at something more than
mere equalization ; it should seek to make the coming
generation better than the one that preceded it. Further,
difference of talent is the chief ground of the difference
between wealth and poverty. And Christian love for others,

510 § G9. LOVE OF one's XEIGIIBOUE.

in endeavouring to eliminate whatever is hurtful and disturbing
in the condition of things, introduces the relation between
'benefactor and hencficiary. We must dwell a little longer on
this point — that is, on love for others, in its two forms of
communicative goodness and recipient love, or gratitude
(cf. § 45. 5, § 63. 3).

The difference between rich and poor is not evil in itself.
It is a bond of fellowship, an opportunity for love to inter-
pose and adjust inequalities both of a material and spiritual
kind. The loving bestowal of material gifts upon those who
are in want is called beneficence (2 Cor. ix. 11-14). Every
act of charity is a God - appointed way of using external
circumstances to bring men inwardly into closer connection.
The ijift is meant to be the means of forming; a moral bond
between giver and receiver. But this end is not gained
by merely giving away to hegga^rs. Begging was forbidden in
the Old Testament (Deut. xv. 4), and it has still less right to
exist in Christendom. It should be unnecessary. There is
enough work and material for all, if only love and industry
be not wanting. There is something sacred in poverty.
The poor are the altar of the Church. But there is notliing
sacred ctbout begging. It injures personal dignity, leads to
lying, deceit, and sloth, and to an irregular and thoughtless
way of living. Indiscriminate almsgiving increases all these
vices, as is shown on a large scale in the Eomish Church,
[t is the part of the Evangelical Church, since it lays such
stress on the honour and dignity of the Christian personality,
to make regulations for the relief of the poor, and thus to
eradicate the practice of begging, which is a symptom of
disease in a community. Voluntary efforts must also be
made for this purpose. It has a pernicious effect when the
case of the poor is assigned to the sphere of law alone (§ 34«,
03. 2). Socialistic and communistic theories would fain
(§ 63, Note) secure, by means of law and compulsory power,
that which only love can accomplish, viz. the adjustment
of crying inequalities. Bid the absolute removal of these
inequalities must not be thought of. Every attempt in this
direction, by means of a division of goods, would not only be a
wrong to the rights of property (§ 63), but would also be a
failure ; for differences would at once break out again, since

ADJUSTMENT OF DISSIMILARITIES. 511

they have their ground in difference of talent, of industry,
and of character. Moreover, there would be no room left for
either love or gratitude. Gifts would be demanded as a right,
and the spirit of egoism would be pampered. Universal
impoverishment and mendicity would be the result. There
was no compulsion exercised in the Church of Jerusalem
(Acts V. 1 ff.) ; there was only perfect willingness to put pro-
perty at the disposal of the apostles for the common benefit. No
division of goods took place, nor was such division generally
carried out; but gifts were put into a common treasury, out
of which cases of necessity were relieved (Acts ii. 45).

But a word or tv)o in addition must he said on right giving
oAul right receiving.

(a) When we give rightly, we do not seek to make our
fellow-men dependent upon us, but leave them free. To
demand thanks is an odious thing. Christian charity, too,
does not wish to be seen, Matt. vi. 1 f. ; it gives simply —
that is to say, it has nothing in view but the actual need
before it. It does not ask the needy whether they are
worthy (Matt. v. 45) or deserving ; but neither does it give
in a way that would prove injurious. Just as little does it
give for the purpose of getting rid of the poor. For in that
case the gift would lack that which is its salt; a real interest
in, or respect for, the recipient as a personal being. It is
enough that the giver has through his position a certain
advantage ; he must not make the recipient feel his depend-
ence as well. When a Christian gives, he puts himself by
sympathy in the place of the sufferer, regards him as a
member of the whole ; and thus his help is divested of
everything that might offend the self-respect of the recipient.
All that is here required is summed up in the injunction,
fieTuBiSovac, ev d'rrXorrjTc (Eom. xii. 8). When an act of
beneficence on the part of Christ is recorded, it is often
added — He was moved with compassion.

(/3) The other side of Christian love for others is thank-
fulness. In a certain sense, indeed, it may be said that it is
to God alone that we owe thanks. We may justly have
some scruples about giving thanks to men. God's gifts
honour and ennoble us ; but human gifts may reduce us to a
condition of dependence, and have an enslaving effect. It is

512 § GO. LOVE OF one's NEIGHBOUR.

better not to accept such benefits as damage our personal
independence. In expressing our thanks to our benefactor,
moreover, we may very possibly do so in a way that acknow-
ledges such a dependence upon him as we ought to feel
towards God alone, or we may treat him as if he had
bestowed his kindness of his own favour and goodwill.
When those who give have done so in a pious spirit, their
act carries our thoughts away from themselves to God as the
giver ; but when they have not given from love to God, but
from egoism, however refined it may be, then in so doing
they would seem to have forfeited all reward in the shape of
gratitude. Nevertheless thankfulness towards men rests on
good grounds when we regard them as persons, who in spon-
taneous love and for our benefit seek to make themselves the
instruments of Divine love. In gratitude towards men, there-
fore, gratitude towards God nuist certainly be present and
occupy the chief place. When this is the case, the loving
will of God is also honoured, since by means of the gift it
has brought the giver into closer connection with us. When
God brings two persons into the relation of giver and
receiver. He has formed between them a moral bond of
love of a special kind. And to break this bond, instead of
making it a mutual one by responding with love on our side,
or to accept the gift while we impugn or suspect the love
that is in it, is a base thing. Mistrust is loveless and a sin.
Thankfulness consists in keeping in mind the love we have
experienced ; to thank is the frequentative of to think. The
giver, indeed, has an advantage over the recipient to begin
with, in so far as it is more blessed to give than to receive ;
but the latter will be quite satisfied that it should be so, if
only he believes that love is at the bottom of the gift ; and
this it is his duty to do, unless it is openly manifest that the
opposite is the case. For to know that any one has loved
us before any advances on our part is not degrading, but
ennobling, since we see that his love has been freely bestowed.
And for this very reason grateful love does not seek to pay
or recompense the love that has been evinced, but to respond
to it. Love as the fruit of freedom is an infinite good,
it is absolutely invaluable. In the eyes of love, only love
in return is of equal value with itself.

LOVE TO OUR NEIGHBOUR. 513

(b) With regard to the settlement of the disturhances which
sin occasions in the relation of one man to another, that is
to say, with regard to strife between private individuals, the
New Testament enjoins the love of peace (Mark ix. 50 ;
Jas. iii. 17). The Christian prevents strife by doing justice
and showing respect to his fellow-men, by being amicable and
peaceable (Matt. v. 5 f.). He will rather suffer wrong than do it.
When brought into strife against his will, he exhibits meek-
ness and gentleness, Trpaorrjq, i'TTteiKeia (Gal. v. 2-3 ; 2 Cor.
X. 1; cf. Col. iii. 12; 1 Tim. vi. 11). When the strife is
over, he exhibits love by his readiness to forgive and be
reconciled (Luke vii. 41 f . ; Matt. vi. 12, xviii. 32 f . ; Eph.
iv, 32 ; Col. iii. 13). For even love to enemies is com-
manded ; the Christian is no man's enemy, he is only
passively involved in e-^^dpa. It deserves serious considera-
tion, how our Lord makes the forgiveness of our sins depend
upon whether we ourselves forgive. Placability is the negative
condition of our sacrifices being well-pleasing to God (Matt,
v. 24, vi. 12). And why ? Because he who will not forgive
his brother shows that he is insensible to the much greater
debt he owes to God, and therefore impenitent (Matt,
xviii. 23 f.). Further, Christ enforces the duty of placa-
bility upon His disciples, because nothing does more to
destroy the efficacy of Christianity in the world, and to
extenuate the antagonism of the world to the gospel, than
want of love in the conduct of believers toward each other.
For it is the power of love proceeding from believers, that is
intended to be the specific means of attracting the world to
Christ as the source of salvation and love, and to convince
the world that Christ was sent by God (John xvii. 23). At
the same time, it is not required that Christians should call
black white, or light darkness. No fact must be surrendered.
To do so would betray indifferentism (§§ 55, 66) or partiality,
and would lead to a dishonourable peace. But all strife
between Christians about a fact ought certainly to exhibit
meekness, moderation, and justice ; and ingenuity is much
better employed by love in trying to put the best con-
struction on everything, and discovering means for coming to
an understanding, than in hunting up excuses for keeping
apart (1 Cor. i.-iii.), or in finding food for mistrust.

2 K

514 § 70. SOCIAL INTEECOUriSE.

§ 70. Social InUrcour&e,

The fellowship into which Christian love brings us with our
fellow-men (§ 69), when it does not take an organized
shape, but nevertheless is something more than mere
momentary and accidental contact, is the sphere of social
intercourse, and forms the transition from social duties
in general to settled Christian communities.

1. Social intercourse is the indispensable antecedent of
all ethical communities, the preliminary of their genesis or
reproduction. Standing midway between individuals wholly
unconnected with each other and organized forms of social
life, it is a means of supply for matrimony, art, and science.
In this region, too, all great advances in the State and the
Church have their true birthplace, more especially in friend-
ships of the higher kind — heroic, as distinguished from merely
" romantic " friendships. For the former have their bond of
union in an objective ethical aim, to be realized by action ;
their object is not simply ideal enjoyment. At the same
time, we must not forget that social intercourse has also
another side (§§ 61, 62). It is meant to afford enjoyment
and recreation, and thus belongs to tlie sphere of self-love
and self-duty ; but in such wise that love for others has its
place also, since we may not make use of our neighbour
simply as a means. Here, too, it is inclination, love, that
must keep men together ; otherwise there is no real exchange
of good offices, but only giving on one side and receiving on
the other ; or, at all events, something quite different from
recreation and enjoyment is manifested.

2. Social intercourse, moreover, has also its position within
organized communities themselves. These, if they are to con-
tinue in a healthy state, must call it into being from them-
selves. For it is, as it were, the womb out of which their
future prosperity is born ; or the vehicle and source of a
public opinion, which must send its purifying and refreshing
streams through the barriers that divide the special department
of each separate community. In family life this is realized
by means oi family friendships, and the relations of guest and
host : in science and art, as well as in State and Church, by

"VOLUNTARY ASSOCIATIONS. 515

means of voluntary societies. It is narrow-minded on the
part of an organized community, and destructive of the germs
of its own future, to regard associations of this kind existing
within its pale as objects merely of anxiety and jealousy, or
to strive to absorb them into itself, and to restrict their due
activity. But, on the other side, such associations become
immoral when they seek to take in hand the tasks which
devolve upon an organized community as a whole, and would
thus place themselves as secondary suns in the position of the
latter — as a State within the State, or a Church within the
Church. In the Church this applies to all the voluntary societies
that at present exist, and in particular, to pastoral conferences.
(3n the contrary, organized bodies are always higher than
independent associations ; each of them is the strictly respon-
sible vehicle of its own idea, and hence the latter must
always be in harmony with them, must respect them, and not
attempt to govern them ; otherwise voluntary association
results in the formation of pernicious coalitions, in which
men seek to play the part of a State within the State, or a
city within the city ; and their association with each other,
which is in itself harmless and of general benefit, is perverted
to purposes of intrigue, conspiracy, etc. In a community,
therefore, each voluntary association must devote itself to
only one particular object, and must not seek to occupy the
whole of the sphere to which it stands related. Only under
this limitation do they exert a wholesome influence : it keeps
them flexible as well as living and powerful, and though their
life may be short it leaves behind it fruitful furrows. Free-
masonry is an association that cannot be ethically approved
of; for, in the first place, it is not flexible, and then it is a
secret society, disengaged from public national life, and inclined
to abstract cosmopolitanism, which is often closely allied to
indifferentism. It is impossible to see how we can become
members of such an association in a moral way. For its aims
are shrouded in mystery, and hence the extent of the promise
demanded on entering cannot be known before we bind our-
selves by it.

516 § 71. SUMMARY.

THIRD DIVISION.

THE ORGANIZED WORLD OF CHRISTIAN MORALITY, OR THE MORAL
COMMUNITIES IN THE KINGDOM OF GOD.

§ 71. Summary. The Kingdom of God.

The highest Good, which exists originally in the Triune God
revealed in Christ (§§ 6, V, 39-42), and derivatively in
the individual personality (§§ 43-70), reaches full de-
velopment as a power in the world, in the various
moral communities, which are organically connected
with each other in the same way as the divine attri-
butes,^ of which they are copies. The unity or total
organism formed by these communities is the Kingdom
of Crod (civitas Dei) (§ 31). Accordingly, the organic
construction of the latter corresponds with the leading
categories in the idea of God (§§ 6, 7), and in conformity
with its foundation in the individual personality formed
in God's image (§ 56, p. 445). Thus we have the
following three main portions : —

Division I. The fundamental moral community, or the
household (§§ 17. 3, 18, 33a, 34a). Here
we shall consider — 1. Marriage; 2. The
Family ; and 3. The Extension of Family
Life by Friendship and Hospitality, and by
the relations between Masters and Servants.
Division II. The special communities that have been created
by reflection or human skill (§§ 17, 18, 33a,
34a). 1. The State, §§ 17, 18, 33a, 34a
(§ 23). 2. Art, §§ 17, 38a (61, 62). 3.
Science, §§ 17, 33a.
Division III. The Absolute or Eeligious Community (§§ 31,
33a, 34a).

The self-reproduction and self-preservation of the life of the
human race are promoted by the family or the household, which is
1 Cf. Glaubenskhre, i. §§ 22-27, 32.

THE KINGDOM OF GOD, 517

the fundamental moral community. Divine justice, hecmty, and
ivisdom, are reflected in the particular moral spheres of the State,
Art, and Seience respectively; while the reflection of the Divine
love is presented in the absolute or religious community, the
Church. Each of these spheres embraces, in its own way, all
the others, and takes an interest in them, according to its
own particular principle ; each one, therefore, is also embraced
by all the rest. Thus they penetrate, without intermingling
with each other, advancing in an orbit of the spirit of love in
its diversified manifestations, in an ethic Trept^oipT^o-/?. Not-
withstanding the unity of all these spheres — a unity main-
tained by each one promoting the well-being of the rest
— each continues to be an end to itself ; and notwithstanding
tlieir independence of each other, — an independence maintained
by each having its own distinct principle, — they yet remain
means for one another.

The Literatuke. — Martensen, ut supra, i. 32 f., 147 f ; iii. pp.
1 f., 306 f., 348 f. Eitschl, Rechtfertigung und Versolinung, iii.
ch. 4. Krauss, Das Dogma von der unsichtharen Kirchc, p.
142 f. A. Dorner, Kirchc und Reich Gottes.]

Note. — It is true that the individual p)erson is made in the
image of God, and is thus a copy of the divine nature in its
totality ; but tliis he is imperfectly, and under the limitations
inseparable from the individual. A higher representation of
the Divine is reached in the following way. By reason of
the individual differences that exist among men, especially
when these are concentrated upon definite objects and thus
become talents (§ G8), the one moral organism becomes a unity
made up of many members, each of which is an organism with
its own peculiar principle and its independence, while, never-
theless, they cannot deny their essential connection with each
other. All these principles, indeed, as well as their products,
already exist in germ in every individual personality — nay,
more, are rooted in personality and draw from it their nourish-
ment ; but these piinciples do not receive their fully developed,
that is, their world-wide manifestation, until the whole of
humanity has formed itself into an organism built up of com-
munities distinct from each other, yet distinct in such a way
that the principle of each of them includes the whole of
humanity within its scope. These principles, it may again be
said (cf p. 500, note), become so many centres of attraction
gathering men around them, each according to that side of his

518 § 71. SUMMARY.

nature wliich is in sympathy with each of these communities ;
and thus every individual may belong, by different sides of his
nature, to several, or even to all of them, though in varying
degree, according to his endowments. [In some he will be
merely receptive, in others he will be productive and find
a vocation.] If, therefore, each personality is ^:'<:r sc a copy
of the Divine attributes, much more does the whole of humanity,
as an organism made up of many different moral communities,
present us with a living picture of the Godhead, as it mirrors
itself in the creature. In the first part of this work we have
already spoken of the natural genesis of these communities,
through the combined operation of universal and individual
capacities, and we have likewise seen the modifications they
undergo on the stage of right. On the Christian stage, the
religious community is added to the others, and all of them
together, when comprehended in one whole, form the kingdom
of God. jNIoreover, the individual members of these com-
munities or moral persons are, through their connection with
them, elevated to a higher stage of personal morality (§ 68. 1).
For, being inspired by the spirit of the whole, they are thus
raised to a higher degree of moral power, since in them the
universal and the individual have now reached that penetration
of each other intended by God.

1. In the New Testament, the phrase " Kingdom of
God" is used, not in an ideal sense to denote something
merely subjective or internal. It is true that the subject,
the individual person, is the first element of its earthly exist-
ence ; but it is itself the whole system of ethical organisms
destined to come to objective appearance. Of these no par-
ticular one must be singled out above the rest, and made the
one that alone embraces all the others. Eoman Catholicism,
indeed, puts the Church in the place of the kingdom of God,
(§ 31) — a doctrine which the Eeformation opposes. Within
Protestantism a tendency has appeared — especially where the
State takes the form of bureaucratic absolutism and territori-
alism — to give this position of superiority to the State. The
Hegelian philosophy, in particular, has advanced the theor}"
that the State is the Ail of morality. Among distinguished
theologians, Eothe approaches nearest to this view — at first in
his book Die Anfdnge der christlichen Kirche, and then in a more
finished and careful form in his Ethik^ [also in his Encyhlopadie^].

' 1st ed. i. §§ 273-285 ; iii. § 1156 f., p. 900 f.
- [Encyklopadte, edited by Ruppelius, pp. 83-94.]

THE CHURCH AND THE STATE. 519

He would have the State regarded as the realization of
the perfect moral community. The State must set nothing
less than this before itself as its aim. Its mission
is (i. p. 424) simply to become the universal and absolute
community, that is, the religious and moral community
which embraces all men and all departments of life.
Until the close, howevei', of its moral development (§ 279),
the moral community, of which the State is as yet only
the imperfect realization, requires to be supplemented by
the religious community as such, the religious community
pure and simple, that is, the Church. The reason of
this is, that during the process of development {not, indeed,
morality and religion, but) the moral community and the
religious, differ from each other as regards the extent of the
spheres which they embrace. The latter, or the Cliurch, has
been from her very commencement the absolutely universal
community, whereas it is only gradually that the moral com-
munity, or the State, becomes the all-embracing community,
and that instead of isolated national States, there arises an
organised system of States, forming one perfect whole. It is
self-evident that Rothe does not hold that religion will dis-
appear in the State, but regards it as existing in its highest
form, when it pervades and moulds the various moral spheres
which, while maintaining relative independence, are all em-
braced by the State. Accordingly, lie calls his perfect State
the city of God, a theocracy in the highest sense of the word,
i. p. 424. He holds that the State embraces all other spheres,
but does not admit the converse of this. Thus they are no
longer co-ordinate with the State. With this fact is connected
another, viz. that Rothe does not make ricjlit or justice alone
the prineiijle of the State, but love as well. Nay, lie even says
that the State in the course of its development is again hecoming
a great all- emhracing family. This is a virtual confession that
the final consummation may just as ivcll be described as a
family as (by Rothe) a State, and that no sufficient grounds
can be adduced, why the State should be singled out as
absolutely destined to be the sole moral community. We
might quite as well say, that the State will cease to exist as a
State, that is, simply as an institution working by compulsory
means for the maintenance of right (§§ 33«, 34«). But the

520 § 71. SUMMARY.

question, whether the Cliurch ivill ever cease in presence of the
State, depends upon another— whether public worship can be
conceived as belonging to the functions of the State, or whether
as a State it can perform acts of a religious nature. Since it
cannot do this, and since, nevertheless, common action is
necessary for this purpose, there must always be a religious
community, and it will in its own way include the State no
less than the State includes it. The religious community must
not be dissolved, and religion exist merely in the piety of all
individuals belonging to the State, or in the pious character ot
the other spheres of life. There is not only the State, science,
and art desiring on their own parts to be Christian and pious,
nor is there merely a piety desiring to exist so far as it can be
manifested in and by the other spheres of life, as, so to speak
one of their properties, but also a piety of a social kind
desiring to exist as such, and there is therefore also a com-
munity desiring to exist as a religious community. Eor God
does not exist merely in the multiplicity of the world ; He is
not to be loved merely in our fellow-men, but also in Himself
and for Himself alone (§ 50). The right of religion to form a
community of its own could only be contested if everything
external, everything in the way of organization, were under the
control of the State. But the State has no such supreme
power. It recognises private rights, private property, and
the free disposal of it, although it can interfere in cases of
necessity. It surrounds everything with its protection, but
does not meddle with every petty matter. Most things are
left to the free management of the individual. Nor can we
suppose that even in the final consummation only the S2^irit of
prayer will prevail in our work, and that no special times will
be devoted to worship. And if only imUic worship be
recognised as the essential function of the religious com-
munity, it cannot be said that the Church is destined to be
absorbed in the State ; and further, the Church ^s'ill have,
during the whole of its earthly career, a spiritual organization
regulated by the principle of worship. Thus there will always
be teachers and hearers, order of worship and means of
worship, doctrines and a system of doctrine, institutions for the
education of teachers, congregational and pastoral organiza-
tions, an administration department and a constitution, and

MORAL COMMUNITIES TEANSITORY, 521

these give rise to riglits on the part of the Church, which do
not come under the rights that belong to the State.

2. In their earthly form, all these communities have a
transitory, a piedagogic side. Their present form is based upon
the succession of new generations, and the pedagogic relation
which the one portion of mankind holds to the other. Thus
marriage and the family will cease to exist on their natural
side. " They neither marry nor are given in marriage " (Matt,
xxii. 30). The State, too, will be no longer recognisable in its
earthly shape at the time of the consummation. Litigation
and lawsuits, right of succession and penal administration,
separated nationalities, military, finance, and police will all be
unknown. Law and justice will no longer appear severed from
each other. In the Church, too, catechetical and missionary
activity will cease ; there will be no need of professional
teachers, theological faculties, or consistories. On the other
side, however (§ 31), it must also be said, that in all these
communities there is an eternal germ, a type of that which
the consummation will usher in ; nay, that it is by means of
these communities that the consummation will be brought
about. Accordingly our Lord has taken illustrations of His
kingdom from them all — from marriage, the family, the city,
the community, and the State (Matt. xvi. 18 ; Eev. xxi. ; John
iii. 29; Matt. ix. 15, xxv. 1 f.). In the notion of the
Church, that temporal side which belongs to the conception of
the perfected community is certainly not so happily expressed
as in the word State. But in the latter expression, again, the
ideal side, which is the most important one, is less prominent.
Accordingly, the primitive Christian phrase Kingdom of God
is to be preferred (so Schwarz and Hirscher). But the
kingdom is not a thing of the world to come alone ; neither
is it the invisible Church merely, nor does it consist simply in
Christian rules of life ; it is something that has actually
begun to exist. In the empirical Christian communities
its realization has commenced.

522 § 72. MAREIAGE.

FIRST SECTION

THE FUNDAMENTAL MORAL COMMUNITY, OR THE HOUSEHOLD.

CHAPTER FIRST.

MARRIAGE.

The Literature. — Liebetrut, J. Mueller, Uehcr Ehescheidung,
etc., 18o4. Kircluntagsvortrarj. Richter, GcsrJiichte der Ehe-
scheMung in d. Evang. Kirche. Deutsche ZeUschrift, 1858.
Hofmann, Theologische Ethik, p. 213 f. Hofmanii, Zcitschrift
fur Protestantismus und Kirche, vol. xxxvii. [J. G. Fichte,
Sgstem der Sittenlehre, Wcrhe, vol. iv. Hegel, RccJitsphilosopliic.
Schleiermacher, Entiourf eines Systems der Sittenlehre. Pre-
digtcn iiher den ehristlichen Hausstand. Christliche Sitte. Rothe,
2nd ed. ii. pp. 265-304. Baumann, Sechs Vortrri'/e, p. 23 f.
Trendelenburg, Naturrecht, § 122 f. Martensen, Christian
Ethics, ii. p. 7 ff. v. Scheurl, Das gemeine deutsche Eherecht
nnd seine Umlildung, 1882. Koehler, TJeher Trauung vnid
Trauformcn. Zcitschrift f. prahtische TheoL, 1879. Harless,
Die Ehescheidungcfrage, 1861. Cf. also his System of Christian
Ethics. Sohin, Das Bccht der Eheschliessung . Roedenbeck,
Von der Ehc. StudAcn vnd Kritiken, 1881, also published
separately, v. Oettingen, OUigatorische und fakidtatirc Civilehe
nach dcm Ergclnisse der Moralstatistik, 1881. Thoenes, Die
christliche Anschauung von der Ehe.^

§72.

Marriage is the union of two persons of opposite sexes in the
most intimate fellowship of body and soul, a fellowship
in which each personality has its deficiencies supplied,
and both together form a higher unity. It is the sacred
home, both physical and mental, where the race repro-
duces itself by means of the married pair, while it is for
the latter themselves a fuller evolution of their physical
life. Marriage is essentially monogamic and indissoluble,
and only as such can it be morally contracted. The
negative condition of a moral union is, that no marriage

SCPJPTUKAL CONCEPTION OF MAP.PJAGE. 523

be contracted with a person with whom, whether on
physical, psychical, or mental grounds, intimate fellow-
ship of the kind described would be impossible. The
jjositive condition is, that there should be free choice and
inward inclination, that is, that the two persons be ready
to give themselves unreservedly to each other, and also
that they should be willing to join the great moral com-
munities, and this they do when marriage is regarded as
a civil and religious contract.

