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Books bp Josiah Ropee. 


THE CONCEPTION OF IMMORTALITY. Being 
the Ingersoll] Lecture for 1899. 16mo, gilt top, $1.00. 


THE SPIRIT OF MODERN PHILOSOPHY. 8vo, 
gilt top, $2.0. 

THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 
samo, gilt top, $3.00, 

CALIFORNIA. In American Commonwealth: Se 
vies. With Map. 16mo, gilt top, $1.25, wef. Post- 
age t3 cents. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
Boston AND Naw Yorx 





BELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY 


ACRITNACE OF THE RASES OF COXDUCT 
AXD OF FalTn: 





POSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN: COMPANY 
be Kioernde Pris Cambridge 


Copyright, 1985, 
Br JOSIAI! ROYOR. 


All rights reserved 


Te 
fAp Heraced Fria, 
GEORGE BUCHANAN COALE, 
OF BALTIBIORSE, 
1 NENCATE THE BOGE, 
EX EARNEST AKD GRATEFT. BROWS KTR 
OF BIS RIXNKESS, OF WIR COURSE, 


asd OF RT WaDOR. 


PREFAOE, 


=e Qeseem, 


Tita boak aketchea the basia of a ayatem af phi. 
losophy, while applying the prineiplea of this ayatem 
to religions problema, The form and order of the 
treatment depend an the nature of these latter prob- 
lema themselvea, and are not aueh aa a ayatem 
ef philowphy, expounded salely for its own sake, 
would be free ta take. Tho religioua problema have 
been chosen for the preaent atudy because they firnt 
drove the author to philosophy, and because they, of 
all human interests, deserve our beat effarta and our 
utmost loyalty. 

A large portion of thia disoussion seeka to appeal 
both to the apecial atudent af philosophy and ta 
the general reader. A considerable part, again, can 
with the very beat af fortune hope to interest the 
apevial atudent af philosophy, but oannet hope for 
wore, The Preface muat therefore tell what aort af 
appeal ia made to each af the two classes af readers, 

fo begin with the general reader, whe may have 
the curiosity to glanvo at thia philosephie essay, the 


vi PREFAOE. 


author must forthwith confess that while on tho one 
hand ho desires to trouble nobody with fruitless and 
blank negations, and while hin aim in therefore on 
the whole a positive aim, yet on the other hand, as 
he has no prosent connection with any visible relig- 
Jous body, and no sort of desire for any such conned: 
tion, ho cannot be oxpected to write an apology for 
a popular creed. This confession is made frankly, 
but not for the anke of provoking a quarrel, and 
with all due reverence for the faith of other men, 
If the fox who had lost his tall was foolish to be 
proud of his loss, he would have been yet more fool- 
inh to hide it by wearing a false tail, stolon maybap 
from a dead fox. Tho full application of the moral 
of the fable to the present cane in moreover willingly 
accepted. Not as the fox invited his friends to 
imitate his loss, would tho present writer alm to 
make other mon lose their faiths, Rather ia it his 
alm not to arouse fruitless quarrela, but to come to 
aoine poaseful undorstanding with his fellows touch- 
ing tho ultimate meaning and value and foundation 
of this noteworthy oustom, no widely prevalent 
among us, the custom of having a religion, If the 
author ends by stating for hia own purt a religions 
doctrina, it will yat be sean upon reading the sume 
that a man could hold that and much more too; #o 
that what is hore said is rather proposed as a basin 


PREFACE. wii 


four a conceivable if very far off reconciliation, than 
as an argument to dissuade those who may think 
that they can go further than the anther, from 
proving in a philosophical fashion whatever they 
ean prove, Such people may manage to interpret 
many of the negations that ocour in these pages as 
direoted against an inadequate farm, or imperfect 
understanding, of their more elaborate creed. If 
they ean do aa, no ane will be more heartily de- 
lighted than the author, although he may not agree 
with them. 

is to the relation of this book to what is called 
vacdern doubt, it is a relation neither of blind obe- 
dience nor of unsympathetic rejection. The doo- 
trine of philosophic idealism here propounded is not 
what in these days is popularly called Agnosticism. 
Yet doubting everything is ance for all a necessary 
element in the organism af philosophio reflection. 
What is here dwelt upan over and over again is, 
however, the consideration that the doubts of our 
time are not to be apologetically “refuted,” in the 
aki fashioned sense, but that taken just aa they are, 
fully and cordially received, they are upon analysia 
found to cantain and imply a positive and important 
religious ereed, bearing both upon conduct and upan 
reality. Not to have once thoroughly aceepted as 
necessary the great philosophie doubts and problems 


vill PREV AGK, 


of our day, is simply not to have philosophizad aa « 
arise cof thin mgges, — Sheat ter reves sacerergrhenl threes clentatite 
without in tines coming to find the gumitive truth 
that fa ccrteesaled i90 threstts, Son tor tient theestes som thes inne 
rowent favorite of fortunes ins fairy tale alwayn wt 
firnt tronte hin maggie gift, It in mnnething conten 
and dingy, and he Jays it carslewmly away in hie 
Ginpty hese, fosling poorer thts esverr, Ibu wes 5 
heatdle it rightly, and the fairy gift fille your treatin 
figured tunne with « wealth of gems and gold, and 
aprenule for you 6 wondeenis banquet. To the author 
asa cscrtsses thes faruecy thet tenlesrn devtabet sry bos seoteees 
wich fairy wift wm thin, Atul tres werk Likes to sug. 
gent to mine rouler what may pomibly prove the 
Phaghit feambeicors cf tamteagy thes tabintine, 

The general reader, if very “ lanevolent,” may he 
abies to endure the “ Hirst Book” of the proment 
vesheasnees ine ite eorthvesty 5 borat ine thes Pemsrnad ewsle ” 
Hoes will Giavel renessche thse fe ssvcstanit, entily fore the ataulent 
wWhures interemte wares levdeleally technioal, Senne warn 
Fragen sures gelvecss Ste hess Gaswt, tor bred ye thes prectverral resuler 
ina wheigrprltige.  Bbut pwertiag it snmy be well for hin 
prarynanes ter confines bimmelf at ones tn thin Book IL, 
sah Vessumt, sagoerte tics firwt wevseslitage, tor thes Falleswitiy praa 
sraggerm, vasarireshy sine Cchasagetere VIEL, tor thes beateewl aecterry 
vestsisurtens sated Chics fie, sated thies Vensst socecticrsim cof thee 
whingrtecr 5 Str Chay 1X, tor thus intrenductery ra 


PREFACE. ix 


marka, and Seotiona I, II., IT, and V.; in Chapter 
X.,, to the intruduetory remarka, and Seotiona I, ID, 
and 1V.; in Chapter AI, to the introductory re 
marka, and the coneluding section only; and then 
he may try the whole of Chapter XII. Thua he 
will not be troubled by the technival atatement of 
the proof of our dovtrine, and he will see the trend 
of our thought, which may at least amuse him, If 
he ia then atill curious, he may take hia own riaks 
and look farther. 

The atudent of philosophy will find in thia volume 
a dovtrine that undertakes to be in certain aignif- 
ivant reapoota independent and original, but that, 
without ceasing to be the author's own ayatem, 
frankly belongs to the wide realm of Poat-Kantian 
Idealiam, Of vourae no truo lover af philosophy 
venturea, when he calla a dovtrine hia own, to pre- 
tend to more than the very moderate degree af rel- 
ative originality that the aubject in our day permita; 
and of courae the author for hia own part feela very 
deeply how much what he haa to affer ia the prad- 
wot af what he haa happened to read and remember 
about philosophy and ita hiatory, Moat of all he 
feola his debt to Kant; then he knowa how much he 
has gained from Michte, from the modern Neo-NKan- 
tians in Germany, and from the revivera of idealiau 
iu recent years in England and Ameriva To Hegel 


x PREFACE. 


also he has of course a decided debt to acknowl- 
edge. 

There are in recent philosophical history two 
Hegels: one the uncompromising idealist, with his 
general and fruitful insistence upon the great fun- 
damental truths of idealism ; the other the technical 
Hegel of the “ Logik,’ whose dialectic method seems 
destined to remain, not a philosophy, but the idea 
of a philosophy. With this latter Hegel the author 
feels a great deal of discontent; to the other Hegel, 
whose insight, as we know, was by no means inde- 
pendent of that of Fichte and other contemporaries, 
but who was certainly the most many-sided and crit- 
ical of the leaders of the one great common idealistic 
movement of the early part of the century, — to him 
we all owe a great debt indeed. It is, however, a 
mistake to neglect the other idealists just for the 
sake of glorifying him. And it is an intolerable 
blunder to go on repeating what we may have 
learned from him in the awkward and whimsical 
speech of the wondrous and crabbed master. If 
Hegel taught anything, then what he taught can be 
conveyed in an utterly non-Hegelian vocabulary, or 
else Hegel is but a king of the rags and tatters of a 
flimsy terminology, and no king of thought at all. 
It is therefore absolutely the duty of a man who 
nowadays supposes that he has any truth from He. 


PREFACE. zi 


gel to propound, to atate it in an entirely fresh and 
individual fom. Of Hegelian language repeated to 
va in place af Hegelian thought, we have had by 
thia time a alekening aurfelt, Let ua therefore 
thank men who, like the late lamented Professor 
Gireen, have at last been free to speak thelr own 
thoughts very much in thelr own way: and let ua be 
glad too that the number of so-called Hegeliana of 
nimilar independence ia dally growing greater. The 
author, however, cannot call himself an Hegelian, 
much as he owea to Hegel, 

Farther eapecial acknowledgmenta the author 
wanta to make to Profeasor Willam James, to Mr 
Shadwerth Hodguen, te Profesor Otte Pfleiderer, 
to Profemor Hana Vaihinger, te Profesor Otto 
Lichmann, to Profewor duliva Bergmann, to Pree 
foawor Christoph Siywart, and to Mr. Arthur Bal 
four, for the valuable helpa dn thowght that, un 
known to them, he, aa a reader of thelr works, has 
felt, and that he now recognises aa dlatinetly affeot- 
tng thin book, To Profesor Willlam James once 
more dn particular, and alae to Profewer Gearge 
Pahuer, the author ewea numerous eral anggeations 
that have intluenced him more than he new can ex 
actly oatinate er fully eanfeas And then there 
remain two thinkera to name, men very different 


from each other, but both for the author very valu 


xii PREFACE. 


able. Of these one was among the first of the Ger- 
man thinkers in the chance order of the author's 
early reading, the other was deeply influential both 
by his spoken words and by his writings; the former 
is that brilliant and stimulating master of contra 
dictions, Schopenhauer, the other is the now de 
parted Lotze, whose lectures the author will never 
forget nor disregard, although what is here taught 
is remote enough from most of Lotze’s system. 

In outer form this work may be considered by the 
philosophic student as a sort of roughly sketched 
amd very incomplete Phenomenology of the relig- 
ious consciousness, first on its moral, and then on 
ite theoretical, side. The parte of the argument that 
the author supposes to contain most relative origi- 
nality will be found in Book I, Chapters VL and 
VIL, and in Book IL, Chapter XL On these chap- 
ters all else hinges. 

The discussion of the Problem of Evil, as it ap. 
pears in Chapter XIL, is, as the author has seen only 
since that chapter was in type, very closely parallel 
to part of the discussion of the same question in the 
new secoml edition of Pfleiderer’s “ Keligionsphilos- 
ophie.” Yet, as the thoughts of this new edition of 
Phleiderer’s argument were indicated in his first edi- 
tion, although not so clearly expremed, the author 
elaims little originality here, save in the form of 


PREFACE. xiii 
presentation, in the illustrations used, and in the 
reference of the whole to the arguments of Chapter 
XI. This last matter seems to him, of itself indeed, 
quite important. 

The work as it here appears is an outgrowth of 
several separate lines of study. The questions of 
the present Chapter XI. were first attempted by the 
author in a thesis for the Dovtor’s degree of the 
Johns Hopkins University in 1878. The argument 
has sinve been essentially altered. Several frag- 
ments that are here used as organic parts of the 
whole book have appeared separately, in various de- 
grees of incompleteness, in the “ Journal of Specu- 
lative Philosophy,” in “Mind,” and elsewhere. The 
present form of the book has grown out of lectures 
on religious questions to the students of Harvard 
College ; but only a small portion of the manuscript 
of these lectures has entered into the structure of 
the book, which, for its own part, tries to be no 
patchwork, but a single united, if incomplete, study 
of its chosen problem. 


Camariper, Mass., Janwary 11, 1985. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


On 


CHAPTER I. 


[nrropectrron ; Reutuaron as A Moran Cops ann as 

A THBORY.. coerce eens eee eneneneess 

I. The Turee Klomenta of HRoliggion sc cceecceeecces 

II. Relation of Religion and Philosophy. occ. see eees 
IIl, The Kesentiala of Religions Doctrine. ..... weees 
IV. The Place of Skeptician in Religious Philosophy. 


BOOK I, 
THE SEARCH FOR A NORAD IDEAL 
— == 
CHAPTER II. 


Tre Generar, Erimcar PROBLEM... cc cc ccc cccccceces 
I. The Priority of Ideala in Religious Philosophy... 
II, The Fundamental Difficulty about all Ideala...++- 


CHAPTER ITIL 


Tite Warrark oF tre Moran [npara..... ccc acess 
The Difticulty about the Ideal as it arrears in 
Creek ‘Thought eee nee ances eee eeeeeneness 
If, The same Difficulty in Christian Morwa.. wunenee 
IIT. Summary of the Diftioulty thu far..c. cece. . 
IV. The Dittioulty as iNuatrnted by the Doctrine of Con- 
BOTONOE ac ccccvees cen senceseeseeneaenseeens ee 


V. General Summary and Skeptical Result......... 


aed 
° 


race 


ce kh K = 


17 


19 


xvi 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


ern’ CHAPTER IV. 
paca 
Auranuism AND Eqorsm ix Certain Recent Drsovs- 
BIONS..... coe c seer eceees crececesccccseese GL 
I. Illustration of Certain Doctrines about the Nature 
of Altruism.......0.. cece cece eoccccssecee 63 
II. Is Altruism Disguised Selfishness ?.. wees OD 
III. Inquiry as to the real Difference between ‘Altru- 
ism and Solflshnoss.........seeerececceres 66 
IV. If Genuino Altruism cannot now be Disguised Soll- 
ishnoss, can Evolution oxplain the Relations of 
the two? ...csseceeseeens ance eeceeneees «. «Th 
VY. Schopenhauor’s Effort to define Altruism in Terms 
of tho Emotion of Pity.......cc.seeues oeeee 85 
VI. Further Explanation of Schopenhauor’s View... 89 
VII. Tho Selfishness and Cruclty that often are the Re- 
ult of Pity... . ccc cece cece cee e erences .- 04 
VIII. Tho Cruelty of tho Happy, and tho Selfishness as- 
sociated with active Sympathy........ ee eeeee 100 
IX. Rejection of Pity as the Basis for a Distinction of 
Altruism aad Egoism. Nogative Result of the 
Chaptor......cccccseccscccsccccscccscccecs LOM 
CHAPTER V. 
ETiicAL SKEPTICISM AND ErnrcaAn Prasimism........ 107 
I. Tho Skeptical Motive in Pessimism........... -. 108 
II. The Skeptical Motive in the Romantic Pessimism 
of Modorn Pootry..........ceccsceesececes 110 
ITI. Ethical Skepticism in Mr. Balfour's Statement of 
its Positions....... ce cceccccccccccccseseee Lae 
CHAPTER VI. . 
THe MORAL INSIGHT... ......ccccececesesecceecscees 131 
I. The Meaning of Ethical Skepticism, and the Ideal 
consequontly involved in it. ......e.ee. sooeee 131 
II. Answers to Objections ..........06- covccoeces 141 


III. Application to tho Problem of Altruism. ceoveee 146 


W.  Altrunsen as Temsapbtt. -. .. 2. eee ee 
VL The Real Conflict of the Separate Ideals, and the 
Natare of the Moral Insight. ................ P| 
CHAPTER VIL 
Tee Oncaxmarvow or Lae. .... 2... 2.02... cee eee i171 
L. The Demes of the First Cinss...... 2... 2.2.22. 173 
IL. The Denes of the Second Cinss, im relation to He- 
GOMES... ence cece ences 183 
TTL The Worth of the Indivadwal.... .. 2.0.22... 195 
IV. ‘Thee Phases of Individeoliam. ...... 2... 2.0.22. 201 
W. The Universal Will as aiming at Orgenizetme. 
Detimataom of the Ideal. ...-.... 2.0.0 .00 0008. 31 
WL Passage to the Sundy of Reality... ............. 218 
BOOK IL 
THE SEARCH FOR A RELIGHOUS TRUTH. 
—— 
CHAPTER VIIL 
Tee Woerp or Docsr...... 2... 2... ee cece ee eens 227 
L The Femdamental Difficalty comcermng the Exter- 


IL The Popalar Seteatifie Comeept of the World and 
the Reliyaous Imsiynificamce of the Law of Evo- 


emlupes of thane Theorbes. .... 2. 6.500268 ee ee 22 
IV. Moan and th Problem of Evil. ............- 24 
V. Dealistie Thetem im th World of the Powers, its 

Metaphrsical and Rebyoces Diffiralnes....... 1 


xviii TABLE OF CONTENTS. 


ragn 
in the World of the Powers...........00...- 283 
VIII. The World of the Powers as in itself Necessarily 
a World of Doubt...........0c00 corcosces 206 


CHAPTER IX. 


Postulates in the Notion of the External World.. 299 
Psychological Analysis of the Postulates of Com- 
mon Life. Beliefs in Relation to the Will.... 305 
The Postulates of Science Defined. The Religious 
Use of the Postulates. Transition toa Higher 
Point of View......c0.scccccccsscscvccscee a24 


< 38s 


sophical Idealism...........0.ceeceeeeeeees 333 
Il. Idealism as an Hypothesis founded on Postulates. 
A Modification of the Berkeleyan Hypothesis 


III. Explanation and J ustification of this Hypothesis, 
aa Simple and Fair. Subordination of the Pos- 
tulate of Causation to other Postulates. Criti- 
cism of the Notion of “Possible Experience”.. 354 
IV. Difficulty as to the Nature of Error, and Traasi- 
tion to Absolute Idealism. Religious Conse- 


quences anticipated.......2+..scccccuccccece 370 
CHAPTER XI. 

Tue PossrBiniry OF ERROR .......2..ccecccece socee 384 

I. Sketch of the History of the Investigation...... 386 


IL The Doctrine of the Total Relativity of Truth 
Od Exror...cccccccccvcccccvcccccsesesesce GU 


TABLE OF CONTENTS. xix 


mee 
III. The Problem of the Nature of Error stated..... 396 


IV. Psychological Aspect of the Problem........... 408 
V. The Problem in Case of Errors about one’s Fel- 
low-Beings .. 2... cece cece eee eeeees 406 
VI. The Problem in Case of Errors about Matters of 
Exxperiemoe. 2... ccc ccc cece cc cee cee eaes 417 Y 
VII. Sammary and Solution of the Problem......... 20 
VILL. Answer to the Objection that views Error as . 
barely Possible... cc ccc cc ecw wenn £36 
IX. Absolute Idealism as the Result of the Chapter.. 431 
CHAPTER AIL 
Tae Reywigrre INSIGHT... cee ce eens 436 


I. General Survey and Religious Aspect of Philo- 
sophival Idealism as stated in the previous Chap- 


II. The Doctrine of the Absolute Thought as Perfect 441 
—~HII. The Problem of Evil. oo... 6c. ccc cee cece nes 449 
IV. The World of the Postulates and the External 

World omee more. .... ccc cc cnes weenesccees 460 

V. The Conception of Moral Progress. ............ 464 
VI. Practical Bearings of the Doctrine. ............ 468 
EPULOQUE 2. cc cee ccc cee s cece sece cece ceccccceces 405 


> —, . “4, 


. . 
o¢ | 


CHAPTER I. 


INTRODUCTION 3 RELIGION AS A MORAL CODR AND 
AS A THEORY. 
Auch benweill' ich, dass dia glaubest, 
Waa av rechter Glaube heist, 
Glaubet wohl nicht an Gott den Vater, 
An dea Sohn und heil'gen Geile 
Hewe. 

INTENDING in the following pages to aketch cortain 
philosophic opinions that seem to him to have a 
religious bearing, the author must begin by atating 
what he understanda to be the nature of religion, 
and how he conceives philosophy to be related to 
religion, 

Wo speak conmonly of religious feelings and of 
religious beliefs; but we tind difficulty in agreving 
about what makes either beliefs or feelings religious. 
A feeling is not religious merely because it is strong, 
nor yet beeause it is also morally valuable, nor yet 
because it is elevated, If the strength and the 
moral value of a feeling made it religious, patriot- 
ism would be religion. If elevation of feeling were 
-onough, all higher artistic emotion would be relige 
tous, Bat such views would seem to most persons 
very inadequat. As for belief. it is not religious 
merely because it is a belief in the supernatural. 


Not merely is superstition aa such very different from 
i 


3 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PRILOSOPRY. 


religion, but even a belief in God aa the higheat of 
beings need not be a religious belief. If La Place 
had needed what he called “ that hypothesis,” the 
Deity, when introduced into his celestial mechaniea, 
would have been but a mathematical symbol, or a 
formula like Taylor's theorem, — no true object of 
religious veneration. On the other hand, Spinosa’s 
impersonal Substance, or the Nirvana of the Bud. 
dhiata, or any one of many like notions, may have, 
vithor as doctrines about the world or as idvala of 
human conduct, immense religious value. Very 
much that we assoviate with religion is therefore 
non-essential to religion, Yet religion is something 
unique in human bebief and emotion, and must not 
be dissolved into any lower or more commonplace 
elements. What then is religion ? 


I. 


So much at all eventa seomsa sure about religion. 

; Tt has to do with action. It is imposible without 
| Some appearance of moral purpose, A totally im- 
moral religion may exist; but it is like a totally un- 
seaworthy ship at sea, or like a rotten bank, or like 
a wildcat mine. It deceives ita followers, It pre- 
tends to guide them into morality of some sort. If 
it ia blind or wicked, not its error makes it religious, 
but the faith of its followers in its worth. A relig- 
ion may teach the men of one tribe to torture and 
kill men of another tribe. But even auch a religion 
would pretend to teach right conduct. Religion, 
however, gives us more than a moral code. A moral 


INTRODUCTION. 8 


code alone, with its “ Thou shalt,” would be no more 
religious than ia the civil vode. A religion adds some- 
thing to the moral ovde. And what it adds is, first, 
enthusiasm. Somehow it makes the faithful regard | 
the moral law with devotion, reverence, love. By | 
history, by parable, by myth, by ceremony, by song, 
by whatever means you will, the religion gives to the 
mere code life and warmth. A religion not only 
commands the faithful, but gives them something 
that they are glad to live for, and if need be to die 
for 


But not yet have we mentioned the element of re- 
ligion that makes it espevially interesting to a stu- 
dent of theoretival philosophy. So far as we have 
gone, ethical philosophy would criticise the codes of 
various religions, while theoretical philosophy would 
have no part in the work. But, in fact, religion al- 
ways adds another element. Not only does religion 
teach devotion to a moral code, but the means that 
it uses to this end include a more or less complete 
theory of things. Religion saya not merely do and | 
feel, but also believe. A religion tella us about the | 
things that it declares to exist, and most especially it 
tells us about their relations to the moral code and 
to the religious feeling. There may be a religion 
without a supernatural, but there cannot be a relig- 
ion without a theoretical element, without a state- 
ment of some supposed matter of fact, as part of 
the religious doctrine. 

These three elements, then, go to constitute any 
religion. A religion must teach some moral code, 


must in some way inspire a strong feeling of devo- 


4 THR RELIGIOUS ABPROT OF PITILOSOPHY, 


tion to that code, and in ne coing must show some 
thing in the nature of things that answorn to the onde 
or that serves to reinforce the fooling, A religion 
In theroforn practical, emotional, and theorstioal ; it 
teaches un to do, to fool, and to bellave, and it teaches 
the bellof as a means to ite touching of the actlon 
and of the feeling. 


Il. 


Wo may now seo how philosophy is related to ree 
ligion. Philosophy is not direetly gonosrned with 
fooling, but both actlon and belief are dirant objects 

| of philosophical eritielam, And on the other hand, 
In so far as philosophy suggests ganoral rules for 
conduct, or discussion the theories about the world, 
philosophy must have a religious aspoot. Religion 
invites the aerutiny of philosophy, and philosophy 
may not neglest the problema of religion. Kant's 
fundamental problema: What do / know? and 
What ought 1 to do? are of religious interest no 
lows than of philosophic Intereunt, Thay ask hew 
the highest thonght of iman stands related to his 
highewt nende, and what in things answers to our 
hont ideals, Surely no one ought to fear mach quem 
tons, nor ought any philosophic student to henitate 
to siggent in anawer to thom whatever after die 
reflection he honestly can stiggent, poor and tenta- 
tive though it may be. In fact there in no defense 
for ono an ainoere thinker If, undertaking to pay at 
tention to philosophy as mich, he willfully or thenyght- 
lonsly negleota such probleme on the ground that he 
has no time for them. Surely ho has timo to bo not 


INTRODUCTION. 6 


merely a student of philosophy, but also a man, and 
these things are among the essentials of humanity, — 
which the non-philosophic treat in their way, and 
which philosophic students must treat in theirs. 

When, however, we say that the thinker must 
study and revere these questions, we must not fancy 
that because of their importance he may prejudge 
them. Assumptions, postulates, a priori demands, 
these indeed are in all thinking, and no thinker is 
without such. But prejudice, i. ¢. foregone conclu- 
sions in questionable matters, deliberate unwilling- 
ness to let the light shine upon our beliefs, all this 
is foreign to true thought. Thinking is for us just 
the clarifying of our minds, and because clearness is 
necessary to the unity of thought, necessary to lessen 
the strife of sects and the bitterness of doubt. neces- 
sary to save our minds from hopeless, everlasting 
wandering, therefore to resist the clarifying process, 
even while we undertake it, is to sin against what is 
best in us, and is also to sin against humanity. De 
liberately insincere, dishonest thinking is downright 
blasphemy. And eo, if we take any interest in these 
things, our duty is plain. Here are questions of tre. 
mendous importance to us and to the world. We 
are sluggards or cowards if, pretending to be philo- 
sophic students and genuine seekers of truth, we do 
not attempt to do something with these questions. 
We are worse than cowards if, attempting to con- 
sider them, we do so otherwise than reverently, fear 
lesaly, and honestly. 


6 THE RELAGH IB ABVKEE OF VHILASOVHY, 


LE 


The religions dhenghe of cnr tite baw remedied 
prowitierny Mies sveriane Mie naralety of wll mericnin think: 
evn, wed thee detects, cof timeny wher Mem fier meePiendH, 
W se saree tier, certabaceh with awhiiet wee Vecsapsneced Poco eneT 
tatbrecie s aye wieneh fev corporeal, Muecde Meneiime, ber prPerves 
what, thay Hucld Piawh wwitheneh povewsl, fer werrhe enh one 
dre wmbvsebicne Vey ener ewe effete. Mak we hanew 
Hert, yet whe Rewen coe conning Faith will take, Wea 
sates Heh, eck magerececel cevecne wbmrnid Alas Medel cof egraccuhicon 
Mhisat owes wheal grt ter ersvend yee whic wa begin wey 
wopcecities vechigeertam deegriny.  Wecnle mapped very ¥m- 
Pherhbee Ninditan coe saacgeectchn tr Finechen de tlie weeded nam having 
we wecligedentin vaden. Pha venrdedy oof ies mip geicmbianin 
mrhierave Alva aiange radetiacinns Ort White cgrtscerhderte Mish, grecergrlec breve 
be witd when tay table of veligienn. Ole man weeks 
fer wenshiigy Natnend Vaaw, ov wven Nats in gene 
weal. Arsertbuce fitwlin Messremssity te Vos bebe tebected ebijecect 
of vedigiins verscrntien. Ved auther pravely inate 
tbr, tia Cashes mde wtehiation Wie religion lenginge, 
er i de wentectbeitig ter bac pelnden in ecaprreaming 
agteccediern, cevion TF yen Kani give mH mnewer, We 
white cles wertevectbedenge 10 wee ornely fieed eel wheat i6 ha thes 
was crnegetel, fer wacecle. Ariel thee Perpeganinge ecerailecr biotin 
prineyy based yy om ne Abed any, devin If wdied Fellerwe wlureld 
howe whic y dermcthiccctive. Kerr wee bine tefedd ter give & 
Mectisdtiorn Uiind whinll sxgrrinn, set merely whik 
Borscbeb brick cre te Cetbecadicc ene te Cernatiod ene ate Mecgedinn 
wrens bry Vide vecligetene, Vek whink mil seeds severy where 
pvetehs Voy peclighon, § Dlwey all wast vuligion tor Metine 


INTRODUCTION. T 


for them their duty, to give them the heart to do it, 
and to point out to them auch things in the real 
world aa shall help them to be steadfast in their de- 
votion to duty. When people pray that they may 
be made happy, they still deaire to learn what they 
are to do in order to become happy. When aainta 
af any erved look up to their Gud as their only guod, 
they are seeking for guidance in the nght way. 
The savages of whom we hear 30 much nowadays 
have indeed low forma of religion, but these relig. 
jona of theirs atill require them to do something, and 
tell them why it is worth while to do this, and make 
them more or less enthusiastiv in doing it, Among 
ourselves, the poor and the lonely, the desolate and 
the afflicted, when they demand religious comfort, 
want something that shall tell them what to do with 
life, and how to take up once more the bunlens of 
their bruken existence. And the religious philose-| 
phera muat aubmit to the sane test that humanity: 
everywhere proposes to its religions, If ane triva 
to regulate our diet by his theories, he must have 
the one object, whatever his theory, since he wants 
to tell us what is healthful for us. If he tella ua to 
eat nothing but anow, that is his fault. The true 
object of the theory of diet remains the same. And 
go if men have expreased all sorts of one-aided, dis. 
heartening, inadequate views of religion, that does 
not make the object af religious theory less catholic, 
Jess comprehensive, less detinitely hnman. A man 
who propounds a religious system must have a moral 
code, an emotional life, and some theory of things te 
offer us. With lesa we cannot be content. He need 


8 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


not, indeed, know or pretend to know very much 
about our wonderful world, but he must know some- 
thing, and that something must be of definite value. 