1. Scri'ptural conception of Mcirria/jc. Gen. ii. 2-1, although
written in an age of polygamy, advances so high and pure a
conception of marriage, that Christ goes back to, and adopts
it (Matt. xi.v. 4 f.). Let the husband, in the East the lord,
follow the impulse of love to his wife, which is stronger than
filial love, that he may become one flesh, one being with her.
When the two become one, a union of closest intimacy is
formed, involving also a co-ordination. But this first state
was followed by the fall, and with it the will of the woman
was made subject to the man ; his authority and her obedience
were, on the ground of natural difference in point of strength,
made harshly prominent, M'ith the view, however, of insuring
unity, a final decision in matters of dispute, and the welfare
of the family. Gentleness and prudence may ameliorate the
condition of the woman. The relations between husband and
wife were not essentially altered before the time of Christ ;
on the contraiy, polygamy intervened, and was not forbidden
by the law ; and if in the time of Christ intercourse with
nations that practised monogamy had made polygamy less
common, yet, on the other hand, divorce was made all the more
easy, and hence what may be called successive polygamy in-
creased. Christ first of all re-establishes the manner in which
marriage was observed at the beginning. Matt. xix. 3-9 ;
Mark x. 2-12 ; Luke xvi. 18, declares against divorce as
involving sin on the side of the guilty party, and again
enforces the objective sanctity and perpetual obligation of
marriage. Every separation presupposes sin. Whom God
hath joined together, no man may put asunder. Xo human
i'orm of divorce is higher than the primitive rigkts of marriage.

524 § 72. MAREIAGE.

These, on tlie contrary, stand permanently opposed to the
subjective caprice that would sever the marriage union, oblige
those who have already broken it to restore it, and make it a
sin to contract a new marriage, when the first has been
sinfully dissolved (Matt. v. 31 f.). Neither Luke nor Mark
mentions iropveia as a ground of separation. But the omission
explains itself, inasmuch as marriage is at once broken by
TTopveia, as the word itself implies. In the New Testament
the matter is viewed, not from the standpoint of one of the
married parties, but from that of the unity of the objective
relation ; morally speaking, that relation admits of absolutely
no dissolution ; only sin and crime can sever it (1 Cor. vii.
10). So high is the position assigned to the universal moral
rights of marriage, that even when a Christian is united to
an unbeliever, the marriage tie must still subsist, if the non-
Christian partner wishes it ; if not, then the Christian is free.
The Pastoral Epistles (Tit. i. 6 ; 1 Tim. iii. 2) disapprove of
choosing Church officials from among those who are practising
successive i^olygamy, — probably for the sake of good report.
For according to 1 Cor. vii. 39, those who have been widowed
are permitted to marry again. The suhordination of the wife
is often insisted on by the apostle : not as if the state of
things brought about by the fall were always to remain the
same, even among Christians (Eph. v. 23 f.), but because that
difference between governing and obeying, which has its
foundation in a benevolent natural ordinance, has no other
claim than to result in a love which recognises this divinely-
ordained difference. And this point of view, when adopted
by the woman, is the surest means of gaining ascendancy
over the man, and inducing his love to raise her to co-ordina-
tion with himself. It is in entire harmony, too, with the
natural position of the husband, that the co-ordination should
proceed from him. He must not resign his place as the
head; it is not only his right, but above all his duty to
maintain it, and it would be prejudicial to married and
family life for him to become the one who is ruled. But
that with this subordination of the wife to the husband
there may nevertheless be a free relation of love between
them, based on the difference of the sexes, is seen from the
fact, that marriage has been honoured by being called an

IIISTOKY OF THE CHRISTIAN IDEA OF MARRIAGE. 525

emblem of the relation of Christ to the Church (Eph. v. 23-
33 ; cf. Col. iii. 18 ; Heb. xiii. 4). To prohibit marriage is
characterized as demoniacal, as enmity towards God, the
Creator.

2. History of Ideas regarding Marriage in Christian Times.
At first the Old Testament spirit prevailed in Christendom,
and the personality of the wife, as well as of the children, was
thrust into the background. Still there was not wanting the
consciousness of essential equality, to which all are raised by
baptism. The sanctity of marriage was very highly esteemed
among Christians ; they adhered to monogamy and the in-
dissolubility of the marriage tie, and many of them did so,
not only with regard to the present world, but also with
regard to the next, by looking upon a second marriage after
the death of a first husband as conjugal infidelity, the disrup-
tion of a bond still in existence. According to Athenagoras,
second marriage is evTrpeTrrj^i iropveia. The Montanists,
especially Tertullian,^ held the same view still more decidedly,
maintaining that a second marriage was fornication. Marriage
was conceived from a religious point of view, and accordingly
the Church soon began to take part in the contraction of it.
The first traces of this are to be found in the Ignatian Epistles,
according to which marriage ought not to take place without
the knowledge of the bishop — the purpose being to restrain
Christians from mixed marriages. Both in unmarried and
married life the strictest chastity was demanded, and was
universally practised in the earliest Christian ages, so that
the coarse reproach of /litfei? could be met by Athenagoras^ by
saying, that Christians, on the contrary, believed that virginity
and complete continence bring us nearer to God {fiaWov
iraplaTTjcn dew). Here, indeed, is the point at which the
lack of a developed Christian anthropology, and especially of
a Christian doctrine of the relation between body and spirit,
becomes apparent. The consequence of this want was, that a
still surviving remnant of dualism broke out, and found
adherents on one hand in the Gnostics, on the other in the

• De monogamia — written before he became a Montanist — and tie exliortatione
castigatis. Cf. Hauber, TertiiUiarCfi Kampf gcgen die zioeite Ehe. Studienund
Kritiken, 1845, H. 3.

■ C. 33.

526 § 72. MAEFJAGE.

Manichaeans. And its spread was also favoured by the fact,
that the position which the first Christians were compelled
to assume toward heathenism was very apt to become
negative and one-sided. The apostolic Fathers and the
apologists do indeed recognise marriage as an ordinance of
God. But part of them hold that it is a still higher virtue ^
to remain unmarried altogether, or at least to practise con-
tinence in the conjugal relation. Here (as in their attitude to
the State) there already lay the germs of that which was
afterwards reduced to a system in monasticism. As far as
the family is concerned, the most important thing to be
noticed is, that the high conception, which Christianity
introduced, of the worth of personality could not but improve
the condition of children, with regard both to their education
and the moral value attached to them. In all probability,
however, infant baptism, in which this higher conception
receives the seal of the Church, did not become a dogma aud
prevailing custom until after the apostolic age, and was in
Tertullian's time still a matter of dispute. He blames the
practice of bringing innocent children to be baptized. Among
the Germanic nations, woman was held in high respect even
before the introduction of Christianity ; nevertheless in the
rude ages that preceded it, the custom of having concubines
existed, and was not infrequently practised by their chiefs.
It was Christianity that first actually established monogamy
among them. The chivalrous love of the Middle Ages saw in
the woman the ideal of the genuinely human — which was
personified in the Virgin Mary. In the Middle Ages, the
chastity of the man, where it is not — as in monasticism — of
a negative kind, consists mainly in chivalrousness, which
makes him protect the honour of woman, not only against
others, but also against himself. Spain did not get beyond
this point. Yet this romanticism applied more to woman in
abstrado, to the womanly ; marriage itself was not essentially
altered by it, more especially as celibacy, with its spirtualistic
ethics, designated marriage as an imperfect state, nay, as

' Tert. adv. Marc. Marriage is indeed a work of God, but there is neverthe-
less a stain of desire adhering to it. As a chiliast he further believed that all
marriages would soon be superfluous. With Origen, too, marriage occupies a
lower place than celibacy. The Holy Spirit cannot be present in generat'io.

AT THE REFOKMATION, 527

belonging merely to the sphere of things allowable ; and in
consequence of this men partially lost sight of the moral
duty of bringing married life under the permeating power of
the Christian spirit. Thus the ethics of marriage were
developed more on the external side, by restrictions against
divorce, and against marriage within forbidden degrees of
relationship. The permanent obligation of marriage was
based upon its sacramental form, and the forbidden degrees
were defined by positive statutes.

At the Reformation two results ensued. On the one side,
the unnaturalness of this view of marriage was exposed,
particularly by Luther and the other Keformers ; nature
received her rights, and marriage was recognised as a divine
institution, in connection with the principle, that the whole of
liuman life is capable of being, and is meant to be, pervaded by
the moral influence of the Holy Ilvevfia. Other limitations
were abolished, such as the unwarrantable extension of pro-
Idbitions against marriage on account of ties of relationship.
Marriage was also deprived of its sacramental significance, but
at the same time its ethical dignity as a divine institution was
vindicated. Hence it followed, that, like all ethical blessings,
it could be ruined and destroyed by sin, that divorce therefore
might be rendered necessary by human guilt, and that it was
no part of the duty of Church or State to uphold a semblance
of marriage, when marriage itself no longer existed. On the
other side, however, the time of the Eeformation exhibits a
resemblance to the romanticism of the Middle Ages ; for in
the woman it sees the species, so that for this age, too, one
woman is very much the same as another. Friends procured
wives for each other, as in the case of Melanchthon and
Calvin. The act of personal choice, preference for the
individual as such, were but little regarded ; and this held
good not only for the woman, but also for the man. Even his
own individual sympathies were regarded by the latter as not
of very much importance. Here, indeed, there was something
great ; viz. that men looked to the objective authority and
sanctity of the marriage relation, to its objective right and
inorality. Still, individuality was too little recognised,
although it received in other respects such a powerful stimulus
from the Eeformation. The claims of religious personality

528 § "2. MARRIAGE.

were acknowledged, but only as essentially the same in all ;
men were not as yet fully conscious that in marriage ethical
individuality had a rightful part to play. So matters stood
until the close of the l7th century. From the time of
the 18th century, again, the personal and individual side
has been the more strongly emphasized, nay, so brought into
the foreground, as if all that is divine in the marriage relation
were to be found here alone, and not in that relation itself
as an objective ethical ordinance. Fiction, too, has con-
tributed its share towards completely ruining the representa-
tion of marriage as a divine institution of objective validity,
and making it nothing more than a subjective product, a
matter of mere sympathy, of desire and inclination. Even
Kant, earnest as he was, conceived it simply as a matter of
subjective contract. But with such views as these, the indis-
solubility of marriage cannot be maiiiLained. For, if every-
thing were to be decided by individuality, then should the
elective affinities and sympathies of two married couples cross
each other, the objective institution would at the most receive
only outward respect, and that for the sake of propriety.
Further, passionate, natural love would obtain a false ascend-
ancy, an apotheosis to which it has absolutely no right [as in
fiction]. By such an evidently enhanced requirement of love
for marriage, if it is to be marriage, indeed, its tie would be
absolutely loosened, since it would thus be made to depend
upon empirical and individual considerations. Worthless
novels have in many ways had a pernicious effect upon our
ideas concerning marriage by making it an aftair of mere
sympathy. But the worst effect is produced by that false and
delusive notion of marriage, according to which a person
should expect to obtain from marriage — if it is to be a valid
one — such full satisfaction on the individual side of his
nature, that he and his partner, finding in each other whatever
they need in this respect, will have no want unsupplied.
Here each of the two expects everything from the other, " to
be made happy " in a eudoemonistic fashion. But virtuous
happiness must be more deeply rooted than this. And so,
when husband and wife do not find all they looked for, their
married life becomes unhappy, they think there is no longer
any reason to continue it, and that separation is allowable.

MAKEIAGE. 529

With us, the Legislature has shown a reprehensible compliance
with this subjectivism, by granting divorce on account of
"invincible dislike!' But wherever divorce is easily obtained,
the reaction is felt upon married life, upon education, and
upon the welfare of the whole people. For many a marriage
that has begun badly has turned out well, when husband and
wife have been impelled by the consciousness that separation
is impossible, to struggle against hardness of heart, to take
pains with themselves and attain to self-control, and thus to
amend a state of matters that at first was perhaps no more
than endurable.

According to Socialistic and Communistic theories, so far as
they deal with marriage and the family, marriage is to cease
to exist as a separate association formed by two persons, and
meant to be lasting and exclusive. If ever these theories
could be carried into effect, they would result in the degrada-
tion of the woman most of all, but also of the man as well.
]\Ien would, as in imperial times, no longer care to form indis-
soluble ties, but prefer their own wandering fancy — the Venus
rag a.

A departure from this subjectivism was initiated by the
philosophy of Schelling and Hegel, in so far as it fixed its
attention not upon the will, not upon happiness, but upon
external objective being as the expression of pure will, and so
brought men back to the recognition of objective authorities ;
cf in particular Hegel's BecJitsphilosophie. But it is Schleier-
macher especially, who, while at the same time giving full
consideration to the claims of individuality, has indicated the
objective character of marriage, and made prominent its
fundamental importance for all moral communities.

When we look at the development of ideas regarding
marriage, especially in our own day, and at the numerous
divorces connected with them, especially in those regions
where Prussian statute-law is in force, we see plainly, that
what our age stands most in need of, is that the objective
character of marriage should be rescued from that subjective
caprice which, under the form of individual likes or dislikes,
is exerting such widespread influence. Of course we must at
the same time never neglect consideration of the individual
side of the matter. The people at large must again be

2 L

530 § 72. MARRIAGE.

brought to recognise in marriage an objective, sacred power
and institution, which demands, indeed, free consent on the
part of those whom it unites, but can never be legitimately
dissolved on account of individual likes and dislikes. Only
on this objective basis is a true marriage possible ; and such a
marriage will also be in a condition to bring about, in an
ethical way, an ever-increasing harmony and understanding
between husband and wife, and to yield the blessing that God
has placed in it to those who seek it. Mere empirical
individuality of character, so far as it is not in conformity
with God's will, has no right to be the cause of breaking
the marriage bond ; and, on the other hand, individuality
in conformity with the will of God, so far as it has become
empiric, in other words, has been realized, can never be morally
repulsive ; with it the formation of an intimate moral alliance
must always be possible. Hence in the case of husband and
wife whose individualities in their natural state are not at
first very favourable to their union, the only thing required
is, that they should cleanse the pure metal from the dross.
And thus marriage will be for each, as it ought to be, a
strengthening and purifying of their personal characters.
Neither of them is without faults ; but if they are Christians,
the faults of the one will bring forth and exercise just
the opposite virtues in the other, and by this means they
will become more and more able to assist each other in over-
coming these faults, and to make their union and happiness
more complete.

3. "When marriage is defined as indissoluble, a union —
which State and Church must recognise — of two persons of
opposite sexes in the most intimate fellowship of body and
soul, a fellowship in which each personahty has its deficiencies
supplied by the other, this definition contains both the
objective side of marriage, or marriage as an institution, and
its subjective side of affection. Moreover, it is clear from this
definition that, on the one side, there were real marriages
before the time of Christ (of. supra, p. 305), and therefore that
it is not the sacrament of the Church which makes marriage
what it is ; while, on the other, it is no less clear that marriage
in its perfect form cannot be thought of apart from Christianity,
since marriage exists between persons, and it is from Chris-

THE PHYSICAL SIDE. 531

tiaiiity that persons derive the principle of perfection. As we
have already seen (§ 1 7), the mere physical side of the union
would not of itself constitute marriage, but only sexual fellow-
ship. But just as distinctly — and in a certain sense even
more distinctly — must the fact be emphasized, that neither
can psychical affinity, or the spiritual side, be of itself
taken as its basis. The spiritual side would of itself do no
m.ore than create quite another relation, that of friendship ;
and it would be immoral to confuse different spheres, and
build up marriage upon friendship alone. If marriage is to
be distinct from every other moral community, its essential
character must be conditioned by the natural side, but
constituted by the union of the phj'sical and the spiritual.
For that is the form which human sex life must assume, and
marriage has its basis in the category of life — (cohabitation)
— but a life that is human, in which it is personality and not
iTTLdvfjbia that must govern. It is the duty of man as a
j)ersonal being to keep the natural in subjection, since it exists
for the spiritual, not the spiritual for it. Marriage, con-
sidered in itself, exhibits a completion of human nature in the
aspect in which it has differentiated itself in the two sexes ;
in it, in accordance with God's will, the differences both
physical and spiritual, that exist between the sexes, are
gathered up into unity in the way of moral action. Mere
TCKvoTroua does not denote the aim of marriage. This depends
upon the blessing of God. Neither does marriage exist
merely as a precaution against incontinentia. Just as little
is its object simply the attainment of married happiness, how-
ever certain it may be that marriage is able to afford the
highest earthly felicity. But it is a state appointed by God,
a K\rj(TL<i (1 Cor. vii.), because here an ethical design planned
hi/ nature is raised out of possibility into actuality. In
marriage two duties are performed and stand in the most
intimate union with each other, duty to oneself and duty to
one's neighbour — the latter being in the present instance the
husband or wife.

The physical side of marriage, the bodily cohabitation of
husband and wife, is the external hasis of the relation, the
conditio sine qua non of the realization of this moral associa-
tion. But, at the same time, it must bo the basis for some-

532 § 72. MARRIAGE.

thing else, and not be mere iropveia. For tliose who are
joined together in body are human heings ; and therefore their
physical connection must exist for the purpose of rendering
possible an inward spiritual union — nay, it must be the
beginning of such a union. The external basis is not the aim
of marriage, but what makes a true marriage possible. It is
also a necessary condition of the realization of marriage, that
the spiritual side of the relation should not be wanting, but
should be present as a beginning, though an imperfect one ;
more and more perfect spiritual union being the ultimate goal
itself. It is for this reason that Christianity is so important
for marriage. It did not indeed first exist through Christianity ;
but the latter alone brings marriage into full conformity with
its idea ; for the redemptive power that is in it restrains and
eradicates whatever would cause discord, increases the love of
the married pair, and enhances their value in each other's
eyes, as partakers of the same hope. It should be required
of Christian marriage that it should not be at its best at the
beginning, in the honeymoon, in the days of early passion,
but should be a fellowship that becomes closer the longer
it lasts.

I'here is no school of virtue like marriage, none so well
fitted both to purify and strengthen the character by means
of the joy it affords, as well as the never-failing suffering it
brings. Upon a physical foundation, which spiritualism
despises or finds repulsive, God has built up an association of
the tenderest kind, embracing the highest spiritual relations,
and has made it a real union of souls. The effect of the
physical side of marriage is that this relation does not, like
friendship, consist in a mere series of intermittent acts ; on
the contrary, although its subsistence depends upon ethical
activity, it is nevertheless a continuous state, and carries in
itself a sort of natural security, which affords a basis for the
feeling of home in man. For here everything is common,
property, energy, enjoyment, body, life, joy and sorrow ; and
yet this relation bears a personal form. For not only is each
spouse a distinct personality, and must continue to be so ; in
addition to this, their individual wills unite to form one
common will, which makes nature subservient to the welfare
of each, and promotes their moral growth. In this loving

A SCHOOL OF VIRTUE. 533

devotion of husband and wife to each other, however unre-
served it may be, no loss of ])ersonality is involved, but, on the
contrary, a recovery thereof in a higher sense. A new and
liigher form of existence is attained by means of marriage.
The creation w'as not perfected when Adam was made ; he
knew that he was as yet imperfect, that he needed completion
— until the woman was given to him, and then for the first
time he knew that he was a complete unity. At the same
time, marriage is hy oio means a. mere expansion of the individual
ago : for if it were so, the result might be mere selfishness,
tlie desire to absorb another in oneself On the contrary, the
personality of each spouse is expanded and completed in the
following way. Each surrenders himself freely to the other
in love, to be the means of amplifying and completing the
personality of the other, while he also surrenders himself no
less freely to receive the same service that he renders. And
since this takes place on both sides, the higher life that
results is shared by both in common. Each, to whom the
person of the other is freely surrendered in love to be the
means of subserving his well-being, has tlie assurance that he
is the chosen end of that other. The former also does the
same. And thus each remains by means of the other an end
to himself, while each at the same time feels and exercises a
loving self-forgetfulness — a forgetfulness in which love is not
forgotten. It produces a peculiar elevation of consciousness
to know that we are loved by a person faithfully, truly, and
for ever. In marriage, too, we learn, with regard to earthly
relations, the same truth that the Christian is taught by
religion, viz. that in the long run there is no true blessing but
love, both that which is received and that which is conferred.
Thus marriage is the school, the laboratory of true love, and
thus, too, of the highest earthly bliss, which must ever be
rooted in virtue. Outwardly a Christian husband and wife
are one. No sound of serious discord becomes audible. And
since they thus form as it were one higher person, their sense
of responsibility is increased, while they also feel that they
are living a richer life. The care of each for himself is
always elevated into care for the other as well ; they have all
things in common. Inwardly, it is true, husband and wife
remain two independent persons ; but they are not simply

534 § 72. MARRIAGE.

two distinct persons, and nothing more, for each of them has
made the other a part of his own being ; there are two foci,
but one ellipse. It shows the wonderful objective power of
this relation, that here, on the one hand, it is never long before
egoism betrays itself to be nothing but folly, and the blows
of unfaithfulness fall upon its own head. On tlie other hand,
it is a connection of such tenderness and intimacy, that it can
never prosper nor unfold its loveliness and charms, where the
care of one spouse for the other arises from egoism and
prudence alone, and that only when the one really makes the
other the objective aim of his love, does self-renunciation
meet its reward. In true marriage, liusband and wife make
it their aim to allow nothing to come between them ; they
seek by oioen confidence to be perfectly transparent to each
other, and in this mutual confidence they both feel that they
possess the surest safeguard of their married happiness. Still,
here, too (§§ 56, 69), it is the ideal ego that they must love
in each other, the empirical ego must be loved only so far as
it does not conflict with the ideal. Their union is spiritual
and Christian, only so long as they promote each other's
religious and moral life.

TIlc failings of one spouse must he home in sympathy hy the
other, and felt as his own, as something for which he too is
responsible, and wmich he must help to combat. People take
things easy in marriage, and let their faults appear as readily
as their virtues. But a higher conception of marriage teaches
the duty of self-control, and that only what is best and noblest
in character should be displayed. Here, as well as elsewhere,
respect is the basis of love and its duration. Husband and
wife, moreover, have a peculiar power over each other, arising
from the constancy of their mutual influence. From the
intimacy of the matrimonial relation, both of them become
aware of each other's faults ; but marriage is a school of
patience and gentleness, and affords the most abundant means
for self-discipline and self-knowledge. And if husband and
wife only conduct their married life in the name of Christ,
neither their union nor their happiness will be injured by sin,
for then sin is contrary to their will, and they will strive
against it in common, and above all by their common prayer.
Their common subordination to God also purifies their love

CONTRACTION OF MAKEIAGE. 535

from sensual passion, "E^€lv <^jvvalKa a)9 /a^? '^X^^ (-^ ^''-'^'•
vii. 29). Thus tlieir love becomes pure and strong, and this
it could never be but for their common devotion to the
Kedeemer,

As everytliing is held in common in Christian marriage,
and the marriage bond is strengthened thereby, so do children
in particular, who are the fruit of mutual love, and the
blessing which God has attached to it, contribute to such
strengthening. For in their children each parent sees a
continuation as it were of the personality of the other, and
loves the other in them, the child being a transcript, not of
the one parent only, but of both.

And, finally, husband and wife must also devote themselves
to some moral aim lying beyond the immediate circle of
married life. For when they are entirely wrapped up in
each other, their marriage cannot remain a healthy one. The
more exclusive and the more intense their wedded love is,
the more necessary is it that they should look beyond the
domestic sphere. It is only when they thus take a common
interest in moral aims, that their married life reaches full
development and strength.

4. Conti'adion of Mar day c. (a) On the duty in general of
contracting marriage. Marriage is, apart from certain special
exceptions, a universal calling, natural to every human being ;
a calling in wliich the whole community, with its universal
aims, is as much interested as the individual with his single
and particular ones. Evangelical ethics, following the New
Testament, starts with the principle that to enter into wedlock
must be regarded as a universal calling and duty, that it is
not a matter of mere choice whether one will do so or not,
and that special grounds must exist to justify an exception to
the rule, and to prove that it is the duty of this person or
that to remain unmarried. Such an exception may arise from
external causes, e.g. from the want of those outward means
which are necessary to the moral establishment of a house-
liold. Accordingly, the State may impose restrictions upon
marriage. Then, too, the woman must wait to see whether
she will be asked in marriage by a man whom she can con-
scientiously obey, and for whom she has an affection. Physical
causes, likewise, such as bodily infirmity, may form a moral

536 § 72. MARRIAGE.

ground for not marrying. The man also may be unable to
find a woman to whom he is drawn by affection ; or it may
be that while there is liking on his side, there is no response
on the other. These are instances of moral celibacy — in-
voluntary, however.

But celibacy may also be voluntary, and yet a matter of duty
(Matt. xix. 11, 12, xxii. 30; Luke xx. 34-36; 1 Cor. vii.";
Eev. xiv. 4). For example, a man may find himself required
by his special vocation to forego family life ; for man has a
vocation, whereas the sphere of a woman's vocation is the
family itself. So it was with the Apostles Paul and Barnabas,
while it is evident from Matt. xix. that Christ did not dis-
approve of such celibacy. Paul, too (1 Cor. vii.), though he is
far from making a merit of it, is conscious that he is acting
morally in remaining unmarried, as by this means he secures
free play for his missionary activity. Similarly, we can
imagine a daughter, who has sick parents to wait upon, deny-
ing herself for their sake a home of her own. It is even
conceivable that a person may by nature have no sexual
inclinations at all, and may even have a repugnance to any-
thing of the sort. As long as this continues, marriage is of
course forbidden, from the want of the requisite inclination.
In fine, it cannot be said that marriage is cibsolutely inclispcnscible
to every one as a means of moral education ; but only that
family and domestic life must be the basis of such an educa-
tion. And this is possible to even an unmarried person by
sharing in some circle of family life. Paul gives unmarried
life the preference ; not universally, however, that is, not in
every respect, but partly on account of the circumstances of the
time and the dangers connected with them, which were greater
for families than individuals ; partly because those who lead
a single life could be more constant in prayer. He who
remains unmarried from motives of duty is also more inde-
pendent of the flesh, his sensual life is more undisturbed ; but
his position is not on that account in every respect a better
one, for from another point of view we may say, that a mar-
ried man is able to do more in the way of moral achievement.
Even Paul does not see any merit in celibacy, does not regard
it as a special and higher condition of life. At all events, it
is certain that it is every one's duty, nnless he is prevented

MOI^AL CONTRACTION OF MARUIAGE. 537

on moral grounds from marrying, to seek to reap the benefits
of this high and social blessing, this school of virtue.

(b) Moral Contraction of Marriage. Positively, marriage
should be entered upon only after "judicious deliberation, and
on the ground of virtuous and proved mutual affection " (Eothe,
iii. 640 K). Since the way in which a marriage is contracted
has usually a decisive influence upon its whole character, the
most careful consideration is necessary in forming an engage-
ment. Hence precipitate engagements should be avoided ;
an age should first be reached at which a sufficient degree of
discretion and experience has been gained. And in taking
such a matter into consideration, the following points should
especially be attended to : first, none of the physical conditions
should be wanting that are necessary to the establishment of
a household ; then there should be no incongruity in respect
of age, position, or religion ; further, there should be an earnest
affection capable of lasting, and its necessary conditions, an
affection not in ahstracto, but one to the person in question ;
and finally, the two parties should harmonize in their tenden-
cies and fundamental tone of character. This last point does
not by any means imply that tliey should be exactly similar;
for dissimilarities go very well together when they supplement
each other. For any one to form an engagement without a
pure and tried affection is a lie against the objective relation
itself and against another. All passionate and extravagant
courses also will be found reprehensible, when tested by
virtuous reflection. For passion fades (§ 18). But the most
important thing of all is to bring our resolve to God and
try it before Him. He who marries and does not form tlie
alliance as in the presence of God, nay, who even refuses to
regard it as a religious covenant at all, exposes himself to all
the dangers of self-deception and failure. The part which
piety should play in the contraction of marriage must be to
lead to such a choice as presupposes, if not that the other is
already a Christian, that he or she has at least the will and
inclination to become more and more such.^ There is no sure
basis for mutual confidence, unless the Christian fear of God
be present. This alone is the foundation of wedded happi-
ness. To marry any one in order to convert him is innnoral,
1 Harless, p. 436.

538 § 72. MAERIAGE.

for this is a matter that is not in man's hand. Also, since
family worship is one of the principal parts of domestic life,
an alliance should be sought after in which such worship will
be possible, and mixed marriages of such a sort as to render
it impossible ought to be avoided.

Further, since the testing process mentioned above is a
serious matter, and since youth does not possess the expe-
rience of riper years, but is swayed by passionate inclinations,
it must be laid down as a general rule for the moral contrac-
tion of marriage, that the choice made by children needs to
be supplemented by the judgment of parents or guardians.
Although children must not be forced into a marriage, and
are not bound, nay, are not even justified in yielding obedience
against their inclinations, it is no less certain that it is the
duty of parents to refuse their consent to a union, which they
feel convinced is pernicious. It ill becomes children also, even
when it is legally within their power, to institute judicial
proceedings and make good their choice in opposition to their
parents. By so doing they disturb that moral relation which
is the older of the two, and form a new moral relation at the
expense of one already in existence. Only in the rarest and
most exceptional cases can it be permissible to enter into
marriage without the consent and blessing of parents. Even
an engagement ought not to be formed without at least the
knowledge of parents. To do so would be unchildlike, and
would indicate a mistrust that is sure to do mischief, while it
would show but little confidence in the inward rightness of
the step that is taken.

In addition to receiving the consent of parents, those who
enter into marriage must be willing, that the new alliance
should be united to the great moral communities which sur-
round us, and should obtain their recognition. The subjective
side, the free choice, requires (as we saw when treating of
Vocation, § 68) to be recognised by the other moral com-
munities, with whicli the new marriage is to be organically
connected on its social side. And this takes place, not only
through the participation of parents, but also through the civil
recognition of the State and the consecration of the Church.
It is true that neither Church nor State initiates the marriage.
This is done by the wills of the two persons who engage

MONOGAMY. 539

themselves to each other ; hut the marriage is not made
manifest as something that is morally right, nor does it obtain
the social character which is essential to it, nntil it has
received that place in the social organism which is given it
by the recognition of the State and the Church. Accordingly
it is morally reprehensible to anticipate married life in a
libertine manner before this ratification has taken place [cf.
p. 546].

Note 1. — Those iclio are too closely related ty hlood should net
marry. A family becomes enfeebled, if new life is not infused
into it from others. It is beneficial to marriage, giving it strength
and character, when the contrast of individuality between hus-
band and wife is well marked. But in the same family this
contrast, which is so conducive to the vigour and richness of
married life, is less strong. This at least is the case at present ;
in the beginning of the human race it may have been different,
for then marriage took place even between brother and sister.

Note 2. — A marriage should not be formed witli an iLnhdiever,
especially when he belongs to a non-Christian religion. For a
marriage which excludes at the outset all fello^^■ship in the
innermost sanctuary of the soul, cannot be a right one. Speak-
ing generally, too, marriages between Protestants and Eoman
Catholics are unadvisable. But Christian ethics cannot ab-
solutely forbid them. They may turn out well, if they are
accompanied with a special degree of true Christian piety. And
then, too, they may serve the purpose of bringing Catholic and
Evangelical Christianity to view and respect, and, as far as such
association reaches, to recognise each other. Tlie union of
Christian Churches must ahvays be an object of hope, and mixed
marriages between Christians, when they are prosperous, may
be a type of this union, — nay, they may be an important means
of realizing it, for before the Churches are united they must first
know and respect each other.

5. Monogamy and tlic Indissohibleness of Marriage. Mono-
gamy follows directly from the very nature of marriage. For
marriage demands the complete and exclusive surrender of
person to person. The opposite principle would be, that no
moral ends are involved in marriage — a principle that would
degrade love to a lower level. On the corporeal side marriage
has something exclusive about it, an exclusiveness, however, that
serves as a condition and background, as it were, for brin^iniT;
out love with all the more intensity. In polygamy, on the

540 § 72. MAE RI AGE,

other hand (and in polyandry mutatis mutandis), the husLand
has a position of false predominance, and cannot give himself
np completely to one of his wives. Polygamy confirms him
in sensual egoism ; he soon becomes a lord instead of a spouse,
while marriage becomes a species of slavery, degenerating into
a relation of master and menials, which is degrading on both
sides. Still polygamy in the Old Testament, or wherever it
is sanctioned by law and custom, is not morally identical with
fornication and adultery. There is ydfio<i even in polygamy,
and adultery is possible here as well as in monogamy. Hence
in the African mission field, for instance, it is not to be
demanded of a prince who is living in polygamy, that he should
repudiate all his wives except one.

From the essential character of marriage it likewise follows
that it is indissclaUe. It would be immoral to contract it
under the reservation of possible separation. Morally, it
must be entered upon as for ever. Such a reservation would
mean a withholding of love and loyalty. If marriage, indeed,
were only a relation of contract, it might be annulled by
mutual agreement. But then its right, its sacredness as
an objective institution, would be surrendered to subjective
caprice ; and this would be sinful, because marriage, and even
civil marriage, is in itself indissoluble.

Divorce is the contradiction of the indissolubility of
marriage. Christ forbids the divorce which was permitted,
though by no means approved of, in the Old Testament (Deut.
xxiv. 1 f. ; Matt. v. 31, 32 ; xix. 3-9 ; Mark x. 4 f.). He
opposes the frivolity of practising divorce at pleasure ; to
come more closely to the point. He forbids a separation on
the part of either the man or the woman (Mark x. 12),
except it be for iropveia ; this exception referring not to sins
committed before marriage, nor merely to adultery in the
narrower sense of the word, but to any kind of unchastity in
married life, as for instance where the woman allows herself
to be treated unchastely. Whosoever, He says, shall put
away his wife {oTrokvar]) ; and this evidently means an
arbitrary putting away, a repudiation. The sacredness of
the objective relation ought to keep both parties together, and
tliis relation continues to have claims upon a man, even when
he has arbitrarily withdrawn from it. Christ expresses this

ITS INDISSOLUBLENESS. 541

by saying, that he causes her who is put away to commit
adultery. That is to say, he brings himself into a position
that renders it impossible to restore the marriage that has
been broken, while the ease with which the separation is
effected makes it easy for the woman to enter into an adul-
terous connection with another. Further, it is said that he
that marrieth her that is put away (that is, arbitrarily and
invalidly put away) committeth adultery, for he makes the
restoration of the marriage and the duty of reconciliation
impossible. And, in the third place, Christ adds as a m.atter
of course, that when a man, who has put away, i.e. has sin-
fully repudiated, his wife, marries another woman, he thereby
violates a still existing marriage. In this connection Christ
always speaks of marrying again, because in the case of an
unjust divorce it is a second marriage that gives finality to
tlie separation — that is, where monogamy prevails. In the
second marriage the sin of the separation has reached its
climax, for any renewal of the former relationship has now
become impossible, unless polygamy were permissible. Thus
we see, that any arbitrary exercise of authority, in the way of
breaking an existing marriage relationship, is censured by
Christ in the strongest terms, and represented by Him as
equivalent to the sin of causing adultery. Still, it is evident
that the duties of that party who is only passively im^plicated
in the separation, are not discussed. The words, " he that
marrieth her when she is put away committeth adultery/*
might seem to signify that a woman even when divorced
without any fault of her own must not marry again. But
Christ is here speaking of arbitrary divorce by means of a
bill of divorcement. In this case the marriage still remains
valid objectively, and is broken by a second marriage. The
above saying of our Lord, therefore, is a warning against
divorce on frivolous pretexts, reminding His hearers that an
arbitrary separation leads to adultery, to the violation of a
marriage that ought to be maintained notwithstanding the
l)ill of divorcement. Christ does not take any special notice
of the second marriage of the innocent party, whicli is certainly
a very likely result, because He is solely engaged in com-
bating the arbitrariness that prevailed with regard to divorce.
St. Paul; however, speaks of this case in 1 Cor. vii. 12-16.

542 § 72. MARRIAGE.

The believing wife must not separate from the unbeliev-
ing husband, and conversely. For it was not Christianity
that made them man and wife, and God can make the
continuance of their marriage the means of winning the
husband to the Christian faith. Difference of religion
therefore affords no ground for dissolving a marriage that
has already taken place, though it may be a reason to
prevent a Christian from forming one. But should the un-
hclieving hitshand separate himself from his wife, then she has
only a passive share in the seijaration. Here the apostle
does not bid her to do penance for the guilt of her unbeliev-
ing husband, who has separated from her, nor to remain
exposed to trials of her faith or to manifold sufferings on
account of her Christian profession, but says, that if her un-
believing husband will not stay with her, she is no longer
bound to him {ov BeSovXcoTat), ver. 15 — a phrase which means,
according to Eom. vii. 2 f., that her husband no longer exists
for her, he is as good as dead, and she can proceed to form
a new marriage. According to the apostle, therefore, the
vineidum may be broken by something else than death ;
marriage has no character indelelilis. It may be asked,
why does the apostle tell the woman that she is free from
her husband, when it may be that the latter, although not as
yet a believer, will become one by and by ; why does he not
expressly require her to remain unmarried in expectation of
this happy result ? To this we must reply that the hora
conversionis depends upon God's sovereign power, and there-
fore that while nothing must be done to hinder its coming,
we must not, in shaping our individual life, reckon upon
factors that God keeps in reserve and has not yet permitted
to appear. Accordingly, cases may arise where a woman, who
has been abandoned by her husband, may, from the nature of
the circumstances, enter upon a second marriage without com-
mitting sin. Of course the circumstances of the case, and
the individual relations between her husband and herself,
may be such as to leave room for hope on his behalf, and
then it will be both a right and a Christian thing for her to
wait in involuntary scparatio a thoro et mensa. From causes,
however, connected with the man or the woman, the circum-
stances may point in an opposite direction, and for this reason

ITS INDISSOLUBLENESS. 543

tlie apostle is content with the indefinite ov SeSovXcorai, and
neither advises nor forbids a second marriage. Further,
there are many hard cases of marriage that occur, when a
scparatio a tlioro d mcnsa seems at the first glance to afford a
welcome solution of the difficulty. And the reason that the
apostle did not enjoin it as a remedy, may have been that
experience teaches that a sc/paratio which is not final places
one in danger of adultery, while if it is final it differs in no
respect from divorce, since marriage is only valid during the
present life. Hence in the Eeformation age 1 Cor. vii. was
appealed to as showing that desertion is equivalent to com-
pulsory divorce, as far as the innocent party is concerned, and
that a second marriage of the latter is therefore justifiable.
Against this view it has been urged, that Paul in the above
passage specifies the particular case of malicious desertion
(desertio malitiosa) on the ground of difference of religion, and
therefore that his words afford no justification of a second
marriage in the case of malicious desertion arising from other
causes. But if the apostle had based the right to marry
again, and consequently the right to break the marriage bond,
upon the religious difference and not upon the fact of desertion,
he would have been compelled to allow the believing spouse
to effect a separation and marry again, even though the un-
believing one were willing that the marriage should continue.
Eut this he absolutely forbids. Consequently it is the
separation, the dissolution of marriage through desertion,
upon which the apostle rests his declaration that the
deserted spouse is free, and we must agree with the
Eeformers in placing clcscrtio malitiosa alongside of iropveia
as a valid ground of divorce.^ But, of course, desertio malitiosa
as such must be clearly proved, and proved to be obdurate.
For otherwise, and if there were any want of foresight and
strictness in this respect, any wish on the part of a married
couple to be separated from each other could be carried out
without trouble. For this desire for separation could by a
preconcerted arrangement take the garb of desertio malitiosa ;
the deserted spouse would no longer have merely a passive

^ We are less able to agree witli them, however, when they treat the refusal
of conjugal rights as desertio malitiosa ; for even in such a case the greater
part of the fellowship of married life may still subsist.

544 § 72. MARKIAGE.

share in the transaction, and the most frivolous of all kinds
of divorce, viz. divorce on the ground of mutual dislike, might
clothe itself in this form.

In addition to adultery and malicious desertion, are there still
other grounds of divorce recognised in the New Testament ?
It has been held that such grounds might be inferred from
Matt. V. by taking Tra/je/cro? Xojov iropveia'i to mean — except
in cases which fall within the category of iropvela. Accordingly,
by adopting this meaning the so-called ^jft?" ratio has been set
up, and it has been said, that wherever there is a ground of
divorce the same as, or similar to adultery, divorce may take
place. But the passage Matt. xix. 9 has merely /i^ eVt
iropvela, and this does not admit of other cases being included.
Mark and Luke also do not mention iropvela. A more im-
portant question is, what is the meaning of irapeKTO'; Xoyou
TTopveiai; ? Every divorce, Christ says, is sin ; but there are
cases where it is not sin to effect a divorce — the innocent party
being, of course, here referred to. It is certain that adultery is
also meant. But Trapveca is a wider idea. There are sins against
marriage which are not adultery in the narrower sense of the
word, and yet destroy marriage irretrievably, while the degree
of guilt attaching to adulteiy may vary very coaisiderably.
Now marriage may be destroyed in two main ways, corre-
sponding to the idea of marriage, which is compounded of both
the physical and the spiritual (par. 3). («) The physical
side, which is essential to the idea, may be withheld, either
through desertio malitiosa, of which the apostle speaks, or
through adultery with a third person, which comes under the
head of iropveia (Matt. v.). (l>) The spiritual side may be
entirely withdrawn ; love, for instance, may be lost, husband
and wife lay snares for each other's life, there may be attempts
at murder, the one may endeavour to ruin the other in body,
in soul, or in reputation ; the husband may try to force his
wife to prostitution, or may persist in living a dissolute life,
utterly regardless of the duty of supporting wife and children,
and may thus in the language of the apostle be worse than a
lieathen. Here love, the first requisite in marriage, no longer
exists, but is changed into hatred and malignity. In such a
case, the only part of marriage tliat remains is the physical
side; but a cohahitatio that is merely physical, and from

ITS INDISSOLUBLENESS. 545

which all love and affection have disappeared, is simply
'TTopvela (§ 18). If in these circumstances the marriage
relation were still kept up, the injured spouse would be
degraded by being used merely as a means of satisfying
sexual desire, a desire into which no love would enter, and
which would therefore not be human, but solely animal.
Accordingly Christ says, fi-q eirl iropveia (Matt. xix. 9) ;
marriage must not exist for the sake of iropveia. And
therefore, where the spiritual elements of love and affection
are wanting, neither State nor Church can compel husband and
wife to live together, because marriage must not be turned
into iropveia. Thus we adhere to the words of Christ and
His apostles when we take up the following position. On
the one hand, we do not regard marriage as being something
of the nature of dogma, purely divine, and indestructible — in
other words, as a sacrament ; we regard it, on the contrary, as
also an dliical product, and therefore as both exposed to the
danger of being destroyed and as delivered up to loyal and
moral keeping. But, on the other hand, we give no counten-
ance to divorce, or to second marriage on the part of those
who have been divorced, unless it can be proved that the
marriage has been broken in one of the two chief ways above
mentioned. For to do so would be to favour the breaking of
an obligation still in force for both husband and wife, the
obligation, namely, of continuing their married life.^ When
both parties are Christians, no such thing as divorce can
take place. But when this is not the case, marriage may be
destroyed by sin, and it may be necessary (as with the Jews
under the Old Testament dispensation) to make allowance for
hardness of heart, in order that the evil may not be made
worse.^

^ That disease, even mental disease, does not sever the marriage tie, results
from the facts, that it is, on the contrary, a summons to increased conjugal
fidelity and support, and that it can never be absolutely certain that recovery
is impossible.

- Remarriage following divorce is in general unadvisable. For it becomes
even the innocent party to acknowledge that he (or she) is not without fault,
were it only in having entered upon a marriage that had afterwards to be dis-
solved. He should therefore be inclined to misti'ust himself, and not only to
fear committing fresh blunders, but also to doubt his own fitness and vocation
for married life.

2 M

546 § 72. MABEIAGE.

INote. — Relation of State and Church to Marriage} Neither
the State nor the Church makes or contracts a marriage. But
it is the duty of Christians to seek the recognition of both, and
also to become members as married people of the moral com-
munities. At an earlier period this was done by a single act,
the nuptial rite of the Church, without which marriage was
not recognised as such by the State ; at present two acts are
required, the so-called civil act and the wedding. This corre-
sponds with the two sides of marriage, for marriage is essentially
a legally moral association, and is to become a religiously moral
association. The legal side comes first in conformity with the
whole structure of Ethics, according to which an advance is to
be made from eudajmonism, through the stage of law on to the
stage of Christianity. Natural sexual intercourse is raised and
ennobled through the idea of law. Law is the negative con-
dition of the ethical, and therefore precedes the positively
ethical. It belongs to the State, as the public administrator of
law, to fix the conditions requisite to its recognition of marriage,
and to bring individual marriages under the sanction and pro-
tection of public law. Since this is the case, the power which
the Church once possessed of giving legal validity to marriage
could only have arisen, from its acting in the name or by
mandate of the State. Hence there can be no doubt about
these two propositions: (1) The State, which had entrusted the
Church with the right of acting in its name, could without
injustice withdraw this right in order to exercise it itself; and
(2) when it does exercise this right, its action must precede
that of the Church, because objective right or law is the basis
of all that follows [cf. § 33a. 2].

The earlier arrangement, according to whicli the Church's
performance of the nuptial ceremony included the civil act as
well, while it afforded certain advantages also involved various
drawbacks, especially in cases of remarriage on the part of
those who had been divorced. For no one could be married
without the rites of the Church, and yet the Church could
not recognise many of the grounds upon which divorce was'
sanctioned by the State (by Prussian statute-law in particular).
Now, when a divorce of this kind had been permitted by the
State, the Church was bound, not indeed to look upon the
nuptial tie as still existing, but to regard the separated parties
as still under the moral obligation of endeavouring to restore
their previous connection. A second marriage, however,
rendered such a restoration absolutely impossible ; the Church,

^ [In this note I have followed the lectures of 1879, since these presuppose
recent legislation ; but have added certain additions from the lectures of
previous years iu the form of footnotes.]

CIVIL MAKEIAGE. 547

therefore, could not take part in it by performing the nuptial
rite, inasmuch as the latter would have meant the formation of a
nciv marriage. The State, again, on its side could not but permit
a second marriage to those whom it declared legally divorced,
and such a permission could not take effect as long as the rites
of the Church were necessary to give legal validity to marriage.
Thus, without taking the Old Catholics into account, whose
Church refuses to sanction any such remarriage, the State had
good grounds, even for the sake of the Evangelical Church, to
assume the control of marriage on its legal side.^ — There are
two ways in which these collisions might have been avoided
without splitting up the one act into two. On the one hand,
the State law of divorce might have been so improved that the
Church, as it had so long done, could have continued to go
hand in hand with the State, and all remarriages of divorced
parties might have been recognised by Church and State alike.^
Or on the other, the Church might have excluded from her
communion all those who had procured divorce in a sinful way,
that the Church could not recognise. But the Church lacked
an order of discipline ; and in addition to this, it could not
have excommunicated every one who had been wrongfully

• In addition to this, there were citizens, in the full enjoyment of their
natural rights, who had merely an external connection with the Evangelical
Church, which held the ratification of marriage in its hands. The points of
view of State and Church with regard to marriage fall asrtnder as soon as the
Church on the one side seeks to act as a Chiu'ch, that is, to apply Christian
principles to marriage, while having on the other within her communion
people who ought not to belong to her, but to the State alone. For these ought
to be treated, so far as marriage is concerned, in accordance with the universal
principle of right ; that is to say, they are justified in demanding that unbelief,
sin, and disobedience to the Church should not in themselves deprive them of
the right to marry. For that those M'ho do not live a Christian life should be
robbed of the right to marry, would be wholly opposed to the attitude of
Christianity in the matter, since she 7-ecognises the validity of both pre-Chriatiaii
and extra-Christian marriages.

^ This was what v. Bethmann - Holhveg desired. But in vain ; the First
Chamber refused its assistance, for it introduced civil marriage as an optional
form. [The author's opinion is that the State should have reformed its divorce
laws.] "The norm by which we must decide, whether a marriage still subsists
or not is the same, whether we look at the matter from the point of view of
private or of public right. It is true that the words of Christ are addressed not
to State and Church, but to the conscience of the individual. But since the
idea of marriage which they set up is the true moral one, there is no necessity
for Church and State disagreeing with and contradicting each other in their
mode of dealing with marriage." [This, however, does not imply that the
State cannot assume the legal control of marriage, more especially as it must
take into consideration such as are not members of the Church [vid. supra),
since marriage does not depend upon Christianity for its existence.]

548 § 72. MARFJAGE.

divorced. And as long as these remained in the Church, tlie
collision we have described would have arisen whenever they
wanted to marry ; the State would have admitted their right
to marry again, the Church would have denied it, and yet she
alone would have had the right to conclude a legal marriage.^

Hence it is clear — (1) that the conduct of the State was
neither illegal nor arbitrary ; and (2) that the act of the Legis-
lature was a relief to the Church, as it saved her from coming
into collision with the State, and delivered her from the
responsibility of taking away all possibility of marriage from
one who perhaps needed to be married, and who in the eye of
the State was entitled to marry.

When civil marriage is introduced, the Church has quite a
different jJosition witJi regard to the contraction of rnarriage.
It is no longer the Church that gives it validity. For even
civil marriage must be recognised by the Church as morally
binding, and not as a mere matter of contract. Since, then, she
has no longer anything to do with the contraction of marriage,
and the parties who come to her for the performance of nuptial
rites are already husband and wife in the eye of the law, she
must receive them as sucli ; and hence, even should either
of them have been previously divorced on wrong and sinful
grounds, she must accept the divorce as an accomplished fact,
and regard the former marriage as irretrievably broken by the
new marriage,^ the civil act. In these circumstances, it becomes
the duty and the task of the Church to bring her moral influence
to bear iipon the relation that has been formed by the civil act,
which, though sinful in its origin, is still binding. For this
end she must use all the means at her command, must exhort,
reprove, declare the promises of God, and demand of both
parties a vow of mutual fidelity. On the other hand, she must
do nothing in the way of endeavouring to dissolve the connec-
tion. The relation itself must not be characterized as sinful, —
for in that case its dissolution would be a duty, — but only as

^ This last point must evidently be understood in the following way.
Marriage might have continued to be solemnized by means of a single act,
at once ecclesiastical and civil, if the Church had excommunicated all those
who in her opinion had been unlawfully divorced. For in that case the Church
could .still, as formerly, have effected for the State as well a marriage between her
oum members. But then civil marriage would still have been necessary to meet
the case of those who had been excommunicated by the Church (p. 547, note 1) ;
and, in addition to this, such excommunication as is here supposed is (as has
been said above) impracticable.

- It is only before the new marriage has taken place that the Church can urge
the duty of the separated couple to become reconciled to each other. If either of
them marries a second time, the Church must not desire to bring them together
again : for this would be bigamy.

§ 73. THE FAMILY, 549

one that has come into existence tliroiKjli sin. And, indeed,
unless this last fact be acknowledged, there is little hope that
the new marriaoe will turn out better than the old one.^

CHAPTER SECOND.

THE FAMILY.

§73.

Marriage is the bosom of the family, which is born of it, and
the family again is the bosom, in which lie the civil
and the religious community, not as yet separated
from it. Christian family life is maintained by means
of the Christian fainily spirit, which is natural family
affection raised to a higher form of energy. Christian
affection, which is the ruling influence in the Christian
family, takes three specifically distinct forms : («)
parental love ; (6) love of brothers and sisters ; (c)
filial love. The stream of love, taking its rise from the
parents, arouses a responsive love on the part of the
child, and the latter both turns to the source from
which it came, and extends to those who are born
of the same parents.

1. The family is an image of the kingdom of God; in it
are the germs of every moment in the latter (§ 71). But
more especially is the relation of parents to children an image
of the relation of God to men, of religious fellowship. As
the love of God owes its overmastering power to its pure,
undeserved, prevenient character, so is it also parental love
that kindles in cliildren the first sparks of filial love, and thus
awakens in them the first sense of human life. Especially is
it the loving eye of the mother, which, resting upon the child,

1 The Church should find in civil marriage an incentive to private pastoral
work ; and she will do well not to wait for the opportunity afforded by divorce,
before she combats the loose morality that prevails in this matter. It is her
duty to purify and shape public opinion, to bring back the pure idea of the
sanctity of marriage to the consciousness of the people, and to quicken their
conscience by ivord and doctrine.