To state the whole otherwise. Purely theoretic 
philosophy tries to find out what it can about the 
real world. When it makes this effort, it has to be 
perfectly indifferent to consequences. It may not 
shudder or murmur if it comes upon unspeakably 
dreadful truths. If it finds nothing in the world but 
evil, it must still accept the truth, and must calmly 
state it without praise and without condemnation. 
Theoretic philosophy knows no passion save the pas- 
sion for truth, has no fear save the fear of error, 
cherishes no hope save the hope of theoretic success, 
But religious philosophy has other objects in addi- 
tion to these. Religious philosophy is indeed neither 
the foe nor the mistress of theoretic philosophy. Re- 
ligious philosophy dare not be in opposition to the 
truths that theory may have established. But over 
and above these truths it seeks something else. It 
secks to know their value. It comes to the world 
with other interests, in addition to the purely theo- 
‘retic ones. It wants to know what in the world is 
j worthy of worship as the good. It seeks not merely 
|the truth, but the inspiring truth. It defines for it- 
self goodness, moral worth, and then it asks, What 
in this world ia worth anything ? Tts demands in 
this regard are boundless. It will be content only 
with the best it can find. Having formulated for 
itself its ideal of worth, it asks at the outset: Js 
there then, anywhere in the universe, any real thing 


of Infinite Worth? Té this cannot be found, then 


INTRODUCTION. 9 


and then only will religious philosophy be content: 


with lees. Then it will still ask: What in this world 
te worth most? It cannot make realities, but it is 
determined to judge them. It cannot be content 
with blind faith, and demands the actual truth as 
much as theoretic philosophy demands it; but relig- 
tous philosophy treats this truth only as the material 
for its ideal judgments. I¢ seeks the ideal among 
the realities. 

Upon each a quest ax this, we ask the reader to ao- 
company us in the following pages. We have not 
space to be exhaustive, nor in fact to offer much 
more than suggestions: but we want the suggestions 
wo be explicit. and we hope that they may stimulate 
wome reader, and may perhaps help him in complet- 
ing his own trains of thought. 


IV. 


People come to such questions as these with cer 
tain prejudices about the method and spirit of in- 
quiry : and all their work may be hampered by theee 
prejudices. Let ua say yet a little more of what we 
think as to thie matter. There are two extremes to 
fear in religious philosophy : indifference that arises 
from a dogmatic disposition to deny, and tunidity 
that arises from an excessive show of reverence for 
the objects of religious faith. Both of theee extreme 
monds have their defective methods in dealing with 
religious philosophy. The overckeptical man looka 
with impatience an all lengthy discussions of these 
topics. There can be nothing in it all, he says: 


10 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


nothing but what Hume, in an eloquent passage, 
called sophistry and delusion. Why spend time to 
puzzle over these insoluble mysteries? Hence his 
method is: swift work, clear statement of known 
difficulties, keen ridicule of hasty assumptions, and 
then a burning of the old deserted Moscow of the- 
ology, and a bewildering flight into the inaccessible 
wintry wastes, where no army of religious philoso- 
phers shall follow him. Now for our part we want 
to be as skeptical as anybody ; and we personally al- 
ways admire the freedom of motion that pure skepti- 
cism gives. Our trouble with it all, however, is that, 
after we have enjoyed the freedom and the frosty air 
of pure philosophic skepticism for a while, we find 
ourselves unexpectedly in the midst of philosophic 
truth that needs closer examination. The short and 
easy agnostic method is not enough. You must sup- 
plement skepticism by philosophy; and when you 
do so, you find yourself forced to accept, not indeed 
the old theology of your childhood, but something 
that satisfies, oddly enough, certain religious long- 
ings, that, as skeptic, you had carefully tried to for- 
get. Then you find yourself with what you may 
have to call a religious doctrine; and then you may 
have to state it as we are here going to do, not in an 
easy or fascinating way, such as the pure skeptic can 
so well follow, but at all events with someapproach to 
& serious and sustained effort to consider hard ques- 
tions from many sides. The skeptical method is not 
only a good, but also a necessary beginning of relig- 
‘ious philosophy. But we are bound to go deeper 
, than mere superficial agnosticism. If, however, any 


INTRODUCTION, 1] 


reader is already aure that we cannot go deeper, and 
that modern popular agnoaticiam has exhausted all 
that ean be said on religious queationa, then we bid 
him an immediate and joyous farewell, If we had 
not something to say in thia book that seems to us 
both foreign to the popular modern agnostic range 
of divcuaaion, and deeper than the inaight of popular 
modern akepticiam, we should aay nothing, The un- 
dertaking of thia beok ia net to wrangle in the old 
way over the well-known ordinary debates of to-day, 
but te turn the flank of the common popular thought 
an thee topiva altogether, by guing back to a type 
of philosophic investigation, that is nowadaya fe 
miliar Indeed to a certain achool of apevialiata, but 
forgotten by the general public. In thia type of ine 
veatigation, we have furthermore something to offer 
that veoma to ua no mere repetition of the views of 
other thinkers, but an effort to make at leaat one lit 
tle atep in advance of the thoughta that the great 
maatera of philosophy have given te ua Yet we 
know indeed that the range of any useful indepen- 
dent thought in philosophy must be, in cave of any 
one individual, very narrow, 

The other mood and ita method remain, It ia the 
moal of excessive reverence, It waster capital let 
tera on all the pronouns and adjectives that have to 
do with the objects of religious faith; but it fears to 
do these abjecta the honor to get clear ideas about 
them. Now we reapect thia mood when it appeara in 
men who do well their life-work, who need their re 
ligious faith for their work, and who do not feel any 
calling as truth-seckers, No man hae any business 


12 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOROPHY, 


to net up hie vocation as the higheut one; and the 
man for whom truth io useful in bis actual life-work 
ae an inepiration, reveulad to him ouly in facling, bw 
welanme to hin faclings, ia worthy of all regard from 
thine whowe vountion in philonaphy, asad shall net bw 
tormented by our spacuietions, He iw oureful and 
troubled about many things; the world neds him, 
and philimephy dows not, We only lay clatn to our 
awn rights, aud do not want to interfera with his, 
Our right to clear thought, we must inelet pon, 
For looked at philosophically, aud apart fren the ned 
auuery initations of the hard worker, all thin dumb 
reverance, thin vague use of vague name, haw ite see 
vous dangers, You are reverent, we may way to the 
man who regards philosaphic eriticlun uae dangerous 
trifling with wtupendaus truths; you are reverent, 
ut what da you reverenes? Have « care low what 
you raverciin shall tara ont to be your own vague 
and confused notions, and not the real diving Truth 
at all, ‘Tule hed lewt your object of worship be only 
your own Mittle pet infinite, that io mublime to you 
maainaly beemuse it ie yours, and that isin truth abvnut 
ae diving wid infinite we your hat, Kur thie in the 
danger that beats thew: vague aad lofty sentimenta, 
Unretlectad upon, ancritielusd, dumbly experienced, 
dumlly dremded, thaws, your ralighous objects, nay 
fecones iere feelings, mera visceral sensations of 
yours, that you have on Sunday mornings, or when 
you pray, Of cures, if you are a worker, you 
mony actually realize thewe vague idews, in wc far ue 
they inepive you to work, If they de, they shall be 
judged by thely fruits, Otherwine, do not trum tao 


INTRODUCTION, 13 


confidently their religious value. You, individually 
regarded, are but a masa of thought and feeling. 
What is only yours and in you, is not divine at all. | 
Unless you lift it up into the light of thought and 
examine it often, how do you know into what your 
cherished religious ideal may not have rotted in the 
darkness of your emotions? Ounce in a while, there 
does come to a man some terrible revelation of him- 
wolf in a great sorrow. Then in the tumult of an- 
guish he looks for his religious faith to clothe his 
nakedness aguinst the tempest; and he finds per 
haps some moth-caten old garment that profits him 
nothing, so that his soul miserably perishes in the 
frost of doubt. Such a man has expected Ciod to 
come to his help in every time of need; but the 
only god he haa actually and conecioualy had, has 
been his own little contemptible, private notion and 
dim feeling of a god, which he haa never dared fairly 
to look at. Any reapectable wooden idol would have 
done him better service: for then a man could know 
where and what his idol is. Such ia only too apt 
to be the real state of the man who regards it as 
profanity to think clearly and sensibly on religious 
topics. 

We claim, then, the right to criticise ax fearlemly, 
as thoroughly, and as akeptically as may be, the 
foundations of conduct and faith, For what we crit- 
icise are, at the outect, our own notions, which we 
want to have conform to the truth, if ao be that there 
is any truth, Aa for doubt on religious questions, 
that is for a truth-ncoker not only a privilege but a 
duty ; and, as we shall experience all through this 


14 THE RELIGQIOUN AAPEOT OF PHILONOMIY, 


aticly, dowht has a ourlous and vory valuable place 
in philosophy. Philosophio truth, as such, comes to 
we first under the form of doubt: and wo never can 
be very near it in our search unless, for a longer or 
shorter time, wo have come to doapalr of it alte 
yithor, First, then, the dospalr of a thorough-golng 
doubt, and thon tho discovery that this doubt con- 
tains in ite bosom the trath that wo are sworn to 
discover, however wo can, — thin is the typical philo- 
sophic oxperioncs, May the momory of thin sugges 
tion support the failing pationcs of the kindly dis 
pone reader through some of the longer and more 
woarinnno atrotehos of dry akeptioal analysis ovor 
which wo must try to journoy togethor. Whatever 
may bo tho truth, it must lie boyond those desorts. 


BOOK I. 
THE SEARCH FOR A MORAL IDEAL 


CHAPTER I. 
THE GENERAL ETHICAL PROBLEM. 


“Certain spirita, by permission, ascended fram hell, and aaid to ma 
“You have written a great deal fram the Loni, write something ale 
froma us.” I replied, ‘What shall I write?’ They aaid, ‘Write that 
every spirit, whether he be goad or evil, is in his own delight, — the 
good in the delight of his guad, and the evil in the delight of dis evil’ 
TI asked them, ‘ What may vour delight be ?* They aaid that it waa the 
@elight of committing adultery, stealing, defrauding, and lying. . .. 
I said, ‘Thea you are like the unclean beasts.’ .. . They answered, 
“If we are, we are’? — Swrngnanorea, Divas Providence. 


“(There 's nothing, either good or bad, but thinking makes it “| 
Banlet. 


Wrrta which of the two cansiderations mentioned 
in our introduction shall a religious philosophy be- 
gin? Of its two chief considerations, the moral code, 
and the relation of this code to reality, which is the 
one that properly stands first in order? We have 
already indicated our opinion. The philosophy of | 
religion is distinguished from theoretio philosophy 
precisely by its relation to an ideal. If possible, 
therefore, it should early be clear as to what ideal 
it has. The ideal ought, if possible, to be studied 
first, since it is this ideal that is to give character to 
our whole quest among the realities. And so the 
first part of religious philosophy is properly the dis. 
oussion of ethical problems. 

| 


18 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


I. 

The theoretic philosopher might interpose just 
here, and insist that as one can be moral only in a 
real world, the philosopher has a theoretical right 
and duty to point out, first of all, wherein consists 
the reality of the world and whereon is based our 
_ assurance of this reality. Yet this strictly logical 
order we must decline, in the present discussion, to 
follow. Our interest is, first of all, with the ideal 
in its relation to human life. So much of the world 
lof commonplace reality as we have to assume in any 
and every discussion of the ideal, we accept in this 
first book wholly without theoretical question. For 
such questions, in their relation to religious philoso- 
phy, the proper placo will come later. But at the 
outset we will suppose a moral agent in the presence 
of this concrete world of human life in which we all 
believe ourselves to exist. Beyond the bright circle 
of these commonplace human relations, all shall for 
the present remain dark to this moral agent. Lis 
origin, his destiny, his whole relation to nature and 
to God, if there be a God, he shall not at the outset 
know. But he shall be conceived as knowing that 
he is alive in the midst of a multitude of living fel- 
lows. With them he is to have and to define and 
to develop certain moral relations. For his life, or 
for human life in general, he is to form his ideal. 
Then later, after forming and striving to realize this 
ideal of his, he is to come to the real physical world, 
and to ask of it how it stands related to these, his 
moral needs. In the answer to this question he is 


THE GENERAL ETHICAL PROBLEM. 19 


to find, if at all, the completion of his religious phi- 
losophy. When he comes to this seoand stage, which 
our second book is to treat, he may find himself 
obliged to analyze afresh and akeptically the adive 
theoretio notions that he has possessed cancerning na- 
ture, and 30 even concerning his own fellow-men. But 
for his analysis itself he will have a fresher courage, 
because he will have filled himself with the love af 
an ideal, whose realization he will be hoping same- 
how to find all through all the tedious wanderings 
of his theoretic atudy. If the order of his whole 
thoaght is thus not the order af the truth itself, still 
his little inconsequence in beginning his religious 
philosophy with assumptions that he proves only 
after he has yone some distance in his investigation, 
may be a useful concession both to his own human 
weakness and to the needs of his practical nature. 

With the search for the ideal, then, we begin, ex- 
preesly assuming, in this part of the first boak, with- 
out proof, as much of the world of daily hfe as may 
be necessary to a study af the moral law in its ap- 
plication to this daily life. Yet, with this explana- 
tion, we are anly at the beginning of the troubles 
that arise in examining the relation between the 
basis of ethics and the real world. These troubles 
form a great part af the obscurity of moral doo- 
trine. 


II. 


In treating of ethical doctrine, it is common to 
avoid by all sorts of devives the main and most diff 
oult problem of all. Men like to fill half a volume 


$0 HH NALAGHOIN. ASPET OF PHILONOFHY, 

with « deseriplion of die “sored sentiments,” oF 
with a patie y 026 of thes“ snernad principle in tied,” ov 
in theas days capeoialy, with « pront deal of tabhe 
hwo mnvagen AtT aber the ¢ evelidion of the meri 
were.” bhaving enenpied se many pagew in enter: 
taining digeemiona, when they seme, if they ever do 
denis, te thie contend problen, Hanely, tie HatHte of 
weed dietinetiona senaidesed purely aw aneh, meh 
writen bueves tty tire te dey snertes dan to append te 
this center meetin orf weaddeen, and shen ter pane ott bo 
dertemerprienecen: Tt aeclilenn cwecnien ter thet that © Ae. 
mer ipsticins ert thes * reread Paectiltiem ” tn thie Hien OF te 
Ghriat, ent se belatety oof snverpnl weed ievenenernnd nertiertin and 
prraestneec sem they faeves ceri tipy mney tren iM tte 
enlace et eovesdeetienn, fe tev teres 4 neta philemephy,” 
He thes preerper merae,; Heat ta 4 demription of thie celtic 
ayes ert of this prewliete of any senmtey oF uf the world 
wy tee cnplenation et ths Aifferenun letweet Geri: 
Meet mlveney atid inadlyoney. 

Wes tere enter slendl es etiligedd, Mevwervern, toy entee 
Baevedheced eepvieeies, tev sedine feoetvovitde wt the Hewet of the 
prresbieren oot ie pbeilermenp hited ettiis. What ta the road 
tedstres eof tlede Vetienecdiente vetoes ey anil weeng 7 
Wht torethy ta there tn thle Atetinetion 7 te tia 
ditethe relatives ter pmetierbay celibate, ov indlepnend 
ent theveet ! What ileal of lite remlte’ ‘Phews 
thitege wo wart fey kerry s ated we dey sek wae te 
aperreel evvem tieetes treeroe: ODeseey aves wheel be ebdigedd ter Ay 
de deveslecw aed, Meaverdgrtterive ert Alias reverted ebattece of tiie 
dre tvaet, eerste, AND tevectetanl aetrtiece teeroy drtepeed, tm connly 
Pet wey Faew som aes Pivet, meee what beypiecnd fewriip Mey 
reiey hieves tpt one problen: We shall have to da 


WHE GEXERAL EVWICAL FPROSLEM. A | 


gexube a peed dizal, bat that work will have only ks 
yretper saberdeaie place. 

ites uattere heme t. cerselves by comsademay forth. 
with samme axpects of an oid and often meriacted 
questiiem, aasnely, the wery questaom before referred 
tem albontt the proper relation of ome's manral ideal to 
tie reality that le may have recogmined. 

We are t form a moral sdeal apart, as we Inve 
saad, feemn amy theers of the physacal emiverse out- 
wie of mem. Bat is ths practxable? Is mot every 
anevall theery dependent m trath om a theory of 
this? Is at possible for es to make for oarselwes 
qur ideal, sad only afterwards to so to the real world 
and to see if our Sdeal as realaed? Nust mot rather 
eur ndleal bbe fosmded. wa the very matere ef the anne, 
e@n wint we know, or think we know. about the 
werd? Is met them this whole endertalag of enmrs 
a blender? Is a rathomal moral dsminectoom possable 
sawe throeagh a knowledce of the facts about the 
world? Cam the ideal say to the world: ~ I demand 
tihast them shombdst be like sme?” Must mot the deal 
watther buanbliy say: ~ Thess and thes it i& im troth, 
and therefore I am what I am?” 

Thee watare of moral tdeak and detimetiien & 
Ppainiy imvelwed jast bere. We most Joak cleelr 
ait thee qeestioms: for to answer them aright & to 
amswer thhe fumdamental questiems of all ethical ph 


Te understand them nore justi: the mature of this 
dfiiralitx, bet ws comader mare dhasely the twe poss- 
ble amaeers to the foreroiar qe. Let ws off 


99 TH HKLIGIOUN ANPKGT OF PHILGNOPHY, 


ain whe faninte in aplte of all upon galing to the 
veel wesrlel, tar (aed there {11 mene way the sole tente 
for file foal Uatinetionn between good and evil, an 
ethieal venling. Lach a on the other listed call hdin 
why wertslel wertteliow clenecntimtartes [fhe canteled mente 
Halevssd som tees Govvees corse cotaly tnerreal Velond, without tn any 
wines snncslalengg Mt clesqnestred caqrurte golaymbenl renbity, a ancoreel 
Nelestalint, — Paest tam teste Pests tees tooves qoraetden cldmesemm, dt 
hele cpgrnling ways, thie quemtion ab lenis, feeb 08 
Deester tlesle viewwn liededly mtedeel ened corggieed, lent the 
vew of the extreme ethienl renlintns “Clo to vende 
ity, | tlesy may, * corned tar wlirshervers reality yore trestsel tas 
eonmider, Then derive your notion of duty, Mas 
rality mnt tot te dalle do the ade, dnt on a nell 
foundation of uataral faet Your moral doctelie 
anaey Laseves tao cesgresasel tagorrte call tia yore crane Mee cnt 
Alnrit the ianivernes.” = On the other hand we have 
the felontintdes doctrines " Marality,” may tlie stipes 
porter of thin view, “dn for the Meat ai ideal, ire 
weseal ity corner Nestasvam tilees eresleatdernon tat ares ter bees reel geal 
Hoy Alves Sefessel, Voeat cvvsnnnncat Voy canny meseereclebange (Manel thee 
delestal ftweslf, — Wreatey vesteddtiy cotnes cane Vesteran toes trveseetio 4 
flac Maecl cof rachderte Am cate Peles, Iinleqesnclent of all rent: 
Htay mtevies tees Voeueres com otesnacces of crue chistes of thin Madd, 
A Weesnnvestbeessim chested Zrestees, mer tees arsenal cartamedatin: 
anes contended sannel tantamebs clesfy Adve Feoresesin cof tatatnates Loy cstanes 
dbicsy sestdes lies Vletl ferrevese nageslonm, TF thie youl 
Vves aenvcatdeatoacaboles, tlarat vnvesbecse It tnee Lem tlie geod. Uf 
Ubaes es dmtesent, eweordel wvesres thie werent werrlel dingelanbile, 
Hts wvertalel aneats hoes jeasstd tered Loy ties tnnesres Fraceh liek Tt wen 
dibaes estad wereld, — Vehestade aentieat, bres srestaddnesel fin mee Fear tam 
we att renting thet, bit what ean he rondined sect 


THE GENERAL ETHICAL PROBLEM. 38 


not therefore turn out to be the ideal. The judg. | 
ments: This is, and, This is good, are once for all 
different; and they have to be reached by widely dif- 
ferent methods of investigation.” — Such are the two 
opposing views. We cannot yet repeat in detail the 
arguments for each, but we can suggest a few of 
them. 

“ See,” says the supporter of the first view, * how 
abeurd it is to evolve moral theories out of one’s 
inner consciousness. What happens to such theories? 
Either nature favors them, and then they survive in 
the struggle for life, or they are unequal to the tasks 
of the real world, and then their supporters gu mad, 
or die. But in the first case they are merely such 
theories as could have been much better reached by 
@ process, not of guessing at truth, but of study- 
ing nature's laws. In the second case, the result is 
enough for common sense people. The moral theory 
that is destined to die out for want of supporters can 
hardly triumph over more useful opinions. If we 
want a moral theory, we must therefore consider what 
kind of action, what rule of life, wins in the battle 
of existence, and tends most to outlive its rivals. 
That rule is the ane destined to become universal.” 

The maintainers of the second view are ready with 
their anawer. *“ What sort of morality is this?” they 
aay. ‘Is this the morality of the martyrs? Is this 
an ideal that can satiafy ua? The preservation of 
traly valuable life may indeed be an end in iteelf, 
and therefore an action that tends, on the whole, to 
destroy rather than to save such life may be bad from 
any point of view; but the moral thinker is not, on 


é 


% THK RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


that aceount, bound to choose a axle that will make 
ite believers survive, The believers are not all whe 
are affected by olimlionss to the code, ail it may be 
the belisver'n place to be sacrificnl, either beesuse 
hin life in worth lows than hin idenl, or becuse the 
anbellevers may sotnchow be bettered through his 
death. And, in general, what would be the conse: 
quenes of the conmstent following out of the prin- 
giple that the true youl is conformity to reulity 7 
Amine that, for instances, a nan in society is to rege 
tilate his setlonw solely aecording to the demands 
that sndety ans ronal power inaken upon him, in view 
of brim gobs inn thre mencial organo, and that morality 
thus exprosmen sitnply the requirements that the in 
dividual must moet if he in to romain « sucsonsful 
inember of this social orgeninn, Then, to got your 
moral cnle, you ave to examines the facts of sensed 
life. You are to see, for example, what each man 
miniet nowadays do if he in te be tolerable to his 
fellows, Yen will find something of thin sorts 16 
will net do for him to kill his fellows, or to steal 
frerits thiestes, coe enpestily ter lrmlt then, Ft will bee tatt- 
preditable fer him to he enaught in chenting then, oF 
in lying ta them, Tle will do well to help thein aa 
far ae hin ineane allow, and so to got & reputation 
for kind-heartednens and public spirit, an well ae for 
werlet integrity, Kor such, at lenat in our sonlaty, 
are noing of the requisite or tuneful kinds of adjust 
inenit to oir environment, On these in founded our 
trerral conte, if it in to be founded on reality alone, 
Hut these requirements ars net equally geod in 


all societies, Onew « power to kill vortain kinds of 


THE GEXERAL ETHICAL PRORLEM. B 


poople was a pecessary condition to happy soctal hfe. 
A reputtatamm for fearkessmess, for prowess. for mil- 
tary stall. for a certain kind of canning, for perfect 
wilimegmess to take your weaker enemy 5 property : 
all thos was a part of the mecessary adjastment to 
ene s euviromment. Was all this then for that soct- 
ey trae morality? If morality were the body of 
rakes goverming seocessial adjastment to the social 
eavirummmemt, then morality would be rekative te the 
eaviramment, wed would vary with it, So even now 
such wales wary with ome's soczal position. Mimi: 
ters of rehgioe are considered to be best adjusted to 
the emviromment if they are outwardly meek. save 
sive amd meraidess. A poet or artist is best adyastad 
mf ee iene a reputation for very ideal and umpersomal 
aims, amd Ihe can then even afford to heave bis debts 
weeyend : bat a basiness man most be very oancrete 
im bekavior, xeverely definite in bis dealings with bis 
fellows. And so runs the world away. Find wer 
plore. and farm it cleverly. for that 1s the whok 
daty of man. 

“Sach would be say our adealists, “the come 
qmeeces of looking simply wo reality for a defnmmm 
af the mmoral onde. There woald no bomger be a dil- 
skal tm the art of ving is what sarcives Im ths 
weorkd = and if it is survival. or tendener to sorvival 
that distinewishes a trae from a false moral code. 
Ghee emiwersal chevermess as a moral code wonld om 
the whole tend to survive, with tts adherents.” 


96 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


But a realistic opponent is not thus silenced. 
“Such caricatures,” ho insists, “do not fairly repre- 
sent my doctrine.” Ho, too, has an ideal but it is 
wholly dependent on reality. What he means by 
conformity to reality as the foundation of a moral 
cole is properly expressed by the more thoughtful 
advocates of the doctrine of evolution. Adjust 
ment to one’s real surroundings is always,” they say, 
‘“one very important clement in morality. But 
there are higher and lower forma of adjustment. 
Cannibals, or conquerors, or bad politicians, may be 
sufficiontly adjusted to their environment to be mo- 
montarily successful; but true philanthropists and 
truly groat atatesmon are better than thoy, since the 
statesmen and philanthropists have a higher form of 
adjustment than have the others, and are thus higher 
in the scale of progress, Thoro is in tho world a 
constant evolution of higher out of lower forms of 
life. This applica also to society, And on this fact 
of evolution depends the true morality. The ideal 
morality is that form of adjustment of the social 
man to his environment towards which society in ite 
progrons forever tonds.” How then shall we define 
our moral code? =“ Why, ones more,” says the evo- 
lutionist, “by the facts. Do not make your code 
first and then judge the world. You will do well 
to accept the universe even if you did not make it. 
But examine tho world to soe in what way it is tend- 
ing. Then conform yourself to that tendency ; try 
to hasten tho realization of the coming ideal porfeo- 
tion. Progress does not depend on you, but you will 
do well to assist progress. So, by experience, we 


THE GEXERAL ETHICAL PROBLEM. 37 
are to find the direction in which soviety is moving, 
we are to discover the gual toward which this move- 
ment tends, and this object of life, once formulated, 
is to give us our moral code.” 

Again, however, the idealist objects. This, he 
admits, is a view higher, no doubt, than the preced- 
ing ; but is it a clear and cunsistent view? Will it 
bear criticium ?) In one respect, as appears to him, 
% fails badly. However certain and valuable the 
facts about evolution may be, the theory that founds 
morality wholly upon these facts of evolution is de- 
feetive, because it confuses the notion of evulution 
with the notiun of progress, the conception of growth 
im complexity and definiteness with the conception 
ef growth in moral worth. The two leas are not 
weceseanily identical. Yet their klentity is assumed 
im this theory. How does it follow that the state 
toward which a physical progress, namely, evulution, 
tends, must be the state that is to meet with moral 
approval? = This is net to be proved unless you have 
already done the very thing that the doctrine of evo- 
bation wishes tov teach you to do, that is, unless you 
have already formed a moral code, and that inde. 
pendently of what you know of the facts of natural 
evolutwn. Why is the last state in an evulution 
better than the former states? Surely not because 
4 w the last stage, surely not because it is physically 
more complex, more definite, or even more perma- 
went; but solely because it corresponds to some 
heal that we independently form. Why should my 
ideal necessarily correspond with reality? Why 
should what I approve turn out to be that which ex- 


28 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ists? And why, if any correspondence is to exist, 
should that particular bit of reality that comes at the 
end of a physical process called evolution be just 
the one bit that is to answer my ideal demands? It 
will be very satisfactory if such correspondence be- 
tween the real and the ideal is found to result; but 
how can I know beforehand that it must result ? 
Evolution and progress: what do the terms re- 
spectively mean ? Evolution, we learn, is an increase 
in the complexity, definiteness, individuality and 
organic connection of phenomena. But progress is 
‘any series of changes that meets with the constantly 
increasing approval of somebody. The growth of a 
tree or of a thistle is an evolution. The climbing of 
a hill for some purpose may throughout be a prog- 
ress. Evolution may or may not meet with the ap- 
proval of anybody; and a pessimist might fully 
accept some proposed law of evolution. But untless 
there is some approval from some source, we have 
no progress. How thoughtless then it is, our idealist ~ 
insists, to confound such different notions. But is 
a case of evolution ever a process of degeneration ? 
Certainly. You want to eat asparagus before it is 
full grown. Hence every moment of its evolution 
after a certain point is for you distinctly a degenera- 
tion. You want the potatoes in your cellar to keep 
fresh. If. they sprout, a process of evolution has be- 
gun, but every moment of it is for you the reverse 
of progress. The egg that begins to incubate is in 
full course of evolution; but what if it is wanted 
for market? Might not the evolution of the whole 
world conceivably be for the moral consciousness 


THR GENERAL ETHICAL PROBLEM. 39 


what such cases of evulution are for the purposes of 
ordinary life? 

“Bat,” the realist may say, “in fact the world 
does grow better. The course of evalution is an the 
whale a progress.” * Be it so,” the idealist answers, 
“but how can we know it? Only by first setting 
up our moral ideal, and then comparing the facts 
with this ideal, If we know what we mean by bet- 
ter, we can judge whether the world is growing 
better. But we may not pretend to determine what 
ts better by simply observing how the world grows, 
Growth and improvement are not identival ideas. 
Qne may grow while growing ever worse.” 