550 § 73. THE FAMILY.

makes it conscious that it is loved, aud wins its love in return.
Christian marriage not only begets, but educates children ;
it regards them as personalities made in the image of God, a
fact to which the Church bears witness in infant baptism.
For baptism shows that children are received into the fellow-
ship of God and Christ, and into the Church. The whole
education of the child must be directed by the ideal of hajjtism,
since baptism is the representation of the central and supreme
sphere. This education devolves upon the parents, as being
the persons who are qualified by affection for the task. But
it has also a public aspect, and hence there are public schools.
Everything here depends upon both parents working har-
moniously together, the characteristic differences of the sexes
being brought into play. Mothers are apt to be vain and
indulgent, even in their self-sacrificing love, and then the
egoism of the little ones is developed. Fathers again, realizing
vividly the goal of education, incline towards impatience, may
make too stringent demands, and become imperious. These
tendencies must in both cases be restrained by love. In
particular, it is the seriousness of the father, as he exercises
the right and discharges the duty of a priest in family
worship, that arouses the conscience of the child at an early
stage, and gives to natural love a moral tone. Authority in
the family rests upon the mutual co-operation of both parents.
They are the autores vitoi of the child, of its physical life to
begin with, and then of spiritual life too, which ought to be
implanted in tlie child through their agency. In performing
this duty, parents have at first simply to give, while children
are merely receptive. The reason of the parents lives in the
children, and takes the place of reason in them. But educa-
tion has for its purpose to train up children to l^e capable
men and women both in body and mind, i.e. to be true
Christians, worthy members of the State and of the Church.
In the family, two generations are side by side, and it is meant
that the blessings enjoyed by the earlier one should be handed
down to the later, in order that the great boon of Christianity
itself may continually increase and develope, and sons become
better than their fathers were. Children are the issue of
their parents, and so their natural heirs. The aim of educa-
tion is to briniT the child to man's estate. But for this end

OBEDIENCE. 551

obedience is reqiured. From this often bitter root grows the
sweet fruit of liberty. The exercise of authority in a Christian
family does not mean, that harsh and despotic measures are
employed, producing alienation between parents and children ;
on the contrary, it is conscience that is influenced, and affection
that is quickened. Neither does the obedience required imply,
that in parents children see only their masters ^ (Heb.
xii. 7). The apostle demands that children he not discouraged
(Eph. vi. 4 ; Col. iii. 21). Parental authority ought truly to be
in God's stead, and to take the place of reason in the child,
and then tlie obedience of children is not legal but spontaneous,
being based upon the consciousness of parental love (Col. iii.
20, 21).

2. The cardinal virtue of the child is obedience (Eph. vi.
1 f. ; Coh iii. 20; 1 Tim. iii. 4; Tit. i. 6). Obedience must
not only be rendered, when the child is convinced that the
will of its parents is substantially right. For if children were
only to obey under these conditions, they would then merely
obey themselves. On the contrary, parents must stand in
God's stead to the child, and the formal obligation of obedience
must extend to matters which as yet he does not understand,
and for which the parents alone can be responsible. Filial
love is maintained by reverence and gratitude towards parents,
in accordance with the example of Christ (Luke ii. 51 f.). It
is from their parents that children derive their first knowledge
of God. Eeverence is evinced in the open sincerity with
which obedience is yielded. Gratitude finds employment in
prayer on behalf of the parents ; at a later period the parts
of parents and children are reversed ; it is the parents that
are helpless, it is the children that give their help, but always
in the same attitude of filial gratitude (John xix. 26 f.). The
greatest difficulty of all arises at the period of transition from
minority to full maturity. It is difficult for parents to hit the
due measure of independence to be accorded to their children.
On the one hand, parents should keep clearly in mind, that
their children must be bound to them by ties of confidence
and gratitude ; at the same time it is no less incumbent upon
the children to remember, that even should their emancipatioii
be long in coming, they ought not to assert their rights and
^ Employment of children in factories = slavery.

552 § 74. EXTENSION OF THE HOUSEHOLD.

claims, or the duties of their parents towards them ; for mere
duty and justice form an alien and a fatal point of view for
the warm affection which ought to characterize the whole
sphere of family and married life. It is far better that
children should remain in subjection to their parents longer
than is necessary, than that they should assert their liberty
in mistrust and thanklessness. It must not be left to children
to decide for themselves when they should become indepen-
dent ; here, too, there must be an objective testimony coincid-
ing with subjective opinion. What we have already said in
§ 68 holds good in this case as well, with the omission of the
limitations that had then to be introduced. And even should
the most unfavourable circumstances arise, the age of majority
as fixed by the State assures the independence of the child.

3. Love hetivecn brothers and sisters, again, is an affection of
an altogether peculiar kind, distinct from friendship, in having
a basis in nature. As nat^io'al, it is a type of Christian love
for one's neighbour, while as Christian it is a special and
closer form of the same. This love (and what we say holds
good of collateral as well as of lineal connections) is essentially
a relation of co-ordination, even where great differences exist
with respect to age. Younger brothers and sisters know this
very well. This form of affection, too, is the means by which
a transition is made from the life of the family to the spheres
that lie outside of it, especially as children ought not to confine
themselves to the household to which they belong, but ought
to seek society of a wider kind. Family spirit can only be
kept from becoming narrow and restricted by free intercourse
with other circles.

CHAPTER THIED.

EXTENSION OF THE HOUSEHOLD BY MEANS OF FRIENDS, GUESTS,
AND SERVANTS.

§ u.

While the household is a sanctuary that maintains its position
of relative seclusion, it admits of extension in two ways.
On the one hand, associations are formed with individuals

FRIENDS, GUESTS, AND SERVANTS. 5o3

Lelonging to other liouseliolds, or other spheres of life.
Thus arise the relations of host and guest, of masters
and servants, the former being one of essential equality,
the latter of inequality. On the other liand, the family
as a whole, and through the father as its representative,
enters into vital connection with the public body cor-
porate, both with the so-called secular community, that
is, civil society and the State, and with the ecclesiastical
community. In the latter case, this takes place with
reference both to a particular congregation, and to the
larger ecclesiastical organism, whose basis is a common
confession.

1. We have already spoken in § 70 of family friendships
and hospitality (Heb. xiii. 2; Eom. xii. 13; 1 Pet. iv. 9).
Here, since the family has the most to do in the way of
giving, it would seem to hold a position of superiority towards
its guests. But inasmuch as it must feel it an honour to be
permitted to give, the inequality is at once removed, and a
relation of equality established, even apart from the reciprocity
of the relation, which extends also to the privilege of giving.
The host must not become a mere patron, nor the family
friend a mere chaperon. In exercising hospitality, a family
takes pleasure in admitting others to witness its household
comfort and happiness: but it is necessary that married and
family life should have a definite and substantial worth in
itself, before it can do this properly. In the case of many
families, however, hospitality is only a display of their own
inward emptiness — the home, which is like a State wholly
occupied with other States, that is, nothing but a ministry
of foreign affairs, which cannot be carried on without a
large amount of false show and artifice, is merely a distrac-
tion and delusion. For no one can give anything to others,
unless he is first of all a personality concentrated in himself.

2. Servants. Servants are taken into the households of
those who are better off as to outward means ; and these,
while occupying an inferior position, ought to be made sharers
in the blessing of Christian family life, and in the benefits
enjoyed by their superiors. The more the relation between

554 § 75. THE STATE.

masters find servants rests upon a onerc hargain (altliougli this
must ever be the basis of the relation, §§ 17, 18, 33a), the
more imjjcrfed it is ; while the more it is inspired by fidelity
and attacliment on the part of the servants, and by confidence
and kindness on the part of the masters, the more Christian
does it become. Here, too, the bond that should unite them
(as opposed to the merely natural or legal relation; cf. §§ 17,
23, 33a) is the consciousness, that in the absolute sphere, or
in the presence of God, masters and servants are equal (Jas.
i. 9, 10 ; Eph. vi. 5-9; Col. iii. 22 f., iv. 1 ; Tit. ii. 9, 10).
At the present day, complaints with regard to the servant
class are particularly rife. But in this matter masters and
mistresses have more to answer for than they will acknow-
ledge, nay, the chief share of the blame falls to them. For
servants should be incited to virtuous conduct by the spon-
taneous love that is shown them, by those who are their
superiors both in rank and in age.

The household, including servants, is a miniature of the
State and the Church. The family, as an organization
animated by love and ruled by wisdom, is at once a State and
a Church, and accordingly has a system, a discipline, and a
worship of its own.

SECOND SECTION.

THE MORAL COMMUNITIES, WHICH ARE THE PRODUCT OF
REELECTION OR OF HUMAN ART.

CHAPTER FIEST.

THE STATE.
§ 75.

Idea of the State and its Relation to other Moral Organisms.

The State is not merely a family on a gigantic scale ; neither
is it the moral community pure and simple ; nor, finally,
is it the mere sum of the various departments of human

THE STATE. bo5

life which it includes. On the contrary, although it
embraces within itself and in its own way all the other
ethical spheres, just as they, on the other hand, embrace
it, it is an independent ethical fabric, with an ethical
principle of its own. For it is the earthly embodiment
of public justice ; its function in the life of a nation is
to be the representative of the Divine authority of Eight ;
and this function it has to discharge with the necessity
of a force of nature, and therefore by means of com-
pulsion and power. Like marriage, the State is neither
a direct creation of God nor something that is wholly
secular ; but it is a human product resting on a Divine
basis, and thus has both a Divine and a hum.an side.
Since the State is founded upon the principle of right,
we can deduce from this principle those essential claims
which must be made of the State, and by the fundamental
denial of which it would cease to exist. But right has
its formal and its material side, and these must be dis-
tinguished. It attains its perfect form when it receives
the form of law. And this it does most completely when
law is brought to pass by a law of the Legislature called
a constitution. With regard to their contents, right and
law have a variable side, depending on change of circum-
stances and needs. Nevertheless a continuity of right
is morally possible and necessary, and is maintained in
the following way, without detriment to tlie variableness
or changeableness above adverted to. The authorized
legislative power — not, however, any revolutionary force,
whether on the part of rulers or subjects — reforms and
improves right and law so far as their contents are
concerned ; and thus, while formal continuity is preserved,
it becomes possible both for right and the State to have
a history. Since every State presupposes a common
history of the land and the people, and since every
nation is animated by its own peculiar national spirit,

556 § 75. THE STATE.

and creates its laws and institutions in accordance with

its degree oi' progress and its needs, it follows that the

ends for which the State exists cannot be reached by

means of legal institutions, which shall embrace the

whole human race, that is, by one universal State, but

can be realized only in a multiplicity of States, each

possessing its own sovereign power (cf. supra, §§ 18,

23, 33a).

[Kant, Bechtslehre. Hegel, Ecchtspliilosophie. Schleier-
macher, Entvmrf eines Systems der Sittenlehre, ed. Schweizer,
p. 274 f. Zeh^e vom Staat. Ueher den Beruf des Staates
zur Erziehung : Werke, zur Fhilosophie, vol. iii. p. 227 f.
Christliche Sitte, pp. 241 f., 440 f. Eothe, EthiJc, 2nd ed.
vol. ii. p. 204 f. EncijMojxidic, p. 83 f. Chalybseus,
Speculative Mhik, ii. § 197 f. Trendelenburg, Naturreclit,
§ 150 f. Stahl, Rcchtsphilosophic, ii. 2. v. Miihler, Grundlinien
einer Fhilosophie der Staats- und Bechtslehre. Herbart, Prah-
tische Fhilosophie, vol. viii., cf. also vol. ix. Lotze, Griindzuge
der praJdischen Fhilosojyhie, p. 60 f. Ulrici, Grundziige der
prahtischen Fhilosophie, i. 252 f, J. H. Mchte, Die j^hiloso-
2)hischen Lehrcn von Recht, Staat und Sitte. Ihering, Katnyf
uriCs Eecld. Dahn, Fcchtsphilosoj^hische Studien, p. 112 f.
Lasson, Sgstem der Fechtsphilosophie. Baumann, Handhuch der
Moral. Schuppe, Grundziige der Ethih. Thiersch, Ueher den
christlichen Stacd, 1875. Kostlin, Staat, Rccht itnd Kirche in
der cvang. Ethih. Stitdien uoid KrUiken, 1877. Gladstone, The
State in its Relations with the Church. Coleridge, Church and
StcUe. Weisse, Fhilosophische Dogmatik, iii. pp. 617-654.
Vinet, Essai sur la manifcstcdion des convictions religieuses et sur
la separation dc Veglise et de Pefat, 1842. Zeller, Staat und
Kirche. IMinghetti, Stacd und Kirche. Geffken, Stacd und
Kirche. Thompson, Church and StcUe in the United States.
Herrmann, Ueher die Stellung der Religionsgemeinschaften im
Staate. Das stacdliche Veto hci Bischofswahlen. Harless, Stacd
und Kirche. Beck, Kirche unci Stacd unci ihr Vcrhdltniss zu
cinandcr. Vilmar, Theologische Moral, vols. ii. and iii. v.
Oettingen, Christliche Sittcnlehre, p. 678 f. Hofmann, Theolo-
gische Ethik, p. 262 f. Golther, Staat und Kirche im Konig-
rcich Wilrtemhcrg. Nippold, Die Theorie der Trennung roii
Kirche und Staat. Sohm, Verhdltniss von Staat icnd Kirche,
1873. Krauss, Das Dogma von der unsichtharen Kirche, p.
236 f. Dorner, Kirche unci Reich Gottes, p. 305 f ]

1. Dependence of the Stcde upon Religion. We have already

ITS DEPENDENCE UPON PvELIGION. 557

alluded to this subject (§ 34ff, of. § 63. 2), wlien considering
the imperfection of the stage of right in itself. But the
dependence of the State upon religion is shown more especially
by the fact, that there is no law, no earthly power, which can
exercise control or afibrd a guarantee against the abuse of
force, except Christian conscientiousness and fidelity, and
Christian respect for individual freedom and individual rights,
alike on the part of rulers, officials, and the people at large.
Without faith in a living Providence, no nation can success-
fully meet those crises in its political life which cannot fail to
arise, or pass through them with courage and patience, with
moderation and justice. And further, legislation also, which
always bears the impress of the whole character of a people,
lacks healthy productive power, when that character is without
religious vitality ; for then the nation wants that ideal element
upon which the formation of its aims depends. It is this
ideal element which unites rulers and subjects by inspiring
them with a common spirit, upheld l;)y enthusiasm for the
discharge of national duties.

2. Many otherwise right-thinking Christians would fain
regard the State as one great family, and the monarch as
the father of his people. It is certainly in favour of a
monarchical constitution, that it imparts to the State some-
what of the warmth of family life. But the State is not a
family. This is shown, e.rj., by its power of punishing ; that
which is discipline in the family is punishment in the State.
The State may go so far in this respect as to inflict death.
But no father puts his child to death. Here, again, the
confounding of different spheres is non-ethical. And this is
also clear from the consideration, that if the State were merely
of the nature of a family, its citizens would always be in the
position of children, always under the tutelage of the ruling
authorities. But the latter would fulfil its educational office
very badly, if citizens were kept continually in the condition
of minors. The State, in fact, would fall into the same error
as the Eoman Catholic Church. If, however, its citizens have
passed out of their minority, then they must take an active
part in political life and in the discharge of its principal
functions. Nor, on the other hand, must the State be identified
with the Church, either by making the State absorb the

558 § 75. THE STATE.

CImrcli or vice vcrsd. Christianity refuses to be eitlier a
political religion or a theocracy. Eender unto Csesar the
things that are Caesar's ; the two swords must be kept
separate. There is certainly an intimate connection between
these two divine institutions, but their functions are distinct,
and depend upon their different principles.

The principle of the State is the idea of Right. This does
not mean that the State is the sole administrator of justice
on earth ; justice has also a place in the family and its
discipline, in the Church, and in the life of the individual.
But it administers public right, and has to enforce it by
means of compulsion, and with the certainty of a natural
force (§ 33ft). For it is the supreme organism so far as right
is concerned ; it not merely exhibits right, but it is the
representative of right raised to a higher power — that is to
say, not merely as something self-existent, but as something
that is active and self-determining. It has to manifest right
as what must be enforced at any cost. It is a free power,
a living existence, a moral personality (§ 33ft). And its
position with regard to all other provinces of life is, that it
protects each of them in the rights based upon its respective
ethical principle, that it embraces them all as an institution
for the maintenance of right. The State, however, is by no
means synonymous with the entire moral activity of a people,
nor is it lord over the principles belonging to the other moral
spheres. It is not part of its functions to n)ake or to teach
religion, to bring about marriages, etc. Neither is it the sum
of all the other moral communities ; on the contrary, it is itself
one of them, which has been entrusted with the administra-
tion of right, in virtue of which it must ensure to them all
the possibility of free development, in accordance with the
different principles underlying them. This it must do not
only negatively, by defending them from outward molestation,
but also positively, by promoting all their lawful undertakings.
Hence it is incorrect to maintain, that too little has been said
when the State is defined as being based on the idea of right,
and to hold that it must also care for the public welfare
{i.e. exercise police functions). For the latter duty is com-
prehended in the idea of right when properly conceived. The
State represents and upholds the conditions essential to the

THE IDEA. OF EIGHT. 559

free development of individual life, of marriage and the
family, of communities, classes, and corporations, whether those
whose principle is realistic, such as agriculture, trade and
commerce, or of those whose principle is ideal, such as art
and science, and finally of the Church also.^ For it defends
every circle of human life from anything that would make
its free development impossible, and furnishes it with that
which justly belongs to it, that which it would be an injustice
to refuse — viz. the means by which its free development is
really and not only apparently secured. Accordingly, the
State must first of all establish its own rights, its rights as a
State. But these comprehend, at the same time, the rights
of all other spheres ; and all rights, both those which the
State creates (such as its own) and those which it recognises
and upholds (such as the rights of other splieres), have a
public character. Thus there arises an organized system of
rights ; and there are, besides, political and natural rights,
private rights, rights of the family, of the community, of trade
and commerce, rights belonging to science (academies and the
press), to art, and to the Church. Hence the State, as the
supreme representative of right, has not only to protect the
other spheres in the enjoyment of their rights, and conse-
quently to set limits to their rights as against each other ;
it has also to determine the rights of these spheres in relation
to its own, and therefore it must be master in its own house,
and fix what its own house is, and how far its domain
extends. In doing this it may, of course, err ; its decision is
not infallible nor incapable of amendment ; still, as the last
and highest earthly decision in all matters pertaining to right,
it must be honoured by obedience," or if this would violate
clear duties, by willingness to suffer.

For the idea of right establishes the Divine origin of the
State, and excludes that theory of it according to wdiich it is
based originally upon contract (Eousseau's Contrat Social).
And in the idea of right, too, we have the inward bond that
connects the State with religion. For right, while in itself
an absolutely necessary good, exists for the sake of positive

1 Hence the Apol, ed. Miiller, p. 232, designates the State "defensor
Evangelii."
^ Conf, Aug. A. xvi. Apol., ed. Miiller, p. 225 f.

560 § 75. THE STATE.

morality. The State derives its sovereignty or majesty from
the fact, that it simply stands security for right, as something
public and national; and hence it recognises no power superior
to itself.

3. The difference between Ifaterial and Formal Eight.
Eight attains to formal perfection when it takes the form of
law. But in order that anything like arbitrariness — which,
however well-meaning it may ]3e, is always hurtful — may be
excluded, it is first of all necessary that there should he a lavj
for legislation. Law thus raised to its second power can
only be realized by a constitution or fundamental law of the
State.

The contents of right vary at different times and in different
places, in accordance with national individuality. That which
is conducive to the education of one people, and promotes its
freedimi, may be a restriction to the freedom of another that
is more matured ; and that which is just and indispensable in
the case of one nation, whose life has reached a high degi^ee
of development, may be highly injurious to another which is
on a lower level. Human laws change with human needs,
and a contrast is often presented by the rights, not only of
different peoples, but also of the same people at different
stages of its progress. Material right has a history. It must
grow and develop so as to meet the new relations that are
ever arising, and which it must regulate ; and laws must be
reformed or purified when they are unjust, or are in danger
of becoming so. It might, indeed, be supposed that in con-
sequence of these changes right would suffer in sureness or
stability. But the continuity of right, and its identity as an
organized whole, are maintained when the development and
improvement of material right takes place in a way that is
formally correct — i.e. through the legitimate organs. The
old strife between natural right, or right as a matter of reason,
and positive right — a strife that ever and anon makes itself
felt in practical life — cannot be brought to a favourable issue
unless the two following facts are clearly recognised. On the
one hand, whenever a collision arises between positive right
and right as determined by reason, the former is shaken to
its foundations if it seeks to avoid development and improve-
ment ; and, on the other hand, a legislative reform can only

POLITICS AND EELIGION. 561

be called rational when it can be shown to be the expression
or result^ of the general sense of right existing in the com-
munity at the time. This is the political expression of the
theological principle which we met with at an earlier stage
(§§ 5, 72) : the coming of the kingdom of God depends upon
the fact that it has already come. Stagnation and revolution
must be alike condemned. The right thing is a reforming
conservatism. This is no special political banner ; it only
describes the position that all must take who love their
country truly and wisely. All Christian citizens must enrol
themselves under it, however much they may differ as to the
expediency of concrete political questions, by which they
should never allow themselves to be separated.

Politics and religion must not be mixed. It is very
dangerous to bring in religion to settle concrete political
questions, and thus to make them religious questions. For
by this means political parties become religious parties as
well, and pride is the result ; the political fanatic is very apt
to regard an opponent as a non-Christian, and thus religion
is defiled. Further, when Christian piety is identified with
a particular political party, the mistrust and hatred, that are
felt towards that party by its opponents, are turned against
religion itself. On this subject the Erlanger Zcitschrift, 1862,
makes the following apt observations : — " We are in danger
of becoming not merely political perverts, but perverts from
Christianity, if we seek to decide political questions, such as
domiciliation, right of suffrage, finance and commerce, the
administration of justice, trade, the legislature and popular
representation in it, etc., by Christianity, according to our
measure of Christian enlightenment. For then we suppose
ourselves all the better Christians because we take up a
certain position in politics, and we think we have a right
to deny the Christianity of others because they do not share
our political views; whereas the fact is, that political questions

* The Legislature, however, must not simply make into law whatever it finds
existing as custom ; on the contrary, it may oppose a prevailing custom, and
acts rightly when it gathers from the healthy tendency of public opinion, to
what it may warrantably give the formal sanction of law. It is only necessary
that legislative changes should be in accord with the national spirit, and the
test of their seasonableness is whether the national spirit is reflected in them.
If not, the change is a step backward.

2 N

562 § 76. CONTINUATION.

must be judged according to their own particular principle,
and religion gives us as little information about them as about
the best way of making any kind of fabric. Should this
tendency gain the upper hand, especially on the 'part of the
clergy, then tlie sole p)eaccinahing 'power that still keeps political
parties together, inspiring them with mutual respect, with a
sense of justice, with love for their country — the power, namely,
of religion — would he drawn tvithin the sphere of faction, and
the salt that keeps the body of society from dissolution would
lose its savour." — Does it follow from this that the Christian
is to take no concern in the public affairs of his country, and
to form no political opinions at all ? By no means. But he
guards himself against mixing up different moral spheres ;
for this produces a chaos, or increases the chaos that exists.
Love to one's country and ones people has received the blessing,
not only of Moses (Ex. xxxii.) and the prophets, but also of
Christ Himself.^ But the most pious man is not necessarily
the best versed in politics, and the gospel by itself settles
nothing with regard to such matters as a political constitution
and the like. Political questions have their own independent
principle, and must be decided in accordance with it.
Christianity simply demands of all, that they should bring their
political intelligence to bear upon such questions in an upright
and patriotic spirit, and that a solution should be arrived at
in a legitimate way, and always in accordance with actual
necessities and possibilities. As to what is the right solution,
different views may be held by people who are equally pious,
and these differences must be adjusted by friendly contest
and discussion,

§ 76. Continuation.

Political organization begins when a people divides itself into
a magistracy ^ (ObrigJceit) on the one hand, and subjects
on the other. But this contrast between rulers and
subjects, without which a people would be merely a
uniform mass, destitute of organic structure, may take

' Luke xix. 41, xxiii. 29 ; cf. Rom. ix. 1 f.

["The "magistracy" (Obrigkeit) is equivalent to the "higher powers" of
Eom. xiii. 1, and includes every form of legally constituted authority. — Tk.]

PUBLIC RIGHT. 563

very different forms. Whatever form the magistracy
may have, obedience, for God's sake (Rom. xiii. 1 f.), is
due to it within the sphere over which its authority
extends. But since it is only through God that it has
a claim to obedience, it cannot make that claim valid
in opposition to God and His ordinances. Thus no
obedience is to be rendered it which would involve
disobedience to God ; in such a case, however, we must
recognise the inviolability and sanctity of lawful
authority by being willing to suffer.

1. Public right (§ 75) must have its organs. It is no
doubt true that in a certain sense all citizens are its organs
(§ 23, 33«); but this cannot possibly mean that every
individual is appointed to protect others from himself, or
himself from the whole community. In such a case, the
very thing that is here of essential importance — viz. the
community as a whole — could never come into actual
existence or manifestation. It is the State which is the
guardian of right, not the individual with his private leanings,
party spirit passions, or weak pliability. A people must
therefore divide itself into vehicles of public right and the
force it employs, and those who are subject to them.
Obedience to the State becomes obedience to those who are
authorized to represent the State. Thus we have the
antithesis of rulers and subjects. Civil authority must have
persons as it vehicles. At the same time, however, office and
person are not simply and absolutely coincident.

2. Here it is not of importance what the form of govern-
ment may be. It may be a monarchy, or there may be more
rulers than one : civil power may be regularly divided
between a prince and the estates of the realm, or the latter
may at least assist in its exercise ; in short, civil authority,
where it really exists — not merely when it seems to exist —
must, according to God's ordinance, require obedience within
its own sphere. Since St. Paul (Ptom. xiii. 1 f) addresses his
demand to every soul, he demands at the same time that every
one should attach himself to the State. For the individual
does so by becoming subject to the ruling powers, to the will

564 ' § 76. CONTINUATION.

of the commonwealth in its legally constituted form [the
authorities being the representatives of the commonwealth,
and for that reason inseparably allied with this constitutional
will (§ 75, p. 55G f.)]. The king also who is called to the
throne in the order of succession, in the very act of ascending
it subjects himself to this general will. But now, what is
the more exact meaning of Eom. xiii. If.? Thus far all are
agreed, viz. that we are here commended to render obedience
to civil authority as an ordinance of God. The apostle,
after previously warning us against taking the law into our
own hands and avenging our own injuries, says, " there is no
power but of God ; and the powers that be are ordained of
God." Here the first clause expresses the universal principle,
that authority in general derives its existence from God, that
it has no lower origin than this, no merely physical, or
subjective, human origin. The second repeats this in a
positive form, but in such a way that it is applied to
authorities which exist in concreto. Each one of them must
be regarded as divinely ordained within its own sphere, and
must therefore be respected as such. Here St. Paul does not
say what persons are, in any particular case, to be regarded
as lawful rulers, and therefore as ordained by God ; he does
not enter into this question at all, but is occupied solely with
the institution. ' Hence he makes no distinction between bad
and good rulers ; for the institution itself is always good, it
is only the persons who are not always good. Still his words
involve that obedience must be cheerfully given to the
persons also, inasmuch and in so far as they are lawful
authorities, that is to say, in so far as the person and the
of&ce or institution are one. It is said by some that St. Paul
does not merely tell us what belongs to the ruling powers as an
institution, but also how such powers may be recognised, namely,
by their virepex^iv. But if the sure mark of lawful authority
were to be found in virepe'x^eiv, that is, if might ^ were the
sole means whereby we discover who are Divinely - ordained
authorities, then St. Paul would say — what he undoubtedly

' Might is not the same as right, as is maintained in the preface of the Evan-
gelische Kirchenzeitung, 1851. According to the theory of Hengstenberg, a
successful revolution would at once have the right to be regarded as a divinely-
appointed ruling power.