And thus a moral vade, acourding to our idealist, 
does not, as a code, depend on physical facts; tells 
us nothing of what does exist, but tells us solely 
what ought to exist. If the ideal either does exist, 
or some day will exist, so much the better; but 
through all the changes of fate the terrible ought 
remains, and judges fearlessly the world, whether it 
be good or whether it be evil. But here the realist, 
to whom the moral code that is not built on natural 
fact is just a dream, interposes what shall just here 
be his final objection. * Be it su.” he says, * judge 
after your heart's desire; but remember this, that 
some other idealist beside you will be judging the 
world in his own way, after what will seem to you 
the folly of his heart, and his judgment and yours 
will differ, as the dreams of any two dreamers must 
differ. Did Plato's ideal agree with Paul's? or did 
Byron judge the world after the same fashion as 
Wordsworth? Even ao in the present day the 


BO FH RELAIS ASHEAT OF FHILASOPHY, 

Menle wae Hele ware, aadawy ebpugles, mich He Ne 
WH wa peed He tadtiene wlunde of CDenien'e here 
fer cavey Hi in ede eboney enews fk vonity will 
movies tus cine whit Maw wines far all euch danda. 
Hi when yon fevanke Hus cond world you have nw 
bnwin fot, foe yee Mende bak individend caprice, 
mi every Mention will tw hie wn menace Of abl 
Advi vase, aNd soe eclovadiec pecmentnens wk head” 

Boa thik, Nery cana Aline Mew ita, nares 1 Oddy, IF ob 
gob, Voy thee Pansch of Aetan wrescececonm Joy cabal iabiig neh 
en ervien na elie be Independent of hie wn ceprien, 
Widderrel, Nacdoege pea blab tue. 

Wie bere fat te eooteal ing, Aemohed ce Higtyh avon 
pork af ie ld Naettlew cover wpm. Efe abel we 
Mawes between thew? Aline! ie Aecteinny te the 
Where babwer of teenie wo renwd Metoie. We beve 
neh yok amen Manqly ervrighe Tinley Hcle ppwoedtden. 
Hcy nnmy bots de onecwided. Pha tenth nemy die in 
fhe niles, HB ew yok, es faves any wigd for Ara: 
wine. “Eide ee tedeenee in Me eleiee of iMaende 
acare epee Att jn Heal evade | we eat 
wevabann ds bay Chase sabayeativnny Mand sae boenaded idend ja jnat 
wae whit: Kak bvew while wane Mie Keendly 
ninedial wd y 1 accree fey anys oP Melos in enech 
WA witch Med widely Vacecwae Fw Hh penhizedd.” 
Thi de tan neh Whe eying, | Might te rigtt.! 
AA Shottle ayes whirl sceopenas bay sae weg) ecanyedecderitntecnn 
Oe WDebw wide: 5 Reoe OF ade det peedeae pide, Oly wyatt 
al soporte HRT, IF Neda devel, wel ewbes wei: 
once HHA pring spt: And in Hite wiee Mery 
Wb be tie dari: Adetdeetdern aot ald between cide. wend 
weenie: “Phun: wean tin fied wy fee ody nae meriden: 


THE GENERAL ETHICAL PROBLEM. 31 
tal distinetion. This ideal or that is the highest be. 
cause somebody chances to choose it for his, or be- 
ease the physical work! chances to realize it. This 
B a perfectly empty distinction. 

Bat dificulmes must not discourage us so early in 
the day. The world has talked of these matters be 
fore. Let us turn to the history of some of the spee- 
lations about the heal. They may suggest some- 
thing to us. 


CHAM PIER TL 


FHE WAHFARE OF THE MORAL EDEALA, 


Siem, HER Fined thee BHesdy Covad itantf, 
BA toves wall Penrdac, waeed emeereibeles dietea Metad- 
tenrvoid, Muly rile 


Flaw aquiptta thine palace mbinsiden tie, 

‘Eve agrcdba we tetede Etre abeaetoeed beetle tie — 
Hees vesapsnrdy F pacednord oof trop denoaced trees: 

B bnsere veer anecdote mbes rtetinenieds WHE. 


Hyaeun, Manfred, 


We are yet without an ideal, aud aa we cone 
Henver ta cur task, ite diffiiailties inurenae, We have 
ehessiecribveced tabeaves thee venarkalile poomition in whieh 
avery tinal ideslist Nils linmelf, Ele says that 
his moral doctrine is ta he mere than a mere bit of 
nALEAL istry, Tle wants to ned out what ought 
tar bass, exvesta UF tliat waded cnagelit ter be do net, Yet when 
ne man sys ter his Phy ideal is thus dnt thy 
perennial siglo, thy private way of looking at 
things,” be dees nek want to nanent. Tle wante te 
replys ° My ideal in the trie one, Ne other rational 
Hilasial in qarsedbobec,”” — Yack ter der thai dae secesteas tar sneered 
eyeesadan weateves ecm ecrained cuaqaquvit Ine resadity, — Pfes tocsesnnin tes 
reseqisdnes serties wttbitdhy based spe Fate, Fle rntish 
peannerw lacie: fined fede dled da the world of truth, ex- 
pernial ter his cowie qredvate somedanioness, ble asst 


bes able to ony s "La, here bo the ideal! dle sunt 


THE WARFARE OF THE WORAL IDEALS. 33 


he able to show it to us. so that we shall see it to be 
more than his whim. But thus be is in danger of 
forsaking his idealism. His pusition so far has there- 
fore seemed to us an uncertain one. We have fels 
the furve of his needs: but we have not been able to 
see as yet just how they are to be satstied. The 
sscisfuction of them would in fact be a complete 
ethical doctrine. And the foundamon of suck a doc- 
trime is just what we here are seeking. 

Ik ts Mecumbent upon us yet further to show how 
the search for a moral ideal bas in the past been 
hindered by the weight of this doubé about the exaet 
relamon of the real and the weal. The controversy 
that the last chapter cunsidered Is a controversy end- 
lessly repeated in the blustery of moral doctrines. 
Bverywhere we find a moral ileal maintained by some 
devoted idealist as the one perfectly obvious aim for 
human Ife. Everywhere there stands over against 
this teal some eritie who says: - The choice of this 
am for bfe ts an aceident. I reject this boastful 
weal For where in reality is found the firm basis 
ef fact on which the ideal ts founded?” Then poe~ 
ably the ndealist. relaxing the rigor of his wlealism, 
poms out In the external world some real or myth- 
ial support fur his ideal And thereupon either his 
erties reject the creed about the external world thus 
effered tu them. or they deny the moral force ef the 
supposed realities. or. again, themselves assuuling an 
idealists attitude, they reproach the idealist with his 
unworthy desertion of bis own hivh faith, in that be 
has wreided to realistic demands and has founded 
the latkty OugAé on the paltry Js. And thus the com 

3 


84 THK RELIGIOUM ASPKOT OF THILOBOPHY, 


troversy continues, Often it meme to us that the 
wtrigcecles mnunt dns endlows, At all wvente wo must 
here look at some of ite plumes, 


[, 


In the days of the Sophists, Greok thought had 
retushienl ite flrnt promt orm of ethios) wkeptioinmn, Phbs 
whesprticinin wan directed ayitint the ideale of popular 
morality, “Thay ars not solf-ovident and necomary 
Felestalnn,”” sealed isa mtslowtecssens thes Moplinta, “Thay are 
conventions, They aro privates judgments.” The 
poplar ides ware of sour popularly defended 
sagcoatsamt mtsecly mmmescilton boy thes sanes cof thus rthonal sree 
Ligghsors, © Dba pects arneacdes threes Uintdnastionn,” ft be 
respond, Mis georde ares lols to enforces thom 5 there 
fore, fonr the gods,” 

Sccprtlednsn hacd two asinwesrn ter tiie clesfesnms. ‘The 
one answer was slinplss “ Who knows whether there 
nas any goide, or wheat thes gocle, If thoy oxiet, may 
Choos toda "The other auswor wae more subtle, 
Hoesessasames it sressnd Dy csxporeenemesed fan mleespotbessal gousines ao new 
form of moral idealinn, Tt in best promervedd to us 
fae su flases rvamnngces bee this meeond book of Plates Ree 
prrabobics, — VDesees thus yet nen, Clancon and Adel 
tistitim, confine (hat certain sophintie objections ta 
thes reslity of mort) distinetionn are deoply posallig to 
thressranes] vesm, —'Sbaasy samba oveersetasn tay limecsanm thoes enesetcase 
ion scatanes msscshy Psambotcons som tas vectnscoves tlaesmes cleotsbotn, 
They sii ig thes doubts in substances as followns 
Crs that thes pronde sores of irvenintidoles snsigehet, sossl 
that they are dinpomed to onforns some moral law, 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. $5 


still does that fact give any true distinction between 
good and evil as sach? For whoever urges us to do | 
night merely to get the favor of the gods. urges us 
in reality just to do what is prudent. Such doctrines 
make justice not desirable in itself, but desirable 
solely for what it brings in its train. And thus there 
would be no difference between good and evil as such, 
bat only between what brings reward and what 
brings punishment. ~ Therefore, O Socrates,” they 
in effect say, * do thou defend for us justice in itself, 
and show us what it is worth in itself, and how it is 
different from injustice. But pat us not off with 
stories about reward and punishment.” Such is a 
brief sammary of their two speeches. 

No better could either the need or the difficulty 
of the task of moral idealism be set forth than in 
these eloquent statements. How does Plato lay the 
ghosts that he has thus raised? How does he give 
an independent foundation to the ideal of justice ? 
He surely felt how hard a problem he was under 
taking. He has, im fact. attempted several answers 
to it. Bat the main answer. given in the Repub- 
he itself is insufficient, though noble. This answer 
is, in effect, that the properly balanced, fully and 
harmoniously developed soul, absorbed in the con- 
templation of eternal truth, cannot possibly desire 
Injustice ; that only the tyrannical soul. in which 
the desires have the upper hand, where nothing is 
secure, whose life is like the life of an Ul-governed 
or even anarchic community, tumultuous, wretched, 
helpless before passion. only such a soul can desire 
injustice. Injustice, then, means desire for discord, 


86 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PITILOSOPHY. 


it moans the victory of the desires over the reason, 
it in inconsintent with tho life of the soul that in 
given to blessed contemplation of the ctornal ideas. 
or such blend woul ite blessednens in, in the fine 
phim that Spinoze long afterwards created, not the 
roward of virtua, but virtue itself; so that such a 
soul will not do the right as a mouns by which it 
may procure the blessed contemplation of the eter- 
rsel, Jot, Instn onpeaged in this blessed vontempla- 
tion, it is theroby enabled to do right, 

But to the wicked soul of the unjust man Plato 
mamniigly his no inducement to offer in order to per. 
mule it to bescome just, save the oloquent statement 
of the pains that accompany injustios, the picture of 
the warfare of desires, the proof of the wretched in- 
atvbility snd of the possibly sternal miscry in which 
the tyrannion) soul must live, And thus Plato him- 
aelf would be inne far open to the objection that his 
Cnneon and Adeimanton had made to all previous 
mornintn, namely, that they never gave a reason 
Why justics in itself was to be chosen, but always 
mile justion desirable hy reason of the rewards that 
result from it. For Plato's view, as for that of less 
Jclewed ssorslints, thes unjust ins should sak to be 
come just beenise, until he doos become just, he will 
be wretched. Can no other basis for the virtie of 
Justion bw found sive this one? Tf none ean be 
fornansel meeves thin, thet whetesver sy mond oxinte thiaet 
profers the tumult of desire, with average success in 
injustios, to the solemn pone of the contemplation 
of ideal good apart from the stisfration of sensdats 
dosiron, for that soul Plato's argumont will be worth 


TRE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. 87 


less. Such a tyrannical man will delight to remain 
a tyrant, and that will be the end of life for him. 

The sugyestiveness, the deeper significance of this 
Platonic doctrine, we do not deny. But, as it stands, 
the doctrine is not complete nor consistent. For 
Plato himself has given us as the support for his 
ideal, a fact, or a supposed fact, of human nature, 
A moral skeptic will deal with it as Glaucen and 
Adeimantos had dealt with the popular morality. 
The supposed fact, they will say, may be doubted, 
Perhaps some tyrant will actually feel happier than 
some struggling and aspiring soul far higher up in 
the heavens. But, leaving that doubt aside, there is 
the other objection, The ideal jastice has come to 
be founded on a bare physical fact, namely, on the 
constitution of the soul which might, for all we can 
see, have been different. 

Important as he is in concrete ethical questions, 
Aristotle does nothing of importance to remove this 
fundamental difficulty, sinee his position as to this 
matter is too near to Plato's, Sali less do the Epi- 
cureans, for whom in fact. just this diftculty does not 
exist. Plainly they declare that they merely state 
physical facts. Generosity, fdelity to friends, and 
other idealistic activities they indeed regard as the 
part of the wise man, but the end of all is very 
frankly declared to be his selfish advantage. As 
Cicero expresses their views! Crm solitado. et 
vita sine amivis insidiarum et metus plena sit, ratio 
ipsa monet amicitias compara, quibus pars con 


1 De Fin, 1. 20, 68. Quoted in Zeller’s Madsos. d. Grieeken, Th 
& Absh. I. (Sd ed.) p. 460. 


~~ 


88 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


firmatur animus et a spe pariendarum voluptatum 
sejungi non potest.” 

The Stoics have a new thought to offer, one that 
would have been as revolutionary as Christianity it- 
self, if they could but have grasped and taught ite 
full meaning. But that was for them impossible. 
Their new thought, which gave foundation to their 
moral ideals, was the thought of the perfect equality 
of all men in the presence of the universal Reason, 
to which all alike ought to conform, Everyone, they 
said, ought to be rational; everyone ought to try to 
extend the empire of reason. If one’s neighbor is 

rational being, one can and must try to realize the 

ational in him almost as much as in one’s own self. 
{ence one’s duty to do good to men, This duty, to 
be sure, commonly did not for the Stoics extend to 
the point of very great practical self-sacrifice, But 
at any rate they gave a new foundation for justice. 
One works not only to conform one’s self to the 


. ideal, but also to realize the ideal here in this world 


in others as well as in himself. The ideal Reason 
can be realized in yonder man through my efforts, 
much as, through my acts, it can be realized in me. 
All men are in so far brothers, members of one fam. 
ily, children of one Father, and so all alike objects 
of moral effort for every one of their number! 


1 For a collection of the passages illustrative of this doctrine, 
seo the quotations in Zeller’s Philos. d. Criechen, Th. 8, Abth. IL 
p 285, agy. (Bd ed.). Marcus Aurelius is prominent in the Ifs¢. 
Epictetus is responsible for the deduction of human brotherhood . 
from the common fatherhood of God. Seneca has frequent expron 
sions of almilar thoughts. Yet for all that the wise man in to be 
independent and separate. In his respect for humanity, he is no¢ 
to lose himself. 


THE WARFARE OF THE NORAL IDEALS. 39 


IL. 

This thoaght was indeed a deep one. and if the 
Seotes gave but an imperfect practical realization of 
& to the world, they prepared thereby the way for 
the reception of the higher thought of Jesus, when 
that thought appeared. We may therefore more 
readily sugyest the skeptical criticism of the Stoical 
thoaght by first looking at the well known comple- 
tion of the notion of God's fatherhood in the doo- 
trime of Jesus. 

Jesas founded his morality in his theology, yet he 
did mot make moral distinctions dependent on the 
were fact of divine reward or vengeance. An act 
ts for him wrong, net becanse outside the kingdom 
of heaven there is weeping and gnashing of teeth ; 
rather should we say that because the act is opposed 
te the very nature of the relation of sonship to God, 
as Jesus conceives this relation, therefore the doers 
of sach acts cannot be in the kingdem of heaven, all 
Whose citizens are sons of dre Ning. And outside 
the kingdom there is darkness and weeping, simply 
because outside ts outside, Therefore. if Jesus gives 
ws a theological view of the nature af morality, he 
does not make morality dependent on the bare des- 
pote will af God, but en a peculiar and necessary 
relation between God and his creatures. So long 
as God is what be is and thev remain his crea- 
tares, so long must this relation continee, Jesus in 
fact. as we know, gives us a higher and universal 
form of the morally ef the prophets Ther had 
wad, Jahveh has saved his people, has chosen them 


dl) THE RELIGIOUS ASMROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


from all the earth, bias fed them with bia henunty, 
has trented them as hia well beloved vineyard, tas 
taken the nation as it were tao wife.  Adnul ae, if the 
people offend against the law of rightenianoss that 
in written in their hearts and known theongh the 
words of prophecy, they are guilty net alone of dan. 
gerois revolt againal irresistible might, bat alse of 
notnething far worse, namely, of the basest inpgrati- 
fide. Their sit is intend of incall the earth. She 
heathen forsake not their wretehodl peda, that are 
yeh no pols, and shall Esrael tern against the will 
of ite living, almighty lover? ‘The waste vine- 
yard, the anfaithful wife, there are the typos of the 
iniquity of the poople, Their sin ia a miserabte 
alate of utter corruption. Whit the very honate ale, 
to know the masters that food them, Isrel forgeta, 
whese master is not only the toker of all things, 
reat, rabies thee levine ayers of his ebemon tations. 

This annetion for morality, not the might we tmiueh 
as the fender lave of God, is hy Jess extended in 
ronge nnd doepened in tnenning.  Fvery man stands 
before Glad as belaved sen. UP tie wraendors, thes 
fther wold fain seed him as the shepherd wend 
best sheep: weld fain, like the prodigal's father, 
fall open bis neck and bisa hin, if he will batt re 
trons wertkel fate Food! sacl clothe bin with: the beasts 
evened tert ferrgeot Peters semi abl heise its And thes 
fathers orainoand senehine are far jrock oad oon 
just. Deeper and tenderer ia this thought thon the 
prophetio idea, hoes the relation is ne politiont 
one, hth a clase personal one. Po he cantons of ib 
Ines, aeeerding te Jess, bo wish ta live in second. 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. 41 


ance with it, so as to return to the Father love fur 
love. Hence, in knowing this relatun, one has the 
hivhest sanction for all good acts. The ulumate 
motive that Jesus gives to men for duing nght is 
therefore the wish two be in harmeny with Gud's 
Jove. So the Father in his holiness wills for each of 
ws, and so each san, cunseious of the love af the 
Fasher, also desires, as sovn as he is aware of the 
Fashber's will. One cannot know of this infinite love 
Without wishing to be in univn with it. = Even with- 
out knowing of the love, the very consciousness of 
the wretchedness of the lonely, separate life of selfish 
Wiekedness must lead one te want to forsake the 
hasks and find the Father, even if he should be bat 
the angry Father. Much more then if one has 
found the Father, has found him caring for the spar 
rows, and for the hiies, and for the least and the 
worst of his chikdren, must one, thus knowing the 
Father, desire to submit to him. One is lost in the 
ocean of divine love. Separate existence there is no 
mere. One is anxious to lose his life. to hate all 
seliish joys, to sell all that one has to be despised 
and rejected of all the world. if so be that thereby 
ome can cume into accunl with the universal life of 
Grads lore, in which everything of lesser worth dis- 
appears. 

Daty to one’s neighbor is but a corullarv to all 
this. In the first place one’s neighbor is ne longer 
a mere fact of experience. a rival, a helper. an 
enemy: but he is, instead of all this, a child of God. 
Every other aspect of his life is lost in this one. As 
child then he represents the Father. The highest 


42 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


messenger of God will say in God’s name at the last: 
Inasmuch as ye did it unto the least of these my 
brethren, ye did it unto me. And so each brother 
is the ambassador of God. When Job had spoken 
of his duty towards the lowly, he had given the sano- 
tion for it in the thought: Did not one fushion us f 
Jesus gives a higher sanction: Does not one Father 
love you all? In the presence of the Father the 
children are to lose their separateness. They are to 
feel the oneness of their life. There is no longer 
any rival or enemy, any master or slave, any debtor 
or creditor here, for all are in infinite debt to the 
Infinite One, and all in his sight brethren. 

The Stoics had conceived of a common Father. 
But they regarded him as an impersonal, all-pervad- 
ing Reason. The thought of Jesus gave to his idea 
of the fatherhood of God a warmth and life unknown 
to any previous thought. And in this warmth and 
life he intended the idea of Duty to grow. The -high- 
est principle of the doctrine is: Act as one receiv- 
ing and trying to return an Infinite Love. To 
thy neighbor act as it befits one so beloved to act 
towards his brother in love. And thus is Duty 
explained. 

For our present skeptical inquiries this doctrine of 
Jesus in its original form is no longer enough. For 
one thing, Jesus himself did not intend it asa philos- 
_ophy, but always expresses it as an insight. And in 
our time this insight is clouded by many doubts that 
cannot be lightly brushed away. This idea of God 
aan Father, — it is exactly the idea that our philos- 


ophy finds most difficulty, nowadays, in establishing, 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. 48 


For many im all the future history of our race this 
ndea will be harder to establish than will be the 
moral doctrine that was deduced by Jesus from it. 
For many who with steadfast faith accept the doc 
trine of God's fatherhood. their ultimate reasun will 
rather be that, first accepting the morality of Jesus, 
they find it most natural to accept therewith what 
they understand tv be his theology. His moral doc’ 
trine will be to them the insight, the theology will 
be taken on trust. Many others will accept indeed 
the morality. bat be unable to accept the theology. 
In ethical faith they will be Christians. in theology 
Agnosties. <And therefore. to the philosephic sta- 
dent, who must prove all things. and hold fast only 
what he finds sure, it is impossible tu take the the 
ology of Jesus on simple faith, and not profitable to 
postpone the discussion of the moral problems until 
he first shall have established a theology. Morality 
is for us the starting-point of our inquiry. Theol 
ogy comes later, if at all. And. as we shall presently 
see, the theology. if aceepted, would not satisfy all 
the questions of the ethical inquirer. 

Yet if the doctrine of Jesus does not belong 
among the purely idealistic theories of duty, since it 
gives duty the fact of (vod’s fatherhood as its foun- 
dation. it has one aspect that would make the revapit- 
ulation of it necessary even in the course of a study 
of parely ideal ethies. For. while this doctrine 
founds duty ultmately on the consetousness that 
God is a Father, and so on a belief in a physical or 
metaphysical truth, still the immediate ground of 
the idea of duty to one’s neivhber is the conseiouy 


44 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ness in each man that his neighbor is his brother. 
In the teachings of Jesus this latter insight follows 
from the sense of common sonship that Jesus wants 
to give to men. But, apart from the theology, the be- 
lief in the brotherhood of men, in case it can be made 
clear and definite, may have just the relation to the 
idea of duty that Jesus, in his theological ethics, 
wished the idea of the common sonship to have. 

But it is our present purpose to see how doubt 
follows the track of the moral idealists. And to 
carry out even here this purpose, it is very important 
to note that however much the morality of Jesus 
seems to rest upon his theology, and did, for him, rest 
upon that theology, for us that basis would be of it- 
self insufficient, even if we could unhesitatingly ac- 
cept the theology. For the skeptical question might 
arise in the inquiries of the philosopher, to whom all 
questions are allowed, Why is it evident that one 
ought to return the Father’s love? Granting the 
fact of this love, how does it establish the ideal ? 
And this question, easy as seems the answer of it 
to a believer, is just the question that the “ almost 
persuaded ” of all times have been disposed to ask. 
Any particular individual may believe in the theol- 
ogy of Jesus, and yet fail to feel the force of the 
moral doctrine. Why does this love constrain me ? 
he may say. In fact the church has always found 
it necessary to construct for itself a process, or even 
a series of processes, through which the unbeliever 
must go, in order to reach the point of development 
where he could begin to feel the constraining force 
of the divine love. It has been recognized as a fact 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. 45 


that the unregenerate could believe and even trem- 
ble and yet remain unregenerate. The saving faith 
was sven to be not identical with the mere belief in 
God as Father. For the saving faith, divine grace’ 
was necessary, adding to the unregenerate recogni- 
tion of the bare truth the devotion af the loving 
child of God. And therefore the churvh has never 
been content with the doctrine af Jesus in its unde- 
veloped simplicity. 

But if all this is so, then for us the morality of 
Jesus, considered as morality, is founded, not an the 
thealogical theary alone, but also on a peculiar insight 
that each man is to have into the duty of returning 
the divine love. That the divine love is real. gives a 
basis for all duty in case and only in case one first 
_ sees that it is one's duty to return the divine love. 
And wherein is this insight as such any clearer than 
the direct insight into the duty of leving one's neigh- 
bor? Ifa man leves not his brother whom he has 
seen, how shall he love God wham he has not seen ? 
Is not the duty of gratitude first evident, if at all, in 
man's relations tu his fellows? Is not love given first 
as a duty to ane’s companions, and only secondarily 
as a duty to God. and then only in case one believes 
in God? In other words, are we not here, as in the 
diseussion with the realist at the outset, led to the 
tiew that not a physical doctrine, ner vet even the 
sublimest metaphysical doctrine, as such, but only an 
ethical doctrine, can be at the hase of a system af 
ethies? The dovtrine that God loves us is a foun- 
dation for duty only by virtue of the recognition of 


ene yet more fundamental moral principle, the doo- 


46 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


tring that unearned love ought to be gratefully re- 
turned, And for this principle thoology as such 
gives no foundation, But on the other hand, upon 
what should the ideal principle itaelf be founded 7 
Why is unearned love to be gratefully returned? Is 
this pringiple founded ones more on some doctrine 
of the constitution of human nature? The same ob- 
jection would again appoar, A physioal fact is no 
ideal, So, thon, this inwight Is just an insight, the 
macoptancey of sn ideal wholly for its own sake? But 
then returns the old objection, What is such an 
unfounded idea but the individual caprias of some. 
body? Last the faithful be nevor so dogoted ; still 
there are the unroygenorats, who are somehow to be 
convinced of a truth that thay do not recognize, And 
how are they convinond, if at all? Not by showing 
them the facts, which they have alrouly known with- | 
out conviction; but by arousing In them a now feol- 
ing, namely, gratitude, Thus the Christian ideal 
wnonin to have for ite sole theorstionl foundation the 
physica! fret that man often fools gratitude. [tin true 
that no one can necise Joss of oxpronly giving this 
or any other theorstien) foundation to his doctrine. 
Ho ww necosmarily wholly frow from the theoratioal 
nin its hin dealings with the poople. But for un now 
the point in the theorstienl point, Tf the foundation 
of Christian ethios as popularly understood be not 
thes plrysicsl fact of the Mathers love, then in it not 
just the physien! fret of the Frequent oxintancs of 
ersecitaacles 2 Acsvel im csitduee of tienes se mitinfiuactory fous 
dation for an othicn! theory as much? Nay, if Chiine 
tian othion by the highest from the practions point of 


THE WARFARK OF THE MORAL IDEALS. 47 


view, xtill must we not dig much deeper to find the 
theoretical foundation on which this glorious atruo- 
ture reste? 


Til. 


We have been seeking to illustrate our funda- 
mental difficulty in ethics, — one that ix too fre 
quently concealed by rhetorical devices, The un- 
certainty here illustrated resulta from the ditticulty 
of giving any reason for the choice of a moral ideal. 
Single acta are judged by the ideal: but who shall 
fudge the judge himeelf? Seme one. aa Plato, or 
wme Stoic, or Jena, gives usa moral ideal. If we 
are of his followers, the personal intluence of the 
Master ia enough. Then wo aay: “1 take thia to be 
my guide,” and our moral doctrine ia founded. But 
if we are not of the faithful. then we aak for proof, 
The doctrine saya: “ Behald the perfect Life, or the 
eternal Ideas, or the oourne of Nature, or the will af 
Gad. or the love of the Father. To look on those 
realities in to understand our ideal, Hf you remem. 
ber those trutha, vou will hesitate not to do aa we 
vay.” But atill the doubter may be unwilling to 
wubanit. He may say to Plato: “ The tyrant is easy 
w find who will laugh at you when you talk of the 
peace of philosophic contemplation, who will inaixt 
that his life of conflict and of danger ia fuller and 
eweeter in ite lurid contragta and in ite contasion af 
wenauous bling, than are all your pale, atupid jor of 
blank contemplation. And if the tyrant asaya an, 
who aball decide againat him? Haas not many a 
man turned with eagerness from the dull life of the 


48 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


thinker, once for a while endured, to the richer joys 
and sorrows of the man of the world? Have not 
such men actually held the pleasures of life, however 
dearly bought, to be better than the superhuman 
calm of your philosophic ideal?” Even #0 to the 
Stwic, the objector may say: “ Grranted that your 
eternal Reason does pervade all things and is our 
common Father, why should that cause me, who am 
one of his creatures, to do otherwise than I like? 
Who can escape from his presence? Even if I live 
irrationally, am I not still part of the Universal 
Reason? The bare fact that there is an Eternal 
Wisdom does not make clear to me that I must 
needs be very wise. My destiny may be the destiny 
of a being made solely to enjoy himself.” And, to 
the Christian doctrine, the skeptic may oppose the 
objection that if the truth does not at once spiritu- 
ally convert all who know it, the proof is still lacking 
that the Christian Ideal actually appeals to all pos- 
sible natures. “If I feel not the love of God,” the 
objector will say, “ how prove to me that I ought to 
feel it?” Or, as human nature so often questions: 
“Why must I be loving and unselfish ? ” 

Now, the simple, practical way of dealing with all 
such objectors is to anathematize them at once. Of 
course, from the point of view of any assumed ideal, 
the anathema may be well founded. “ If you do not 
as I command,” 80 says any moral ideal, “JT con- 
demn you as an evil-doer.” “ Ie that believeth not 
shall be damned.” But anathemas are not argu- 
ments. To resort to them is to give up theoretic 
ethics. We who are considering, not whom we shall 


TRE WARFARE OF TRE MORAL IDEALS. 49 


practically condemn, but what we can say in favor 

of any moral theory, must be unwilling to be put off 

with mere oratorical persuasion, or to mistake prac. 
tical adhesion for theoretical conviction, We want! 
a code that shall seem not only admirable, but, if ao | 
it may be, demonstrable. 

Such objections, then, blocking the path of our 
iWealist, what is he to do with them? Is there any 
direction in which he van successfully seek a foun- 
dation for his ideals ? 

We have, indeed, much seeking yet to do ere we 
ean find the right direction. For, in the next place, 
we shall have to show how just such objections as 
we have applied to other ethical doctrines will apply 
to all those doctrines that put the basis of morals in 
the often-used mass of instincts called Consvience. 
Canseience undoubtedly expresses the results of civ- 
ihad ancestry and training. It no doubt must al- 
Ways prove an indispensable aid in making practical 
moral decisions ; but if it be used to give a theo- 
retical basis to ethiva, one can say of it what has 
been already aaid of other realities. Its universal 
and uniform presence among men can be doubted, 
and its value where it is present can be called in 
question whenever it is employed to give a basis for 
ethica; since as a mere physical fact of the constitu- 
tion of human nature, consvience is not vet an ideal, 
nor an obvious foundation for an ideal. Both of 
these objections have been frequently urged. Let 
us venture to repeat the old story. 

4 


: 
| 


60 THR RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


iV, 


fistinets in general aro useful, not becuse they 
are infallible, imuch lows beesiune they are rational 
(for they are neither), but beanie they work qulskly 
atl sre lew capricious than are our lows habitual 
dinipitlaen, aid we, inn commun life, ave our stilatitutes 
for ronson, Put, in theory, no set is good merely 
Peenine the lnvtinet called sonselencs approves of 
its not doen conselonss in any man always hinting 
tively approve of yum sete, Therefore connelense 
In, for thes prspene of founding an ethical theory, as 
tinclews aa if it were a inere flotion, It gives no 
foundation for moral dintinetlons, 

To he sure, wo must be anderstond aa referring 
here net to the moral conselousnens of man in ite 
highest rational manifostations s for that thera in a 
ratlonal sid wollfoumled mearal oonmedousnenms we 
ourselves desire ta show, ‘The connlenees that we 
criticise Ia conmdence naan inetine When people 
meng CDvsat wer sageel ser do tdes ehgelet, Voevesasames thes lanstenlinte 
declaration of consdences shows it to be the eight, 
thresy geecsnecrally resect tliat ser neal neo de deh beesessatine 
Hh feeds elyit. «Anil when teralists found thele eth 
dessul cleseebodsves cane cennsurbecrioees, they are fa rent danger 
of making thelr whales ayrpend tr tere feeling, Put 
sich mere feeling eon only give te problenias 1b cnt 
suerts werk ves prrcababesens, "Ter iMiamtatatos boy ee teerteabsles crams 
Whitt Vhatler, in analyaliy thes lata of connnedeneses, 
itt hin Dlosertation of the Nature of Virties,”” eonnen 
tageenty tDeee Frncct Abosat, Vrectsesvesecnneres, eve thes effort ts bite 
eronne thie general hieaprpl ices, Is, fore ene exrettion perp 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. §1 


ular conscience, only a part of virtue, not in any sort 
the whole of it, he really discovers nothing poaitive 
about the nature of virtue, but only gives us a very 
interesting problem about the nature of virtue. If 
benevolence were the sole basis of virtue, then, says 
Batler, for our cooscience treachery and violence 
would be “no otherwise vicious than as foreseen 
likely to produce an overbalance of misery to society.” 
Therefore, he continues, ‘if in any case a man could 
procure to himself as great advantage by an act of 
_ Injustice as the whole foreseen inconvenience likely to 
be brought upon others by it would amount to, such 
a piece of injustice would not be faulty or vicious at 
al.” Even so, it would not be wrong, he points 
out, to take A's property away and give it to B, if 
B's happiness i in getting it overbalanced A’s incon- 
venience and vexation in losing it. But since con- 
science disapproves of such actions, therefore, con- 
tinves Butler, “the fact appears to be that we are 
constituted so as to condemn falsehood, unprovoked 
Violence, injustice, and to approve of benevolence to 
some preferably to others, abstracted from all con- 
sideration, which conduct is likely to produce an 
overbalance of happiness or misery.” Were God's 
“moral character merely that of benevolence, yet 
ours is not so.” <All this now shows how full of 
problems our uncriticised conscience is. It is the 
starting-point, not the guide, of moral controversies. 
Conscience approves benevolence, and it also ap- 
proves the repression of benevolence in cases where 
Justice, distributive or retributive, seems to the pop- 
ular mind to be opposed to benevolence. And when 


62 THE RELAGININ ANPRAT Of PHILAKOPHY, 


rniees seecresatiant, them to wes racses jrsmtdens inn all ite forrne 
tar Voernvesoeodeceneses, thoes sesatrcend ccortmecderteces tn lmmatiofiont, 
Hote ibvaticrs 16 sgrprrerven, trot benstrine roteibnution may 
adisensatesdy ineecressumes Vesagrprinsermm, bret boensmcenes verted ioes. 
there mececotom eon tar it. Arnel if thee timterrnd commen 
is oagciadan sagrpressalecel ter, sorrel in tate bawt leverage tor seclinit 
thrdat bvestvesverdestacses im, af tere soll, vermlly thes briggh mat enue, 
anil gritinhenett cnly 0 ment, then thin sgrpoul ta 
Minply % netting of cemmeioncs agains itelf, ‘Ihe 
perilar cmimiences in, an att inwtinet, enews for all 
confirm and aneortain abantt thes teres relations of 
jrstion satel banevelenee, Tb in timslenn tar make thie 
drvatinnet, tar cher whist, thes nsatoresd comlitione that made 
it mesvesr grrecgempenl 11 tar cle, tented y, tar trimkees to mymtenn 
of trenin, A thitsheor Vike Urathee, with bile merit 
raeswn sored cMecgrty of inemigelet., checfesreles thes clade of com 
mechecrieces intily Ary stiabyncm which bering beonnes tr tm 
thst erie certimecienoe ine inyetesry, and thet ite tamer. 
thertum sabvertet sald thees cDevecgresat, ectbrteesal cgrecstbertion Veesesertrin 
inner toehen ce certfiined) na acnrte nm we cremmcgttomtione It, 
Ate tnvetituct ta, tie whieret, Vikeos anny ether habit, Yon 
crite Peat, dormer we farniline Might of wtaten ner lenge M0 
gion thes tier think orbit yere feet, wre dering, — Mecfleet 
tageens gerne ericeninng, saneed tere ehiserceen tas erties yore wheal 
stsrenbde:,  Kiveere mer certemesiepiees tm se perfectly conficlent 
 ginices sum Nerney sa gerne soak it eer gobribersengebiicnl eqrtentiertin, 
The obijortiona here itn queation biege been we 
Preegrenthy virgeed that it in biaedly werrth while for 
becomes ov boey cvsary Peed threste Ferree tas dovedl cone them very 
Dertige, A tes eopeertagghy Serr this grresaesnet gree grermes tar ell 
whist, 010 thes arieersal sbeongetics Freee thes tines of thes 
Serphiinte hiaves dtamimterd taper, timmnely, that the oon 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. 53 


sehenees of various men, nations and races, are con- 
ficting in their judgments of acts. This objection, 
worthless when urged against a well-founded theory 
ef the moral consciousness, is fatal to any theory that 
make: morality dependent upon a particular emo- 
tional or intellectual “ constitution ” of human nature, 
that declares morality to be known by men through 
ene faculty or “sense of a peculiar character. If 
there are many conswiences, each claiming rank as 
the trae consience, and all contleting, then the 
choice among these can only be made an the ground 
ef something else than a conscience. 

The caprices of moral instinet are not exhausted 
when one has enumerated, as nowadays men often 
da, as many practives as ane can find approved 
er demanded by the conwiences of filthy savages. 
Among civilized men, ves, in our own hearts, each 
of us can find namberiess contheting and capricious 
etimates of actions, and it has only a psychological 
laterest to stady them in detail, or to try to reduce 
them to any semblance of principle. Such con 
ectemce as we have about commen matters is too eas- 
ly quieted : and, as a mere feeling, the conscience 
that can be called moral is not readily distinguish- 
able in this, or in any other respect. from a mere 
sense of propriety, from a reverence for castem, or 
from the fear of committing an offense against eti- 
qoeette. That certain blunders hurt us mere than 
oar lesser crimes, and that our remorse for them ts 
ike our remorse for venial immorality. only more 
Intense, is nowadays a matter of frequent remark. 
You ride using another man’s season-ticket, or you 


h4 THE HELIGIOUN ANPHIT OF PHILONOPHY, 


doll sa whites lie, cor myrtle ate titabedidl werd, ancl cents 
petdestsetes, VF te Vittdes tamed tar mndede Adidties, never witeen, 
Pak yous bow ty the weeigs tant le dhe atrest, oF you 
Hiaproniies word, oF you tip over a gland of wae 
dese, wudned Advesen yorts sapeovnednes eabocated erin avucaetecennend tags 
all day long, yer, from dine to tine for weeka, 
Mosely con dangoertlad acl daelependent judge da thie 
forling of what you ought to have dene Shall 
estdaden des Fertile cnr fectinig, wlitede taday in aed toe 
aeeew dn eth jester tae coven / 

Nhe tealiional anawer of the dvountes of cote 
pasdesrences, wleesty tlvemes Patter tres taegceel segctdtint then, dm 
well khiowi, ‘They aay, variota lene cligiiflert seestteal 
destuleneden anity ah Glinsess Dees tadetacbeens feet connsedestictes | 
Hrnt tlees sornd setae dn cond wel (eatwertdiy sebwitde: 
pti fll thew miatakes, Mame, of love of 
praise, of sone of proprdahy mny pan theninel ven off 
ae etvsnsesesdesegenes 5 Voeed, flees precencndese: — ccestenedensees, when 
you Nad iis iafalliite, Wut we may still rejein 
tated, UF Alves DUM esta tay des oF tides anvntances, tves evennassencqacesincces 
wits. bes very ante the anne an what we ane lisdat 
Ho spe, Far dh thes qiestion enn ative whether a 
pevesan Vanngecbenes Van ances, ovladecdy PE tanbecs dao Does cseanamecdesaneces, 
wee y dex tees verdes cof Alves Veofia DD Dsbes cunnisecdesne ce tert, 
Alaesn tld eqeaeseat dense cctgranieat. Voce alesesdedesl Voy eagopested tae 
evennaserdestaeces Mtawsl ly ednees thes very qorddenn tien dad 
CONF two fingralaes, Detde preeteteling tar repreneiit ai 
pietfespaanes, wlhaderly dee Obes prennsedanes cccotscresdesinees | Adil 
aqttescod Terticy cof tdndes sseaets aeesiats Lees tygopoestatesel fer sentiies 
Wve Dace: ta-DDonanesnd Aboesty tDoes ssernatdicct dangs inanpovedeaes testis 
peshvestn, VA wdNL sical, Does esroennagede tan togpoly cevesey A tothge: 
wines’ tiboliine test tar tlie wane longe Atqoeliem, and ta 


THE WARFARE OF TAK WORAL IDEALS 55 


say: This impulse is not of to-day nor of yestentay, 
amd ne man can tell whence it came, therefore it is 
the vaice af infallilde conscience. For, fine as that 
vaving is, when applied to a genuiue eternal truth, 
the test is not a sufficient ane for us in our weakness 
tw apply tv the impulses that we find in our poor 
selves. For we soon forget whence came our preju- 
dices and even our bad habits, and we can fancy that 
to be of immemorial antiquity which has becuu to 
be in our own parish, and within the memory of the 
old men. <A child bern in one of our far western 
settlements grows up amid a community that is a 
few vears alder than himself. and net as ald as his 
ehdest brother, Yet he shall lek upon all these 
nekety, wooden houses, and halfsgraded_ streets, full 
of rubbish, as the outcome af an immense past: he 
shal] hear of the setdlement af the town as he hears 
of ancient history, and he shall reverence the aldest 
deserted, weatherbeaten, rotting loecabin af the 
hace. with it< mud chimney crumbling to dust, quite 
aa much as a modern Athenian child may reverence 
the ruins of the Parthenon. A Gime when all thes 
things were not. shall be bevond his conception. 
Even ao, if moral truth be eternal, we vet dare net 
undertake to judge what it is by merely examining 
earselves ty ace what customs or tastes or maral 
Jedenrents feel to our preeent selves as if chev must 
have been eternal, Such absolute validity ane might 
possibly feel as belonging to his mother’s way of mak- 
ing plune-padding. Suow, to use a comparison of 
Aristadle’s, is as white after one dav as if: it had 
been lying untouched and unmelted for a thousand 


56 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPRY, 
years. And high judicial authority lately expressed 


the opinion, «@ propos of a change in standard time, 
that usage may alter itself in a day as well asin a 
contury, and be as authoritative in ono case as in the 
other. Nothing feels older than a well-cstablished 
custom, however recent it may be. 

Conscience then cannot be recognized as infallible 
morely through the tost of antiquity as judged by 
our feeling. Conscience furthermore, or emotions 
that pretend to the authority of conscionos, may be 
found counseling or approving contradictory ways 
of action. Therefore conscience is no sufficient 
moral guide. 

But even if all this were waived, if conscience 
were in actual agreement among all mon, and if 
there were no diffloulty in distinguishing tho voice 
of conscience from the voice of passion, or from 
other prejudices or sentiments, it would remain true 
that no ultimate theory of the difference between 
right and wrong could be founded on the assertions 
of any instinet. Why an individual should obey his 
consciences unless he wishes to do so, cannot be made 
elear by conscionce itself alone. Nor can the neocon 
sity and real truth of a distinetion be mado clear by 
the assertions of a faculty that, however dignified it 
may be, appears in the individual aaa porsonal omo- 
tion, a prejudice or choice, determined by an im- 
pulao inchim., von if other people actually havo 
this sane impulse, that does not make thoir common 
projudice necessary or rational, Conscionce, if nie 
voraal, would still be only a physical fact. If there 
are actually no differences among various consciences, 


THE WARFARE OF THE MORAL IDEALS. §7 


it is still impossible to see why there might not be. 
And the pussibility is as fatal to the authority of bare 
conscience as the reality would be. In conscience 
alone, without some higher rational test, there is no 
ground evident wherefore its decisions might not 
have been other than they are. But what the mor 
alist wants is such a distinction between night and 
wrong as does net depend upon any mere acellent of 
reality, eren upon the acoidental existence of a moral 
sense. He wants to find the eternal ethical truth. ' 
We insist then that one of the first questions of the | 
moralist must be, why conscience in any given case | 
is riykt. Or, to put the case otherwise, ethical doo- 
trine must tell us why, if the devil's consvience ap- 
proves of the devil’s acts, as it well may do, the 
devil’s conscience is nevertheless in the wrong. 

The discussion has, we imagine, after all, a practi- 
eal importance in a way not always sufficiently re- 
membered. In the name of conscience many crimes 
have been done. In the name of conscience men 
comlemn whatever tends towards true moral prog- 
tees, 90 long as this new element is opposed to popu- 
lar prejudice. In the name of consvience they kill 
the prophets, and stone every one that is sent unto 
them. In the name of conscience wars are waged, 
whole tribes are destroyed, whole peoples are op- 
pressed. If conscience is the great practical guide 
in common life, canscience is also, in many great 
erises, the enemy of the new light. I¢ is the sensi- 
tive and penetrating eye of the heart, but it is often 
blind before the coming day, even because it has 
been so useful to us in finding our way in the night. 


hs tHE HELIAIR ASPIRE Oe PHILAROPHY: 


He ertigehits tes tres te ccevtrererertnpliccces et trevtiede thet there 
sates cep taetty birrtem wy Teens fli teeertiel pecemertt ttittits eiet 
seieles thee reeermaed dreetineet, where the Kerver et the sight 
riceat, wileriects thes verities Of conrmedenices, ‘Phe enerpes date 
pepirtis weedy treertttonets: ates, thes treeepes Leese tel thes tte 
titheeen thet pserpler vet, mrecte tieeres sere sapyt ter intithee, tis 
rirbe tttmmsey 1h is thiel the eneepiliet abertild die 
tervece meetin eoiterieete whrepebry ter Moediles whee Imtinet 
tale. «Atel thin criterion caatinesh be Ctrnmntetis it 
welt, We ttest seek yet deeper. 


v. 


Cree epitieienn of conetdente ta tnly ander exec 
gibt ef thes treet bend beeferpes seprplied ter the eeitiedenn of 
thee vrecepatl teleats, Verte eevakee ae Aietitietierte brectoveeete 
rig Teh sareel weernige, verte pede ter thede Mimtateetieety the dig. 
tity of a principle, yee Medleee mpeedal rental jade 
erent Weeepet pera, Pheeh theete mertteey erie sales verte Pere 
erry ertitelations bere the pretneiple, beyernel yeti Crete 
bgrmiet, Verte thresocoregutete atseske fev probate sete rel ti reesetes 
eesmnerte Pere vertee Faith. Aneel ertee celtareettes benatrtt 

whl i6 ih beth sere Peet metoenal ter yertie “heres 
stnedl ber greeter tehesed jeelgerneets 2 Piet aeeehe deal wate 
tral Patta were jrist what gee wsttebeed bee severed, ¥en 
brand sree thee, srre ilesel everest, beecves erred y arte teledl Pevttte 
Antic. Atl recy yen aty thet the idenlly eigtet 
Chedrege Meeprereds cere Oded a nnattrene, ern thes teksten tf 
the vetrigepand Hemant. ce tne the naaeertienna of Corp 
atime,  Rary theres whiert gee will, brave gent erties 
whit, gtrrt Teeterled Pave geet ened evicheret thts 
necwmmiby of yenee ideal! FF, per darpnaailile, yee 


WHE WARFARE OF THE WORAL IDEALS. 359 


All Father chanced his mind, and came to hate bis 
children. or if, per impossziale, the Devil trramphed, 
ar the eternal Ideas melted away hke snow, ar the 
universal Reasva became insane or the Conscieness 
ef all men crew oorrapt, would that alter the ideal 
fer waa”? If the moral weal assumes its desired 
postion as jade of all thines, then what matters 
it te the ideal if evil is trmmphant in the world? 
“Fiend, I defy thee with a calm, fixed mind.” the 
ideahst will sav. after the manner af Shellev's Pro- 
methens, and that however much the mal world 
way threaten him. Therefore how oan the ds pre 
determine the Qugit to be? Bat if the Ought ta 
be be independent af the Ja how does discassion 
abot the power of God. or bis goodness, about the 
wniversality of conscience, ar its inner strencth as & 
foeling, affect cur Judement of the ideal distinchion 
between nicht and wrong ° 

Ths we are thrown hack and forth between the 
eenfiictine demands of crincism. ~ Give us a moral 
spstem that is no capmee of thine.” sav the emnes 
ef ome sort, That wems reasonable. Therefore we 
afiire, ~ This system of ours is founded on a rock of 
eternal trath.” namely. on God's will or on the intur 
Gea of universal consdenca, or on same ke faet of 
the world. But thereupon ather entices say to us: 
* Wherein do wou differ from those who sav that 
might is richt, or that soqess determines the ncht 
wr that whatever exists ancht to exist?) For after 
all you sav. something that is oncht te he. merely 
boomnse it is.” And always still other critics are 


60 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


present, to doubt whether we are right about God 
or conscience as physical facts. Such critics very 
plausibly say, “ Why found moral truth, which ought 
to be so secure and clear, on physical or metaphys- 
ical doctrines that are so often doubted and so hard 
to establish ?” 

Such is the general difficulty illustrated in the 
warfare of the moral ideals. They want some high- 
eat judge to decide among them. If they seck this 
judge in tho real world, they seem to endanger their 
idealism. If they seck their judge among them- 
selves, the warfare begins afresh. For what one of 
them can be tho sole judge, when they are all judges 
one of another? 


CHAPTER IV. 


ALTRUIGM AND RGOISM IN CERTAIN RECENT DIP 
CUBSIONB., 


Fat if the light thas ia in thee be darknem, how great la that dark- 
nem! 


Nort even yet have we exhausted the perplexities 
involved in this fundamental difficulty of moral 
theory. Some one may say: “ Let the ideals in 
general take care of themselves. We are concerned 
in this world with individual and convrvte duties. 
These at least are plain.” But these also involve 
questiens concerning the ideal. Let us see then how 
the aamw difficulty that has beset the more general 
moral doctrines, returns to plague us in case of the 
theoretical treatment of one of these plain duties. 
Our discussion will here gain in definiteness what it 
losea in generality. Let us choos a conerete moral 
question, namely, the problem of the true ground of 
the moral distinctions and other moral relations be- 
tween what people nowadays like to call altruiam 
and what they like to call eguiam. 

Upon what, then, if upon anything, is founded the 
moral prevept: Zhou shult love thy ncighbor as thy- 
sdf? Or ia there any foundation for it at all? To 
be quite familiar in discussing this problem, let us 
take it as it appeara in revent discussion. The 


62 THE BELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


answers of come recent moralists will illustrate for 
us afresh the great problem of ethics. We shall find 
two classes of efforts made to sulve the difficulty, On 
the one hand muralists appear whose tendency is 
mainly, although not always quite wholly realistic, 
They eay that, assuming the selfish aim as from the 
beginning self-evident, the unselfish aim soon appears 
as necessary concomitant and assistant of the self- 
ish aim, Such writers, from Hobbes to the present 
day, have insisted upon unselfishness as a more or 
less refined selfishness, the product of enlightenment, 
To this view one opposes very naturally the objec 
tion that real unselfishness is thus in fact rendered 
impossible, The moral ideal resulting is therefore, 
whether right or wrong in itself, at all events at wer 
with other well-known ideals. And hence the exple- 
nation satisties nobody, Qne still lacks a judge to 
end the warfare, 

On the other hand, however, more jdealistie mor- 
alists have tried ty make unselfishness dependent on 
some impulse, such as pity or sympathy, whose dic 
tates shall be perfectly definite and self-evident, and 
yet not, like the supposed dictates of conscience, 
either altract or mysterious. But to such a foun- 
dation one opposes very naturally again the objec- 
tion that all such judgments of feeling are caprly 
cious, that pity and sympathy are confused and 
deceitful feelings, wholly unfit to give moral insight, 
and that no ideal can be founded on the shifting sand 
of such realities. 

The results of euch criticisins will once more be 


skeptical, but the skepticisn on which we are here 


@ 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISN. 63 


insisting is so necessary a foundation for ethics, that 
we make no apology for dwelling upon it yet farther, 
devoting to the apecial problems anggested by these 
recent discusaions of selfishness and unselfishness a 
separate chapter. 


I. 


Ta a collection of Servian popular tales may be 
found one that runs somewhat as follows: Once there 
lived two brothers, of whom the elder was very in- 
cautious and wasteful, but always lucky, ao that in 
spite of himself he grew constantly richer, while the 
younger, although very industrious and careful, was 
invariably unfortunate, ao that at laat he lost every 
thing, and had to wander out into the wide world to 
beg. The poor wretch, after much suffering, resolved 
to go to no leas a person than Fate himself, and to 
inquire wherefore he had been thus tormented. Long 
and dreadful wildernesses were passed, and finally 
the wanderer reached the gloomy house, Now visit 
ors at Fate's dwelling dare not begin to speak when 
they come, but muat wait until Fate shall address 
them, and meanwhile must humbly do after Fate 
whatever he does, So the wanderer had to live in 
the house for several days, silent, and buaily imitat- 
ing Fate's behavior, He found that Fate lives not 
alwaya in the aame way, but on some days enjoys 
a golden bed, with a rich banquet and untold heaps 
of treasure acattered about: on some days again is 
surrounded with silver, and eats dainty but some. 
what plainer food; on some days has brazen and 
copper wealth only, with coarse food; and on some 


64 THR RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


days, penniless and ragged, sleeps on tho floor, digs 
the ground, and gnaws a crust. Hach night he is 
anked by @ supernatural voice: “How shall those 
live who have this day been born?” Fate always 
roplion: ‘Aw I havo fared this day, so may they 
fare.” 

This our beggar found the secret of his own mis 
fortunes ; for he had been born on a day of poverty. 
But when at last Fate broke the silence, the vinitor 
begged him to tell whether there could be any way 
whereby he might ossape from the consequences of 
his unlucky birth, “Twill tell thee,” aaid Fate. 
“Got thoo home again, and ask thy brother to let 
theo adopt his little daughter. For she was born on 
one of the golden days, Adopting her, thou shalt 
thenceforth all whatever thou receivest her own, 
But nover call anything thine, And so shalt thou 
be rich.” The beggar joyfully left Fate's dreary 
house, with ita wad round of days, and went back to 
the world of labor and hope. There, by following the 
wlvice that he had reesived, he became in fact very 
woulthy ; sineo all that he undertook prospered. But 
the wealth was hin adopted daughtor's, Kor always 
he called his gains hora, One day he grew however 
very woury of thin, and anid to himwelf: These flelds 
and flooka and houses and treasures are not really 
hers. Tn teuth P have earned them, They are mine.” 
No sooner had he spoken the fatal words than light- 
ning fell from heaven and began to burn his grain: 
flolds, and the floods rose to drown his flocks, Soe 
that torror-atricken the wreteh foll on his face and 
oried: “ Nay, nay, O Hato, I spoke no truth; they 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. 65 


are not mine, but hera, hers alone.” And thereupon 
flame and flood vanished, and the man dwelt thence- 
forth in peave and plenty. 


Il. 


The really deep thought that imperfectly expresses 
iteelf in this little Servian tale may suggest many 
sorts of reflections, Just new we shall busy our 
selves with anly one of the questions that are brought 
to mind by the stury. Many who nowadays have 
mauch to say about what they call altruism, actually 
explain all altruiam aaa kind af seltizh evasion of 
the consequences af cruder seltishnesa, so that at 
battem they really counsel men much as Fate coun 
seled the wanderer. They aay in effeot: «To make 
thyvelf happy, do vertain things called duties to thy 
neighbor. That we call altruism, Thou shalt have 
thy reward, For what is more useful to a man than 
aman? If therefore thou dost well to him, thou 
shalt make him in many ways of great servive to 
thee. And ao, to get happiness for thyself, see that 
thou be not openly merely a aveker of thy happi- 
nes: but call that which thou seekest his happiness, 
Calling it his will help te make it thine. Re aeltish 
by casting aside grosser selfishness, Live for the 
others as the means af living for thyself. ln co- 
operation ia safety. Act therefore as a good mem. 
ber of the cammunity, and thou shalt prosper. But 
wach action requires altruism. Aa the man gave his 
wealth to his adopted daughter, so that he might 


own it himself and outwit his destiny, so muat thou 
8 


66 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


make thy interests into the interests of society, and 
by so doing be true to thyself.” But now such al- 
truism, as one at once sees, has no right to parade 
itself as genuine altruism at all, and if it be the end 
of conduct, there is no moral conduct distinct from 
cleverness. But if this be true, it is at least incum- 
bent upon the moralist to explain why the popular 
ideal of unselfishness is thus so very far wrong. 

More or less disguised, the doctrine here generally 
stated appears in modern discussion since Hobbes. 
Let us follow it into some of its hiding- places, and 
to that end let us distinguish selfishness and unself- 
ishness as ideals or ends of conduct, from selfishness 
" and unselfishness as means, accidentally useful to 
get an end. 


ITI. 


Altruism is the name of a tendency. Of what 
tendency? Is it the result or the intent that makes 
a deed altruistic? Was our hero an altruist when 
he gave to his adopted daughter the name and the 
enjoyment of a possessor of wealth? Or would he 
have needed in addition to all this a particular dis- 
position of mind ere he could be called an altruist ? 

We need not dispute about mere names as such. 
Let everybody apply the name Altruism as he will ; 
but possibly we shall do well to recall to the reader’s 
mind what ought nowadays to be the merest com- 
monplace of ethics, namely, that we cannot regard 
any quality as moral or the reverse, in so far as the 
expression of it is an external accident, with which 


the man himself and his deliberate aim have nothing 


ALTRUISM AXD BGOISM. 67 


to do. Ethical judgments deal with purposes. On 
any theory of right and wrong the man himself, not 
the accident of fortune, determines the moral char 
acter of his act; and this view must be held equally 
whether one believes the man's will to be free or to 
be buand. Hence the unforeseen or unintended out- 
come, or any other accidental accompaniment of my 
act, does not make me egvistic or altruistic in case 
egoism and altruism are to be qualities that have 
any moral character at all. If my property is acci- 
dentally destroyed by fire, and if the loss causes great 
damage to my creditors or to people dependent on 
me, the loss makes me no less or more an altruist, 
although I can no longer do good as before. If my 
purely selfish plan chances to do others good, I am 
no less an eguist, although I have made my fellows 
happy. In short, he who means anything, and does 
what he can to realize his intention, must be judged 
according to his intent. Circumstances control the 
outcome, and they make of the chance discoverer of 
the first bit of gold in a California mill- race a 
greater altruist, to judge solely by consequences, 
than a hero would be who sacrificed himself in a good 
cause, and lost the battle. But no moral system 
could make genuine saintliness out of the deed of 
the man who by chance has found what the world 
needed. And to take one more example, the power 
die stets das Bise will. und stcts das Gute schafit, 
ts not altruistic in the moral sense, however vast its 
creations may become. 