" THE POWEES THAT BE." 5 Go

cannot say — that we have simply to obey the power which
happens at any time to be in the ascendant. He says, on the
contrary, the powers set over us. Who these are it is easy
in ordinary times to say, but when extraordinary circum-
stances arise, it is hard and even impossible to determine this
thoroughly, since in that case it depends upon concrete
relations. An especial difficulty also arises from the fact,
that just as something which at first was unjustly acquired
may through length of time become lawful property, so a
land which was seized and subdued by force, to begin with,
may by and by be rightfully held, and lawful authority
established within it. Now, while it is certainly true that
the Christian must not assist in depriving his lawful rulers
of their power, while, on the contrary, it is his duty to remain
loyal to them,^ yet he must not at such great political crises
as we are speaking of, interfere arbitrarily and in his indi-
vidual capacity ; whether in the way of offering armed
resistance, or of taking an active public part in favour of
legitimacy. The matter at issue being one of universal
interest, he must leave it, in the first place, to the
cqjpointecl ixpresentativcs of the people (see below, § 77. 2),
and content himself with abstaining from committing any
injustice.' Further, when a new governing power displaces
an old one, it is, on the one hand, incumbent on the former
to respect the old bonds of duty, and not to demand any oath
of allegiance or of office, until the struggle has been brought

^ We may liere allude to those who use the name of Paul as a cloak for
disloyalt}'. After having given an oath of fidelity to their ancestral prince,
should he happen to be overcome for a while by his enemies, and should rebels
or aliens demand that an oath of fidelity should be given to them, these persons
readily give it, — it may be under the pretext that the enemies of their own
prince would never have become possessed of this power, had it not been given
them from above (John xix. 11), that their power is the decision of God. In
certain circumstances it is no doubt a convenient doctrine to yield to might
instead of right, and to regard those persons who have the power as its
lawful possessors. But should any one, from cowardice or selfishness, or from
essential contempt of the State, hold it to be a proper thing to swim with the
tide of power on every occasion, he must not make the apostle his companion
and adviser in disloyalty.

" [We can hardly believe that the author means to exclude attempts to
influence public opinion within legitimate limits, since he demands publicity
and free discussion as essential to free political life. § 77. 2, § 78, § 70. 2.
— Ed.J

566 § 76. CONTINUATION.

to a definite close ; while, on the other hand, it is right that
when once a final issue has been reached, the outgoing

^ DO

government should release the consciences of its subjects from
their obligations. For a country must have a civil authority.
Eulers exist for the sake of the institution. In such cases
much will always have to be left to the judgment of the
Christian conscience, since decisive marks, suitable to all
cases, cannot be given to enable us to determine who still
are or who have become the i^ovaia. But what shall we
say with regard to political commotions within the same
nation ? Here, too, St. Paul cannot mean that the e^ovaia has
a claim to obedience ; only if at the same time it has superior
power, and that when it has not the power it has not the
claim. He would not say, for. example, that in a time of
revolution we should abandon a lawful dynasty and authority,
and go over to the side of revolution, should the latter be
stronger than the former. The apostle has no idea of
teaching us to swim with the tide of power ; it is lawful
authority that is in his mind ; to this, and in so far as it is
lawful, our obedience is due.

We thus see that St. Paul's object is not to exalt certain
definite persons, but to commend civil authority as a beneficial
institution ordained by God. For this reason we never find
him saying, that those who have the potver have also on that
account the Divine right to demand obedience, even should
they shatter the basis of right upon which their authority
rests; on the contrary, he says that where there is true civil
authority, — and therefore not merely a power that may
become so in the future, or has been so in the past, or seems
to be so now, but a power that is lawfully authoritative at
the present moment, — such authority must be honoured as
an ordinance of God. The persons who fill the office may
possibly act m opposition to the institution or office which
has divine authority. Now, should it be said, that in such a
separation of office and person it is nevertheless that which
is accidental, viz. the person, and not the permanent Divine
office, which, according to the apostle, must be emphasized,
this would mean, that whoever is disobedient to the person,
in order to obey the office which is God's ordinance, would
resist God's ordinance by obeying it. In Acts iv. 19 the

CHEISTIAN OBEDIENCE TO AUTHORITY. 567

necessary distinction is made between the persons who, either
in general or in any particular instance, claim to have ruling
authority, and the office. St. Peter asserts the possibility of
separating between office and person when he says, not that
we ought to obey God rather than the authorities, but —
rather than " men." Obedience is always due to lawful
authority ; it is always an ordinance of God ; for the
administration of justice is its divine right as well as its
divine duty. But the person, who enjoins something that
is opposed to God and divine law, only seems in such an
act to be a legitimate authority, authorized by God ; in
reality it is only the unworthy human being and not the
office that demands the sin ; and hence what is commanded
is not binding. So with regard to Matt. xxii. 15 f. The
two things are quite compatible, — although the Pharisees and
theocrats did not think so, — to render unto Csesar the things
wliich are Ceesar's, and unto God the things that are God's,
because civil authority has no rights that are opposed to God,
but derives all its rights from Him. Christians do not obey
their rulers blindly, but consciously, conscientiously, and for
that reason all the more earnestly. By consciously we mean
that when they obey they are certain of the magisterial
position of their rulers, certain, too, with regard to what
is commanded that it is not opposed to God or conscience.
And this holds good not merely in directly religious,
but also in moral matters. Christian obedience to lawful
authority is not a mere obedience from fear of punish-
ment, but is given for God's sake, because the Christian
knows that God has appointed civil government upon earth
(1 Pet. ii. 13 ; Eom. xiii. 5). Hence he obeys joyfully and
willingly, as an act of worship rendered to God ; even should
the sacrifice be hard, it is still a sacrifice laid upon God's
altar (Eom. xiii. 6).

In short, the 'persons who exercise magisterial functions
have to demand obedience on behalf of their office — in its
formal aspect, because it has been instituted by God, in its
material aspect, because of its aim, which is justice. Hence
it follows as a matter of course —

{a) That the Christian is bound to refuse compliance with
every ungodly requisition, every invitation to do what is sinful,

568 § 77. CONTINUATION.

as, for example, to violate the rights of others, even should it
come from the ruling powers.

(b) That as long as rulers continue to be rulers, that is, as
long as they do not overturn altogether that general basis of
rigid upon which their authority rests, they must be obeyed
within their own sphere, even though in many instances they
may act unjustly. In the latter case the Christian must submit
to the injustice. When resistance is offered, its purpose
must never be more than defensive — to defend Right. Eulers
must not suffer injury within their legitimate sphere; we
must not go the length of attacking the right which belongs
to them [the right, namely, which rulers in general possess,
of demanding obedience as long as they still retain lawful
authority].

(c) Should, however, a ruler resolve to have nothing more
to do with right at all, but to act entirely from his own
caprice, he would himself sever the bond which connects the
person with the office as a divine institution, and which gives
to the former a share of the sanctity of the latter. And this
would be equivalent to an abdication and revolution. The
conservative spirit of the Christian, his zeal for the main-
tenance of the State, would have to react against such a
revolutionary change ; and that for the very same reasons
which make it a divine duty to found a State, and to bring
chaos and caprice to an end by the establishment of law.
But, on the other hand, until such an extreme crisis has
occurred and is plainly manifest, neither individuals nor
communities — whether from a nitre wish to escape suffering,
or from an arrogant but false desire for freedom — must presume
to rise in rebellion, and attack the Divinely ordained autho-
rities that are still in power, even should these often act in a
way that is a caricature of justice.

§ 77. Contimiation.

TJie Constitution.

The system which regulates the relations subsisting between
rulers and subjects is the Constitution. There is no
constitution that is the best absolutely ; it can only be

THE CONSTITUTIOK 569

relatively the best, according to the individuality of a
people, and the stage of progress it has reached (§ 75. 3).
Nevertheless it may be said, that a despotic relation
between rulers and subjects, in the form either of
Ciesarism or ochlocracy, is as little in harmony with
the Christian spirit as anarchy. Christianity favours,
although only indirectly, and not by positive precept, a
political system in which the object is not to secure
mere passive obedience, but also to give citizens an
active participation in State affairs. The essential
functions of the State as an organized political body, or
the forms in which it exercises its authority, are, on the
ideal side, legislation, and on the real, administration
and the dispensation of justice. When a people takes
a positive part in political work, by means of those
persons to whom it has confided its interests, the latter,
in this case, form a part of a composite government,
and laws which are passed by both parts are binding
upon all.

1. There has been much discussion, especially from the
standpoint of natural right, as to what is the best form of
constitution. But this is a question which cannot be answered
a priori, nor is it answered by Christianity. It is part of the
elasticity of Christianity, that it can maintain itself under any
kind of constitution. The history and individuality of a
people must here be considered, and therefore one and the
same constitution cannot be the best for every people and for
every stage of progress. Christianity, too, prescribes no par-
ticular form. It only lays down principles, which when
followed, overcome, in an immanent way and without force,
certain gross imperfections or ruder forms of political life.
Now this must be said in general : that the spirit of Chris-
tianity, and especially of the evangelical Church, which aims
at the full development of personality, is altogether adverse
to every political system which looks for mere passive obe-
dience on the part of its subjects, and is favourable only to a
system which admits of citizens taking, at all events indirectly,

570 § 77. CONTINUATION, DEMOCRACY,

an active moral part in political affairs. And this does not
mean only that they are to obey freely according to their con-
science, but also to work freely. For the love of the Christian
embraces his earthly fatherland also.

Now when we compare, from this point of view, the three
chief forms of political constitution, viz. democracy, aristo-
cracy, and monarchy, we must remember — what the history
of ancient nations has shown us — that a nation passes through
different forms of constitution, and that each of these may be
the best for its own age. But whereas in antiquity one
system merely overturned and abolished another, the Cliristian
era exhibits the effort to interweave with one another, the
elements of truth which each of these systems contains.

(a) The trutli in the idea of Democracy is, that it desires to
have active citizens, swayed by the idea of the State. But the
democratic constitution is optimistic, and the most elementary
of all. The talent of the statesman is a special gift, not a
universal one ; yet the democratic theory speaks and acts as
if every citizen could be, or had to be, politically active in a
productive sense, as if politics were not an art. Productive
action in politics is not of such a nature, that if a man had no
share in it he would be excluded from a good of absolute
worth. But the democratic view runs the risk of making it
an absolute good. Further, democracy contains much that is
mere appearance ; for in reality it is not all who govern,
but mostly demagogues, who push themselves to the front by
flattering the people. Democracy has almost no means of
guarding against that which is the greatest evil in every
sphere, namely, that those who are inwardly the most com-
petent for an office are excluded from it by ostracism of
various kinds, while those who are incompetent receive it.
Further, democracy has then become immoral when it makes
ruling and the right to rule, not the rule of objective right or
duty, the important thing. It is more apt than any other
kind of government to cast into the shade the moral order of
the State as a Divine institution, and the Divine right of
constituted authority. Moreover, wdien a democratic form
of government is not confined to a single city, but extends
over a whole country, a pure democracy is a physical impos-
sibility, because each one cannot directly take part in govern-

ARISTOCRACY, MONAKCRY. 571

ment and legislation. Elections must be held, and in tliese
there is the introduction of an aristocratic element. Were
democracy not modified by aristocratic elements, it would lead
to ochlocracy.

(&) Aristocracy has also its special advantages ; also, but in
a less degree, plutocracy, which, in North America, and to
some extent in Europe, has displaced nobility of birth, or
exists together with the latter. Nobility of culture, of
character, and of intelligence will, thank God, always remain
and assert its truly influential position. But aristocratic
constitutions have exhibited as little permanence as demo-
cratic ; they are themselves specially accessible to a narroio
and often selfish spirit of caste.

(c) A Monarchic constitution is without doubt much more
capable, than a democratic or aristocratic one, of maintaining
the continuity of the State, and therewith its stability. It is
likewise most in harmony with the idea of government. For
the Homeric eh Koipavo<i earco holds good of the executive.

Hcrcclitary monarchy is preferable to elective monarchy ;
witness the experience of Poland, and also of Germany in its
imperial times. The hereditary principle raises the posses-
sion of sovereign power above rivalry and ambition within
the State, above dangerous conflicts and civil wars. A here-
ditary dynasty also gives rise to a healthy tradition, which
serves to secure continuity in politics ; it enables love to the
State to take root more easily in the hearts of the people, who,
by seeing in the prince the representative of the State, gain a
firmer sense of the objective reality of the State and its laws.
The hereditariness of its monarchy, moreover, procures for a
State the blessing of family affection, somewhat of the warmth
of family life — so far, that is, as the idea of the State permits.
This is a benefit which republics, whatever form they may
take, cannot obtain. We must, however, distinguish between
a monarchy and a clesjyotisyn, in the latter of which even judi-
cial power is dependent upon the arbitrary will of the ruler.
But more than this is required to correspond to the ethos of
the State ; it is not enough that those who exercise judicial
functions should be unbiassed and independent. For there

• In Prussia, courts of justice were independent, even before 1S48, and hence
the Government was not a despotism.

572 § 77. CONTINUATION. CONSTITUTIONAL MONAP.CHY.

cannot be an independent administration of justice, if the
legislative power could lay down, perhaps arbitrarily, rules to
regulate the proceedings of the law courts. Further, since
legislation must be constantly carried on, and must proceed
from the real, manifest needs of the people, — not from any
extraneous or external source, whether it call itself human or
Divine (§ 75), — it follows as a matter of course, that the mind
of the people must enter into and take a share in the con-
struction of the laws. Not even the appearance of a merely
individual origin must attacli to laios.

2. Since Eight, for the sake of which the State exists, only
reaches its perfect shape in the form of law (§ 75), legislation
is the fundamental function of tlie State, and hence a law is
required to regulate legislation, a fundamental latv of the State
(§ ^^' PP- ^^^: 556). This law is the constitution, in the
narrower sense of the term. A republic, oio less than a
monarchy, requires a constitution. But a republic is not so
well adapted cas a monarchy to overcome any disorders that
arise, and it is especially liable to fall into one of two extremes,
both hostile to freedom, anarcliy and the absolutism of cen-
tralization. In both of these respects a constitutional monarchy
is superior.^ Accordingly, when a people is under a monarchy,
and has a share in the work of legislation secured to it by
constitutional law, the form of the State has reached that
stage which is as yet the highest.

Legislation must be the work of the people in common —
that is, of that part of the nation which possesses rights, or is
of age. For only then has law an origin corresponding to its
significance as a public legal ordinance, with which the people
has to familiarize itself, or in which it has, as it were, to feel
at home. Law must proceed from those for whose sake it
exists, of course from their true better nature or sense of right.
Now, it is just as much a moral perversion to understand by
the people only those who are governed, and to regard the
Government as opposed to or restricting them, as, on the other
hand, it is to look upon the State as consisting entirely of the

^ The principal advantage of the monarchic fo ni of constitution is its elas-
ticity, which enables it to forbid its framework, to exclude any beneficial
elements to be found in other possible constitutions, but to appropriate them
and incorporate them in itself.

LEGISLATION. 573

Government or those in office. It is those who govern and
those who are governed taken together that constitute the
people, and reveal the true mind of the people. Hence it
follows — {a) that those who are governed should have a shai^e
in legislation, and it is a lavj of legislation that this share
should he used, that no law should have legal force unless
they give it their consent through their representatives (that is,
it must receive the consent of the Chamber of Eepresentatives).
ih) Moreover, since the Government, too, is a part of the
people, it must also be demanded that, as being the natural
representative of the existing order of things, and of the stability
of the State, it should not merely have a deliberative voice
in legislation, but should give its free consent to the enact-
ment of laws, and that there should not be the possibility of
outvoting it. Accordingly, the idea of a merely suspensive
veto on the part of the Government must be condemned. It
has a right to an absolute veto, and this the Chambers also
have with reference to the proposals of the Government. Like-
wise, it must never come to pass tliat the majority should
tyrannize over the minority, nor that all the distinctions which
exist within the nation should be obliterated, that all the
organic combinations which men have formed with each other
should be destroyed by bringing every one to the same level
of abstract equality. On the contrary, a State only attains to
fresh and vigorous life, and a people to actual freedom, when
the latter exhibits an abundant variety of organized bodies,
which are in their turns members of the greater organism, the
State, and each of which, ivhile resting upon a natural hasis, is
nevertheless a moral prodiict, e.g. Communes, Districts, Provinces,
and, the Glasses. In the abolition of the old class distinctions
there is a genuine moral idea, viz. that there are no longer to
be merely physical classes, to which a man belongs at once by
birth, but only ethical, that is, classes with a physical basis
indeed (§ 17), but formed by actual work, and by morally
justifiable interests. There are therefore to be no castes, no
nobility in the old sense of the word. If the nobility can
become ethical,^ if they can point to some special worh, which
from the physical advantages of their order they are best

' As, for example, in England, where nobility of birth does not necessarily
ekvate a man to the rank of nobleman.

5V'l § 77. CONTINUATION, LEGISLATION,

qualified to perform for the general welfare/ tlieu ethics can
have nothing to say against them. But there must be uo
class whose only work is enjoyment. The mere negation,
however, of the old class distinctions is just as pernicious as
these distinctions themselves, unless something higher be put
in their place. A reorganization of classes, communes, corpora-
tions, and guilds is necessary for the State in general, but
especially with regard to the social question.

It is probable, too, that such a reorganization alone affords
a way to the right solution of the problem, as to how a true
representation of the governed classes is to be contrived. For
every one must be excluded, who cannot give an adequate
guarantee that he is an actual, living member of the State.
A census is insufficient ; the timocracy which it implies has
something lowering about it, since it makes the idea of the
State depend upon wealth ; it is a makeshift, although the
payment of taxes must remain a condition of the enjoyment
of political rights. But most of all, it is only by a regenera-
tion of guilds and the like, that class - honour and class-
usages can arise, or that the respective classes can again each
win a fixed place in the social organism, without which they
have neither centre nor support. One of the most important
duties of the State is to see that there is no mere rabble in
the community, no proletariat. In all classes the proletariat
has its members and candidates. Its essential character is
moral disconnection, the want of a definite relation to society,
due to the lack of an organization including all classes. It
has indeed its peculiar seat among the poorer classes. It is
pauperism that makes the proletariat so dangerous (cf. § 63).
It is true that all must form the material, the component parts
of the public community, which the idea of Eight calls into
existence. But these countless atoms must be organized by
means of their vocations (§ 68), or the classes to which they
belong. For all must have an ethical basis, they must have
duties and hence rights (§ 23). Such questions, we may also
observe, always show the limits of the power of the State, its
dependence upon other potencies, without which it cannot
cope with the dangers that threaten its life (§ 34a, § 75. 1).
3. Legislation is the ideal side of the functions of the
' E.g. Court duties, ambassadorships, and to some extent military offices.

ADMINISTRATION. 575

State ; it determines the aims to be pursued, and in so doing
requires to be guided by creative love and wisdom. The real
side of the State functions is administroJion, in the wider
sense. Here its principal task is to carry out and enforce
the laws themselves, or public right. This demands wisdom,
technical skill, and power. Administration must be carried
on in accordance with law, and hence comes itself within the
sphere of legislation. Not that legislation and administration
must be confounded with one another, but their legitimate
relations must be defined by constitutional law.

Further, the laws and ordinances of civil and political life
— the administration of which is the first duty of the State
— must also be maintained and put into execution against
the disturbances and injuries occasioned by wrongdoing, and
this without respect of persons and in the case of both the
highest and the lowest. Hence the administration of justice
must necessarily be made independent of administration in
the narrower sense, and thus this real side itself falls into the
divisions known as the administrative, the executive, and the
judicial functions.

The function of administration in the narrower sense
belongs to the Government, and is again divided into different
branches. But since it must be carried on in accordance
with the law, it follows that the classes, which take a share
in the formation of the laws, exercise a controlling influence
over the Government, without, however, forming a superior
court over it, since this would make the Government sub-
ordinate to them. Publicity is essential to free political life.
Since laws are made that they may be put in force, the organs
of the Government (through whom, under a monarchy, the
ruler acts) are responsible for their execution. The king is
not responsible, nor are the classes. Hence the king's
Government also must be so composed as to be in general
harmony with the people. To meet the case of incurable
divisions arising between the Government and the represen-
tatives of the people, there must be a su'preme court inde-
pendent of hoth parties, to settle the matters in dispute, and
thus obviate any revolutionary action from the one side or
the other.

4. Judicial Functions. As the judicial functions of a

576 § 77. CONTINUATION. CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.

State must necessarily be independent of the administration,
so too they must have one source. This comes out in courts of
appeal. Judicial decisions are a prerogative of the State, and
hence in monarchies they are rightly given in the name of
the king, although it is quite possible that they may be
against the king (witness the miller of Sans - Souci and
Frederick II.). In the administration of justice also, publicity
is essential to free national life. Trial by jury is a good thing
in itself; but it can only be attended with beneficial results,
when a courageous and impartial sense of right is widely
diffused among all classes. With regard to the right of
administering penal j\isticc, we have seen in § 33a the moral
grounds on which it is based. But the question still remains
— ought capital punishment to be inflicted in a Christian
State ? Objections are frequently urged against it on the
score of humanity ; while, on the other side, policy and care
for the common welfare demand it. But may an individual
be deliberately sacrificed for the common welfare ? If the
right to inflict capital punishment be maintained on such
grounds as these, we are landed in the theory that it is
merely meant to deter from or prevent crime ; and this
would make the individual a means or sacrifice for the general
good. But man must not be treated merely like a noxious
creature, like an animal. Society recognises him as a rational
human being not only by rendering him harmless, but intnish-
ing him, and the State has not only full power to do this, but
it is its duty to do it. If capital punishment is to be justified
on ethical principles, the grounds assigned for it must be in
accordance with the rights of the criminal himself, as well as
with the general welfare and with true humanity. And this
they are if they accord M'ith justice, for justice contradicts
no other virtue. He who intentionally murders another is
unworthy of earthly human existence, he is worthy of death.
This verdict is just, it may and ought to be pronounced,
unless we are to regard the lives of good citizens as valueless,
and only the life of malefactors as inviolable. On moral grounds,
therefore, it is not permissible to declare by law, that no crime
is henceforth worthy of death. The humanity of such legis-
lation might turn out to be very inhuman indeed, inasmuch
as it might again let loose, both in those who make criminal

CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 577

assaults and in those who defend themselves against them, a
savage element which is held in check by the public admini-
stration of law.-^ Against the execution of capital punishment
it is especially urged, that the space of time is thereby
shortened, wliich the malefactor has for conversion. But
conversion is in God's hands ; Scripture does not teach that
a definite locality is indispensable to it.^ It is opposed to
the sense of Scripture to make a man's final destiny depend
upon what is external, or upon what he suffers. On the
contrary, it depends upon his personal guilt. Now, with
reference to the latter, experience shows, that the very
seriousness of approaching death leads many criminals to
repentance, that the solemnity of the death-sentence makes
them conscious of the greatness of their guilt, whereas lenity
would obscure their sense of its enormity, and would thus
have a hurtful effect. Let, therefore, the authorities simply
do what their office requires, without taking those factors
into account, the knowledge of which is denied them.
Experience proves, too, that it is just converted criminals
who acknowledge that their crimes are worthy of death by
being willing to suffer it ; and even if such expiation
is against their will, they at least wish that their death
should have a good effect, and should strengthen in the
community at large the sense of the sacredness of human
life. Christian humanity shows itself not in abolishing capital
punishment entirely, but in limiting it, in using every possible
moans for the conversion of the transgressor, as well as
in calling to mind the common guilt of all, whenever an
execution actually takes place. If such general feeling
became strong, capital punishment would come to an end
in the right, the truly humane way — namely, by crimes which
are worthy of death no longer existing,^

Finally, Christian humanity is shown in the right of
pardon. Clemency, especially in the case of those who
exhibit decided signs of amendment, must not be prohibited

^ The New Testament is in agreement with these positions (Rom. xiii. 4 ;
Matt, xx-vi. 52).

- [Cf. System of Christian Doctrine, iv. p. 412. — Ed.] [Referring to the
possibility of conversion in the intermediate state. — Te.]

^ Trendelenburg expresses himself to the same effect, XaturrecM, % 70,
p. 123 sq.

2 0

578 § 78. CONTINUATION. RELATION OF THE STATE

by law, any more than capital punishment must be abolished
by law. The legal abolition of capital punishment, even
though it should merely take the shape of making it a duty
to grant a reprieve in every case, would effect more than we
may desire — for it would be a denial that the crime is
worthy of death. Sentence of condemnation must therefore,
in right and justice, be passed. And this may act as an
incentive to repentance. But whether the sentence should be
carried out or a reprieve granted, must depend upon a con-
sideration of the particular case, and upon the moral state of
society. The criminal must have the fact impressed upon
him, that he has forfeited his life, and has no right to pardon.
But if pardon does not create the impression of being a
privilege, of being an encouragement to crime, it may and
ought to have a place.

§ 78. Continuation.

Eelation of the State to its future and to other States. An
individual State must not seek to shut itself up in
itself, in its present existence, as if it were an absolute
quantity, and needing no completion. On the contrary,
it must leave room within itself for the free formation
and expression of public opinion, and must learn to lead
a social life with other individual States. Such a life
demands international laws, hut excludes the 'possihility of
a universal State.