All this we maintain, because, if you are morally 
eriticising a disposition, you must study what it 1s, 


68 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


not what are its accidental surroundings. Moral 
distinctions must apply to aims as such. Unless 
you are judging men exactly as you judge the north 
wind or the value of rain, not as consciously good or 
bad, but as mere forces that happen to produce such 
and such results under such and such conditions, 
you must study, not first the accidental circum- 
atances, but the men. And in fact all moralists, 
however much they may condemn the weighing of 
mere motives, however much they desire to take juat 
the consequences into account, as Bentham did, are 
nevertheless forved to separate in their moral judg- 
ments accidental from expected consequences. We 
maintain that this abstraction of a disposition from 
its accidental expressions must be rigidly carried 
out in order to get a moral doctrine of any sig: 
nificance. Let others study natural forces, We 
here are studying men, and are considering what 
ideal of a man we can form. Whatever the acci- 
dents of the outer world give him in the way of 
means, we want to know his real intent, and to judge 
that. But if the intont of the man does alone make 
him altruistic or the reverse, then what, for example, 
is the position, in othical controversy, of any system 
that declares altruism to be morally good because the 
individual needa the social order to aaniat him, and 
muat therefore in all prudence try to further the 80- 
cial ends as a means to the furthering of his own? 
Does such a system say anything whatever about 
altruism as such? Does it not make enlightened 
egoisgm the one rulo of life? And if this is what is 
meant, why not say so plainly? If the intent of the 


ALTRUISM AND HGOISM. 69 


act makes it altruistic or the reverse, then a man 
who helps his friend, or his neighbor, or society, and 
who is honest, and kind, and public-spirited solely be 
cause he wants to get protection and help in return, 
is no altruist, but is as eguistic as a Judas or as a 
Thomassen, He is only clearerheaded than they 
were, On the other hand, if by any possibility any 
one makes the good of others his sule end, and with 
this as end takes care of his own health, or devel- 
eps his mental powers, or amasses wealth, but all 
merely for the sake of being able to benefit others, 
then is such a man not eguietic, even while working 
for himeolf, but altruistic throughout For such a 
man by hypothesis aims, not at his own personal 
good, but solely at the good of others. 

All this is consequent upon the general doctrine 
that the distinction between altruiem and eguism, as 
moral qualities, must depend on no external acci- 
dent, but on the personal deed of the man himeelf, 
For, to make special mention of what many forget, 
the means that you take to get any end are for you 
merely physical accidents. If things were other 
wise, you would with the same intent do other things 
to get what you eck, Not what you have to do in 
getting your ends, but what you actually aimed at, is 
morally significant. Hence the altruian of conse 
quences as such is morally insignificant, and the al- 
truism of intent is alone morally signifeant. But 
yet this obvious and svomingly very commonplace 
distinction is, by the views that we are combating, 
wholly loat sight of in its further application to hu 
wan life We may hear in modern controversy, 


70 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


for instance, of a “conflict between altruiam and 
ezoinmn,” such as the one that Mr. Spencer discusses 
in hin * Data of Ethios,” and we may draw near to 
learn how the conflict gous, We shall possibly find 
the question put thus: If a man in trying to be 
altruintic wore so far to forget himaelf as to injure 
hin health, or to become so weak an to have no 
healthy children; if he were to be careless of his 
property, to let hia mind go untrained, or to narrow 
hin own life too much, why then his own objects 
would be defeated, ha would be unable to help any- 
body, he might do harm, and he could be no genuine 
altruint. Therefore altruinm must not oppone ego- 
inm too much, else altruinm will defeat itself. On 
the other hand, we hear, if egoinm in extravagant, it 
will in its turn fail to get its own groat ond, self-nat- 
infaction, For it in useful to one to have hin fellow. 
members in the social organism well-contented, eaffi- 
cient, and moral, One must try to make them so, 
that he himaelf may enjoy the frnita of their happl- 
nea, Ilo pays more taxon, and also higher prices 
for what he buys, if the community asa whole is 
not contented and happy, av well av healthy and 
moral Enlightened velflahnes therefore means for 
him publie spirit, His neighbor's diseases are apt 
to infoet hin own family ; henoe, if enlightened, he 
will do what he conveniently can to leap hia neigh. 
hor well, Hin neighbor's pence of mind tends to 
make hinown mind peaceful, henes he will help hin 
neighbor out of trouble, Otherwine he would have 
to live in anxiety, lonelinew, weakness, and danger, 


His life would be hard, and probably hin death would 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. Ti 


be early. So egoism must not be too extravagant. 
Altruism is ~ equally imperative.” Thus, perhaps, 
we should hear the so-called “ cunflict ~ discussed. 
If sach views were urged, what should we say about 
them ? We should have to say that they touch in 
Ro wise at all the true moral distinction and warfare 
between selfishness and altruism. They show only 
that, whatever the opposition in aim, the two princi 
ples have after all, in this world of limitation, to 
wse very much the same means. Surely it is no 
mew thing to learn that in warfare both parties have 
to burn the same quality of gunpowder, and that 
even the cats when they fight all have to scratch 
with claws that are very much alike. Do such re- 
marks explain or tend to diminish or to end the con- 
fiets in question ? 

How insignificant is this way of studying the con- 
fet of egoism and altruism, we shall see if we take 
yet other illustrations. In the sense of the fore- 
going comparison of egoism and altruism, even a 
pirate, in his treatment of merchant vessels, would 
have to be moderately altruistic ; namely, he had 
better not try to do harm to a merchant vessel that 
3s too well armed for his force to overcome it. On 
the contrary, his egoism will in this case counsel him 
unselfishly to let it prosper in its own way. Nay, 
he may even try to speed it on its course, if it ap- 

pears disposed to change roles and to attack him. 
He may say that in just this case he thinks that this 
merchantman ought to have peace, and to be pre- 
served from mjury. The other alternative would 
st here increase his own bill for repairs, or might 


73 THK RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


tnake hin own existence low happy, or might even 
being him to the gallows, The happiness of the 
arew of the merchantinan is therefore just now an 
object of concern for him, an porhaps furtherlag bis 
own. So he may be willing to compromise the dif. 
flotalty, evens Af fe whotdel cont bili to large sui to por 
mule the belligerent captain of the armed morchant- 
man to let him alone, Thus he might even add 
qiite a fortune to what the merchantinan'’s captain 
and orow alrewly have of good things, and this 
would surely be very marked altrulam. This ago 
jam and altrudan inay oppose each other, and this, 
by eareful calowlation, thelr opposing olalne may be 
balanced! Or yet ayadin, suppose that a robber 
tnewta ine dn the highway, and egolatioally dameands 
iny purse. Tf now PT should manage to dinnem him, 
to prosont a pistol to hin head, and to ask him to 
maompany mea to the nearast, town, avidently the 
latins of altrulan would for that man have # consld- 
arably stronger omplasds than they had the moment 
before, Ele would now be willing not merely to 
lives snl det Hive din pete for the presents he would 
not merely be delighted to recognive my rlghta of 
property and to leave ime free to enjoy them; but he 
woth undoubtedly be glad to inoronse my happlaens 
by giving me anything of value that he might have 
about him, or any information of value to me that I 
might desira, If by such mentns he could gat ine to 
lot hin yo free. A great altralat would my robber 
now be, however great hin egolain just before, 

Now do such discumdons of the elalins of egolam 
and altralen moan anything for the moralist? But 


ALYEUISN AND HOUSE. T3 


if samebediy tells ws off the slkorumm thet leeds a mom 
tr adiveuste yood dirsaimaze lest ihe ieomeliif amy hnawe 
a fiver. aff tthe alorumam thant pays ome s diedbes to the 
sulle end that ome may vet fmrthher eredit. aif the sabb- 
Time unselfisiimess: that make: a mam civil evem ta 
oe nivel, bermmse enwiltity im then days bt a sacl 
pequimennant, — wirst nawe lll these wemdhrems wortmes 
tie din im censtitoatin the mpowal wale: of slicrumam as 
a diypesitiiom. more thm irawe the wirtmes just ollbes 
trated? We have two diisposttmams im ms: ome order 
im mk te rexypect our meibbor as sn. i> kabor om 
ins elolif become he exists amd mands help: the 
ether damamdime that we regard him as a mmere im 
stromentt far our personal pleesmre. Only the dis- 
Pesiives: as sodh come the morsist. Surely m 
tee gam att. mot now we com vet cur ams so Jom att 
Ibsatt a we comme ourselves to the gemera] pretmzi- 
Plies. Appihad morality may have ommch to say off 
meen Bat off promerples. thos balsmrcime of mame 
ean tell us metho. 9 “The meas are the phewsaesl aa 
enfients. uation more. Wrst we want ti» Kom os 
Wihztiher even 2s am aim os morally the worthnest 
am. er Wikethber altrrumm @ a morally better amm 
Amé we ask mot wet bow. (7 ames aim & egnisin:. fe 
eum mest sorcessially be selfish. bet ole aietier 
em: s ameurit to be seit. ami in iow tor. To tell 
uss thet oi we are semble ami seltich we shall awond 
hantne tao moc tronbl: wrth var fellows. 0 met te tell 
Us thet @nmr ams omit fy be slerunsime. beet orl thet 
sensnble selfish) mem are mot foods To tell ms cht 
we ave wise and slirwet we shall avon! wasting 


14 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


our own powers profitlessly, and shall try to preserve 
our own health, and to cultivate our own wits in use- 
ful ways, all this is to tell us that unselfish wise men 
are not fanatics. It may be useful to say this, but 
it is not useful to the discussion of fundamental 
moral doctrines. We want to know, for the first, 
not how successfully to be altruistic, or selfish, but 
why the effort to be altruistic or to be selfish is mor. 
ally right or wrong. 


IV. 


If now such comparisons of the claims of altru- 
ism and egoism throw no light on the fundamental 
moral questions, what shall we say of the chance that 
the ‘ conflict” may be explained or diminished by 
any proof that the evolution of our race will tend in 
time to diminish, or even to extinguish, the opposi- 
tion? If some one shows us that by and by the most 
selfish being in the social order will find it his own 
bliss to give as much bliss as he can to everybody 
else, so that mon shall all be even as the people at a 
successful party, getting pleasure as freely as they 
give it, and giving it because they get it: and if 
such predictions seem to anybody to help us to know 
what duty is, then what can we say in reply, save to 
wonder at the insight that sees the connection be- 
tween all these facts and our present duty? If a 
society ever does grow up in which there are no 
moral conflicts, nothing but a tedious cooing of bliss 
from everybody, then in that society there will be 
no moral questions asked. But none the less we 


ask such. If the people of that day no longer dis- 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. 75 


tinguiah egoiam from altruiam, they may all be 
bleed : but what is that to un? We ask, What 
ought we todo? We learn in answer that the peo- 
ple of the future will feel no need to aak that ques 
tion. We desire that duty be defined. We lam 
in anawer that if men ever get perfect, the sense af 
obligation will vaniah, so that nobody will question: 
What ia duty? at all. Thia may be magnitivent, but 
it ia not ethics. 

For what do we really learn by hearing about the 
society of the future? Only that, in the time com- 
ing, there will be such and such freedom from moral 
problema? J)v we then also learn that we ought 
to do ovr best to bring about that reign of peace? 
Not at all, for we are sure that we ahall never live 
to ave that day ; and we cannot know why we should 
work for it so long aa we are still in doubt about the 
value of seltishnesa, Do we learn that we ought to 
conform aa nearly aa is possible to the rules that will 
govern men in that ideal state? But how then do 
we learn that? Ia it becawse the coming form of 
conduct will be the “ highest form of adjustment of 
ects to ends,” aa the modern apuatles of evolution 
teach that it will be” Nay, though we do acvept 
most confklently all that these apostles teach about 
the future, aince surely they must know about it, we 
still miss anything of moral signitivance in these 
physical facta. For why is this coming state the 
highest ? Dooa any one aay: Reese it will come 
at the end of the physical process of evolution? 
Nay then, if every more advanved state is to be more 


acceptable, by such reaavning the sprouting potato 


76 THE NRA ANPRAIT G8 PHILMOPHY, 


ve tbees Anessa eset frags exgege oversalel wnleseye nes rescore: mesertrte 
sabales tbrsave tlnes Prresmbe grevtintes coe tees Preble ogee, Si yheat, 
ne Jal, ot se meal complea, oF BYE fe minh ptt 
mvrridy esesntiert, bres Von tevestarndeege Vabestetdectel ithe Cees snr 
ally Nighent trek wes woes lectinreal fore tim, We enaghe 
tar werrke fee thes vesbistatierte oof that far-off tate, Hf at 
wal D, brace, Drese-sanacnes wos meecen Dt tan bres, aovet, sevesrerdy thoes Inet 
ben gotshank oof tlasnes, Vovet, salers seactasly tlees brent, soteed tint 
eve mcvaines crtbecses rectneeote tleaee tad goleymdecsd crt, — Bheb 
crnncees reserves Ubreste, whey ba it beset, 7 Anl why «night we 
far try tar eessbivg 1670 Mecaune in that auhe, eneny 
dnclinihual will he hajplent 2 Unit then wer west ta 
lavscow whist. oes tivow sores tas eben, sated oes meses thoak thedw 
Fratsvres Vovngogrbsncsorm will bres sale gorresmasnnt, Perm tam tenneetteadtes 
tuboles, UE wes wesees die test, mtsedecs over oobecotalel bes feagnpry, 
N50 96 dm taert, sot 00D golisien tesa, Voy tery deage tar sogogreestecsh 
bt, wes ombvialh tvero foes sensebe binge crtarmesd vecm tesny loeagepebeste 
Atul obey eobscrralel oes cles srrvytdebenge satsaestfinds 7 

Viverbatdene tleestn, tem te teesees porerageuct, tliecrwe te 
Digg dat, vvne Alves recinl caseel Pravebsaroneseetiond tvnestarsdonge orf cleaty, 
Vf wes Uesncow whist wes fares tar tory tar cle, Cheeses eves conte 
jo gces wlrectDease: ves cvragebets tan bees ye cote tan edenebese esyealie 
bicses sas te teeuatis tar biset esd, Dhak terbene es benerw 
ctor aahy ertbeecr orice, theecres foe secatbedonge die thoes tesestes 
gboyerdecsal Pret, cof ccvedsataneee tMesal Veet lecatese wv bests dn tests 
Uy biggies soe Veswese, bechtace one were, Why mbunald 
Fowesrh fer fatssres sagen, if it in tet wleetaly cqeaites 
grlesien, sagotarts Prerses tasny betecowlealyres oof ecverditden, Cet | 
cntigelit tar cles wheel, Fo ccate just tw for sy bererthor 
beerees 7 

After sll, Inerwerver, ih dee aeertducr aapned of evabe 
Hem spe which nowadays mont atrena in fell in 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. TT 


ethics. It is said that, the future aside, evolution 
has made us what we now are, and, in particular, has 
formed our society, and us for society. Hence not 
only is our welfare in fact best served by a wise al- 
truism, but this fact is plain to us in our very organ- 
ization and instincts. Therefore while throughout 
our aim is our happiness, our nature has been so or- 
ganized by generations of social evolution as to make 
pretty certain that our happiness is already depen- 
dent on our good character as social beings. There- 
fore the doctrine of evolution shows that selfishness 
must itself become even in our day altruistic if it 
would be successful. 

Is this aspect of evolution any more ethical than 
the other? That is, does it show us, not the means, 
bat the moral End? We must deny that it does. To 
be sure, if we never actually felt any conflict between 
egoism and altruism as dispositions, then indeed for 
us just that ethical problem would not exist. But 
we do feel a conflict. And since for us our selfish- 
ness 13 not altruistic in aim, it is quite useless to trv 
to make the warring impulses one by declaring that 
a perfectly enlightened selfishness, even in our own 
society, would be altruistic, not indeed in aim, but in 
consequences. For, in the first place, that would 
actually be a false statement for our present social 
condition ; since it is still quite possible for a clever 
selfish man to live very comfortably. by somehow 
legally wronging and oppressing others. And, in the 
second place, if the statement were true, it would be 
ethically worthless. For if good treatment of others 
is uniformly the behavior that is, selfishly viewed, the 


1% THE RELIGIOUS ASPET OF PHILOSOPHY, 


mort alvantageena, the man whe sete trpen thet prin 
ciples in still seltizh, sent alteration at all, ated he hae 
nen seven’ fore hitnzelt the conflict between the twe 
principles, save bry utterly disregarding the principle 
A altrniam. 1f altenisin wore the only gene, 
then altenizin ef itn wereld be yennlness still, what 
ever the selfish eomacqnences, If altrnisin needs to 
bes Tienitesd in any way bry selfiahnens, then the lmit- 
sabicrne sevcezt tall bees anisatterr of saben, rust of meeridlental 
reenlt. Altrnizin as s means te selfish onde wendld 
herweverr bes mr wir at all, bnet emily sn seccidental 
tend, FF cireninztances varied, i¢ world bus cust 
neida, while the selfish sim itech? revisited conimtent, 

J... Mill, follerwing ethers, tried to distingrish 
the meistine Ffeenn the intent of an set. Aceending to 
this distinction, © selfish set weld be altruistic by 
intent, Ht there was init the deliberate prurpeme te rake 
atrinebenly biagrtry, berwever selfish the metina of the 
sect, Ser it verniled bee slteniann ter be deliberately and 
neMebly jrnst. Viet this distinetiom, herwever naefeal 
frre series prurperes, in ferr ome perp werthlen, 
She qnestion ja: What in the set helenge te the 
rian, seh what is this port of the act worth? Now 
whiateverr belongs mest tar the nectere, bt ter the condi. 
tiema nner which he works, is tnerally insignifi- 
tant. Ker it is what we have called the physical 
serident of his snerenindings. Pat intent, apart 
fren mating, seeans ter be frat onch «physical seab 
Ment: ferr intent, apart frenn mudive, trust relate, tert 
ter the real mien se creh, bt omby ter the means, A 
prise sins ter bes colfiah, Bf rene he lives where his 
nelfinhnenn requires bit ty feed and clithe his enemy, 


ALTRUISM AND EFQOISM. 79 


ho will, if enlightened, do so, and deliberately too, 
And ho will show in the act just as much and just as 
little charity aa he would have shown had he lived 
where selfishness was best served by killing his 
enemy, and had he killed him. The intent, apart 
from the motive of the man, ean have reference anly 
to the means by which he seeks to get his ultimate 
aim. And such intent relates to accidental matters, 
If by a physical acvident the seltish man grows up 
where you must speak politely to your antagonist, 
and treat him with great show af respect, then the 
selfish man will deliberately, and with conscious in- 
tent, do so; and if he grows up where you challenge 
your antagonist to a duel, he will possibly try that 
way of getting rid af an enemy: and if he lives 
among the cannibals, the seltish man, no more or 
leas aeltish than in the other cases, anly by training 
more brutal in tastes, will torture and eat his antage 
onist, And if the doctrine af evalution shows that 
ene of these forms af “ adaptation © is mare eamplete 
than another, ar proves to us that we persanally shall 
be most prudent in adopting ane only of the possible 
courses, all thia can in ne wise tell us what aim in 
conduct is morally best, but only what means most 
exhaustively accomplish the seltish purposes af a 
civilized man. So intent is morally valuable anly 
ia connection with motive. 

It is hardly worth while to dwell lenger an the 
curious devices by which certain defenders af the 
application of the hypothesis af evalution ta ques 
tions of fundamental ethies have tried to establish 
that the truths of evulution teach us that we ought 


80 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


to do right. The whole undertaking resembles that 
of a man who should try to show us that the truth 
of tho law of gravitation clearly indicates that we 
all ought to sit down. What is evident or doubtful 
apart from the law of evolution, cannot, in this field, 
be proved or disproved by the law. Shall we say: 
“ Do good to thy neighbor to-day, because evolution 
tends to bring into existence a race of future beings 
who will do good?” To say this is to say something 
utterly irrelevant. What do we care about remote 
posterity, unless we already care about our neigh- 
bors as they are? Or shall we say: “ Do good to 
thy neighbor because evolution has made thee a 
social being, whose instincts lead thee to desire thy 
neighbor’s good?” To say this is to say what is 
only very imperfectly true. One’s instincts often 
lead him to take much selfish delight in thwarting 
his neighbor. If it were true universally and 
strictly, it would not show us why to do right, nor 
yet what is right. For it is not obviously a funda- 
mental ethical doctrine that we ought to follow an 
instinct as such, And if we follow an instinct be 
cause wo find it pleasing, our aim is still not to do 
any right save what pleases us personally. And the 
whole wisdom of the doctrine of evolution would be 
reduced to the assurance that we ought to do as we 
like, with due regard to prudence, Shall we then 
say: * Do good, because the social order that has 
evolved is too strong for thee, and will hurt thee 
unless thou subimittest to it?” Still one has the 
selfish motive infisted upon, and morality is still 


only prudence. And the doctrine will still have to 


ALTRUISM AND RGOISM. 81 


admit that whenever one can outwit society pru- 
dently, and can gain for himeclf his selfish aims by 
anti-social but for him in this case safe means, then 
and there the selfish man may do this anti-social 
thing if he likes, the doctrine, with all ita good mo- 
tives, being unable to show why not. For it will not 
do to resort to some such subterfuge as this, and to 
say: “A man’s advantage depends upon the pros 
perity of the whole. But anti-social acta ultimately 
tend to weaken society. Hence they ultimately tend 
to diminish the prosperity of the whole, and there- 
Sore tend to harm the selfish individual.” All this 
is irrelevant, in case the social consequences cannot 
return upon the seltish individual's head during his 
lifetime. The wasteful owners of great foresta in 
our western mountains, the great and oppressive 
capitalists that crush rivals and outwit the public, 
the successful speculators, the national leadera whoee 
possession of the biggest battalions enables them to 
demand of weaker neighbors unjust sacrifices, all 
these may listen in acorn to talk about their proaper- 
ity as dependent upon that of sovicty, their enemies 
and victima included. “ We eat the fruit.” they can 
say. “To be sure we consume it by eating, and we 
like to waste it so long as we ourselves profit by the 
waste, and we could neither cat it nor waste it if 
there were no fruit; but there is enough to last us 
and our children for our lifetimes. After us the 
eccial famine, but for others, not for us.” The now 
famous reply ascribed to one of our great railroad 
kings when, some time since, he was asked about the 


“accommodation of the public” by a certain train, 
¢ 


§2 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


well illustrates our point. “ Damn the public,” said 
the great servant and master of the traveling world. 
If he really did not say that, very likely there are 
those who would have meant it. And may the evo- 
lutionist condemn them solely on his own grounds? 
Or finally, shall the doctrine retreat behind an 
ancient maxim, and state itself thus: “ Evolution 
shows us what are the ultimate tendencies of acts; 
but no act onght to be committed which belongs to 
a class of acts whose general tendency is bad”? 
Would not this be a lamentable surrender of the 
whole position? Yet such a surrender is found in 
one or two passages of the book that is nowadays 
supposed best to represent the doctrine that we have 
been criticising in the foregoing, namely, in Mr. Spen- 
cer’s * Data of Ethics.” The physical facts of evo- 
lution are to give us our ideal. How? By telling 
us what in the long run, for the world at large, pro- 
duces happiness. But if my individual happiness in 
the concrete case is hindered by what happens to be 
known to help in the long run towards the produc- 
tion of general happiness, how shall the general rule 
be applicable to my case? Mr. Spencer replies, in 
effect, that the concrete consequences for individuals 
must not be judged, but only the general tendency 
of the act. Happiness is the ultimate end; but in 
practice the “ general conditions of happiness” must 
be the proximate end. But how is this clear? If I 
know in a given case what will make me happy, and 
if the means to my happiness are not the general 
ones at all, but, in this concrete case, something con- 
flicting therewith, why should I not do as I please? 


ALTRTISM AND POOESML 83 


Beosmse, Mr. Spencer says, the concrete cane must 
be tested by the pemeral law of Evolution. Bat ance 
more, why? The only answer is the prinaple, which 
Mr. Spemoer scemetimes tacitiy assumes, acmetimess 
wery gradmimerly acknowledges, sometimes seems to 
clame as his pecaliar property, namely, the well- 
known Kantian principle, that sothing should be 
deme anheok ane cold mot wish to eee dome waiccraally, 
er that the rude of the single act ought to be a rule 
edegted to serre as an universal rule for all ra- 
fomal deimger. Bat if this maxim is essential to the 
feumdatim of a mora] system. then how poor the 
pretense that the law of evolution gives os any 
fwandsnem for ethics at all The facts af evolution 
stumd there, mere dead realines, whally without 
walne as mmora]l guides. until the individual assumes 
kis owe moral principle. namely. bis ideal determi- 
mation to doe nothing that a person comsidering the 
ender of the world as a whole and desiring univerzal 
happmmess wenld condemn. from the point of New af 
the pemeral tendencies af acts. Grant that prine- 
wie. aed wou have an ideal aim for action. Then 
a kmowledce of the course of evalaman will be ase 
fel, Jost as a knowladce of astronomy is asefal to a 
navigator, Rot astronamy does not tel] ax why we 
gre to sail om the water. but only how to find oar way. 
With Kant’s principle assumed. we already have at- 
tamed, apart froen any phvsical doctrine of evolution, 
the esnemtizals of an ethical doctrime to start with: 
and we peed no doctrine of evolution to found this 
etineal doctrine. bot need it only to tell us the means 
Bast tf we have not already this Kantian prinaple, 


H4 THK RELIGIOUN AKPROT OF PITILOKOPHY. 


then It in hard Indeml to son what the doctrine of 
evelution oan do to help unto yet it Mr. Spencer 
momen to forget that a doctrine of Moans ly not a 
dowtring of Mads, 

In sum thon, either the fundamental moral dis 
tinatlons are clear apart from the physieal fact of 
evolution, or the physioal fact cannot iWlustrate for 
in the distinetions that wo de not provioudy knew, 
If there ina rend moral confliet botwoon ogolun and 
aliruiain, then this confflet must concern the aime of 
thane two dispositions, not the acollental outeome 
that we reach, nor the more or low variable means 
that we cmploy in following the dispositions, And 
any offort to reconcile the two tandences by showing 
that through evolution, or othorwlae, it has become 
necomry for nn altruistic aim to he reached by 
neotningly welfind menus, or for a selfish purpose to 
Ins rd by soomligly altrulatic devices, — any such 
Offort has ne signifiennen for othion, Ef the question 
wore: “Shall wo buy mutton or beef at the market 
to-day 7" It would surely bea strange answor to the 
qiontion, or “ reconciliation of the altornatives, if 
one replied, Bat whichever you do you must go 
over the same roul to pot to the market.” How 
then aro we helped by knowlag that, in our soolety, 
altacsslnna casael enggerdosana, threvees wer mea Vebtterly coprprcamesel 
tnornl adie, have very often to hide their aontliata 
wider a une of very much the same outward show of 
motal conformity. 

There In dindend no doubt that all) the knowledge 
wes snnsey gerd sabocrtals tdaey Fracsten cof coveodeatderny will bresdyo tam 
to Judge of the ineans by which wa oas ronliae the 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. 85 


moral ideals that we independently form. But the 
ideals themselves we apply to the course of evolution 
as tests of its worth, or hold as aims to be realized 
through knowledge of nature. We do not get them 
from studying the course of nature as a mere pro- 
eess. There is no doubt of the reality and of the 
vast importance of the physical fact of evolution. 
Its ethical importance, however, has been, we hold, 
misanderstvod. Evulution is for ethics a doctrine 
wot of ends, but of the means that we can use. In 
fact, there is an applied ethic of evolution, but no 
fendamental ethival doctrine based upon evolution. 
Those who investizate evolution are doing much to 
farther the realization of ethical ideals, but they 
eannot make or tind for us our ethical ideals. They 
show us where lies the path to an already desired 
goal. For them to try to define the gual merely by 
means of their physical discoveries, is a great mis- 
take. It can lead only te such labored efforts as we 
have here been criticising, efforts to prove sume 
seach opinivn as that altruism is a form of seltish- 
ness, or that selfishness is the only possible altruism. 
Whether we are just in fancying that these latter 
efforts are really identical with the actual efforts of 
any recent evolutionists, the reader must judge for 
himself. Altruism we must, at all events, justify in 
another way. 
Vv. 


Bat now let us turn from those who define unself- 
ishness as a useful means tu a selfish end, and let us 
consider the effort to make pure unselfishness a self 


46 THE RELIGIOUB ASPECT OF PHILOBOPHY, 


evident goal of conduct, by founding unselfishness 
on the direct revelation of the emotion of Pity. 
Here, as before, wo shall meet with the skeptical 
eriticium that the mere physical fact of the existence 
of certain conditions is no proof of the validity of an 
ideal moral demand. Just us the physical fact thas 
a clever self-secker must pretend to be unselfish, and 
must outwardly produce effects that benefit others, 
in no foundation for a genuinely unselfinh ideal, 
just wo the presence of a pitiful impulse, a mere fact 
of human nature, be no foundation for an idea) rule 
of conduct. The fealing is capricious, just as the 
social conditions that render public spirit and gen- 
erosity the best selfish policy ary capricious, As 
the selfish man would bebave with open selfishness 
in case he were where unselfishness in outward oon- 
duct no longer was worth to him the trouble, even so 
the pitiful man would, merely as pitiful, be cruelly 
welfinh if cruel selfishness, instead of generous deeds, 
could satinfy his impulse, In facet, he often in erue 
ally selfish ; and if sympathy were always unselfish, 
atill, us a feeling, it is a mere accidental fact of hu- 
man nature, So again, the effort to found a moral 
ideal on a natural fact will fail, But let us look 
closer, 

Schopenhauer js the best modern representative of 
the view that Pity or sympathetic emotion is the 
foundation of right conduct. In pity he finds the 
only unselfish principle in man, and he insists thas 
pity is w tendency not reducible to any other more 
welfinh emotion of our nature, Tle finds it necessary 
tw refute us an error the oft repeated opinion tut! 


b Grundlaye der Mural, p. 21) (3d ed ). 