1. The organs for the formation of public opinion are
partly free associations (§ 70), and partly the press. As
long as these do not become extravagant, and, in particular,
do not interfere or claim to interfere with the Executive, but
confine themselves to the ideal region of the interchange and
ventilation of thoughts, liberty must be granted them, unless
they should corrupt the popular mind by immorality and
irreligiousness. For the State must recognise morality and
piety as its actual foundation, and must allow no injury done
to them, and thereby to public morals, to pass unpunished.
Energetic repressive measures, however, carried through in the
law courts, are much to be preferred to preventive measures

TO ITS FUTURE AND TO OTHER STATES. 579

on the part of the administration — hoth in themselves and
on account of the results which might ensue. For in the
latter case, the use might he injured in preventing the
possible abuse, and yet the use is essential to the healthy
existence of the State. For when there is no public spirit,
the State is without a soul ; and how is a public spirit to be
formed or maintained, if there is to be no public opinion ?
However much it may be the duty of those who conduct
political affairs to hold fast to the institutions which have been
tried and tested, it nevertheless becomes every Christian states-
man not only to recognise that the State is imperfect in every
age, but also to take pains to supply its deficiencies and raise
it to a higher level. And for this end it is necessary that, by
means of debate and the formation of public opinion, a pre-
paration should go on in the sphere of thought, for the intro-
duction of new schemes in the sphere of practice. Without
such a preparation, the best measures lack that intellectual
support which they require.

2. But while the State must not cut itself off from growth,
from its future, neither must it shut itself out from other
States. No State has the right or the need to be the sole
ruling one ; but all are, on the contrary, independent of each
other and co-ordinate. On the other side, however, it is one
and the same humanity that is in all the different States ;
there is not a different class of human beings in each of
them. Christianity has quickened this consciousness of the
unity of mankind in spite of its being split up into nations.
Hence it has caused an increased intercourse between different
States. The effect of this is that, on the one hand, more strife
arises, than if all nations were utterly indifferent towards one
another ; while, on the other, the Christian era shows us the
beginnings of a system of universal international laws or
rights of nations. It is certainly true that each single State
requires for its stability a national basis, — a fact which makes
a universal State an impossible ethical idea (§ 75), — but
nevertheless each State must be open to active moral rela-
tions with other States, must not seek to injure or destroy
them, but rather to defend them from harm ; and this may
be done even in honourable warfare. Christian prudence
cannot come into collision with wisdom. Those bes'inninss

580 § 78. CONTINUATION.

of international law whicli we see, make it possible for
Christian nations to hope that one day Christian princes and
Christian peoples will unite to form a high Areopagus, to
which they will commit the task of settling their differences
with each other, so that Christian blood will no longer have
to be shed by Christian men.

3, The Christian clmradcr of the State does not consist in
its forbidding non-Christians to be citizens, but in its being
what it ought to be, viz, just. But since it is only by means
of the Christian principle that a State can be perfectly just,
this fact must lead to beneficial results for Christianity in
particular. For among the various religions it is the Christian
religion alone that, by its history, has given the State a safe
guarantee that it will exercise a blessed influence on its
citizens. Hence, just from its own special standpoint, the
State must not treat other religions as though they were on
the same level with the Christian religion, so far as their
value for the State is concerned. The State is just when it
recognises, that Christianity is essentially more closely allied
with its own principle, and gives effect to this recognition by
promoting Christianity. The demand for abstract religious
freedom — the demand, that is, that the State should treat all
religious parties absolutely aliice, even such as it has never
tested — is often put forward in the name of justice. But it
would, on the contrary, be nothing short of an injustice to
treat things that differ in the same way.

War is not in itself unchristian, when it is not, as regards
its purpose, an offensive one. The State has to guard its
lionour, that is, its sovereignty ; and when this is assailed, it
is its duty to make use of every material means, and therefore
of war also, to repel such assault — an imposing example of
self-defence. But its aim is not to destroy the enemy, not to
strike him to the heart, but to attain to an honourable peace.

FUNCTION OF AKT. 581

CPIArTEE SECOND.

AET.

§ 79.

Art presents the reality of the Ideal, of Freedom, of the Ee-
conciliation of Mind and Nature, under a scmUancc of
reality. Its principal forms are the plastic and the
poetic arts.

The Literatuke. — Winckelraann, Lessing, LaoJcoon. Hegel's
yEsthetik. [Vischer, Weisse, Schleiermacher, Fhilosophischc
EtJiih ; Christliche Sitte ; ^sthctih. Schelling, Fhilosojihic dcr
Kunst. Herbart, Encydopadic, Sect. i. cap. 9. Lotze,
Gcscliichtc der jEsthetik in DeittscJdand ; Griindzuge dcr jEs-
tlid'ik. Portig, Kunst mid Rdigion. Bethmann - Hollweg,
Christentkum iind hildende Kunst. Dorner, Kirdic vnd Rcidi
Gottcs, pp. 287 sq., Ill srp Liebetrut, Voiii Sdidncn und vora
Sdiiiiucl: — Ed.]

1. The Beautiful is the Ideal in manifestation, but mani-
festing itself in the semblance of reality. In art-perception
man feels the ideal as actually present ; he is raised above
the strife of opposites, and sees them reconciled. But art
must not be an enervating luxury ; it must not take the steel
from character ; on the contrary, the ideal world, which it sets
before man, must give him a more ideal conception of life, and
thereby quicken liis sense for the practical and his energy.
Art has a right even to have special moments of life devoted
to it ; but this does not mean either that the rest of life is to
become rude or ungraceful, or that life is to be filled up
entirely by art, but that art must be like Sunday among the
days of the week, throwing its brightness over and trans-
figuring the whole moral life of man.

It is true that the function of Art, in the strict sense of
the word, is not that of delivering a moral lecture ; but at
the same time it must not glorify and immortalize existing
evils, nor in any way flatter them ; on the contrary, instead
of being a sensual stimulus, it must display chastity and
purity as well as ideality, and thus exert a purifying and
elevating influence. Art is not covetous of aiiplause, does not

582 § 79. ART.

desire praise and honour for their own sakes ; but it is chaste
and true, far removed above fashion, affectation, or mannerism.
And this it is, when the artist seeks only to re^Dresent some-
thing which has already made a powerful impression upon his
own feelings, seeks to make it touch the feelings of others,
and thus to propagate the emotion it first awakened within
himself. Art has the power to elevate — if but for the time
being — and to purify. When it takes a national form and
style, it is an important means of refined culture to a com-
munity. Even artistic production, properl}^ so called, — which,
of course, is only to be found in artists of genius, in virtuosi,
— has a wider range than is generally supposed, for it must
have a place in refined social life. This is true, e.g., of singing.
But in addition to this, it is desirable that there should be a
general susceptibility to art ; not, indeed, that all should be
art-connoisseurs, and still less that all should practise art-
criticism, which is of doubtful value as a branch of art, and
was hardly mentioned in ancient Greece as having special
functions of its own. The forms in which the people as a
whole can most readily take a share in art — both in the way
of production and of enjoyment — are especially jpodrij and
vocal music; it is of especial importance that the young
should learn classical poetry, hymns and national ballads, and
the practice of singing them is of special value.

But the Beautiful has a much more general significance
than we have yet indicated, since it forms part of the outward
manifestation of the virtuous life itself The beautiful and
the moral are allied to each other, and morality is not mani-
fested in its perfect shape, unless an artistic sense for what is
noble and beautiful pervades the whole life (§ 62. 4, 61. 5).
For the life of Christian virtue has an inward melody and
measure, a certain rhythm and harmony. Christians are to
be living a^aX^aQa deov, they are to show forth the divine
So^a. Here the artist is love, which does not merely hold
fast to morality as something characterized by narrow legal
austerity, but which exercises a free sway in the Christian
life, and gives to all manifestations of Christian virtue, both
in word and in deed, a living ideal character.

2. Art, properly so called, falls into two main divisions :
literary or poetic, and plastic arts. In the latter, it is iiaturc

THE PLASTIC AND POETIC APtTS. 583

that furnishes the material which is to be moulded into
beautiful shape ; there is here, therefore, somewhat of a glori-
fication of nature. In the literary arts, the material — which
in this case consists of uwxls — is itself the product of the
mind, and nature is, as it were, only a thin, transparent
vesture for the ideality of the thoughts conveyed. Here the
form, which in the former instance was the principal matter,
is here only secondary.

The plastic arts present the beautiful as form animated by
mind ; the literary present the beautiful in the drapery of
words. The transition from the one to the other is found in
music with its tone-waves and tone-imagery, which, however,
address only the most intellectual of the senses, viz. the ear,
and hover between reality and ideality. Each of these main
divisions, again, falls into three subdivisions, the one set
corresponding to the other.

A. Plastic Arts. Architecture is plastic art cliaracterized
by objectivity. It presents ideals in their abstract universality
and simplicit}'' ; and for this reason its symbolical power is all
the greater, especially in the representation of the sublime.
SculiJture is plastic art characterized by subjectivity, and
presents what is concrete and personal. Paintiwj, finally, is
the union of both. For it groups the figures of sculpture in
accordance with the principles of architecture and perspective.

B. Poetic Arts. These occupy a more purely mental region;
their oljjects lie in the world of mind; and although, for
example, they describe nature, yet nature must first be
brought to ideal or spiritual form in the mind, before it can
be presented artistically. In the Epic we have poetic art
characterized by objectivity, in the Lyric by subjectivity.
The Drama — like painting — unites both. In the drama the
fabula is the epic root, while the lyric element appears in the
personal dialogue or in the songs (of the chorus, for instance).
Tragedy presents the beautiful under the aspect of sublimity.
Apparent collisions with justice occur, but the result is a
higher Xemesis, a higher revelation of justice. Comedy
represents the victory of truth over appearance. A play
combines both the tragic and the comic elements.

All the different arts, music, orchestration, as well as the
three kinds of poetic art, and even tlie plastic arts (in the

584 § 79. AET. THE DRAMA.

shape of scenery and dramatic representation), appear in com-
bination on the stage, the central point of which is the drama
in the wider sense of the word. There they mutually support
each other, and succeed most completely in presenting an
ideal picture of reality in a beautiful form.

The Theatre must not be regarded as in itself reprehensible.
If we read ancient and modern classical dramas, and even
esteem them as treasures, there is no reason why they should
not also be recited or acted. He who may read them and see
in his mind an image of what he reads, may also witness their
objective representation upon the stage. This holds good of
the public in general, while a similar observation is applicable
to actors themselves. A player must not indeed lose himself
in the part he acts, however readily this may happen (§ 68),
or identify his own person with it. For then he becomes
untrue ; in his own mind he must always remain distinct
from the part he plays, and only live in it and represent it
by his imaginative power. If he is carried away by his
feelings, so as to imagine that he is actually the hero whose
character he assumes, then he is no longer an actor, but
begins to transgress the limits of objective truth, and to lose
self-control. From what has been said, however, we see that
acting is morally permissible.

But the theatre, as it exists at the present day, exhibits
many deficiencies, and is in many respects morally hurtful, —
and this both with regard to the pieces that are played, the
vast number of performances, the taste of the theatre-going
public, and the spirit that prevails among actors themselves.
It is even morally objectionable that actors should form a
special vocation (§ 68). The Greek theatre was chaste, and
dramatic exhibitions were infrequent, being held annually on
the occasion of great national festivals. The Greeks employed
no unlawful means of attraction ; nor was there any need of
a special professional class in connection with their theatres
— a class that is too apt to degenerate through untruthful-
ness, display and vanity.

3. Relation of Art to Religion and Christianity, (a) Art
requires religion. It must indeed have no laws imposed
upon it from without ; it lives and works in the atmosphere
of freedom, Nevertheless, if there is a want of true inner

EELATION OF ART TO RELIGION. 585

life, a want of inward harmony, — and this there must be if a
moral spirit be absent, — then art cannot give a truthful
representation of the harmonious ; in other words, art and the
beautiful must languish. In this sense it must be said that
art is dependent upon morality and religion ; and, more
especially, that there is an inward connection between Chris-
tianity and art, or that it is only through Christianity that
art can arrive at true maturity.

(h) Eeligion requires art. Among Christian confessions,
the old Eeformed confession shows less appreciation of art
than the Lutheran ; it is just the reverse with reference to the
State. For the Protestant idea of the State has been carried
out most completely in the sphere of Eeformed theology.
Still, even the Scotch Eeformed Churches deny that they
have any aversion to art on grounds of principle. They
simply maintain that the second commandment is still valid,
and hold that it applies not only to representations of God
Himself, — a position w^hich might easily be justified, even
from artistic considerations, — but also to representations of
Christ, especially in the form of sculpture. And this they
do, because sculpture has more of the appearance of reality
about it than painting, and therefore tends, in this case, to
engender in the minds of the uneducated a confusion of God
with the creature.

Earren, prosaic spiritualism has no notion of the fact that
the body is a gain even to the spirit. In art, the spiritual
importance of the body, and of what is corporeal, is brought
forth in its essential dignity, and made an object of perception.
Art is a kind of glorification of nature, although more as a
prophecy than as anything else. Eoman Catholicism, on the
other hand, places art too high ; it mixes testhetic and
religious feelings.

Primitive Christianity, on the contrary, holds a middle
course. In the New Testament, instruction is conveyed in
the language of poetry and parable, while singing and music ^
are both recommended. Further, art is also valuable in
public worship, and even in the formation of religious ideas.
For, unless the imagiTiation is cultivated and developed
(§ 64. 1), it is impossible for the mind to form a vivid image
1 Cf. Col. iii. 16 ; John xv. 1 f. ; Matt. vi. 28 f.

586 § 79. ART.

of Christ, of the consummation of all things, of the majesty
of heaven, or of the angelic world. All Christian eschatology
shows that Christianity is not hostile to art, but that it
involves the final perfection or glorification of nature. And
in art we have the beginning of this final result. In these
respects, then, it forms an essential factor in the religious life
both of the individual and of the community.

But art must likewise, as we have already shown, maintain
its independence as an ultimate end. Although it must always
be Christian, that does not mean that it is to assume a specially
Christian form and manner, nor that it must deal only with
subjects taken from sacred history. On the contrary, its
choice of material, so far at least as the drama is concerned, is
limited by the fact that nothing which pertains to the essence
of religion, — Christ, for example, — no religious acts, such as
prayer, must be represented on the stage. To do so would be
to treat religion as a means, and would therefore be profane.
But art maintains its Christian character by exhibiting purity
and chastity as well as artistic truth. With reference to the
material of art, the only limitation laid down by Schleiermacher
is, that what is profane or worldly must only be employed by
art, in so far as it is also fitted to furnish a subject for
religious art.

4. Relation of Art to the Civil Comtminity and the State.
The importance of national art has already been pointed out.
Art in this form exhibits a much higher style, than when it
depends upon private patronage merely, and serves for the
adornment of private houses, etc. ; for in the latter case it is
always apt to degenerate into triviality and impurity. Hence
the State must take an interest in art. It cannot, of course,
create artistic talent ; but it can arouse it when it exists, and
afford it the possibility of free development. And this it can
do by providing the means for the cultivation and mainten-
ance of art, so that no one who has artistic powers may lack
the opportunity of developing them. For this purpose schools
and academies of art must be formed, and in connection with
these, and forming as it were their libraries, there should
be art collections open to public view.

§ 80. SCIENCE. 587

CHAPTER THIED.

SCIENCE.

§ 80.

Science too, in its own way, has claims not only upon all
departments of human life, but also upon all men,
although in different degrees. The centre of the
scientific sphere is formed by the learned, properly
so called, and their primary functions are (cc) research
and (h) communication of scientific knowledge both by
word and by writing. The way, in which people in
general take a share in science, is by receiving instruction
and by reading. ]\Ioreover, since science is necessary to
the prosperity of all the other spheres of life, it must
also be furnished with the institutions which are essential
to its self-maintenance and propagation, as well as to its
progress. The organizations for this purpose are as
follows : — (1) Schools (Elementary and Middle-class
schools, high schools and gymnasia). (2) Universities.
(3) Academies, which, in addition to the personal
energies of their members, must also be possessed of the
material means for carrying on their work (scientific
collections, libraries, museums, etc.). Sound science has
everywhere a national character ; nevertheless, since it
is truth, and truth alone, with which it is concerned, it
also aims at a general interchange and arrangement of
scientific knowledge,^ because each nation is specially
fitted for the cultivation of some particular side of the
whole organism of truth.^ It is the duty of the State to
ensure to science the possibility of its vigorous and free

^ The law of hospitality is commonly observed among academicians.

- In particular, the English and French on the one hand, and the Germans on
the other, mutually supplement one another ; the former being more of a
practical, and the latter of an ideal bent of miud.

588 § 80. SCIENCE.

development ; to ensure its actual development is beyond
its power. And that the progress of science may be
rendered possible, it is necessary not only that those
institutions should be formed, which we have already
mentioned, but also that there should be liberty in
teaching, and also liberty in the publication of scientific
works. Christianity has nothing to fear from true
science ; secure in the divine certainty of its own truth,
and in the victorious power of truth in general, it gives
full freedom to scientific research.

[The LiTEiiATURE. — Cf. especially Schleiermacher, Fhilo-
sopliische Ethik, ed. Schweizer. Gclcgentlichc GcdanJccn uhcr Uni-
vcrsitatcn. Wcrke, 3 Abth. Bd. i. p. 537 f. Hofniann, Christl.
Ethil;, p. 317. Zeller, TJel)er alcademischcs Lehrai und Lerncn.
Vortrdf/e und Ahhandlungcn, iii. Nr. 5. Cless, Die Frarjc nach
dcmcthischcn Werthe der Wissenscliaft, 1879. — Ed.]

1. All the great advances of mankind are advances in
knowledge, and hence in science, although it is true that only
intellectualism can hold, that the culture of intelligence is
either a substitute or a guarantee for religion and morality.
All the best discoveries are due to science. It is true that
the spheres of life covered by religion and positive morality
are in no sense scientific discoveries ; they precede science,
furnish it with material and so render it fruitful. And this
holds good with regard to Christianity. But science, which
then appreciatively directs its attention to the higher life that
has been won, raises the appropriation of the objective contents
of that life to a higher level, and to a firmer and more secure
objective form. And these contents Christianity itself seeks
to become through the organ of the scientific function. To be
afraid of knowledge, to draw up Indices librorum irrohibitorura,
is unworthy of Christianity ; a Church which does so shows
but little confidence in truth. As long as Christianity con-
tinued to maintain its early promise and vigour, and the noble
purity of its life, no such Indices existed, — although Tertullian,
for example, has as many heterodoxies as Origen. The case
is quite different, of course, with regard to the care that should
be exercised in maidng a wise and prudent selection of books

GEAMMAK SCHOOLS. UNIVERSITIES. 589

for the various stages of life and education ; this, however, is
a matter for individual judgment (John xvi. 12). Science, of
course, may go astray and so do harm. But if it could not do
this, neither could it be of any real service ; it would not be
free, and would consequently be unable to be truly productive,
while it would fail to make a deep impression or awaken any
confidence, since it would merely work, as it were, to order.
False science is not to be refuted by force, but by a higher
degree of scientific knowledge, which exposes the contradic-
tions in which false science is involved, and proves it to be
science in appearance merely. And this inward method, slow
and tedious though it may be, is always sure to succeed ;
moreover, it is a method which must always be possible,
since whatever is false can exist only upon what is true, and
consequently carries its enemy in its own breast.

2. In connection with grammar schools^ (gymnasia) has
arisen the opposition between humanism and realism. The
former is in favour of classical, the latter of modern culture.
The reason why they cannot come to an agreement is, that
both of them have in many ways become estranged from the
Christian principle. As a natural consequence of this, an
opposition has arisen between the different forms which the
spirit of nationality assumes among different peoples — an
opposition which Christianity has, in principle, overcome
(Gal. iii. 28). If modern German culture is dominated by a
truly Christian spirit, it will not take up an exclusive attitude
towards classical culture ; and conversely, the latter, if it be
(f)iXo\o<yla in the true sense, will also respect that national form
of culture with which it is in contact — nay more, it will
become love to the X&70? who became flesh. For (piXoXoyia is
not jnerely love of words or language, nor even of artistic
language merely, it is also love to reason and to the world of
thought. And the richest world of thought is found in
Christianity, in which the innermost thoughts of God are
revealed. Christian science is a form of the subjugation
of the world by Christianity, and a means by which it is
carried out.

3. Universities, in the strict sense of the word, are to be
found only in Germany, although even here they fall far

^ Cf. Marteusen, I.e. iii.

590 § 80. SCIENCE.

short of their idea. In Scotland and America we see an
effort made to realize true university culture. In order that
a university may truly discharge its functions, it is necessary
that the universum of knowledge should be kept in view ;
and for this end there must be a mutual active intercourse
between the various departments of knowledge, while each
must be surveyed in its connection with the whole. The
faculty of philosophy must form the universal medium of
intercourse and agreement; when this is not the case, there
cannot be any possibility of an active interchange between
the separate faculties. At the university, students must seek
to know the Iruth, to apprehend it in its principles, and to
love it unselfishly ; they must not merely seek to become
fitted for some definite, practical vocation, or to be made
capable of performing its duties. And this love to science
must dominate all their studies, so that the latter may not
degenerate into a mere training for earning a livelihood.
When they do not rest satisfied with a knowledge that is
superficial, or only empirically acquired, when, on the contrary,
their studies lead them to the knowledge of truth itself in
its essential principles, so that they master the truth, or rather
so that the truth masters them, — then it will be found that
the truth thus gained will not be without an impulse
towards practice. For it is a property of all that is ideal, to
desire to exist for other minds also ; this, which is the
universal characteristic of truth, may be called, as it were,
its innate quality of love. And every one who has been taken
possession of by the truth, or is enthusiastic for it, is thus
compelled by its power to become, in his own sphere, and
alike in thought, in word and in deed, a witness to the truth,
to its majesty, and to the blessings which it brings. His
outward practical life, in his vocation, will thus become the
rich fruit of his inward development and convictions. And
so, without any declension from science, — which is a sort of
intellectual self-mutilation, — without any fatal inward rup-
ture, the transition will be effected to practical life and the
duties of one's vocation. Superficial study, on the other
hand, without a real love for truth, either lands us in nega-
tion and confusion, or causes us to take a leap into prac-
tical life^ and to make a violent, immoral hreach between

§ 81. IDEA OF THE CHURCH. 591

faith and knowledge. But a faith attained in this arbitrary
way bears its character stamped upon itself. For it uncon-
sciously transforms evangelical faith, which is a principle of
life, into a work and law, after the fashion of mere intellec-
tual and lifeless orthodoxy. Where, on the contrary, moral
stedfastness and freedom in the investigation of truth are
preserved, they do not fail to meet their reward in the joyful
consciousness of the great harmony that subsists between all
the different sides or regions of truth. The most important
thing is to know the connection of all the various spheres of
life with each other, the connection of even the natural or
physical with the moral, and of the moral with the religious ;
for such knowledge gives a direct impulse to the moral and
relisious life.

THIRD SECTION.

THE ABSOLUTE SPHEKE. THE KELIGIOUS COMMUNITY.

I. Idea of the Church,

§ 81.

[Cf. Glaubenslehre, ii. 2, pp. 689 f., 782 f., 784 f., 804 f.,
844 f., 876 f., 883 f., 887 f., 899 f., 910 f., 924 f., 977 f.
—Ed.

The Church is the community to which the absolute religion
gives rise. It is built up out of believing humanity,
through the power of the Holy Spirit, and on the basis
of the Word and Sacraments, and is a constantly self-
reproducing association (§§ 31, 34«, 71). It is the
moral duty of all men to belong to this community. As
it is a universal human duty to become a Christian, — for
Christ is the law of faith (§§ 40, 44), — so, by reason of
the relation subsisting between man's consciousness of
himself as a believer and his sense of affinity with all
men, it is necessary that there should be a Christian
religious community or Church, and that every Chris-

592 § 81. IDEA OF THE CHURCH,

tian should attach himself to it as a living member
(§§ 17. 3, 81, 71). The virtue corresponding to this
sphere is the cliurchly sense, which, while remaining
loyal to its own native Church, has a wide heart for the
one ecumenic Christendom, and is equally far removed
from a spirit of sectarianism and a spirit of laxity.
The starting - point and the goal being here both
universal, the way to the latter lies through the his-
torical forms of Church life.

Cf. Schleierraacher, Christlichc Sitte.

[The Literature. — Petersen, Die Idee der christUchcn Kirchc.
Harless, Kirchc tmd Amt, 1851. Ilarnack, Die Kirclie, ihr Amt,
ih'r Ilcgiment, 18G2. Kostlin, Das Wcsen der Kirchc, hcleuchtet
nach Lchrc und Geschichte des iV". T., 1854. Der Glaube,
393 f. Walther, Die Stimme nnsercr Kirchc in der Fragc von
Kirchc v.nd Amt, 1852. Kliefoth, Acht BdcJier von der Kirchc.
Delitzsch, Vier Bilcher von der Kir c he. Lohe, Drei Bvxher von
der Kirchc, 1845. Kirche itnd Amt, 1855. Eitschl, Ucher die
Bcgriffe, sichthare und unsichthare Kirchc. Studicn und Kritiken,
1859, 2. Begrundung des Kirchenrcchts im cvangelischcn Begriff
der Kirchc, 1869. Bechtfertigung und Versohnung, iii. J.
JMlillev, Die unsichthare Kirchc dogmatische Ahhandlungcn, pp.
278-403. Andersen, Das j^'^'otestantisehe Dogma von der sicht-
haren und unsichthccren Kirche. Theologischc Mitarheitcn, 1841.
Muenchmeyer, Das Dogma von der sichtbarcn und, unsichtharcn
Kirchc. Witz^ch., Fraldischc Theologie, \ol. i. Kiauss, Das jrrotes-
tantisehc Dogma von der unsichtharcn Kirche. Kierckegaard,
Cliristcnthum und Kirche, 18G1. Thiersch, Vorlesungen uher
Protest antismus und Kcdholicismus, 1818. Hofmanu, Ethik, p.
164 f. Martensen, Christian Ethics, iii. 306 f. Frank, System
der christlichen Gavissheit, ii. § 39. Der christlichen Wahrheit, ii.
Schweizer, Die christl. Glaitbcnslchrc, ii. p. 314 f. A. Dorner,
Kirche und Reich Gottes. Schmidt, Die Lchrc von der Kirche,
1884. Seeberg, Der Begriff der christl. Kirchc, 1885, Part I.
Lotze, Milcroliosmus, iii. 379 ; Religionsphilosophic, §§ 94, 101.
0. Ptleiderer, Rcligionsphiloso'j)hie, 2nd ed. ii. c. Grundriss der
christl. Glauhens- und Sittcnlclirc. Lasson, Uehcr Gegenstand
und Behandlungsart der Beligions'philosophie. Harless and
Harnack, Die Kirchlichreligiosc Bcdcuiung der rcincn Lchre von
der Gnadcnmitteln. Cf. the literature mentioned above, § 75. —
Ed.]