ALTRUISM AND BGOISM. 87 


“pity springs from a momentary illusion of imagi- 
nation, so that we first put ourselves in the sufferer's 
place, and now, in imagination, fancy that we suffer 
Ais pangs in owr person.” This, replies Schopen- 
haver, is a blunder. ‘It remains tuo us all the time 
elkear and immediately vertain, that Ae is the suf- 
ferer, not we > and it is in his person, not in ours, 
that we feel the pain. and are troubled. We suffer 
with him, so in him ; we feel his pain as his, and do 
wot fancy that it is ours: yes, the happier our own 
state is, and the more the consciousness of it con- 
trasts in consequence with the situation of our neigh- 
bor, a0 much the more sensitive are we to pity.” 
And of this wondrous feeling no complete psychalog- 
oal explanation can be given; the true explanation, 
thinks Schopenhauer, must be metaphysical. In 
pity a man cumes to a sense of the real oneness in 
essence of himeelf and his neighber. 

This pity is, therefore, for Schopenhauer, the only 
moral motive, first. because it is the only non-egois- 
tie motive, and secondly, because it is the expression 
of a higher insight. The first character of pity is 
illustrated by Schopenhauer i in an ingenious passage, 
by means of a comparison of pity and other motives 
as exhibited in a supposed concrete instance. We 
shall find it well to quote the most of the passage in 
fall : — 


“J will take at pleasure a case as an example to furnish 
for this investigation an erperimentum cracis. To make 
the matter the hander for me, I will take no case of char 
Ry. but an injustice. and one. too. af the most tlagrant 
sert. Suppose two young people, Caius and Titus, both 


88 THE RELIGIOUS ASIROT OF PIIILOSOPHY. 


passionately in love, and ouch with a different maiden 
Lot cach one find in his way a rival, to whom external clr 
cumstances have given a vory decklod advantage. Both 
whl) biever ssimcde tps thede tines to put onch his own rival 
aut of the world; and both shall he secure against any 
discovery, or even suspicion, But when each for himself 
sete about the preparations for the murder, both of them, 
after some inner conflict, shall give up the attempt. They 
whall render account to us, plainly and truthfully, of why 
they have thus decided. Now what account Caius shall 
render, the reader shall decide as he plone, Lat Calus be 
proventad by religious seriuplen, by the will of God, by the 
future punishment, by the coming judgment, or by anys 
thing of that wort, Or let hin [with Kant] say: 69 re 
Alocted that the maxin of my procedure tn this case would 
not have bean fit to merve an nn universal rule for all pon 
witaler rreuthersnsal Voesisagem, doves: FP ndrcotilel haves umad my rival an 
ronnie cated rot cot thee rere tare as Mad be himeelf.’ Or 
Jot him way with Fishte: ‘Mvery human Ife in Moans or 
Inatrument for the renization of the Moral Laws there. 
fore FT csssnot, withent berisigy bad ferent to the moral law, 
destroy one who in destined to contributes to that end,’ 
Or lot him any, after Wollaston: (To have consbdered that 
thie dood would We the oxpromsion of an untrue proponte 
thon.’ Or let diss my, after Pitehenons § The moral 
merrier, Whane merimiations, like thon of every otter menme, 
dares mort, Faaetdacer tar Doe ce golicinscnd, Taam eetecrsesisesel ine to 
refrain.’ Or lot hin any, after Acdun Smith: ‘0 foresaw 
thaset sony clever, GFL chick it, woudl rouse no wymputhy with 
me oin the spectator of the wet.’ Or, after Cheistian 
Wolff: § 0 reseoynived that fF whould thereby libido my 
own growth towards porfection without helplig the growth 
Of watybocdy elec.” Or lat hile any, after Spincnn: § Som 
dnt nihil utiliua homtnes ; arya, hominem intertmers nol! 


ALTRUISM AND BSGOISM. 89 


In ehort, let him say what he will. But Titus, whose ac 
count of himeelf I reserve for my choice. let him say: 
‘When I began to prepare. and eo for the moment was 
buey no longer with my passion, but with my rival, then 
it became for the firet time quite clear to me what now 
was really to be hie fate. But just here pity and compar 
ion overcame me. I grieved for him: my heart would 
mot be put down: I could not do it.’ I ask now every 
honest and unprejudiced reader. which of the two is the 
better man? To which of the two would he rather in- 
trust his fate? Which of them was restrained by the 
purer motive? Where, therefore, lies the principle of 
moral action ?"! 

What shall we say of this foundation for altra- 
iam 2 Are pity and unselfishness thus shown to be, 
for the purposes of ethics, identical? Schopenhau- 
er's suggestion acems attractive, but from the outeet 
doubtful. Let us examine it more carefully. 


VIL 


This Pity is, at all events, for the first just an im- 
pulse, no more; ao at least. as we learn, it appears 
in the unreflective man.? “ Nature,” Schopenhauer 
telle us, has “ planted in the human heart that won- 
drour disposition through which the sorrows of one 
are felt by the other. and from which comes the voice 
that, according to the emergency, calls to one * Spare,’ 
te another, ‘ Help. and calle urgently and with au- 
thority. Surely there was to be expected from the 
aid thus originating more for the prosperity of all 


1 Grundiage der Moral, p. 21. 
© Grundiage der Moral, p. 245. 


90 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOGOPHT, 


than could have been expected from « strict maxim 
of duty, general, aletract, and deduced from certain 
rational considerations and logical combinations of 
ideas. For from the latter source one might the less 
expect success, becwuse the mass of men must re- 
main what they always have been, rude men, unable, 
by reason of their inevitable bodily tasks, to get 
time ty cultivate their minds, and therefore, being 
rude men, wust find general principles aad abstract 
truths unintelligible, so that only the conerete has 
meaning for them. But for the arousing of this 
pity, which we have shown to be the only source of 
unselfish actions, and sy the true busis of morality, 
one needs no sabetract, but only perceptive knowl 
edge (hedurf es keiner abstrukten, enulern wor dep 
anechuuenhen Jinkenntnies), only the mere under- 
standing of the concrete case, to which pity at onee 
lays claim, without further reflective mediation.” 
And, t) make his view clearer, Schopenbauer fur- 
ther appeals to passages quoted by bim with ap- 
proval from Wousseau:! “ J) est done bien certain, 
que Ja pitié ext un sentiment naturel, qui, modérant 
dans chague individu Vamour de soi-méme, concourt 
&® Iu conservation mutuelle de toute Vespece.... 
C'est, en un mot, duns ce sentiment natured plut6t, 
gue dune les argumens eubtile, quail faut chercher la 
cumee he la réyuygnance ye Eprivameruit tut homme 
amu fuire.” Vity, then, is no alwtract principle, 
but « tendency to do so and so in a concrete case, 
For the natural and unlearned nan it is @ mere 
sentiment, a feeling with his fellow, no more. 


1 |lacwure our Vorigine de Vinkgulité.” Quoted in the Gruad- 
lage der Morul, y. 247. 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. 91 


Bat then does this sentiment exhaust for Schopen- 
haner the whole meaning of pity? In no wise. Not 
for this sole reason is pity the whole basis of morality, 
namely, because it is the only non-eguistic impulse in 
ws; but besides this reason, there is the second rea- 
son used by Schopenhauer to give special dignity to 
pity. This other reason is in fact the deeper basis 
for bim of pity as the principle of conduct. Pity is 
aamely a revelation in concrete form of a great fun- 
damental truth, the one above referred ta, the great 
fact uf the ultimate and metaphysical Oneness of all 
sentient beings. Because pity reveals this, therefore 
has this sentiment an authority, a depth and a sig- 
mificance that a sentiment, merely as sach, could 
never have. 

About this aspect of the matter, Schopenhauer in- 
wracts us more than once in his writings. <A few 
qactations from one discussion will serve for present 
illustration. 


“ The difference between my own and another's person 
eeerns for experience an absolute difference. The differ- 
ence of space that separates me from my neighbor, sep- 
aretes me also from his joy and pain. Bat on the other 
hand. it must still be remarked. that the knowledge that we 
have of ourselves is no complete and clear knowledge.”? 
. » « “ Whereon is founded all variety and all multiplicity 
ef beings? On space and time; throagh these alone is va- 
wety or maltiplicity possible, since what is aay can only 
be conceived as coexistent or as successive. Because the 
many hike things are called tadicidtials, I therefore call 
wpace and time, as making possible the existence of a md 


2 Gruendiage der Mora, p. 267. 


92 §$ THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 

titude of individuals, the principium individuationtis.” ! 
... “If anything is undoubtedly true in the explanations 
that Kant’s wonderful insight has given to the world, then 
surely it is the Transcendental /athetics.” ... “ Ae- 
cording to this doctrine, space and time . . . belong only 
to the phenomena. .. . But if the world in itself knows 
not space or time, then of necessity the world in iteelf 
knows nothing of mudtitude.” .. . ‘ Hence only one iden- 
tical Being manifests iteelf in all the numberless phenom- 
ena of this world of sense. And conversely, what appears 
as a multitude, in space or in time, is not # real thing in it- 
self, but only a phenomenon.” .. . ‘Consequently that 
view is not false that abolishes the distinction between 
Nelf and Not-self; rather is the opposed view the false 
one.” ... ‘ But the former is the view that we have found 
as the real basis of the phenomenon of pity, 90 that in fact 
pity is the expression of it. ‘This view then is the meta- 
physical basis of ethics, and consists in this: that one in- 
dividual directly recognizes in another his own very self, 
his own true essence.” * 


These passages from Schopenhauer are, as one sees, 
interesting not only because they defend the emotion 
of pity as the foundation of morals, but also because 
they offer an interesting suggestion of an aspect of 
the matter not before noticed in our study. Like 
so many of Schopenhauer's suggestions, this one is 
neither wholly original, nor very complete in itself. 
But it is so expressed as to attract attention; it is 
helpful to us by its very incompleteness. It is stim- 
ulating, although it proves nothing. This modern 
Buddhism brings to our minds the query (which goes 


1 Grundlage, p. 267. * Grundlage, p. 370. 


ALTRUISM AND BGOISM. 93 


beyond the present scope of this chapter), whether 
the altruistic motives, whatever they are, might not 
somehow be made of evident and general validity as 
ethival principles, ¢f we cold show that in the mo- 
ment of pity or in some other altruistic moment 
there is expressed the nascent discovery of an Jile- 
ston, namely, the Illusion of Selfishness. That is 
what Schopenhauer supposed himself to have found 
out. In pity he found an unselfish impulse. But this 
unselfish impulse was, for the first, just an impulse, 
a sentiment, beloved of Rousseau, remote from the 
abstract principles that the philosophers had been 
weking. Here was unseltishness, but still seeming 
to need reflective development and deeper founda- 
tion, Schopenhauer thought that he had found such 
a deeper basis for pity when he suggested that it was 
an imperfect metaphysical insight. In effect one 
might sum up his views thus: In deeper truth, he 
says, you and I are one Being, namely, the One great 
Reing, the Absolute Will, which works in us both. 
Bat because we both perceive in time and space, 
therefore you and I seem tu ourselves to be different 
and perhaps warring individuals, like the two halves 
of a divided worm, Only the sentiment of pity sees 
through the temporal veil of illusion, and so seeing, 
in its own intuitive, unreflective way, it whispers to 
ua that the pain of each is in truth the other's pain, 
And when we really feel thus, we forget the illusion 
of sense, and act as if we were one. So acting we fol: 
low the higher insight, and when metaphysic comes, 
it will justify us in our view. Such, in our own 


words, are Schopenhauer's ideas. 


04 THE RELIGIOUN ANPRKOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


We are atill not concerned for Achopenhaner's 
inetapliynle, which, (lod knows, wast rotten enetaygh 
th for a wine nan to go down to the wee in, Huet 
in hie charnester an keeper of beautiful oturlonitien, 
Mesturgretitistiee mbicown tm itr hin Hterery menor, thed 
doe NraadEt cots thats chery Devtrel, srueary vestry tamesfeal threriagehiten 4 
andl we need net follow him out onte the great deep 
tat poeresieestnte «Seat over tnertes with Instant thin mtsggpcem- 
thon that he adde to hin theory of pity, Tn thet mtg 
omtlon worth anything 7 In pity in fact a detention 
of an Manton? And deen thin Whiston constitute the 
Noemie cof melfindinene 7 | Peselingon that mtaggention will 
he needed inn fatire chapter, Mesnwhile, how. 
aver, wo have at present to do only with pliy aa @ 
ners emotion, Muraly If pity does dimuver for ta 
matty Mleamberts Ate mer tlmdarvesnn, thresty it aust beer oo prtettierte. 
lar form of pity to which thin funetlon belongs Hor 
mich of pity aleply WMlantenten thin Wludon We 
csgernnntrt thvesy cles Urestdere: thin flewt ter Uietdngrtah the 
welfinds from the alteuiaths forme of whit we pope. 
larly Inehiade tnder the one name Pity, or, tose the 
inure general word, Aympathy, We shall have to go 
‘over old and commonplace ground, but we need to 4 
for the iladon of selfinhinenm, to be detected, needa 
tants tar bes WDDismtentend, 


Vil. 


Whon one soon hin nelghber in pain, dons one of 
mennnitiy ccraries tay kenerw that poadis an anid, to enling 
ite tee nature anit in in his neighbor? Or downy 
one often fall inte an ilasion about that pain, regard 


ALTECISM AXD EGORSI. % 
ing: it os semnehow mot guite real’ Schopenkaser 
wal reply: ‘The heartless mxam, who bess mo compe 
sam, fells into a sort of tbestom abowt his meighbor. 
Bie thimis snore or hess clearly thas that paim of his 
meager 's ts a sort of warval paim mot as Living as 
waulld fe bis owm pair. Beet the pitiful suman. the 
qnlly quite wmeelifish exam. — he perceives the reality 
ef his metythbors satfertag. He kmows that that is 
ne Photos saffertume. bet evem sack pain as hos own 
wari, fe. 

We want to test this bea it a practxal war, So 
we say: Let ws padre of this svanpathy by its finaits” 
Ane we mn fact certain two be led tw woeltish acts 
if im alll cases we obey the divcates of swmpathy ? 
Selupemikseer thinks that be bas secured altruism 
Tm tne pitr. ome feels the patie. mot as bis own, best 
ax tthe otters pair. To follow the dictates of this 
sempatihy world of meeestty bead. ome murkt say, 
tem tie effort umeeliishly to refteve the other. Bas 
thm des mot this depend very srach upon the war 
im which pity cones to be an object of rethevtinon for 
tthe mum that feels it? Piny ts offer off teself am i 
dammninane tmpulie. thst may be capable of very 
Wertans nierpretatoo by the subsequent rethevtoon 
of the prtifial mint One onay through pity come to 
netfect thet this feeling stamds for a real pain ux the 
ether unm amd mky at accordingly : or ome Bay 
hawe wery different retkeetiuns Ome may fal to 
realize the otters puin a3 sav. amd ony be drtven 
beck wpem himself. For most people the fitst re 
fectiem that follows upom strung pity ib Bo uneliish 


06 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOGOPHY. 


one at all. It is very simply the precept: “ Get rid 
of the pain that your neighbor causes you to feel.” 
Sympathy with pain may make you tremble, grow 
faint, feel choked, weep; and all these sudden emo- 
tions are followed perhaps by long-enduring melan- 
choly. All this causes you to forget tho reality of 
the other’s pain. This personal trouble of yours, 
felt in stronger cases in your body as a physical dis- 
turbance, as something unnerving, prostrating, over- 
whelming, turns your reflection upon yourself, and 
you are very apt to ask: What am I todo to bo free 
from it? So to ask is already to begin to forget 
your neighbor. The pain that his pain caused has 
simply become your pain. You are, even through 
your pity, bound fast in an illusion. For there are 
three ways of removing this pain, and of satisfying 
for you the sympathy that caused it. Ono way, and 
often a very hard one, puzzling to follow, full of re- 
sponsibility and of blunders, would be taken if you 
did your best, perseveringly and calmly, to get your 
neighbor out of his trouble, That would doubtless 
take a long time, you would never be adequately 
thanked for your trouble, and you might very easily 
blunder and do hariwn instead of good to him, thus 
causing in the ond yet more sympathetic pain for 
you, coupled this time with remorse. The second 
way is to get used to tho sight of pain, so that you 
no longer feel any sympathetic suffering. Tho third 
way is generally the casiest of all, That is to go 
away from the place, and forget all about the sad 
business as soon as possible, That is the way that 
most sensitive people take in dealing with mont of 


ALTRUISN AND EGOISM. 97 


the saffering that they meet. The first way gives 
you the most of hard work to do. The secand way, 
by dalling your sensibilities, makes vou less alive to 
the pleasures that are to be gained in the company 
of happy men. The stern man, who has seen 90 
much suffering as to be indifferent to it. may be less 
alive to the bliss of sympathy that gentler natures 
come to know, in refined and peaceful soviety. By 
far the most inviting way is the thind. It prevents 
you from growing callous, cold. and harsh. It leaves 
you sensitive, appreciative, tender - hearted, freshly 
svmpathetic, an admirable and humane being. But 
it also saves you from the pangs that to refined na- 
tares must be the most atrocious, the pangs of con- 
templating a world of sorrow which vour best effarts 
ean bat very imperfectly help. People with a deli- 
cate sense af the beautiful surely cannot endure to 
go about seeing all sorts of filthy and ugly miseries, 
and if they can endure it, will they not be much 
happier, as well as more refined, more delicate in 
taste, much higher in the scale of beautiful cultiva- 
Gon, if they do not try to endure it, but keep them- 
selves well surrounded bv happy and ennobling com- 
panions? For the sight of pain is apt to make 
you coarse: it might degrade vou even to the level 
of the peevish sufferer himself. Does a refined soul 
desire that?) No one is a duller. a less stimulating, 
a less ennobling companion, than the average man 
when he is suffering atrwicusly. Pain brings out 
his native bratishness| He is abject. he curses. he 
behaves perhaps like a wild beast. Or he lies nvute 
and helpless, showing no interest in what you do for 
7 


98 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


him, hating you possibly, just because you are the 
nearest creature to him. His gratitude is apt to be 
a myth. So long as he yet suffers, he does not ap- 
preciate what you are doing for him, for why should 
he thank you while you make him no better? And 
if you can cure him, what then? Nobody can re- 
member very clearly a very sharp pain once over. 
Hence he will underrate your services. You can 
much better appreciate your moderate trouble in 
helping him than he can afterwards appreciate the 
very great and agonizing trouble from which you 
saved him. One forgets in part one’s greatest an- 
guish, one’s most dangerous diseases. The worst 
troubles are not favorable to clear memory. Above 
all, however, his memory will be weak for what you 
did in his case. He will shock you afterwards by 
having failed to notice that you took any serious 
trouble in his behalf at all. But, if he was sick and 
you nursed him, he will remember very well how 
you harassed him as you nursed him. He will re- 
member a creaking door or an ill-cooked steak, when 
he forgets your cups of cold water, your sleepless 
nights, your toil to secure silence when he needed it, 
your patience when he complained, your sacrifice of 
all other present aims in life on his account. All 
that he will forget, not because he is a bad man, but 
because he is an ordinary creature whom pain de- 
based and corrupted, so that he became hardly a fit 
™ companion for an elevated and refined soul like 

yours. Heisonly human. If you were an average 

man yourself, you would treat your friends that 
_ aided you in your worst suffering after much the 


_ ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. 99 


same fashion. It is well if the sufferer and his 
helper do not begin a quarrel that will last a life- 
tmae. all becaase of the meddiesume self-sacrifice of 
the officwous helper. For to the wretched any help 
is apt to seem officious, because no help is imme 
Gately and unconditionally successful. 

So then. if vou are tenderhearted, does tender 
heartedness dictate all this waste of sympathy? 
Piainly not. Tender-heartedness need not say: My 
neighbor must bey relieved. Tender-heartedness, as 
a personal affection of yours, says only: Sutig/y me. 
And vou can satisfy this affection if you forget aboat 
all those degraded wretwhes that are doomed tw suf. 
fer. and assoviate with these blessed ones whose in- 
mocent joy shall make your tender heart glad of its 
e@wn tenderness =Let us rejvice with these that do 
rejoice, and those that weep. ler them take care of 
themselves in everlasting oblivien. Such is the die 
tate of tender-hearted selfishness : and our present 
point is the not at all novel thought. © often elab- 
erated in George Eliot's nevels the thought that, 
the tenderer the heart, the more exclusively seltish 
becomes this dictate of tenderheartednes. Verr 
sensitive people. who cannot overcume their sens 
tiveness, are perforce seliish in this world of pain. 
They must forget that there is suffering. Their 
paty makes them cruel. They cannot bear the sight 
of suffering: they must shut the door upon it. If 
he is a Dives, such a man must first of all insist that 
the police shall prevent people like Lazarus, covered 
with swres, from lying in plain sight at the gate. 
Sach men must treat pain as in ther days of 


100 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


plumbing, we treat filth, Wo get the plumber and 
the carpenter to hide it so well that oven our civ- 
lized nostrils shall not be offended, That we eall 
modern improvement in honse-building. Even so 
we get the police to hide suffering from ua; and, 
when that help fails, or is inapplicable, we appeal 
to the natural sense of decency in the sufferers, and 
demand, on the ground of common courtesy, that 
they shall not intrude their miseries upon us Thus 
we cultivate a tender sympathy for the most delicate 
emotions of the human heart, as we never could do 
if wo lot suffering, as our forefathers used to let filth, 
lie about in plain sight. IZynore anothor’s suffering, 
and then it practically becomes non-existent. So 
says welfishnoss. 


VIII. 


If wo ourselves are very happy, our lack of will- 
ingnoss to consider suffering may become greater and 
greater as wo get happier. Nobody is colder in 
shutting out the thought of misery than a joyous 
man ina joyous company. “Tf there be anywhere 
any wretched people (which we doubt) let them keep 
well away from this place.” That in the voice of 
the spirit of overflowing sympathetic joy, as Schiller 
60 finely expresses it in the hymn an die Mreude:— 
° 


“He who, proving, hath discovered, 
Whit it lan friend to own, 
O’or whom women's love hath hovered, 
Foot hilin heres hin bilws tonke known : 
You, Sf but one living belong, 
On the carth in hie to-day, ~— 


ALTECISM AND EGOS. 101 


Ami wis oer ha known such, deeimg, 
Let bim weep ‘is crie! away.” ~ 
*Joy.” says the enthusiastic vouns Schiller in 
tins rhapsody, Joy was bestuwed on the worm.” 
* AIL beings drink joy as Mother Nasure’s breast.” 
Dedzhtful gemerosity of the happy man’ But what 
Gp the crushed worms think about it’ =~ Whoso bith 
@ froemi.” —bat whst of the poor wretches in the 
shims of grest cities. beaten. starved. imprisoned, 
cheated, and cheutin. starved and imprisoned sysin, 
a thewah their Lifetimes’? How many soals do 
these poor Eshmaelites call their own’? But of whom 
Stns the poytul oan chink. of whom does be or can be 
thmk? Of these’? Nov it is the tendency of seltish 
joy w build up tts own pretty world of faunev. Every- 
my in thst world. trom cherud tw woru, bas jov's 
sympathy. bet woly in w) far as it t ala jovoas 
Seid umwhdungen Miticnen! dieser Kuss er 
gancen Wet.” Bat in tact Jieser Awse ts intended 
only for the happy world. whieh in the ilusivon, besa- 
tifal. bat wee eruelof toe inmewently joveus man, 
seems to be the whole workh Much coal will sach 
knwes do to the Mildionen that zroan and erithe ° 
Joy iwnores them. cacao believe shem real 
Sach then are some of the dictates of svmputhy, 
© Wan Jur cone Wore? pel-paem 
ines Younes Freamd on sein, 
Wee a2 ices Wr) errand 
Wiseae wiaea J wi ain! 
Ja, — wee sae ie cei Naud 
Saaoqegas af fam Sriearand! 
Cod wee 3 ale cetvan:, ier seule, 
Weinemi sco sus diesem Bum. 


102 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


which often bear to our conduct such relation as, in 
a waying of Emorson’s, the dosire to go to Boston 
bears to the posible ways of getting there. “ When 
I want to get to Boston,” says in substance Emerson, 
“FT do not swim the Charlos River, but prefer cross 
ing the bridge.” Emerson's saying was intended to 
illustrate his own proferonce for reading translations 
of foreign authors rather than the originals. It 
doon illustrate very well the preference that we all 
have for the shortest way out of our snympathetio 
troubles. To help your suffering neighbor is hard 
wwitnming, perhaps amid ioo-blocks; to go on and 
find elsewhere morry company in to take the bridge 
direct to Boston, Sympathy lewls therefore often 
to the ignoring of another man’s state as real, And 
this is the vory Husion of Solfinhnenss itself, 

Pity may then turn to selfish hatred of the night 
of suffering. It in hardly necessary to dwell at length 
upon the disheartening reverse aspect of the picture, 
namely, on the fact that, when pity does not lead us 
to dread the suffering of others, it may lead we to 
take such credit for our very power to sympathize 
with pain, that we come to feo) an actual delight in 
the oxintones of the events that moan suffering to 
others, Our hearts may so swell with prido at our 
own importance as pitiful persons, that we may even 
long to have somobody of our acquaintance in trou. 
ble, so that wo oan go and pose, in the presence of 
the nufferers, as humane commontators on the occur. 
rence, as heroic endurers of sorrows that wo do not 
rowlly share. Thin is the seoond stage of wolfinh pity. 
It is even more enduring and inourable than the 


ALTRUISM AND Evo, 103 


frat. The dread of tho aight of pain may be made 
w pas away by enough of inevitable exporionor, 
Rut the seltiah love of the aftive of comforter grows 
with the aense of our peraanal impertancs, and with 
the number af times when we are called upon to os- 
erviay our powers, There are poople who are always 
fretful and diwonsalate unlesa they know of some- 
badly who very badly needs consoling. Then they 
are calm and happy, for they are sur that they are 
admirable aa comforters, they fool themselves the 
ventre of an admiring neighborhoad, they are plying 
their neble avovation in a yeaceful fashion, Thia 
type ia aurely no very uncommon one. Such people 
are apt to be intolerable companions for vou unless 
you have a broken log, or a fever, or a reat boreave- 
ment. Then they did vou interesting, because you 
are wretched. ‘They nurse you like sainty; they 
spoak cunfurtably to you like angels. “Phey hate to 
give the little comfort that can be yiven from day 
te day ty thase who are enduring the onlinary ver: 
ations of healthy and prosaio life, “They rjaive to 
flad some one overwholwed with woe. The happy 
man ia to them a worthless follow. Ligh tempera- 
ture ix needed to seften their hoarta, “They would 
be miseralle in Paradise, at the sight of se mich 
tedivta contentinent; but they would loap for joy if 
they could but hear of a lost soul to whom a dryep of 
water vould be oarried. ‘To them the mast blessed 
trath uf Seripeune is found in the passage: For 
the poor ye have always with you.” Yea, blessed 
ar the mereiful, for they shall never lack work. 
They shall be like the aoulptar, delighting in the 


104 = THE BHLIGIOUS ASPROT OF FHILONOPHY, 


rotgh bloke of marhle that contain his beloved 
wteahien, «Heo thet the world will detbtlew have ale 
wey goletity crf Dolenen, 

hens are tb the viulygarly milevelont, Yet thusy 
winthd he dimcnnolate altogethor If evil were to 
canner, ‘They veggard anilnery tm theesder mgreccdeal grecapss 
esarhiy 5 feestseses tbeesy wvertalel bees vestry tentecste climeagryrerdoetescd 
tay Irestare threat P¥earvcldmes fetal coronene cxgctadts, teed threat terfme 
sity Haul Voesets talortinhed, Ard we are nponking now, 
nit of the profemional enthiumiann that mush make 
Abies gobnynbecdiny Sentessresmtesel 19 tbeer cVimessamesm tliat bees wttadle 
Leow, Dreads cof thes qriates lebigehats fen godt thant cldtdeagetadm bien 
cortiadn cnprofenstonal people whose Ives would he 
tabrsnconts vatdese ly estragety cof wll Jory wesres theese anesdgchibarem 
tert, mtabojeech tay mecedertin cseednniition, Murely ib in tert 
thin wort of pity that overcenen the Uuslen of selfs 
Lwlarnesmm, §—Udeabdaese: cloves tieche golty well (lustrate thet 
i hranderts, 


{X, 


Ph ytragetetliy tlresrs, cam cate ccrrsertdenn, in net alway alten 
Inte, boat frequently very welfiah, ft doen net alwaye 
overthrow, Init often strctpttenm, welfintinenn, And 
ao deceitful an emotion cannot be tented with the 
dffles of givinge mnenal unigelit. finn faran glty ever 
Never Lteverd ves Cheer lestesect dente of sane EM ianterte of med fhalitnenn, 
we mnny have oacelon to apenk of it hereafter, Her 
Catt tatah eles, Plechiergoecerlinticce’n thengelit wtill lookin ate 
traehives, Brat if wes whew golly witty resfesrestscces tert ts 
Vramdgelit bouts tr ecanertdenn, Tf we smbe whrestivece a pelvets meg 
wan wtisetiial beeniimes it wan pitiful, then we of 
talrenaly mtsmwvese thet, ioe ney fear om titel finbitiene estetathe 


ALTRUISM AND EGOISM. 105 


tutes morality, the pitiful character of an act does 
mot insure its unselfishness, and henee not its morality. 
Sehopenhaver’s own typical example, quoted above, 
is indeed interesting, but not conclusive as w this 
question. “TI pitied him.” says the lover who has 
refrained from slaying his rival. = Had he not re 
sembled my father as he slept, I had done it.” savs 
Lady Macbeth. Possibly Lady Macbeth’s pity was 
good in itself, but not quite sufficient in quantity. 
Bat her words remind us of what the lover might do, 
if only pity stood in the way of the murder that he 
desired to commit. He might get somebody else to 
take care of the whole business. preparations and all, 
amd so save his own tender emotions. In fact, how- 
ever, Schopenhauer’s younz lover has something 
more than a mere emvtivn of pity in him. 