Note. — The word " Church " comes from Kvptog ; the bride
takes the name of the bridegroom. The controversy as to

NATURE OF THE CHURCH. 593

whether the Church should be set in a superior position to the
other moral spheres, is an idle and unfruitful one so far as the
Church herself is concerned, for she seeks to become great by
serving. That which is befitting to religion must not, without
modification, be transferred to the Church or religious com-
munity. On the other hand, the Church, regarded in her real
nature, is certainly the absolute sphere, since she has directly
to do with God. In the midst of the other moral spheres, she
forms the central sphere in the Ivingdom of God ; she is the
hearth on which the sacred flame of the higher life of humanity
is fed. She has to do with the sun itself, not merely with some
of its individual rays.

1. As to the essential nature of the Church, the Eoman
Catholic and Evangelical Churches more especially are at
strife. For the former lays stress upon the external side of
the Church, upon the Church as an institution ; nay, it
regards the outward form and constitution of the Church as
established by a Divine act. Hence, its conception of the
Church is altogether a dogmatic one, just as we saw with regard
to its conception of marriage (not with regard to the State,
however, for it insists on being itself the true State ; it degrades
the State, and is its rival). The Evangelical Church, on the
other hand, takes the right view, however often it may be
reproached with conceiving of the Church as a civitas Pla-
tonica. It is true that it also ascribes the origin of the
Church to a Divine, aet, to the person and work of Christ,
which continue to operate in the word ami sacraments} But
it is not the Church as an institution which is thus directly
produced; it is believers, the redeemed, who are first of all
gained.^ It is only when a foundation has been laid in fait] c
(§43 sq.) that a fellowship of love arises, — freely, yet by an
ethical necessity. The Church consists of vcre credcntes ; it
is a congregatio sanctorum, that grows up around the word
and sacraments.'^ Thus it is an ethical product, resting upon
the act of God, through which faith comes into existence ; in
other words, it is the community formed by believers, who,
even when they do not know one another, are yet ideally
united by their intercession for each other and by Christian

1 Cf. Syfitem of Christian Doctrine, iv. §§ 128, 134.

2 Gal. iii. 28, ii. 20.

^ Conf. Aiifj. vii., viii., not a poUtia externorum rituum, Heb. x. 24, 25.

2 P

594 § 81. IDEA OF THE CHURCH,

love, and who, wherever they meet, quickly imderstand each
other by reason of the spiritual kinship of their higher
nature.

But the love of believers does not remain a merely ideal
thing ; it seeks, as far as possible, to exhibit itself in active
exercise. Believers seek to realize and enjoy their union
with one another ; and this takes place through their self-
manifesting activity. The common self - manifestation of
believers is displayed, in the first place, in the sphere of
the religious life ; and accordingly, their fellowship with each
other, which already exists inwardly, finds outivarcl expression
in their associating together for public vjorship, an association
which is the soul and centre of Church fellovjship. Moreover,
the fellowship which believers have with Christ in faith and
love gives rise to love among themselves (§§ 69. 1, 31. 3,
45. 4), and this love again, in which believers stand to each
otlier in a relation of co-ordination, gives rise to active
brotherly love, or to the Church as the manifestation of
fellowship in the absolute religion. This is the ahsolute
dcriva.tion of the Church; it is peculiar to the Evangelical
Church.

Still, it is only the idea of the Church that we thus obtain,
not its empirical form, which contains non-believers as well
as believers. In order to arrive at the latter, a second factor
must be introduced. Love also is present in faith in unequal
proportions, though its aim is the removal of inequality. The
ecclesia vere credentium does not manifest its activity for the
sake of true believers alone ; it has also fcedagogic functions
to discharge, it is always extending itself farther and farther,
and reacts against the disturbances which it suffers from the
world (§ 69. 4). In addressing itself to this task, it does
not, in a Donatistic spirit, attempt to discard the unregenerate,
but rather w^orks patiently with them ; while it also holds
fast to its Christian contents (word and sacrament) in their
essential principles, carries them into effect, and demands
from all its members the recognition of the foundations of the
Christian faith. In this way it becomes the ecclesia large
dicta^ and, ever carrying on a process of self-purification,
lives and works as the salt and liglit of the world. Thus it
> Apol. ed. Muller, pp. 153-163.

PUBLIC WOESHIP. 595

is evident, that (and why) the Church must at every time not
only exhibit the character of a Church that is learning, and
therefore needing growth, but must also exhibit self-manifest-
ing activity. In hoth of these forms of Church life the central
element is felloiosliip in jniblic ivorsJiip. Fov even piety grows
by exercise, and the manifestation of piety on the part of
mature Christians has a predagogic, stimulating and edifying
effect.

2. FellowsJdp in jJuMic worship, which is the innermost
sanctuary of the Church, and exercises a ruling influence
over everything else, deepens and intensifies individual piety
(§50 sq.). In the united prayer of an assembled body of
believers there is more than a mere act of man ; for iu true
public worship God Himself, in the- strictest sense of the word,
is present in the midst of the worshippers,-^ and hence God and
the congregation enter into the closest union with each other.
Thus it necessarily follows that iu public worship we reach
the highest moments of life. Uniting ourselves to God,
we unite ourselves to the personal centre of the universe,
not merely to reflections of Him or single aspects of His
nature (such as the State, science, etc.), but to God Himself
in His majesty and love, which are alike unfathomable.
Public worship therefore is not merely one among the various
legitimate departments of life, and like them its own ultimate
end ; it is an absolute end both for God and man. For man,
in the entirety of his nature, finds rest and blessedness, not
in any single region of life, but only in the absolute whole,
which is God : and God Himself is not satisfied until this
act of love has taken place, in which He enters into the most
intimate union with human spirits. Now it is, of course, true
that congregations upon earth are always limited by space
and time. Nevertheless, the common worship, in which the
believer engages with those who are more nearly allied to
him, forms the natural bridge by which his religious life
passes out of the isolation of mere religious feeling, out of the
idealism of the merely invisible Church or fellowship of all
the children of God, and enters the sphere of outward reality,
— thus becoming a life in which the whole man, both in body
and in soul, rejoices in the living God. Wherever public

1 Matt, xviii. 20.

596 § 81. IDEA OF THE CHURCH.

worship is held, however, it must be the true spirit of Chris-
tendom (and Christendom is the true humanity) as inspired
by the Holy Ghost that finds outward expression ; the spirit
which praises God not merely as the protector of these
individual worshippers, but as the Father of all mankind
whom He makes His children in Christ. The true spirit of
common prayer represents the true catholicity of the Church
of Christ on earth, by enlargement of range and heart in
intercession and love. And no less does true worship
strengthen the bond which unites the Church invisible with
the Church visible. For on earth the Church can never be
such a complete whole as is presented in the case of other
communities (marriage, the family, the State), because those
who belong to it are not merely its members on earth, while
the latter themselves are scattered throughout many different
lands. True worship draws the forces of truth and holiness,
of victory and immortality, down from the invisible into the
visible sphere. Thus in its public worship each separate
Church and confession renews its life as a member of the
body of Christ, animated by the spirit which pervades the
life of the whole, and which unites the Church above to the
Church beneath. And thus, too, it protects itself from the
guilt of shutting itself off from the truth which other Churches
represent, and from the gifts with which they have been
endowed.

3. The virtue whicli corresponds to this sphere is the
churclily mind (§ 55), i.e. an active interest in the welfare of
the whole community, shown by an advocacy of the interests ot
the Church community and a co-operation in promoting its wel-
fare,— always in accordance with the God-appointed vocation
and the station which it assigns. This churclily sense of the
Christian is shown, not merely in performing certain acts
connected with the Church, such as attending public worship
or partaking of the Lord's Supper, but also in his readiness to
sacrifice energy, time and means for the aims of the Church,
and to promote the same in his daily life. The Christian
Church should so live in the heart of each individual Chris-
tian, that in his whole life he proves himself to be a loyal
and worthy member of it ; or that it, as it were, acts through
him. But love to God in Christ always remains the first and

DIFFERENT CONFESSIONS. 597

foremost thing for the Christian. Hence he can never be
satisfied with a Church adherence, which has not as its
basis a living adherence to Christ. Should the former seek
to pass for the latter, the Christian will regard it as a mere
appearance, without any real substance. Since the relation
we hold to Christ is the basis of Christian piety, it is through
Christ that we first become united to the Church, which
without Him would, for us, have lost its centre.

But now, in consequence of the influence of sin, the 07ic
Christian Church is, in its historical life, split up into different
Churches or confessions. In this state of things, what is the
attitude which the churchly mind of the Christian assumes ?
He does not take up an attitude of indifference towards the
excellences of the creed of his own Church, but at the same
time, being alive to the spirit of catholicity, he does not fail
to acknowledge the common inheritance of truth which
belongs to other confessions as well as his own ; nay, he
is ready to recognise their superior excellences where they
exist. For it is for the good of the whole crco/jLa, that these
have been conferred by the Ke<^a\i] upon one of its members.
Hence, vjhcrever we see anything that is Christian in other
Churches, we are bound to love it, and neither to deny or
disparage it, lest we grieve the Spirit of Christ, or wound, as
it were. His body by word or deed. According to John xvii.
and Epli. iv. 1 ff., two Churches, which are at one in acknow-
ledging the fundamental facts and truths of salvation, are in
duty bound to hold fellowship with each other ; and this is
the case with regard to the Lutheran and Eeformed Cliurches,
which cannot refuse, on grounds of principle, to hold sacra-
mental fellowship with one another without falling into
en'or and sin. Of course. Christian fellowship is not a
renunciation of the convictions we have won, nor an accept-
ance of what is erroneous — on the contrary, we manifest
love by combating error in a loving spirit — but it is the
m^eans by which different Churches maintain an interchange
of the special advantages which they severally possess. On
the other hand, it is not requisite to the imity of the Church
that Church organization and usages should be everywhere
the same.^

^ Conf. Aug. vii., viii.

598 § 82. CAEDINAL FUNCTIONS OF THE CHURCH.

II. The Caedinal Functioxs of the Chuech.

§ 82.

The cardinal functions of the Church are self-manifestation,
self-propagation, and self-purification, the last of these
being the means by which Church unity is promoted.'^
It discharges all these functions both in its teaching
and its life, by means of its official organization as well
as in other and voluntary ways.

1. Self -manifestation. Many hold that such a thing as
religious self-manifestation is out of question in our religious
communities. It is said that they are in a state of nonage,
are unchristian, are subjects for missionary exertion, that in
their case self-manifestation would be untrue. But we reply,
they have been baptized, and therefore lefore they take up a
position hostile to the Church, they are under the laio of
Christian faith and- life. Such a state of things already makes
Christian self-manifestation possible, nay, particularly salutary
and beneficial. By Christian self-manifestation we mean, not
simply the manifestation of objective Christian truth, of the
love of Christ to men, but also of a religious life. Even
the Christian piety which savours of legalism is a stage
gained ; it is a surrender to the love of Christ, to the word
of Christ, to hearing it, and meditating thereon. There is a
pious confession of sin, there are pious desires which ought to
be manifested. There is in it a drawing by the Father to the
Son. Moreover, the i^aedagogy, under which we may too
rashly comprise everything, is impossible unless there are
leaders, who by self-manifestation, by demonstration of the
Spirit and power, enkindle the hearts of others. Wherever,
then, the Holy Spirit has already been carrying on His work
by means of the word and sacraments, there must the Chris-
tian spirit also manifest itself. It must, above all, show its
love to Christ, its union with the fundamental institutions of

^ This division of the cardinal functions is based upon, § 81. 1. The Church is
a fellowship of love in the relation of equality,— then its action is that of self-
manifestation — and in the relation of inequality, — then its action is that of
propagation and purification.

SELF-PEOPAG ATION. 599

Christ, we mean the word and sacraments, to which the
Church is bound by the inner law of its life, a bondage which
is perfect freedom.

We have seen (§ 51) that contemplation and ^:)ra?/cr are the
essential acts in which individual piety is manifested. They
are also the acts of Church piety in congregational worship,
but in this case they are united with the objective factors of
the word of God and the sacraments. The word of God is
the ideal of all devotional language in public worship, and
promotes contemplation, wliile the sacraments directly promote
the life of the religious community, ^&)?/. St. Peter gives the
exhortation — if any man speaketh, let him speak as it were
oracles of God. Tlie word of God produces religious conscious-
ness, </)(«?. A sacrament is not merely a word of Christ but
an act, in which He enters into perfect union Avith believers
and the congregation ; and this act of Christ is the type of the
way in which we unite ourselves witli Him, that is to say, it
is the productive ideal of congregational prayer. We should
so pray that our prayer becomes an act, in which the soul is
joined in the closest union with God in Christ. This is the
will of our Lord who instituted the sacraments. Christ's
self-sacrificing devotion to us should draw forth the sacrifice
of our prayer, nay, of our very souls.

In the self-manifestation of the Church in public worship,
the ideal side, namely, the religious consciousness of the com-
munity, represented in common contemplation based upon the
objective tvorcl of God, is united with the real, namely, fellow-
ship in religious life which is realized in common prayer, based
upon the objective sacrament. This fellowship is the union of
consciousness and life, ^w? and ^(a-q.

2. 8elf-proparjcdion. (ci) EMensive. The manifestation of
the unity of the Church with God in Christ is not, in the first
place, for any external object, but for an object contained
within itself. The congregation engages in contemplation and
prayer, not in order to produce an effect upon outsiders, or to
convert them, but for its own sake, and in order to experience
and manifest its fellowship with God, or its possession of the
supreme good. But this does not prevent such self-manifesta-
tion from being at the same time, though unintentionally, a
power which propagates and purifies Christian piety. Who-

GOO § 82. CARDINAL FUNCTIONS OF THE CHURCH.

ever looks upon a congregation engaged in worship, and truly
possessed by the spirit of devotion and prayer (such as we see,
for instance, among ourselves on Good Friday), cannot fail —
even should he be a non-Christian — to carry away a deep
impression, a sense of the blessedness which the congregation
enjoys, of a real power of God present in these services, and
thus the latter will involuntarily exercise a propagating effect.
Nevertheless, since the Church on earth has always to combine
self-manifesting with pcedagogic functions (§ 81), it must not
merely produce unintentional effects upon unbelievers ; or, in
other words, it must not organize itself with a view to self-
manifestation alone. AVherever such a tendency becomes
predominant in the ritual of public worship, the manifestation
of blessedness, which the Church makes in thanksgiving and
praise, becomes an anticipation of the victory of untruth, of
mechanism. Por the manifestation of religious life made
in public worship must never go beyond the actual stage
which the worshippers have reached. Otherwise, we have
the beginning of mere display, the principle of the onissa
solitaria, and we offend against the principle of all manifesta-
tion, against truth (§§ 55, 65, 66). The Christian congregation
will not merely manifest its needs, its longing for the Bride-
groom and the blessedness of comnmnion, but, strengthened
by the enjoyment it has of the absolute good, it will traffic
therewith for the purpose of bringing it to those who as yet
have it not, and will expressly act with such a purpose. Such
is the self-propagation to which Christians are impelled by the
universal purpose of the love of Christ, by the love of the
Church for itself and for the brethren. For the Church
knows, that even its moments of triumph cannot as yet be free
from pain and grief, that it cannot regard itself as complete
while still devoid of the members which ought to grow on it.
It is by its self-propagating function that the Church grows
in extension.

(a) This is effected in a jpcedagogic form by the education
and instruction of those who, by means of infant baptism, are
living in appearance in Christian grace. The new generations
which successively grow up, are appropriated by means of
catechetical and educational agencies. The case of their
elders is met by continuous efforts for their further develop-

SELF-PUEIFICATION. GOl

ment in the conscious possession of a personal justification
through faith, and by pastoral care.

(6) On the other hand, there is the missionary activity of
the Church. By its missions to Jews and heathens the
Church is ever enlarging its borders and lengthening the
cords of its tent. According to the purpose of Christ's love,
mankind and Christendom should be coextensive.^

No one ought to be able to plead, as the reason of his
unbelief, that the offer of salvation was never made to him.
It is an essential function of the Church to take heed that
such guilt cannot be imputed to her. Nature in every
instance expends her heartiest efforts, her best powers, upon
growth, upon reproduction. This normal Church activity is
of specially animating power for our own Church as well as
others, in virtue of the self-sacrifice it calls forth, the enlarge-
ment of view and affection it produces, and the consolation it
affords amidst the corruption and the contests in our native
Church.

(h) But self-propagation must take place intensively as well
as extensively. Everything that really lives has within itself
a tendency to grow. And this tendency will be self-operative,
when that which checks and restrains it is done away with.
And this consideration points to the Church's function of
self-purification.

3. Self - purification. Growth in extent will have an
externalizing effect, unless it is at the same time a growth in
intensity. It becomes intensive in the Church by the same
process as in individuals — by purification (§ 48) ; the shadows
of the unconverted world reach far into the Church, though
not to its centre, which always remains in unvarying bright-
ness, in the light of eternity. Hence intensive growth is
carried on by two processes. There is, on the one hand, a
continued assimilation of those vital forces wdiich are Divine,
accompanied by the use of such pure forces as already exist,
for the purpose of purification. There is, on the other, a
continual rejection of error, the intellectual, and sin the actual
opposite to the Church, for the purpose of giving free action
on behalf of the kingdom of Christ, and for the appropriation
of the TTvev/xa, to those powers which were restrained or

^ Matt, xxviii. 20, xxiv. 14.

6 02 § 82. THE CARDINAL FUNCTIONS OF THE CHURCH.

corrupted by the spirit of evil. Hence the Church can only
be regarded as Christian, if engaged in a course of continual
reformation and renovation. It is blameable sloth and pre-
sumption to think, that a single century could complete the
work of reformation. This third essential function, viz. self-
purification, has to be exercised against all the stains and im-
perfections with which, through sin or error, the Church may
as a whole, or in its individual members, whether externally
or internally, be affected. To it belongs, —

(a) The action of the whole body against the power of sin
and error in individuals by Church discijjline. This is
authorized by Matt, xviii. 1 8 ; 1 Cor. v. ; 2 Cor. ii. ; Tit. iii.
10. It has been disputed whether the saving of the sinner,
the amendment of him who has caused notorious scandal, or
the warning which would preserve from infection, or the
honour of the Church, should be the governing principle of
such discipline. No safe point of departure for Church dis-
cipline— that nervus ecclcsice, according to Calvin — will be
found, if it is regarded as penal power, except in the sense of
e\e<y)(eLv. But neither is the first view sufficient. For the
amendment of the offender is not in the power of man. If
only such amendment could make Church discipline lawful, it
must either not exist at all, or else must cease just where it is
most needful. On the contrary, the certain and u/iassailahle
2)oint of view is that it is the Church's right and duty to assert
itself against offences, and not by silence to draw down upon
itself the saying : qui tacet, consentirc vidctur. In Church
discipline the Church is, in the first place, engaged in vindi-
cating its own honour; for if that is injured, her mission to the
world is made void. Against notorious sinners, who live as if
a life of impenitence were compatible with Christianity and
Church-membership, the Church has to secure her own dignity
by renouncing all connection with sin and all toleration of
sin in herself. By this means oftence, i.e. the infectious
power of sin, is already done away with. Such an assertion
of dignity on the part of the Church is certainly an act of
justice — in the first place towards herself; she must not be
partaker of other men's sins, but must separate from the
unholy. And thus also will she most surely prepare the way
for the restoration of those who turn the <n'ace of God into

CHURCH DISCIPLINE. 603

lascivioiisness. "We see, then, that when the Church is
content with fulfilling the duty of preserving her own purity,
she is thereby most certainly on the road towards meeting the
first requirement, viz. the awakening and amendment of the
sinner. For only by walking in the way of justice and law,
and not by overleaping them, can that of restoration and grace
be found.^

Note. — Churcli discipline must not become a civil penalty.
The stress laid upon tlie honour of the Church must not take
place in tliat external and secular manner, wliich the hier-
archical spirit would desire. Christian maintenance of honour
includes both wisdom and ministering love (§ 65), for it is the
Church's honour to minister. Self-maintenance against all that
is unholy is, at the same time, love to the world, to which the
Church can be of no service if tlie salt has lost its savour.

(&) But corruption in doctrine may also seize upon the
empirical Church to a still greater extent, in heresy and
schism. Even those who act in the name of the Church
may themselves be overtaken by them, as in the time of the
Reformation. Then there is nothing left but the contrary
process to that just described, viz. the action of the, individual
upon the Church in the way of reform and purification ; for
then the Church must live in the bosom of each individual.
If corruption maintains itself against such action, it may
become the cause of a division in the Church. The reforming-
process must nevertheless continue, however powerful the
party of corruption may be. The reforming force must ally
itself to whatever is true within the Church, and neither
forsake the word of God nor the Cliurch. If the Eeformers
should then be excommunicated by the religious community,
which would by such an act excommunicate itself from the
truth, if they are thus passively placed in a state of separa-
tion, even then the purifying energy of love must not cease
to bear its testimony to the truth. In this way the process
of purification will at last, according to the Lord's promise,
become also a process of unification (cf. § 81. 3, § 55).

^ Compare on Church discipline, Glaithenslehrf, ii. 2, pp. 911, 883 sq. (895,
897, 906).

CO 4 § 83. CHUECH ORGANIZATION.

III. Church Organization.
§ 83.

It is by its government that the Church is organized for the
performance of its three cardinal functions (§ 82).
Organization being a means and not an end, must be
sufficiently elastic to correspond to the varying needs of
different ages. It must embrace the ideal side, viz. that
of Christian consciousness or doctrine, and the actual side,
viz. that of practice in its self-manifesting, its self-pro-
pagating, and its self-purifying action. The functions of
teaching, governing, and ministering are of Divine institu-
tion, not so the form of their administration, and still less
the individuals who perform them. The Church, with its
organized offices, must also leave room for voluntary exer-
tions, and Christian associations in many varying forms.

[The Literature. — Comp. Glanhcnslckrc, ii. 2, pp. 784 f., 883 f.
Schleiermacher's Darstcllung vom Kirchcnrcgimcnt, ed. by Weiss.
Spener, Vom gcistlichcn Fricstcrthum. Hermann, Ucbci^ die
neucstc Bestreitung dcr Autoritdt des kircJdichcn Sgonhols. Die
nofhivcndigen Grundlagcn eincr die consistoricde und synodcde
Ordmtng vcrcinigenden Kirchcnverfassung. Lechler, Die 7icu-
testamentliche Lchrc vom heiligen Amt. Hotiing, Grundsdtze
eixmgelischer Kirchenverfassimg. Steinmeyer, Begriff des Kirchen-
Tcgiments. Zezschwitz, Die wescntlichcn Verfassungszicle der
luthcrischen Beformation. System dcr Katcchetik, vol. i. p. 687 f.
Harnack, Die freie hdlieri&clie Vollxshirche. Jakoby, StacUskirche,
Freikirehe, Landeskirclie. Jacobson, Studien und Kritikcn, 1867,
uher den Begriff der Vocation und Ordination. Nitzsch, Prak-
tische Thcologic, ii. 452 f. Richter, Gesehiehte der cvangelischcn
Kirchenvcrfassung. Hundeshagen, Bcitrdge zur Kirchcnverfas-
sung sgcschichte. Kliefoth, Lit'iLrgisclie Ahhandlungcn, i. p. 341 f.
Kietschel, Luther und die Ordinatioji, 1883. Comp. the litera-
ture, § 81.]

1. The ethic necessity of organization. If the Church is to
be an actual power, effecting an actual work in and among
human beings, and not a civitas Platonica, it must have an
organization based upon its own principle. By giving to her
Church activity the form of settled official functions performed

ITS ETHIC NECESSITY. 605

in the name of the whole community, both the existence and
principle of the Church are rescued from arbitrariness and
chance, and a connected, stable, and orderly instrumentality
secured. The regulation of official functions is efiected by
Church government. Office implies a union of right or power
and duty by means of commission. The Church is called
aTv\o<; Kal eSpatcofia^ and this she actually is by means of
her offices, although the roots of her power are planted in the
invisible world. The varied necessities of the Church are met
by the varied gifts of the Spirit;" while, on the other hand, the
capacity thus bestowed can only develop its full benefits,
when the special vocation in which it can, by express adapta-
tion and exercise, attain to virtuous aptitude, is determined
by some stable appointment.^

It is true, indeed, that offices in the Church are of a funda-
mentally different character from offices in the State. The
contrast of rulers and subjects is softened down in the Church
to the contrast of guides and guided, of givers and receivers.
Church officials should not have dominion over the faith of
their fellow-Christians, but be helpers of their joy.'* Their
part is to minister, they are therefore authorized to give.
But hencjicicc non ohtrucluntur ; they must bring souls to
Christ, and must themselves decrease that He may increase ; '^
i.e. they should sccJc to reconcile the difference between giving
and receiving, by bringing those whom they teach to Christian
maturity.

It is further the duty of every Christian to show forth, in
his tvalk and conversation, the praises of Him who hath called
him. In the word of God the blessings of salvation are
entrusted to every believer as such. Christians are a pro-
phetic, priestly and royal generation, and thus are in the
abstract capable of dispensing the word and sacraments.
The use, however, of this capacity is quite another matter.
There must be a public use of it in the name of the whole
body of Christians, because a commission was given to the
whole body to dispense the word and sacraments to mankind.

' 1 Tim. iii. 15 ; Matt. xvi. 18. - 1 Cor. xii, 14-31, xiv.

^ 1 Cor. xiv. 26, 40.

* 2 Cor. i. 23 ; 1 Pet. v. 1-6 ; John xiii. 12 sq.

* John iii. 28-30.