But so far as we have considered sympathy, we 
have had but another illustration of the ditteulry 
with which we are dealing. Even if symparhy were 
always unselfish, never capricious, perfectly clear in 
its dictates, there would remain the other objection. 
Symparhy is a mere fact of a man’s emotional nature. 
To an unsympathetic man, how shall vou demonstrate 
the ideals thar vou found upen the feeling of sympa 
thy? And so one returns to the old ditheulty, You 
have an ideal whereby vou desire to Judge the world. 
Bat this ideal you found in its turn on the fact thas 
somebody has a certain sort of emotion. Any one 
who has not this emotion you declare to be an in- 
competent Jud. And so vour last foundanon for 
the ideal is something whose worth ts to be demon- 
strated solely by the fact that It exists. 


106 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


Thus in this and in the last chapter, in general 
and in particular discussions, we have found the one 
problem recurring. The ideal is to have an ideal 
foundation, yet we seem always to give it a founda- 
tion in some reality. And if we then look about us, 
we always find sume skeptic saying, either that he 
does not feel sure of the existence of any such 
reality, or that he doubts whether it means what we 
say that it means, or, again, that in any case there are 
other people, who have found other realities, and 
whose moral principles, founded on these other real- 
ities, are in deadly opposition to ours. The idealist 
of our preliminary discussion on the methods of eth- 
ical inquiry has so far met with numerous misfor- 
tunes. Ile has continually been enticed over to a 
sort of realistic position, and then just the same 
arguments that he used against the realist are used 
against hun. If, however, true to himself, he as- 
saults the realism of the modern descendants of 
Hobbes with the arguunent that all their physical 
hypotheses are worthless without ideals, then he 
hears the challenge to show an ideal that is not 
his whim, and that is not founded on a physical doe- 
trine. There seems no refuge for him as yet but to 
turn skeptic himself. 


CHAPTER V. 


ETHICAL SKEPTICISM AND ETHICAL PESSIMISM. 


Long ie the night to him who is awake ; long isa mile to him whe 
ie tired : long is life to the foolish who do not know the true law. — 
DuamMarabDa. 


To turn skeptic himself, we said, seemed the only 
way open before our idealist. If only he had placed 
bis standard a little lower! If only he had not 
insieted on getting his ideal by ideal methods! 
Then he might have remained safe in some one of 
the positions that he temporarily assumed. But al- 
ways he drove himself out of them. Some stupen- 
dous external reality. some beantiful mental state, 
would suggest itself to him, and he would say: * La, 
here is the ideal that 1 seek.” But forthwith his 
own doubt would arise, accusing him of faithlessness. 
“ Whar hast thou found save that this or that hap- 
pens to exist? the doubt would say, and our ideal- 
ist would be constrained to answer, * Not because it 
exists, but because I have freely chosen it for my 
guide, is it the Ideal” And then would come the 
repeated accusation that caprice is the sole ground 
for the choice of this ideal. Skepticism. then, total 
ekepticism as to the foundation of ethics, seems to 
be the result that threatens us. We must face this 
skepticism and consider its outcome. 


108 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


I. 


It is in fact in such skepticism as this that one 
finds the real power and meaning of most genuine 
modern Pessimism, Not so much in the hopeless- 
ness of our efforts to reach our ideals once chosen as 
in our perpetual hesitation or unsteadiness in the 
choice of ideals, we most frequently find the deepest 
ground for pessimistic despair. Choose an ideal, 
and you have at least your part to play in the world. 
The game may seem worth the trouble; for far off 
as may be what you seck, there is the delight and 
the earnestness of free self-surrender to a great aim. 
But pessimism is almost inevitable if you have been 
long trying to find an ideal to which you can devote 
yourself, and if you have failed in your quest. 
. Therefore those advocates of pessimism are most 
formidable who dwell less upon the ills of life, as 
bare facts, and more upon the aimlesaness of life. 
Von Hartmann, therefore, to whom pessimism is 
more the supposed result of a process of summation, 
and thus is a belief that the sum of pains in life 
overbalances the sum of pleasures, produces little 
effect upon us by his balance-sheet. But Schopen- 
hauer, who dwelt not only upon the balance-sheet, 
but still more upon the fundamental fact that life is 
restless and aimless, — he is nearer to success in his 
pessimistic efforts. It is hore that one finds also 
the true strength of Schopenhauer's model, the 
Buddhistie despair of life. Choose your aim in life, 
says in effect Buddhism, let it be wife or child, 
wealth or fame or power, and still your aim is only 


ETHSCAL SKEPTICISM AND ETHICAL Pessnmsm. 109 


ene among many. Jost in the eternal strife, at war 
with all the rest, and never able te prove its mght to 
supremacy in the world. From bie to life you pass, 
now a Brahman. now a kins. now a worm. now a 
tiger, now a beggar. now in bell) now among the 
demmoms of the air: vour aims alter everlastingly 
with each new birth. and nowhere do vou find hfe 
aevthing but a succession of aims. no ane af which 
3s Imtrinsially more significant than the others 
The wordd of aims is a world af strife. and no hfe 
has any real significance. No desire is of any es- 
sential worth, Therefore. seeing al) this, give up 
dese. Have it as your one aim to have no aim 
Sach is the outoome of the insicht int the eternal 
warfare af aims) The Baddhist parables try to 
make plain this insimnificance of Lfe both by dwell 
Zar om the fact that men must finally fail to cet their 
ames, and by insisting that. if men temporarily soc 
esed, their condition is ne less insignificant than It 3s 
when they fail. The failure is used to show a man 
mot 80 much the difficulty of getting his aim in this 
tad world. as the worthlessmess of his aim. The 
gnnoess when It comes is embittered for the snacess- 
fol man by reminding him that all desire is tran- 
Ment, and that what he now Joves will come to seem 
hateful to him. In tech cases the lesson. whether of 
the sanmess or of the failure. in noi thar the order of 
thmps is diabolical. and then fom an enemy of mam 
kind. but that the desires themselves are bopeiessiv 
eanfused and worthless Ii Badchism dwelt only 
om the hopelesmess of onr eZors to get the good 


things that we want. the doctrine would result in a 


110 «= THE RELAGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOKOPHY, 


srt of Promethonn deflanss of the phywioal world, 
our powerful and cruel enemy, Hut Hraddhion in 
winte tigers it that we knew tt what ara the geol 
thingn that we pretend t want. Our dewiron helig 
ignorant, atu etillemly changeable, wo have tu right 
tes herpes for mene, Phe tread of their storion in 
rh wy prrestemt mpenitint thes ghiynieml evile abyrst tim, bert 
6 general cnuletination of the vein sline that are 
itt 1M, 

‘The wares sinnlemmnenn of life in the subject of 
lament in inneh of ene modern romantia poetry, 
Bfesves im, fare thoes seseclisnseshoeoy vertrassertles pont, the gront 
evil rf ern imterteces, thet wes beter tert what in gon, 
Hfecves im the pront clinngaweintinent of life, that we 
hinves ty esbrjeuct in life, Were in the rent failure, 
that we omit mule up one minds to undertake 
anything, Were in the werent engine, that we 
reeves sertbadenge tes Fill, © Arnel than thes gthilemd wheegti- 
eshte that bimm wer fier brecwest cree prath in the greenest 
iteventiemtions bunsurtnen, wheter we dwell tapes it wand 
fully rentize ite monning, an ethiont pomiinion, We 
whl threes iMeawtrmtes tefrembs erae gorcblestn if we cent: 
wiclecr brerw thin chiftteralty crf thes eshuerices of tote iclenl 
hian afFecsten! thes mesrch of cortain among one modern 
vinnnntis poste fer whet they wend oull the ideul 
esteurtiert, 


if, 


OF all thes stsbijecte of reflection in rmantic poatry, 
terties Ain eeserees farreiliter thieete thes equiemtionn of thes mene 
Stage satel werrthe eof brearsety lifes om te wholes, ‘Shes fiews 
and natural snewer of the modern puet to tin ques 


RTWICAL QKRFTIOIM AND Erittcal peaamiam, LIL 


tien la well known, Haman life moana for him the 
emotional aide af life. ‘The highoat gan, whon 
found, must be an emotional guod. ‘The remantia 
poot, criticising life, oust aim to mako clear what 
kind of cmotional condition in the mont astiafactory 
ene. Tn this view we have ne mere truiam, Many 
ferwa of Hodonian would oppone the doctrine that 
in the intonser emotions van be found the ideal 
wiatou of eolaviotianesa, ‘The votninen senae of men 
af the workd sees in the more moderate pleasures of 
polite leisure, in the attainment of practionl knowl- 
edge, in a atevmasfal profeaional or businesan carver, 
the suureos of permancnt natiafaction. Several 
wohuula of Btieiont philowaphy reyrnrided tranquillity 
as punatitutings the eanenen of a bleased life. but te 
all thia the apirit of modern poctry wan from the 
ontaoct violently opposed. Tranquillity, onee  oex- 
changed fur aterm anil atrors, in hot again reparded 
aa the goal, Active emotion, intense in quality, un- 
Venitedl in yitantity, in what the pocta of the revelt- 
lan devine, One need only tnettiot Worther,” 
“The Robbers «The Revolt of Talsi’’ " Mlan- 
fred," Fauet,” to mupyest what ia meant by this 
apirit af tho revolutionary povtry. 

Life, then, ean be of worth only ino ae far aa it is 
full af the desirable forme af pootio emotion, Hut 
la auch fullnone of lifes porible * de the view that 
makea it the ideal a tenable view 7 Aluat not the 
Conaintont following of than view lead ultimately to 
peoninaiaa " "Phe anawer te this problor in the hie- 
tory af the whole comantio movement. lero mint 
suffieo a aketoh of anime of the principal remulta af 
the movermont. 


119 0 THE HELIN ASPRITT OF PHILONOPHY, 


NI 'tees mtd crf tesenbereee Nites, threes, frm swwsbeerttol nerten)- 
Hrilitey,, cqeadeshecstaeel Lesmires, arertemenl thoes priummterte Pere Frets. 
Merten, Mimttrrdrend cll tesaditiertin, — Alvrver wll, thes theese 
Leogetecsel telesinden oof Vite bemves botserte, Ferm tees pertinttties grvet, 
Dimbaae bret, grere legen mbrtstdesronl, Fim lelgebrent geewwl tevttet 
hen meesvage fut dae Bede erwver meritl. W brtat, tee theese coerttmesegecestecses 7 
Mpa, tof ccorttrsses, te mestames oof segshertslid devlecgsestsdortecses, 
Netty mpriettead greiedes, Thee jery ef Preend eteterticnn tn 
esegeainboul Noy fever cleshgehetn ents extertty, Mhees morlt-wvertabrigy orf 
greeter geeseedtom fm mnongessmmenl bry tow ferenin ef cemnesit, 
Pibracdbesy, ronjerdesdonge tne bide mtoenngette, weiting Mt No. 
severity cf Atheerdienes,"” saree chesPecesebdtnge, tee soll deeneensesties 
eh evil, mabealtesey sereel Aneececet., tm sa geen ecncaterples oof tee 
traprresmaderts of thrin agrielt,  Paavatar’n mexurtett of thes 
seostneees orf geocneivam be sennertbeese itemtaareees s “Aw thes aprpie 
witierten rf seregcocdn cles anert certeaes, botets sores preesmestet, Aer tert 
gets sewing, Friel res peerties, om Oheoy mteibecs Ahtes dentserenecemt 
sraerecrev, iteMtesesrecses Voy these dereeeneretaality thes teeeereted 
dae eesestn, osatedahe sated geet, tall deaf taccrseces, betewes Vchedeed 
throcrer moveceed, wberelelesrinng sernl tesem ef terre, mend cnt 
dibues ccernatatectusatecces grtales jery, wer thes enpncpntiern ef esteiten, 
Dvesincseibees procerdoans sem geote will, remnnees it Feeeitf eal rerun crf 
meredl, Peaitbe, Prergees, Uevver, Whee crenbecter need, Altes teteloensett- 
sable, Aibecs devtersitonb eles, thoes cliaivess, . thant ta prornsitin, 
"Tim deompricsetacrte, rosvedsataene, theset teeny bees feebt, bret teerb 
WiNMeed tre owlroal ; ‘tin wrt abnrve met, Ite way dn thes 
way tf thie Nigehetending. || Woe eatened, cqnertes to benethe 
griart crf Abide ebrsegencnly, wheepecien thee weed tse een eetierne 
saredl thoes aenettcatel sealecedesaticnne cof Abees yenange mete bert 
Cderethees, ee three yesnen fread becferres sernd after 17D, 165 
Hajges a Obinrmeteriatie mm preemie, 


Sead Afr prcmmn yrs wt errtesty wrnnetoe beryl hy ty Ketmeatoin'e (eaoh 
Her Hoarhan. Nettaneallitoratie, it. 1v., py. 5, Of the Oth oft, 


ETHICAL SKEPTICISM AND ETHICAL PESSINISM. J18 


This pride leads directly to the effort to build up 
a wholly new set of ideals. The panenve af the 
stateuman, of the student of science, uf the business 
man, 3 unknown to these furveful young men. 
Ther must make a world of their own, and in a day 
ton At the same time they are without any definite 
faith. In fact, definite faith would endanger for 
them the freshness of their emotions They fear any 
ereed bat one self-made. And they can more easily 
tear down than build up. One of the most interest- 
cag of the young veniuses of the age af the German 
romantic development! is the early lest Nevalis 
(Friedrich von Hanlenbers), a representative, lke 
Shelley after him, of the emotional or remantic po- 
etry in its pristine innecenee. A truly neble seul, 
Joined w a weak body, oppressed by many troubles, 
wnahle to grow to full manly spiricual stature, he 
shows us the beauty and imperfeetion of the emotiunal 
Movement in cluse union. He writes pages of vague 
phikwephy, which afterwanis impressed the veung 
Carivle as an embodiment of a sense of the deep 
mystery of life. You tind delight m= wandering 
through the tlowery labvriuths of such speculation ; 
vou learn much by the way, but ven come nowhere. 
Only this is clear: the voung poet persists that the 
world must in some way conform to the emodienal 
meeds of man. And he persists, m4, that a harme- 
mous wctheme of lite can be formed on a purely m- 
mantic plan, and only on such a plan. He actually 


The age in quessiom exienis fem Uo se rt No anecial 
effort is Sere made to follow chrenclorical orler. Our purse is 
wo ete Ulustrasions, not to give a listory 

3 


114 THR RELIGION ANPROT OF PHITONOPHY, 


explains ne reality and completes tie seheme of life, 
Ile hints, at length, that the Catholle ohtirch in the 
het expremmden of the teeds of tnan, With thin 0- 
watinfactory suggestion, the little oarear of wander. 
eee eared inn lemth. «Mut in whet could it have ended 
Daeacl Lifes csertatdanteesel 

Perhaps in what wan called by the close frend of 
Novalis, Keledrioh Behlegel, the romantio jrony. 
This in the text stage in the growth, or, if yet like, 
in the deny of the romantic apielt,  Kanertiot In ener 
giide and cur youl,  thut what ia emotion? Rome. 
tladnnge cstocutngeestal sles sonnel boy nsetirres Unecertimintent, — Knech 
ainetion sete up a cladin te All the whole of life. Kor 
eseacsty tes conve, tees estaranert, prevestdes mertel feed willinnge ta 
die, Yot each in driven away by ite follower, ‘The 
feet of them that shall bese it out are before the 
door even while the triumphant emetion In reigning 
ever the heart within. Miullnenn of mth life sett 
ficklenenn, Novelia, apentt the death of his betrothed, 
mile a aort of divinity of the departed, and dated 
new era from the day of her death, Elin diary waa 
for a while full of spiritual exercines, mipggented by 
hin affliction. Ele ronclved to follow her to the grave 
in one your, Within thin year he waa betrothed 
anew, Ff mech in Newalia, what will he « lewser 
apirit’? Conecioun of thin inevitable decay of enh 
emotion, Meledrioh Bellagel miggents that one steel 
make « virtie of necemity, and declare that the 
higher life commlate in a sort of enthiuniastio flekle 
nem, 'Ehies geestudeam erntamt oveannlese Likees oo brtcrnnenedteg- tied 
in the garden of divine ometions. And he mest he 
sonmelonin and proud of his wanderings, Activity, 


KIMRCAL SEEPTICISW AND ETHICAL Pass. 115 
er rather amity, @ his hichest perfection. The 
more mameroes bis emotions, the nobler the man. 
The fickler the man. the more numerous bs em 
mess is the romante irony, which consists in reveiy- 
ing each eew enthusiasm with a merry pride. “T was 
moc the first, amd will owe be the la, We see 
through it, even while we submit tw ti. We are 
more than it 3. and will survive it. Long Lve King 
Lixpertence. who showers upon us new feelings ° 

Se saach for an Ingenious and thoroughly detesta- 
bbe wiew of bie. in which there is for an earnest man 
merest. This irony. whas its it bus the laughter of 
@amnom: over the miserable weakness of human chan 
acter? The emotiun was tw be cer gol. It turms 
emt to be a wretched fetich, and we know it as suck. 
“Kwas mime. tis bis and has been slave w tho 
ques = Ig ts gone. though we crusted in it. It was 
eur stay, and if has towed away like water. This 
1% mot fallmess, but bollowmessy, of Lite. And bow 
shell the romantic trooy supply the vawaney? = =Thus 
meny 3 but the word of Mephistopheles about the 
wom of Geretcben: Sie ise die ersce wivht. Not the 
fest chanze of emotion is this present ome: noe the 
fest breaking up of the fountains of the grean deep 
withrm us: but whas misery in thas shought: Then 
there t nothing sure. coching siznifeant. In our 
owe hearts were we wo tod Lite. amd there & ne true 
Ife there : only riasas with nothing beneath them: 
erly emiless acd meaniugiess charge. 

The conseivusness of cbts result is present in am 


ether form of the romance spits. The coaseqguence 


116 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEROT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


is what Hegel, in the Phdnomenologie des Geistes, 
described under the name of Das Unglickliche 
Bewusstaein, and what is more familiarly known to 
us as the Byronic frame of mind. The very strength 
of the previous emotion renders this consciousness 
of the hollowness of emotion the more insupport- 
able: — 
“When the lamp In shattered 
Tho light In the duat Hes dead.” 


Tho brighter the lamp, the deeper the darkness that 
follows ita breaking. - 

The romantic despair thus described took many 
forms in the poetry of the early part of the century. 
To describe them all were to go far beyond our lim- 
ite. A fow forms suggest themselves. | If we are 
condemned to fleeting emotions, we are atill not de- 
prived of the hope that some day we may by chance 
find an abiding emotion. Thus, then, we find many 
poeta living in a wholly problematic state of mind, 
expecting the god atronger than they, who, coming, 
shall rule over them. Such aman is the dramatist 
and writer of tales, Heinrich von Kleist. “It can 
be,” writes this pout to a friend, December, 1806, 
“it can be no evil spirit that rules the world, only a 
apirit not understood.” In such a tone of restless 
search for the ideal of action, Kleist remains through- 
out his life. No poet of the romantic school had a 
keener love of life-problems purely as problems. 
Each of hia works is the statement of a question, 
In so far Kleist resembles that more recent repre 
sentative of the problematic school of poetry, Ar- 
thur Hugh Clough. Kleist answored his own quee- 


ETRICAL SKEPTICNWM AND Eftttcal pressive. 117 


thans at last by suivide. Others have other ways of 
Heeing misery. Lindwig Teck, after running through 
the whale round of romantic questions, rids himself 
wf his demons by turning his attention to other lit- 
erery Wark, and leta most of the old nomantic ideals 
ahewe, oor playfully writes amusing steries about 
thems. Priedrivh Sohlogel finally escapes from him- 
wif by means of a acholarly coil and Catholic faith. 
Hukderlin takes refuge ina mad house. Shelley 
mavagea to endure his brief life, by dint of childlike 
suluniasiveticss Co his emotions, joined with curnest 
hope for vet better Chings. | Seluller had jotned with 
(iethe toa seavh for perfection ins the ancient 
Cireck world. “There are many fashions of quieting 
the restlessness that belonged to the time, vet what 
ene af them really answers the problems of the r- 
mantic spirit’ Phere as sall the great question: 
How may mankind hve the harnnemens emononal 
life, when men are driven for their ideals back upon 
themselves, when Craditienal faith i removed, when 
the age is full of wretchedness and of Dia serv ans, 
When the very strength of poede emeton nnphes 
that it is transient and changeable © The conscious 
failure to answer this quesQien is more er less de: 
chided pesstnitsin. 

Could matera poetry free itself from chat retlestive 
fendenes in which we have found is most prominent 
characterise, Che pessimisi could disappear with 
the criticism of Efe. But chts is impossible. Onn 
partief our bycte poetes, seme of one comedy and of 
eur satins, and Che aest of ope best tinefeenth cet: 


tury pootic work ts a tnere of leas conscious: struggle 


The Ana seryttett of Pyros greeny tan toe ver) 
preset eel perients, tre oanttevestrtatl art the eco thine 


ETHICAL SKEPTHWISN AND ETHICAL Pessnasy. 119 
© Manfred.” ~ Cain,” and ~ Don Juan,” represents an 


imbependent phase of the romantic movement, whose 
fanlts are as instructive as it beauties This pe 


riod of Byron's poetry is of course but very roaghly 
deseribed by the word enitical. vet that word is at 
amy rate suggestive. A sensitive man, and vet he 
roae, strong In spirit. bat without fixed ideals af hie, 
a rebel by nature whe yet finds ne greater soul to 
lead him. no faithful band to follow him im any deti- 
mite effort for mankind, Byron is a modern hkeness 
ef him that in the legend afterwards became St. 
Christopher. Only Byron seeks the strongest with- 
ewt findmy him, learns to despise the devil, and never 
weeets the devil's master. Worn out with the search, 
the poet tings himself down in the woods of doube 
and dreams ~Don Juan.” We look in vain for 
the might adjective with which tw qualify this poem: 
% is so full of strength, w lavish of splendid re 
sources, and yet in sum so disappointing. It has no 
trae ending. and never could have had one. It isa 
mountain stream, plunging dewn dreadful chasms. 
smeging through grand forests. and losing itself mm a 
Ifeless gray alkali desert. Here is romantic self- 
eriticism pushed to its farthest consequences. Here 
8 the self-confession of an hervie soul that has made 
too high demands on life. and that has found in its 
ewn experience and in the world nothing worthy of 
true hervism. We feel the magnitade of the blun 
der, we despise (with the anther, as must be noticed. 
mot in oppesition to him) the miserable petty round 
of detestable experiences — intrigues, amours, din- 
ners —in brief, the vulgarity to which human life 
t 


120) «THY MRLIGIOUS ASPMOT OF PHILOSOPIY, 


in rewdiceed 5 Dut the tengedy in averywhere to be 
resecl Dostoveccrs thes issn, trot is whet in abd. ‘Phe. 
romantics mpirit: ban moult iss vids for thes metinfiac 
tory amotionnl atate, and for the worthy ded to par. 
form, aud now ronta, scornful and yot torrificd, In 
izzy contemplation of the confused and meaning 
lon nase of sensations into which the world las re 
wolved ituelf, © Ther in nothing there to fear or 
hope,” thin spirit san to way, 


6 
“When iSlahop Berkelay sald there wan ne matter, 
And proved it, ‘twee ne nattor what he sald,” 


Or again: — 


“OPo tesor motto het’ re ft decides 
Bo sabsertabel Noes gelosch ter besscow tint whabeds bo toedeng 5 
"Dia tries wer apesetslates both far and wide, 
And dacin, becnuse we acc, wo are cll scaing, 
Harr ssny poart, EV crsbiot conn secsithiecr abcde, 
Wrath 8 reeves toate wbeherm Foor cotseres agg reresttng., 
Bor mie, |} mcornetiinen thisk thee life in death, 
Mather than life, wm seave affable of lremel,” 


Tn * Manfred" the same spirit smoke another, and 
not quite so succemful, a form of expression, The 
only peace that can come to this world-weary spirit, 
Manfred oxprennen at the sight of a quiet sunset, 
The only freslom from eternal solf-axamination be 
found in an ocessional glances ab peaceful nature. 

$e will suck Imat, 
Beat Gt fen well ter Pemver nrecowas bt threrteghs bat mew ; 
Ke Vatbe conaorggened sony Gbrereagebotee witth me sees w mertaeie, 


And I within my tablete would note duwn 
"Shae Cheever be meds oo feseabiiag.” 


The farnous Jast words of Manfred, — 
“Old man, ‘tle nut mo dieule ty die,” — 
] 


EVIL SEEFTUOISMN AND ETSICAL Prssomss. 12771 


aomime ss ther do after alt Mancredi's Wit LERSIO 
UA et Gs peo. esse abe Soa resenaen of 
dissin ta brawe all posicae wredumentess Src, wilt 
amg Ghar tine sale of feeiimer witli. in al las scren in. 
thunk: but for & momeni. Ge Cece Seams Lf ide 
mebelitves Viram 9 Horees f:r Gees, Soe oat 
Tr ta diy, ferioe the pessicac Tagore te. ace Tait 
Tint presen. the bere a0 Ges Tesuras KOO aD Dome C63 
SGPTUUE SHRUTI Of EMOTE eDseiake dat Reba STS 


@e iL tine fepterol ontverse Sere aoe tereucier = — 


“ Dhunt dist Tat WMG ne. ke eM LU IG WL Te 
T ara que Quem ars fire. ter am ur ger — 
BG waa Fw SAH Ee a WL ce 
SEy pert teraciur ’ 


This is pessomise: Ghar cversuce Sect | The oct 
GM OL seit Ta TICLE ust 1s GE eters 
tum to: atid atest be as Suk Te dae Tuk 
Gs pure Workd if 2A IS TESST? foo | See 
Im wal md i. Mactnnd ammuics MIG IT aes 
tum. even thease Se ong mgs it ite mew of 
duuch. Doimr wirk if sce ok tN Ge. ibs 
WHIM We Be THVESEDLT item Sing wl ite at 

dathamee can Tung Lea RTE, WAY mrt 

wae ibid 28 Qa uke Ute Guctatec | is mee 
ti wortty =e wee we te fend. meq in eeadoe. 
bus ciweee ! [Ls mg the vical stage ite dieu aniv- 
Tov. wg tte dew Secor) This scnpesciec Sad 
been 6 ite semua 36 22 the revecarge 32 Marte, 
the Faces of Ureaie. 

Praise of aie Sosa yard if Urreaite’s 7 Fans 7 is 
WOWMLETS Fapercoccs. LWCCGeSs Gite work SS 


122s THE RELIGIOUS AsPROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


terrae! tort ser in the life of man. Knteavagant on. 
conmiam of “ Keeat,” sich se that wherewith Her- 
mann Grito has marred, se with « ahivwian's he 
rangi, the wenelusiom of hie otherwine tront inetene- 
tive “ Leetures om Goethe,” seeme aa ont of place ae 
applause in a cathedral, The poem ie grand and 
profound, heenuse the life probleme it ao trethtally 
portrays are grand and prefennd; in form, if you 
except digresmiinn, it in sublimely simple and unas 
suming. Ite inperfections are ne open to view ua is 
ite grandeur. ‘The doctrine of the poem may be thes 
briefly eipgested. Here inn work! wherein nature, 
the expreasim of divine intelligence, in perfect ; 
wherein tan, by the same divine windet, is left in 
darkness and cmfnsiem. The angele, who simply 
contemplate nature's perfection, are the “true sone 
of God.” Bet they do nothing. They only seo and 
thith. Mart is to set. By his setion he ia freely to 
srente mich perfection an alreuly paawively eninte itt 
natore, That ia, his life ta te become an hartnotions 
while. The postulate of the Lend in that thie in 
porsible. Mephistopheles holds the oppenite opition, 
The qnestion ia te be solved bry the enne of Fact 
Faust in 6 man in whem are combined all the 
strength and weakness of the romantio spirit, No 
eacellencs he deems of worth ao long ae any en 
tellenes in beyond his grasp. Therefore bie de 
pair nt the sight of the great world of life. Se 
wtnnll 0 part of it is his. Ble knews that he oun 
* C4. the enpiniem of M. Eten. Scherer aa gneted inn Me. Matthew 


Arneid‘n eamy, A French Uritic on Coethe, ie the Mized Kescye, wp 
#91. 


never grow great enough to grasp the whole, or any 
fimite part of the whole. ‘et there remains the 
hopeless desire for this wholeness. Nothing but the 
imfinite can be satisfying. Hence the despair of the 
early scenes of the first part. Like Byron's Man- 
fred, Faust seeks death; but Faust is kept from it 
by no fear of worse things beyond, only by an acci- 
dental reawakening of old childish emotions. He 
thereafter feels that he has no business with life, and 
is a creature of accident. He is clearly conscious 
ealy of a longing for a full experience. But this ex- 
perience he conceives as mainly a passive one. He 
does not wish as yet to do anything, only to get 
everything.' Bat at the same time with this desire 
for a tempest of thew feelings, Faust has the con- 
yasness that there never can be a satisfactory feel- 
ing. Mephistopheles. stating the case of the con- 
tented man of the world, assures him that the time 
Will come for enjoying good things in peace. Faust 
indignantly replies that pleasure can never deceive 
lam, the tolerable moment never come. In makng 
this very assertion, however, and in concloding his 
pact with Mephistopheles upon the basis of this asser- 
tion, Faust rises above his first position, and assumes 
anewone. The satisfactory pleasure can never be 
given to him, and why? Because he will always 
remsain active. Satisfaction would mean repose, re- 
pose would mean death. Life is actinty. The 
meaning of the pact is of course that. for good or 
1 CE the lencthr discussion of this point in Friedrich Vicher, 


Geathe’s Foust, New Batrén ser Arink des Geboits, especially p 
998 and p 300. “ Er (Faust) weiss aise fir jetat mur von der Lust.” 