606 § 83. CHURCH ORGANIZATION.

And an individual cannot give himself this commission to act
in the name of the entire body. The Church has likewise its
duty, and must so organize itself that all things may be done
in order. Only the Church is in a condition to secure, by its
governmental action, that basis and rule of fellowship, a stable
and well-ordered administration of the word and sacraments.
It is her duty to institute offices where they do not as yet
exist. It is tliat of the individual to enter into Church
fellowship, and consequently to adhere and accommodate
himself to the instrumentality, which it is the Church's duty
to employ in the fulfilment of her mission.

If this order is to be carried out successfully, an organic
hody must exist through the institution of settled offices. The
individual Christian must not desire to assert his particular
right. That which is to be done in the name of the whole,
which is the mission of the whole, must not be arbitrarily
undertaken by the individual, in his own name and by his
own authority. It is precisely from the essential equality of
all, through the priesthood of all Christians, that Luther infers
that not every one may presume to teach publicly and to
administer the sacraments, except in cases of necessity and
isolation. " If the office belongs to all, why dost thou arrogate
it to thyself singly ? " Here, as elsewhere, it holds good that
it is unethical not to seek the ohjective confirmation for the
suljective inwards call (§ 68). Strictly speaking, it is not an
office, but only a duty that devolves upon every believer.
An office is a vocation conferred by the joint will of the
entire body upon an individual, to act constantly and con-
sistently in the name of the whole. In this case authority
or right and duty are identical.

On the other hand, it is just as reprehensible when offices
are hierarchically constituted, or when it is sought to supple-
ment them by sacramental ordination ; ^ the office is bestowed
upon the Church, to which the laity belong as well as the
priesthood. It is indeed the Church's duty to transfer it to
individuals, because this is the most judicious manner of
administering its functions. But this transference to indi-
viduals of the offices given to the Church is no sacramental

^ See, on the other hand, Artie. Smalc. ed. Miiller, pp. 341, 342, ordinatio
=comprobatio electionis.

LIMITS OF OFFICIAL ORGANIZATION. 607

act of Christ, but an ethical act of the community, or of those
authorized to act for it. The divine calling takes effect by
means of the human freedom of the community, and therefore
in an ethical manner. The assurance of a man's consciousness
that lie has a call from God, no more suffers from such ethical
intervention, than, e.g., a husband's consciousness of being in a
state ordained of God suffers from the intervention of free
choice on the part of both husband and wife. It is legalism
to see the Divine only where God acts exclusively, without
the Church and without human agency. It is equally so to
perceive only arbitrariness where human freedom co-operates.
On the other hand, it is of the essence of Christian organism
for the Divine and the human to be combined therein.

2. The limits of official oryanimtion. It is certain that
every official act cannot be organized. Here, too, it is evident
that the Church cannot present so rounded off an appearance,
as other moral spheres. The Church is not absorbed in the
office. It has other functions besides those performed by
appointed office-bearers. It is only Koman Catholicism that
insists on seeing the Church only in the clergy, the ecclesia
repraesentiva. The voluntary and the official agency of the
Church must, however, be distinguished. The former has
attained special importance in the various Christian societies
for missionary and other purposes. It is a short - sighted
notion that regards these two parts of one whole as a
hindrance to each other. The regular official, who acts in the
name of the Church, has set before him this test of his
evangelical tact and power: Does he suffer the members of
the Church to be inactive and unemployed, or do the babes
in Christ attain maturity ; is he the means of so kindling
the zeal of Christians, that they cannot help becoming his
fellow-workmen and helpers ? For Christians will not desire
to act on their own responsibility, or to make fresh starts as
tliough no Christian work had been in operation before them,
but to work in the closest possible union with efforts already
existing. Such a disposition will lead them to regard the
official as the centre, by which alone stability and order can
be imparted to the agency of the laity. Where the two
elements of lawfully established office and voluntary effort
combine in Church work, we have a realization of that

608 § 83. CHUKCH ORGANIZATION.

evangelical Church life, which will make fruitful and elevate
all who take part in it.

Unfortunately, among ourselves tlie copious variety of
offices and gifts, spoken of in the ISTew Testament, have
for a long time often dwindled into one office, from which
everything was required which it could not possibly perform.
To this state of things many of the clergy have accustomed
themselves as though it were an ideal condition, and when
any higher ideal is placed before them they can see only
anarchy and danger. At the same time, they regard with
hostility any State or ecclesiastical authorities, who are help-r
ing to put an end to so indefensible a system. The New
Testament says nothing of devolving all the functions of the
Church upon one office or one person in a congregation.
Wherever this has taken place. Church life has been paralysed,
or at best has displayed great immaturity. On the other
hand, where there has been a multiplicity of offices, as, e.g., of
old in the Churches of Corinth and Ephesus, there many
other agencies have also existed. Nor is it the intention of
the evangelical confessions either to make the " preacher's " the
sole office, or to suffer all voluntary Church work to be
absorbed by officialism. Even teaching is not entirely taken
from the laity, nor all preaching of the word, all fiaprvpeiv
forbidden them. On the contrary, Church order is considered
as sufficiently observed, if the 'piiblice clocere et administixire
sacramcnta takes place only in the name of the Church, and
therefore by means of Church officials. This leaves room for
religious meetings for the purpose of edification, for societies,
for associations for Church purposes.^ To this must in our
days be added, that after the example of the ancient Church,
laymen may also take part officially in the work of the
diaeonate, and in general care for the Church life of the
commnnity. Not till this is permitted will the gifts latent
in it become active and fruitful.

The Christian, as before observed, is to manifest in all his
actions the churchly mind, nay, the Church is to live in him ;
but it is at the same time impossible that all should in
every respect perform the functions of officials of the

^ Art. Smalc. ed. Mliller, p. 320 iv,, mutimm collor[uium et consolatio
fratrum.

MODE OF CHURCH OEGANIZATION. 609

orcranized Church. Hence it necessarily follows that we
must in our ethical notion of the Church maintain the needful
distinction between the settled and organized Church, which
is to be the central point for the world of Church life, and
its unorganized but voluntary agencies. We must learn to
see Church life in both, nay, to perceive in their union and
unanimous co-operation the specifically new feature of the
evangelical form of the Church, which is at the ^same time
tending towards the form of primitive Christianity.

3 Mode of Church organization. The details of this sub-
ject belong rather to practical theology and ecclesiastical law
Ihey depend upon the organization of the Church's cardinal
functions of self-manifestation, self -propagation, self-purifica-
tion on the two sides of life and knowledge or doctrine.
A. On the side of Life, organization has respect to—
(a) The task of manifesting the Christian life : (a) m public
worship by preaching and the administration of the sacra-
ments, by sacred music and hymns, by a liturgy and an order of
Divine worship; (/8) in Church government, which 7/icm^/cs^s
itnion in individuals and in large circles; and (7) m the
cliaconate as manifesting the agency of love.

(h) Self -purification points to an organization of Chwxh
discipline by means of elders, or at all events by some parti-
cipation of the congregation.

(c) Self-propagation needs also its organization, m both its
intensive and extensive agency; (a) Its intensive progresses
effected by an organization of the legislative function with
respect to Church life. This embraces a Church representa-
tion in synodal form according to the doctrine of the Lutheran
and Eeformed Churches. (/3) The organization for extensive
propagation includes institutions for the education of the

1 According to a marginal note, the author divides the voluntary functions
as follows :-l. Self-manifestation, (a) Life, voluntary meetings or prayer.
{h) Knowledge, voluntary theological meetings and literature 2. Self-punjica-
tion. The self-purifying is also the unifying function, for the impulse to unity
in Christendom is only hindered by what the purifying function does away with.
(a) Family discipline. (6) Moral censure, freely passed by c asses from a nice
though strong esprit de ccyrps-e.g. by the military, clerical, and acadennca
classfs. Both these are directed to life, (c) Disseminat^or^ of the Scriptures
(chiefly directed to knowledge), {d) Inner Mission directed to both life and
knowledge. 3. Self -propagation. Foreign Missionary Societies.

2 Q

610 § 83. CHURCH OEGANIZATION.

young, scJiools, together with catechization and confirmation, also.
missions for the conversion of the non-Christian nations.

B. On the ideal side, or that of Doctrine, the organizations
for preservation (manifestation), purification and the increase
of intelligence are the following : —

(a) The ohjective organization for doctrine is the synibol
(creed), the system of doctrine, and the regulations relating
to teaching.

(&) The subjective organization consists of the teacliing class,
the i\\Qo\ogicdl faculties and theological lite7xtture, which must
all be active, though in various combinations, in the self-
manifestation, self - purification, extensive propagation and
intensive growth of the Church. Manifestation devolves
especially upon the teaching class, the clerisy in the narrower
sense ; for it is their special duty to advocate and make
evident all that is latent in the common faith. Literature,
on the other hand, and the theological faculties should exercise
a purifying and developing agency upon the ground already
won, upon the system of doctrine. The collective agency of
the Church with respect to the system of doctrine must seek
to combine the continuity or self-consistency of the Church's
consciousness, i.e. of its system of doctrine, with its active
progress.

Collisions may arise between the conservative, and the
purifying and further developing activity. Some movement
may, in its supposed acceleration of progress, forsake the truths
contained in the Church's creed, and seduce others from them.
That which is extolled by some as an advance, may be
regarded by others as declension or apostasy (Neology,
Paleology). Thus parties are formed, and if the counter-
poise to party - spirit should be lacking, the consequence
would be the dissolution of the Church. When the Church
has no longer a definite faith, it will no longer have a right
to existence as a separate community alongside of the State.
On the other side, the necessity of movement may be denied,
and it may be ignored that the most perfect words of the
Church are still not equal in authority to the words of Christ
and the apostles, but imperfect. The result is that the creed
of the Church, placed by such immobility on a level with
Holy Scripture, then becomes its guardian. This latter pro-

CIIUKCH PAETIES. 611

cess leads to the apotheosis of tradition and the Church, as
the former does to the apotheosis of the subject. The union
of the tendency to movement and the tendency to continuity
is impossible in the region of doctrine, of dogma j3c?' se. It
can only take place when both, in opposition to intellectual
orthodoxy and heterodoxy, cease to regard dogma as of
primary importance, and turn from it to simple living faith
in Christ. For this, and not a scientifically formulated body of
doctrine, was the first form of existence taken by Christianity
among men. The faith which is in its simplicity expressed by
the K^Tpvyixa of Christ, is the vital condition of all true Chris-
tian theology. It is by such faith that scientific research is
qualified for a deeper comprehension of the contents of
objective Christianity in the form of speculation. By means
of faith, too, will such scientific research be regarded as a
lawful process of continuous development, and will manifest
itself, in presence both of the logical and religious conscience
and of Holy Scripture, as a purer, deeper and more copious
apprehension of the evangelical principle itself.

It is our happy case that preservation and manifestation,
no less than purification and continuous development, are in
every respect demanded by the nature of the Evangelical
Church itself, in virtue of the fundamental relation between
the material and formal sides of its constituent principle.
The Evangelical Church requires that we should be faithful
and free, making these qualities permeate each other. Past
and present history form one whole. The kingdom of God
is come, but it is also to come. Let no reaching towards the
future, no hope, be divorced from the past. For God's great
moral work on mankind is one, is woven of one strong texture,
and must hold ua fast in the world of faith to His past deal-
ings in the history of revelation and of the Church. Let no
faith be without the hope which looks and strives onwards.
And finally, let love be the ever pulsating soul of the present.
Let love in combination with faith and hope be also the
motive power of all our work, in the great and new duties
placed before the present generation, our native land and the
Evangelical Church.

INDEX.

Absolute spliere of rigM, 301.

Action, definition of, 129-132.

Administration, 575.

Aristocracy, 571.

Aristotle's notion of justice, 85.

Art, 581 ; relation of, to Christianity,
584 ; to the civil community and the
State, 586.

Arts, the plastic and poetic, 583.

Ascetics, 405 ; Eomish and Greek
errors concerning, 406; permissibility
of, 407.

Association, sexual, 304.

Association, tendencies to, 183 ; de-
preciation and over-estimation of,
185 ; natural, inadequate, 187.

Augustine, 267.

Beautiful, the, 581.

Bible, the, as an authority in ethics,

45.
Blood relationship, 181.

Capital punishment, 577.

Care for personal honour, 452 ; for our
physical existence, 453 ; of the body,
456 ; for virtuous happiness, 458 ;
for a good name, 487.

Casuistry, 218,

Celibacy, 536.

Certitudo salntis, 370

Chastity, 467.

Christ, the incarnate good, 343 ; the
perfect revelation of the Divine law,
344 ; the all-embracing virtue, 348 ;
the substitute of humanity, 349 ; the
princiiDle of the kingdom of God,
351 ; the principle of repentance and
righteousness, 353 ; the object of
faith, 366.

Christian love, 360 ; wisdom and hope,
361 ; faith, 364.

Christian idea of God, the basis of
ethics, 51, 58.

Christian virtue, in the individual,
356 ; faith the fundamental, 357.

Christian character, the, maintenance
of, 401 ; self-manifestation of, 412.

Christian hope, character of, 386 ;
object of, 386.

Christian humour, 398.

Christian j^iety, 413.

Cliristian view of the world, 388.

Christian and philosophical ethics,
relation of, 17, 24 ; no essential
contradiction between, 20; nor direct
identity, 21 ff. ; mutual dependence
of, 25.

Christianity, 4, 211.

Church, the, idea of, 591 ; essential
nature of, 593 ; cardinal functions of,
598 ; self-manifestation of, 598, 607 ;
self- propagation of, 599, 607 ; self-
purification of, 601, 607; authority
of, in ethics, 47.

Church discipline, 602 ; Church organi-
zation, 604 ; ethic necessity of, 605 ;
mode of, 609.

Church representation, 609.

Churchly mind, the, 596.

Civil authority, 563 ; Christian obedi-
ence to, 567.

Cognition, relation of, to morality and
religion, 138.

Cognitive faculty, the, 126.

Collisions in the sphere of property,
470.

Collisions between the parties of con-
servancy and development, 610.

Communities, 304.

Comradeship, the analogue of friend-
ship, 182.

Concept of humanity, the Christian,
447.

Confession of Christian faith, 443.

Confessions, different, 597.

Connection of morality and religion,
137.

Conscience, forms of its manifestation,
249 ; imputation, 250 ; judgment,
251 ; requital, 251 ; an erring,
251.

Conscience, 193 ; not the ground but
the perception of law, 196.

Conscience, doctrine of, 225 ; biblical,
227 ; positive, 229.

612

iiVDEX.

613

Conscience, .and moral consciousness,
231 ; origin of, 233 ; not based on
self-legislation, 235 ; God's voice,
285 ; stages of, 237 ; growth of,
238 ; abnormal state of, 242 ; appro-
priates the matter of experience, 245.

Consilia Eoangelica, 205.

Constitution, the, 569-572.

Contemplation, 417 ; essential nature
of, 418 ; object of, 419.

Cosmopolitanism, 508.

Counteraction of good against evil,
325.

Courage, Christian, 397.

Created world, the source of, 95.

Culture, true, 481.

Darwinian theory, 167.

Democracy, 570.

Determinism, absolute physical, 255 ;
psychical, 261 ; theological, 266.

Determinism and Indetermiuism,
255 ff.

Diaconate, the, 608.

Dissimilarities, adjustment of, 509.

Divine agency, continuous, 195.

Divine and human activity, co-opera-
tion of, 365.

Division of labour, the analogue of
civil society, 182.

Divorce, 540 f.

Dogmatics, province of, 4.

Drama, the, 584.

Duelling, 454 ff.

Duties, ' conflict of, 213 f., 217; per-
fect and imperfect, 210.

Duty, notion of, 9, 54.

Duty and right, 221 ; in human
relations, 223.

Earthly productions, permanence of,

295 ; in the final consummation, 297.
Elections, 571.
Enjoyment and recreation, 461 ; means

of, 463.
Eschatology, ethical, 284 ; different

views of, 284 ; classical view of, 285 ;

Christian view of, 283 ; Reformation

view of, 286.
Ethical knowledge, source of, 43.
Ethical life of man, 5.
Ethical world, God's ideal of the, 96 ;

nature a necessary factor of, 97.
Ethics an independent department, 5.
Ethics, history of, works on the, 28,

42 ; system of, 3.
Eudaemonism, 321.
Evil, notion of, 13.

Faith and hope, 385.

Faith necessarily produces love, 872.

Faith in Christ morally necessary,

337 ; not an act of caprice, 339 ;

tlie fundamental Christian virtue,

357.
False forms of love to God, 374,
Family, the, 549 ; an image of the

kingdom of God, 550.
Feelings, the, 124.
Formative principle, the, 107.
Forms of virtue, classification and

analysis of, 359.
Freedom, 193, 209, 253, 268 ; positive

doctrine of, 273 ; biblical doctrine

of, 275 ; stages in its realization.,

278 ; theological, 281.
Freedom and conscience, union of,

371.
Freedom, indispensable to progress,

336.
Friendship, science, and art on the

stage of right, 310.
Friendships, family, 514.

Giving and receiving, right, 511.

Gnosis, 383.

God and the world, analogy between,

97.
God-man, the, necessity of, 334 ;

uniqueness of, 338 ; absolute and

permanent significance of, 344.
God's nature the source of moral law,

196.
Good, the, as realized in Christianity,

343 ; science of, 7, 54.
Gospel, effects of, 368.
Grammar schools, 589.

Habits, 401.

Heathenism, 322 ; development of e\'il

in, 323 ; degeneration of science in,

323.
Heathen world, apotheosis of the State

in, 323 ; consciousness of guilt in,

327 ; philosoiihy in, 328.
Hebraism and Christianity, 247.
Hebrew, consciousness of guilt, 327 ;

settled moral ideas, 329 ; Messianic

hope.
Household, the, the fundamental

moral community, 522 ; extension

of, by friends, guests, and servants,

522.
Human instinct, deficiency of, 189.
Human nature, unifying tendencies

in, 178.
Humanity, 320,

InEAL, the moral, 283 ; biblical doc-
trine of, 292 ; contents of, 293 ; reali-
zation of, 298 ; synopsis of, 300.

Identity, man's consciousness of.

Independence, Christian endeavour
after, 485,

G14

INDEX.

In determinism, 257 ; absolute, 259 ;
of indifference, 260, 263 f.

Individuality, 141 ; necessity of, 142 ;
ethical significance of, 143 ; perma-
nence of, 145 ; general nature of,
1 45 ; different views of, considered,
147 ; genesis of, 149.

Individuality and likeness, antithesis
of. 111.

Intercession, 507.

Jewish forms of siu, 324-5.
Judicial functions, 575.
Justice, history of the notion of, 81 ;
theological conception of, 91.

Kant on the immoral, 14.
Kant on moral feeling, 139.
Kant's categorical impei'ative, 199.
Kant's critical system, 4.
Kingdom of God, the, moral com-
munities in, 516.
Knowledge, Christian, 2.

Law, 191 ; binding character of, 196 ;
necessity of, 198, 203 ; absoluteness
of, 198, 203; universality of, 201,
203.

Law or right, stage of, 301; imperfec-
tions of, 311 ; cannot prevent sin,
312 ; insufficient even with respect
to the State, 314 ; with reference to
sin, 316.

Law, moral, erroneous views of, refuted,
202.

Law, standpoint of, called by Eabbis
a new creation, 302.

Legal standpoint, imperfection of, 311.

Legislation, 560, 572.

Leibnitz on the notion of justice, 86.

Leibnitz's theodicy, 388.

Lies, white, 490 ; degi-ee of guilt in,
491.

Love, relation between communicative
and receptive, 379 ; the unity of the
productive virtues, 381.

Love, the stage of, 332.

Love the essence of God's moral nature,
69 ; three views of, 69 ; distinction
between, and righteousness, 74 ; as
self-devotion, 92 ; amor concupis-
centice, 70, 374 ; complaceniia,
70, 374 ; henevolenticB, 71, 374.

Love to one's neighbour, 504 ff. ; care
for his spiritual welfare, 517 ; be-
tween brothers and sisters, 552.

Love as the opposite of selfishness,
378.

Man's physical endowment, 113 ; his
finiteness, 113-117 ; his bodily
organism, 118 ; his hand, 118 ; voice.

119 ; his means of self-preservation
and reproduction, 121 ; psychical
element of his moral constitution,
122 ; his rational constitution, 134 ;
his capacity for morality and religion,
135.

Marriage, scriptural conception of,
523 ; history of ideas concerning, in
Christian times, 525 ; socialistic and
communistic theories of, 529 ; Hegel
and Schleiermacher's views on, 529 ;
indissoluble, 530-539 ; its physical
side, 531 ; a school of virtue, 532 ;
contraction of, 535 ; relation of
State and Church to, 546 ; civil,
547.

Materialism, doctrine of, 101-103 ;
an inadequate hypothesis, 103; denies
human freedom, 105.

Method, 42 ; the descriptive and the
psychological, 49.

Modification of the idea of property by
Christianity, 473.

Monarcliy, 571 ; hereditary preferable
to elective, 57l.

Monogamy, 539.

Moral feeling, the, 139, 193 ; relation
of, to freedom, 141.

Moral law, oneness of, 213.

Moral ideas, confusion of, among
heathen, 244.

Moral choice, possibility and necessity
of, 275.

Moral evil, universality of, 321.

Morality, meaning of, 6, 12 ; formal
aspect of, 13 ; essential to the Divine
Being, 61 ; a necessary tliought, 67 ;
supremacy of, in God, 67 ; nature of,
in God, 68 ; the idea of, tends to ex-
istence, 62; not an arbitrary creation,
63; of the very essence of God's being,
64 ; positive nature of, 72 ; relation
of, to religion, 137 ; relation of tem-
perament to, 161.

National distinctions, importance of,

173.
Natural theology, 24.
Nature, man's dominion over, 179.
New personality, the, in relation to

itself, 445.
Nitzsch's system of Christian doctrine,

3.
Nomadic life, 179.

Oath, idea of an, 492 ; a covenant with
God, 493 ; a contract between men,
493 ; a religious confession, 404 ;
New Testament passages with regard
to, 494.

Oaths, 492.

Obedience, 551.

INDEX.

G15

Official organization of the Church,

606 ; limits of, 607.
Optimism, 390 ; the two forms of, 391 ;

the joy of, 397.

Party spirit, 508.

Passions, the, 465.

Permissible action, theory of, 213.

Personal character of love, 377.

Pessimism, 389 ; tlie true forms of,
392 ; within the Church, 393; pain
of, 395.

Petition and intercession, 423.

Philosophy not necessarily non-Chris-
tian, 24.

Plato's notion of justice, 83.

Politics and religion, 561.

Polygamy, 540.

Ponerology, ethical, 316.

Powers, the, that be, 565.

Prayer, 422 ; forms of, 428 f. ; times
of, 430 f.

Predestination, 267.

Predeterminism of freedom, 270.

Pride, lovelessness of, 378.

Property, 309.

Property, unequal distribution of, 475.

Public worshij), fellowship in, 595,
596.

Punishment, right of, 306-308.

Purpose and worth, notions of, 16.

Race, differences of, character and limit

of, 164.
Places and nationalties, 162 ; as related

to temperament, 171.
Redemption, man's need of, and capacity

for, 331.
Relation of the natural to the spiritual,

109.
Relation of God's ethical and non-
ethical attributes, 65.
Relations of men to men, 180.
Religious zeal, 441 ; limit of, 444.
Religious meetings, 608.
Reverence and love, 415.
Right, material and formal, difference

between, 560 ; public, 563.
Right as universal will, 306.
Ritschl on justice, 89.
Rothe on the moral ideal, 289.
Rudimentary civilisation, defects of,

183.
Rulers and subjects, 563.
Rural life, 186.

SCHLETERMACHEK', 215, 216.

Schleiermacher Quoted, 3, 199, 268,

287.
Schleiermacher's philosophische Elhik,

15.

Science, 587.

Secondary sphere of right, 303 ; im-
perfection of the stage of law in
the, 313.
Self-activity of the Christian, 403.
Self-assertion and self- manifestation,

484.
Self-assertion, the Divine, 78.
Self-defence, 308.
Self-inspection, 421.
Self-love and social love in relation to

love to God, 376.
Self-love, Christian, 445, 447; its

nature, 449.
Self-love essential to self-impartation,

77 ; of God, 94.
Self-love with respect to the mind,

480.
Self-manifestation, tlie Divine, 80.
Self-preservation, 178.
Self-surrender to Christ, 369.
Sensuality, 321,
Servants, 553.
Sex, difference of, 150-155,
Sexual love, 181.

Sin, not a mere defect, 318 ; shows the
insufficiency of the legal standpoint,
318 ; actual existence of, in humanity,
320.
Social intercourse, 305, 514.
Socialism and communism, 478.
Soul, the, as activity and as a state, 133.
Soul's, the, three forms of existence,

123.
Species, human, unity of the, 169,
Species, theory of, 165.
State, the, 305 ; the community of
right points to the higher com-
munity, the Church, 316 ; Rothe's
view of, 618 ; idea of, 554 ; its
dependence upon religion, 556 ; prin-
ciple of the idea of right, 558 ; re-
lation of, to its future, and to other
States, 578 ; Christian character of,
580.
Strife, 513.
Sunday, 435 ff. ; foundation of the

Christian, 438.
Supererogatory works, 207.
Supralapsarianism, 268.
Syllabus of the system, 48 ; of Part I. ,

112.
Systematic theology presupposes faith,
2.

Talents, the, 174; identity of, 183;
democratic and aristocratic concep-
tion of, 175,

Temperament, the phlegmatic, 158 ;
the sanguine, 158 ; the melancholic,
159; the choleric, 159.

Temperaments, the, 155; their relation
to morality, 161

61G

INDEX.

Thankfulness towards men, 512.
Thanksgiving and praise, 427.
Tribal habits and customs, 182.
True culture, 481.
Truthfulness, 487.

Universities, 589.

Virtue, doctrine of, 10, 54; means of,
409; religious, 410 ; moral, 410.

Virtuous ownership, 469.

Virtuous purity and beauty, 464 ; their

connection, 464, 467.
Virtuous stability, 483.
Vocation, 498 ; its universality, 500 ;

choice of, 501 f.
Voluntary agencies, 607.

Wisdom, Christian, .382.
AVorld designed for moralit}', and
morality for the world, 93.

THE END.

^^R 8 - '^io^

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