124 tH RRIAGIS AGREE OF PHIAROFHY, 


tere cova, all tees cca dateriece: orf i tente in werk, and hed 
ree totes de ever whelly Het ate beige ae the pened of 
nesticrttegsliadivereret, eeteetitiw bein, Ehek if werbhe tw this eae 
aestsicts orf Lite, Where waetdetinesticnny devtdirt bas Revtetned tierh tty 
fececlirgem bret dre daedda. “Phe wereld dm penal if wes eset 
tiseless 16 aes, tier crtdaecp an ians, “Phas pyrevivbecnes eof Miateat te 
shrecnecterbic thie: Miatervecsy ev tne: prefect hela of metivity. 

W ithe tleie irewigetet thee perder pyieit fram steer 
yer itaecdt, Flees ccamtorveces orf evieemtetiodene tn thie des: 
write fore Frall necmn of prcveonial experience. “The cmmcnie 
Ot thie teow wpyieith de thes emperticem fe acoenplion 
wernt tring. (Phe dittepeniece ta viet:  Mistint, fellewieg 
Avda tadooy taste decnecy, rerbeebet, bows faced ter sane evdomectanes tert d Pag 
Hifics crf corse deca sec tsitecoitiviec.  VNie pyemmdenieie Chere ttt 
tis keely aecetime be da in jrcamieviad y tight give wey 
brestenpes teteegteearbivrnn dni baeperies clevertiente tev webs gRewE 
cond. — Bievtem tedm favkees ple) Wee bere tony welll the 
gtiewet, ‘Phe while: prone ja indeed a eonfliod bac 
frveety ties trae herelecticciew try Mistead, bret thee fibwt, the 
Aewive fer temtiteld paenive ea perierncem, in vatil the 
Hiaawt, eccacrytote tv ite setcecernnel reel, preeeleninnt. — Mietet 
de native, bet bie activity ie teminly we Gentine pete 
wiih tof neo ce preptereee, — Kiven at tee end bie ie net 
dette: seme etree teeter ders medive ¢ hile werk ie done by 
pases: 5 sated tees secctertengliadvtnert tere whierme stale bi 
fe Wt Newt willing ter any, Mhia ia the highest moment, 
de ete anihiel pattern, tot we veatity. bn the real world 
hits wichted nectern'y were ta treevees Rend: Ane titi thes 
werbeatierty vf thes preerilect ie nek telly given, Genueh 
Mies gweht, while ergpautdop it, tee cern tere eee 
erry Cbtiee renee ptt, “Phe sevelation bad free: 
HiWhe Ha lifeidenle pean ometion and hereie a6 


ETHICAL SEEPTRUSM AND ETHICAL Pessimism. 125 


tazm. The two cannot wholly be harmanized. The 
bichast forms of activity imply self-sacrifice, drudg- 
eI. rouune, coal- headed calculation. The hishest 
farens af emotion, pursued by themselves, intaxicate 
and enervate. It is the purpose of Grethe to lead 
as bero throagh the various Stages af emotianal life, 
for the sake of making him prefer in the end a made 
a action wo all forms of simple emotion. The result 
35 to he a man above the deadness af ordinary work- 
adav realism, vet as devoted to tuil as the stupidest 
waist. There is to be a free surrender of a full 
self to the servive of some hich end. Nothing is 
lacking to the conquest aver pessimism, except the 
eioar statement af thar for which the converted 
Faust is to work. The mal af setiviny once found, 
the problem will be solved. and the devil's wager 
Sexe. Bart the dim allegorical suggestions of the sae 
amd part will not suffice to give us the account af 
what is wantad. Faust is ta work for human pro 
press, and progress means the existence of a whale 
matzon af hani-laboring, fearless men whe fight for 
ever for their freedom. To have been the father of 
seach a people is the hishesr blessalness.  Groad, in- 
dread, we sav: but to have wrought bv the devil's 
aad. throach magic and oppression. is this the hich 
es? Is this the tvpe of the best activity? And is the 
great problem after all really solved?) For whaz is 
the ultamate vood of the eternal warfare with namre 
3a which mankind are thus left? Faust leaves be 
‘md him a nation of toilers whose business 11 will 
be tw build dikes to keep the sea ont A worthy 
ead of romantic hones truly: That Guethe him- 


126 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


self ia not wholly content therewith is proven by the 
epilogue in heaven, which means, if it means any: 
thing, that the highest end of human activity ie 
something very fine, but altogether inexpressible, in: 
visible, inconceivable, indefinite, a thing of ether 
and dreams. One longa in this last scene for the 
presence of Mephistopheles, who surely has as much 
right there aa in the prologue, and who would be 
sure to any, in his terse and sinewy fashion, just the 
right and the last word about the whole business. 
\ The incompleteness of “ Faust ” is the incomplete. 
ee of modern thought. The poet is silent about 
he final problem, because modern thought is still 
toiling away on the definition of the highest human 
sustivity. 

Thus we have found that our moral problem is 
shared by others than the moral philosophers. Al- 
most at random we have taken a few suggestive 
Iustrations of this same moral problem as it ap- 
Pears to the poeta. Had we made use of the poeta 
of the present day, we could have illustrated still 
other aspects of the question. ‘The restless dramatic 
geniua of Browning, for instance, always giving ua 
glimpses of new ideals that men of atrange fashions 
have or may have, unweariedly warns us not to pre- 
tand to narrow the possible objects of life down to 
one, however sacred we may think that one to be. 
Jife, thus viewed, seems a grand everlasting war- 
fure of ideals, among which peace ia impossible. 
And with this insight into the actual and seemingly 
recongilable warfare of human aims, ethical doc 
trine inuat begin. The outlook is gloomy, but the 
problem must be faced. 


ETMCAL SKEPTICISM AND ETHICAL Pessamseé. 197 


Ul. 


Sach are same of the motives that give genuine 
meaning to modern pessiminn. This instability of 
all wWeals is the greatest danger to which idealism 
can be subject. And the problem is not ove of mere 
theory, nor yet even of poetic emotion alone. The 
problem is one of daily life. We choose same fash- 
ion of life in the morning, and we reject it before 
might. Our devotional moments demand that all 
life shall be devotional ; our merry moments that all 
ife shall be merry : our heroic moments that all life 
shall be lived in defiance of some chosen enemy, 
Bat we are false to all these our ideals, even while 
we pretend to have them. And the mosé dishear 
teming aspect of the whole matter lies in the fact 
that we cannot prove even our faithlessness to be un- 
worthy, unless we can bring ourselves steadfastly to 
accept some ileal by which our faithlessness itself 
can be judged. And this weuld imply that we were 
no longer faithless. 

We have thus reached the rect of moral skepti- 
eam. «The worst that moral skeptics can say is that 
all choice of ideals is an accidental caprica, that 
ideals have no basis but this caprice, and that a 
moral code depends for its successful propagation 
wholly on the persuasive personal foree of the man 
that happens to have it and t teach it. 

For the first, then, we provisionally accept this 
akeptical view. We shall regant the moral ideals in 
this light. We shall sek no impossible proof for 
any of them. Bat we shall try to see whither the 
theptical view itself leads us 


198 9 PH RELAOHS ASPROT (ne PHILOSOPHY, 


If wm ltrs ner fee a final and perfectly cola. 
bleeclod statement of this mntreal skopticinm, # state- 
trent that shell lot ces sem cotree Reve all ite trrentring, rts 
fereenlaticm, andl its scene, the preseirt seth knows 
tf intr bother dx preenntern crf it there the trie thet is ert 
tained ite the apponlix te Me. Artheee Brelfere’s 
€ Prefers tt Pbrileeserphie Preett,” | render the tiths 
© Phe Len of a Philosphy of Kthios.” Moe. Bak 
ferree tres shrevwer res bry the broke tn Creation that be 
has a very eset effion tne pbrtlemenphie Ainertanitrn, 
andl we Gan tmby thet bien fore bevitg teradle print. 
tive advance tn othion easier, bry his oleae statornrdmt 
Gf the diffierdities that in the pist have beeeedd the 
Way. 

“Seiontitie jerelgeronts nnd othical inde rretrts dea,” 
anys Me. Balfere, “with asentially different srb- 
ject. nnttors.” Scientific preenpenitions state “ frets 
tre events, real te hyperthetiont.”  Mathical prenpensi- 
tits ltr tet“ annenttnée an ovent,” nee gat Ad they 
toll atry “feet ef the external oe internal world.” 
Fithion! writers tetr ebten ctrmator the ° peyehtlopy 
Of thee indliviclteal brelebieng the: trerbal law.” ert tris 
is ner matter Pere ottrios, bret trly Pere prey etrerbeep ited 
aeionee, fn fate, if n prreerptenttien setrtrerretesting bby. 
ligation pocgripe preted at all, ome torn of that prod 
thetst always bi nw pretepensitiom arintrnsing Chligatitn, 
Whith itselh pregreiees mer preerteh.”” <P hte is tty sortie 
ior bry whrieh mmm othicnl preerpeesttice Grn bt aved vad 
Frereey st atiertifice tre metaphysical preeeptentticnr, te atry 
Cererrbrirentiertr crf mrecbs.” <P bre eertgein crf sete tebtieate 
Cthital belief can never sepply a ronseete for bolieving 


t fomrdon, MatMittan & Covrpany, 1979. 


ETHICAL SKEPTICISM AND FrRTCAL Pesaitsw. 129 


% Suce the origin of this belief. as of any other 
mental phenomenon, is a matter to be dealt with by 
aetence > and my thesis is that (negatively speaking) 
agentifice trath alone cannot serve as a foundation 
for a moral system: ar (to put it: positively), if we 
have a moral system at all. there must be contained 
m it expheidy or implicitddy, at least ane ethical 
Proposition, af which no proaf can be given ar re 

The reader may ask: Is all this the loftiest ideal 
tema, ar is it simply philasophie skepticism about the 
basis af ethics? We may leave the reader to ex- 
amine for himself Mr. Ralfour'’s very ingenious dis 
easton, but ane ar two very obvious and simple 
gomaaguendces may be quoted fram the rest af the os. 
way. and these will serve well enough to show here 
the drift af the diseussion. 

“An ethical proposinion is ane that preseribes an 
a@ttGen with reference to an end.” Every such prop 
oxitton “ belongs to a svstam.” * The fundamental 
proposition of every such system skates an end, which 
the peraan who receives that sustem reganis as final 
—as chosen for itself alone” * When two such 
svstems canflict, their rival claims ean only be de. 
cided by a judgment or proposition net containad in 
either of them. which shall assert which of these re 
spective fundamental * ends” shall have proendence.” 
“If revenee against a particular Individual is for 
wre an ondn-itself, a proposidien which prescribes 
Shooting him from behind a hadge may be one af the 
dependent propositions belonging te that particnlar 


system.” * Though under the name ethical are in- 
’ 


180) THM RVLIGIONIN ASPROT OF FHILONOFIY, 


chaded net only moral, tut also nonmoral and im- 
sural nyntetnn, thes dintinetisonn regarded fren thes 
cristabshes bretwesesn theme subvlivinionn ares must enmmtial, 
sotucl Fasaves ancy grbablesmesgsbaes isengort.”” — Foescche thrests in thes 
wheeegrthessal cnnstessonness cof thin vesry blealintio: promition fret 
which we cturneclven started, Thun vieswed, the meral 
world mseasin emmntionly chaertic. Keach esul, 1f chiomen, 
line ite own way of marnhaling mete wm gonnd andl brad, 
Syst crtees orl casinest ontablion iteclf theuretically 
over aygnlint another, Thy warfare among thom ia 
poreccthenl, brut in seet rathonslly tos bons fs yecd cor enced, 
Kuch wayn, In sees in thes truth adamt right sas 
wrong, Jamths Way.” Sut for ons another they 
have, nt aryuimetite, but aoathemnas, They give no 
prot, only semertion and condemnation, It is the 
cscrnatestagolaticrns cof thin echisacrm threat basen seaggegeomtenl tes tas 
thisat prlesamibeles ard yo drelfil ponmieniom of which 
muoxlern thenght has had so much to say, and of 
which this chapter has tried ty give sume notion. 


CHAPTER VIL 


TITR MORAL INaIGHT 
Love fa like understanding, that grows Drake, 
Ceaaitgt ot taaty (ratha, 
MHL Y, Hp dive, 


Ws have needed to dwell on our ethioal akepth 
elam, to experionve the real ateongth of fae doubts, 
tn order that we ahould be able to get new and bet 
ter mothada of construction for our owe dovtring, 
Deep aa ta the truth that lies at the baaia of many 
ethiveal doctrtnes now either doubted or abandoned, 
one thing: alwaye xcoma defeetive about their faahton 
of building, ‘Thin one dofoot hae ade ta queation 
thelr worth aa theorlea, And our theoretical doubt, 
aa we dwelt upon it, has bevome practloal, We 
have weon how thin ethioal akoptichan leada ta the 
qloomioat: posimian. Doth the akeptician and the 
posaimian we ninat meet fairly and foarlowdy, And 
we thiueb aak Chom how even they themaelves aie 
posible, 

l. 

Our akeptioal oritiehan af ethival dheorien has 

been xo far olthor internal ov external, We have 


enttielwed each doetrine in ttelf, questioning cither 
its conalatenoy or ite tuner camplotencoass ar clae wo 


182 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PIIILOSOPHY. 


have criticised it with reference to other doctrines. 
In the first caso our criticism led to no general 
akopticism, and had importance only in the special 
case, But the other kind of criticism was of more 
importance, and took another turn. We said to 
the doctrine: “ Perfect as your systom may be in 
itself, your assumption of your highest end always 
finds over against ituelf an equally stubborn assump- 
tion of an exactly opposing end. And you have no 
proof to offer for your rejection of that end. You 
simply insiat upon calling it a diabolical ond; you 
hurl at it your anathoma, Now we, who have 
wanted proof, not more enthusiasm, we, who stand 
critically before your doctrine, and view it from 
without, and dosire to know why we are to accept 
it, we feol a skeptical indifference about your end, 
as soon as wo compare it with the opposing ond, 
and as soon as comparing, we find the difference be- 
tween them to bo one that rests, not on demonstra- 
ble truth, but on a mere kind of caprice.  Practi- 
cally we may agree with you in choosing, as men 
of action, your aim. Our personal caprice may 
agree with yours. But theoretically we cannot jus 
tify this aim. Wo find, in all that you say, no ob- 
jective moral truth, but only somebody's capricious 
resolution, And even if we chance to accept your 
resolution, who knows when wo shall change our 
minds, and begin acting in some new way, so that 
what we now call good shall be called evil? In 
brief, if there is to be possible anything more than 
moral preaching, if there is to be anything worthy 
of the name of demonstrated moral doctrine, then 


THE MORAL INSIGRT. 183 


all yoor discussion must lead t sumething net de 
peadent on the bare choice af individual moral 
agents. But in truth what you give us is just the 
feet of vour choice. And hence it is that we are 


Whaat does this our skepticism mean?  Unreflee. 
tive, selfatistied skepticism always means mental 
@eath: bat in self-critival skepticism, observant af 
trelf as af evervthing else, moves the very hite-hload 
of philosophy. And of this the whale of the present 
Book will try te be an ilustradion. dust here, there 
fore, we want tw be as watehtul af our skepticism as 
we were af the systems whos theoretical weakness 
ed us hither. What is the sense of this theoretical 
skepticism af our present: atdtude 7 On our reply 
all else turns And our reply is: This skepticism 
expreses an indifference that we feel when we cun- 
template two opposing aims in such a way as me. 
mentarily tw share them both. For the moment we 
realiaee equally these warring aims Thev are ours, 
The conflict is in. us The oo wills here represented 
are our will, And for this reason, and for this only. 
ean we feel the skepucal indovision. Had we the 
will to chowse the ane end alone, we should unhesi- 
taunely chouse it, and should not we enough af the 
opposing will to be skeptics, Had we only the will 
that chouwes the opposing end, we should feel equally 
indifferent to the tis, Had we neither will at all 
in mind, did we realise neither one of the opposing 
ends. we should be feeling no hesitaden between 
them. Our doubt arises from the fact thar momen- 
tarily and provisionally we are in the attitude of as- 


184 THE RELIGIOUS AAIKOT OF PHILONOPIHY, 


sunning beth, Our Indifference is not the indiffer- 
enon of ignorance, but of knowludlge; not of failure 
to understand either ond, but of rendinons to realize 
both onde, Hones it follows that moral skepticinns 
in Staolf the result of an act, namely, of the aot by 
which wo sok to ronlize in ourselves opposing alsin 
at the same tine, This observation is of the great 
ont Importancs to us, and we must dwell upon it. It 
shows us that above all our skeptic is the su- 
prresnsacy Ural Chase rersalccrn tlre wbecsprtiosinens Ltoeslf pocommiboles, 

The ethical aims themselves aro all of them the 
oxprosion of someledy's will, Their confliot in the 
conflict of wills, Doubt about ther cepenede upon 
the realization of their oxistenes and of tholr app 
nition, Thorefere this doubt depends for ite very 
oxintenca on the conditions of this renlization, Wo 
have tried to state what the condition are. Ty 
realize opposing onde ao completly that one fools a 
genuine doubt whieh of them to apt, linplion, we 
way, the simultanseus provisional acanptance of beth, 
And this may be shown inn more popular payoholag- 
ionl way, ae woll asin na more general philosophical 
way, Ws take the paychologionl way firnt. 

How enn f know that thers is anywhere a will, W, 
thant csbacrcomesm Foor itwolf wesne ond, 17 Renlly to know 
thahen Nesngodbese sconsnestlabeage anvcores thins aries cotater obonest. 
vation of the freta, One must repent fir one's own 
mind more or lows rapidly or lmperfoetly this will, 
W, that ona corcelven to cxint dn mcsnesbendy oslac, 
And thin nowd of reopotition isa woll-known paychie 
logionl truth, very oasily ilustrnted by all sorta of 
commonplace fasts, Let us refer to some of these. 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 135 


To think of a badily act is w perform the act, or 
at beast mentally to initiate the perfurmanc af the 
at. According w Professor Rain's now generally 
accepted principle, the memory or the canceptian af 
aa act is physialancally connected with the fainter 
enctaten of just the sune nerve-tracts as would be 
Mmore intensely excited in the real performance af 
the act. Therefore it is true that tw think af vawn- 
mg ts to initiate a yawn, te think af walking is to 
mmitkate steps: and, in case of any excitable person, 
er in case af any momentary predispositian fw per 
form the act. the conception may immediately be. 
came the act, hecanse the nascent excitatian involved 
im the concepdan of the ach may af ance pass over 
mato the completer excitation, and the ideal deed 
waay become a visible fact. Thus the exvitad man, 
if net checked by company, may at ance tuk aloud 
t himeelf. his theachts bwwuing wenis If very 
mech excited, he may mater to himself even in the 
presence of company. He is much more apr to deo 
this if he thinks now onl of the wands themselves, 
bat af the act of speaking them, nameiy, if he we 
agines himself talking tf somebody, and emphane 
ally bringing his thevchts hame to that other. ln 
a weak state of Daiv. this tendeney fo repeat an act 
Whenever one conceives it may beoame quite dis 
tresang, To chink ef voiding may moan te vount 
Or again, to shink of langhter ar af tears may in 
gach a case make one laagh or ery. Hence the woak 
man may didike tw beotn lanching, leans he 
Knows thas other exciting catises apart, the mere 


Memary thar he has laushed may keep him laagh 


186 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ing afresh long after the sense of the ridiculous has 
passed away, so that to begin laughing may mean 
total exhaustion before he can stop. 

Imitation rests at least in part upon this tendency. 
An act is performed, we witness it, we see or know 
how it is done, we conceive the effort that would 
lead to the performance of it, and forthwith this con- 
ception becomes the performance. We imitate the 
gesture of the actor or of the story-teller before us, 
and we feel an inner imitation of many acts, even 
though we suppress the outward signs. In general, 
for us to realize an act means that we shall do it, 
either in outward fact, or through a nascent perform- 
ance that is not outwardly visible. Much of the 
recently so-called ‘“ mind-reading,” more accurately 
named by some psychologists “ muscle - reading,” 
rests upon this foundation. For the conception of 
acts that are not outwardly performed is often indi- 
cated by slight motions or tensions of arm or of fin- 
gers, or of the whole body, and the muscle-reader, 
getting some close contact with his subject, amuses a 
company by interpreting these unseen, but readily felt 
signs of the thoughts of his subject. Very deeply do 
such facts enter into the structure of our mental life. 
Mr. Galton, investigating word-associations, found in 
many cases that the idea immediately aroused by a 
word was a sort of dramatic reproduction of the act 
expressed by the word. This dramatic reproduction 
consisted, at least in part, in the feeling of effort in 
those muscles that would be concerned in performing 
the act itself. If tho momentary association first 
aroused by the sudden and unexpected sight of the 


THE MORAL INSIGRT. 187 


word involves thia dramatic imitation of the act 
named, how much mere would the thought invelve 
the dramatic repetition of the act, if ane were to dwell 
upon the nature of this act, and were fully tu realize 
ita nature In his own mind, So much then fer pay- 
chological illustration of the view that we are here 
advaneing, If two opposing fashions af action are 
present to our minds, and if mentally we are trying 
to realize them both, then mentally we are woking 
tw repreduce them both, Our skeptical hesitation 
between them expresses our effort to attain montally 
bath these onda at anes. For what we have said 
about bodily avts will apply equally well tu what we 
wenally call mental acts, and even to general resale 
tions, allaf which have a physical side, and are apt 
w be aymbolizved by same badily gesture that we 
mentally ar outwanily repeat when we think af the 
act or af the resalution in question, 

Rot all this is net a bare acvident af the psywhalos 
wal structure af our minds ; it is a philosophical ne- 
cemaity. What represents a Will bat a Will?) Whe 
weld know what it is to have an end unless he act- 
wally had ends himself? Whe van malise a given 
alm aave by somehow repeating it in himself? And 
wit ia rationally and universally necessary that ane 
shall realise the end of a moral system by repradue- 
ing in himself the will that acvepts this end. But, 
en the other hand, in so far forth as he repraluces 
this will alone, he cannot refrain frau avvepting the 
ead. Tn ao far forth as he reproduces this will, it is 
hia wilh And the end is his ond. Therefore our 


skepticiam itself was a hesitation, resulting from the 


18H THe RELIGIONS ANPEOT OF PHILAHOPHY, 


fonlivation of aeveral appawing onda, nal frat w ab 
sitedbeatien ten veegrrvnlivectiens ct tes willy tind mined at 
thsi: ‘Mhespesterves, wm wes mete, wlmediites etliieal mleeppli- 
eshontes wertslel teat, vec dly bos tartisl abaweniees of terval sie, 
rah wvertaled weatbicse foes flies tveseetrendity tliat wertlel remult 
from 0 previnkininl neceptanes of all the confiding 
sehevin bie Chees were led cof metic: Alomiliates etliieal mbeeppti: 
cabvinia, HF AL wvesves mecttsmed dy parsmmd doles witdecntet esd tel ecatoeies: 
fivate, werdlel hdl prremtapypernes ane enn, wnnnedy, Hie effete 
day Vesewteeerneiinns tne eottes tesertveestet MEE Adis eeonntlieddeng deen 
tee thee: wvesebed cof Wifes: 16 wertbel test bie what 16 badd 
woeegrprrnecel DheaecE tes bas: A bomesd tates becsprtiecdonnne wereled thet 
bs Fevsersebeced evne sabomerdeates Nvespresweslenees, = Sa soins tim 
sh he heemeony anh unity uf Kanlued: Wut jamb 
fore thie wetaert da abineatistes mbeprtivdone melt dewteuetive, 

Perwmilidy tede reameells sriny bes mentee had sehen peetedd 
Boat died teerh Mies very: prevmidene of entte lewd ehingrher 
i vatrndes 167 Why thin peandinien ? ‘Thin denpair 
tof Nites, whvieh wien 16 brat dlves mneetisies cof tiltes brerpaeslesianincre 
oh enaw tienle 1 Woihests tttsades this tesmle mesentie beergyelerin 4 
Ail whit wie thes taal” ‘Phas tank wae thie ferrin 
tiene it ate hestreminia Meal of life: Thin task 
mececnenell Verguslecern, beset: wes felt think tis netted 
Hlectabe eof Hikes spveertegye teens tates die enelly confi. Oar 
precrdiniane wite after ll inert whit it meemedd te te te 
Nae; A wwsen teerh Abies Potemes wesveseneecdigticots eof andl denen 5 
it wite tlie eftereh ter ondiaty tien all, enbithered by 
ties mecvemes Alia thasy were: die mcenndiply benpelenn ere 
Hiv: Meveste arn qotemmedovedenee fend ites debe. Withers 
dten dlected 14 wwertebed Hip yec ese pesedenecead sive deapde, “Thus 
cernebhtech erk sadeeen overnabel Deserves treederet tee cyl. Pee pee: 
widerdaties elemgrindh ove ies sonedoepael erteleerine of Une whey: 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 189 


ticism, solely because our skepticism was iteelf a real- 
ization of the aima with which men live. and of the 
warfare of these aims. 

From the world of dead facta, we had said, you 
ean get no ethical doctrine. Physica] truth never 
gives moral doctrine. Therefore the world of facts 
esemed to stand on one side, and the world of moral 
aims seemed to stand on the other, no logical connec. 
tion being discoverable between them. This waa our 
theoretical objection to the cthical doctrines that we 
examined. Scparate as they were from the world 
of facta, they seemed to dwell alone, ungrounded and 
conflicting acta of caprice. Yet for them to pass 
over to the world of facts was to lose their cthical 
character. But now we seek to overcome our diffi- 
ealty by considering, not the world of physical facta 
themselves, but the world of ends. And this world 
we consider, not now in detail, but as a whole. 
What highest end is suggested, we ask, to him who 
realizes for himself this whole world of ends? The 
very end, we answer, that. as first dimly seen, forced 
upon us our skeptical pessimism. Wohhoso realizes an 
end, hia, for the time being, is that end. And since 
it in hie ond, he mentally wills to realize it in ideal 
perfection. But whose ralizes the varions conflicting 
aims in the world, his are all these aims at the mo 
ment of insight, when, so far as in him lies, he real- 
ines them, and mentally desires their success. In pro. 
portion as his rvalization is or can be catholic and 
genuine, his will becomes, for the time, these con- 
ficting wills. In him is now the warfare. He feels 
im his own person the bitterness of the universal 


140 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


strife. And therefore it is that, in the first moment 
of his new insight, the pessimism comes to him. 
‘This warfare cannot be ended,” he despairingly 
says. But has he thus uttered the final word? For 
he has not yet added the reflection that we are here 
insisting upon. Let him say: “ Then I too have an 
end, far-off and unattainable though it seems, and 
so my will is not aimless. I desire to realize these 
aims all at once. Therefore I desire their harmony. 
This is the one good that comes up before my fancy 
as above all the various conflicting individual goods 
of the various separate aims. This Higher Good 
would be attained in a world where the conflict 
ceased. That would be the Ideal World, where all 
possible aims were pursued in absolute harmony.” 
Barren at first sight this reflection may appear. 
It may have been unexpected, but we shall certainly 
be disposed at first to call it fruitless. For here are 
the aims, and they do conflict. In the actual world 
there is ceaseless warfare. Only the wager of bat- 
tle can decide among the opposing ethical faiths. 
But now, if some idealist comes who says that his 
insight gives him the higher ideal of Harmony, then 
one may reply that his ideal is, in its confessed na- 
ture, a mere fantasy of his benevolent imagination. 
Such harmony never can be realized, unless indeed 
some day, by the aid of bigger battalions, some one 
of the ideals overcomes all the rest. Yet is our 
idealist so lightly to be answered? Can he not at 
once reply: ‘ My Ideal is thus defined, and fantastic 
though it be, far-off though it seems, it is still an 
ideal towards which I can direct my efforts. For 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 142 


behold, made practical, brought down from its lone- 
some height, my Ideal very simply means the Will 
to direct my acts fowards the attainment of univer- 
sal Harmony. It requires me to act with this my in- 
aight always before me. It requires me to consider 
all the conflicting aims that will be affected bv each 
ene of my acts, and to dispose my act with reference 
to them all. It sets up this new moral principle be- 
fore me, a principle perfectly catholic, and above all 
that skepticism which we have felt with regard to 
the special moral aims. This Principle is: So act 
as thou wouldst will to act if all the consequences of 
thy act _for all the aims that are anywhere to be af- 
Jected by this act. could be realized by thee now and 
ta this one indivisible moment. Or more briefly pat : 
Act always in the light of the completest insight 
info all the aims that thy act ts to affect. This 
rale is no capricious one, chosen for some individual 
reason, but an universal maxim. since its choice de- 
pends on the genera] realization of all the conflicting 
aims of the world of life. And thus we have after 
all found, in the verv heart of our skepticism itself, 
a moral doctrine. In the midst of the warfare of in- 
dividual wills, we have caught sight of an Universal 
Will 


IL 


“Bat no.” some one will sav: “All this is still 
mere caprice. Has it not in fact fallen already a 
prey to the same skepticism that pursued other moral 
aims? For first, you have tried to found it on a phys- 
teal fact, namely, on the fact that only by a given 


142s THE NELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


effort of will one thinking being can realize the will 
of another. Hut does this tell me that I ought thus 
to renlize the conflicting wills that are in the world 7 
And if I do not, what significance han thin physical 
fact for me? But, on the other hand, physical facts 
snide; is net your doctrine just your capricious deter. 
mination to respest the conflicting sim that exist in 
the world 7” 

This objection, if made, would be founded on s 
thiminderstanding of what wo have dissovered, We 
have dinuvered sntmnething that hae = value for us 
qtite independently of ite importance ae % ners phys. 
feal fact. Wo set out to find © distinetion between 
right and wrong, Onr difficuity always wan that, 
nines this distinction involves the scmceptance of s 
highont sim asthe standard of judgment, and since 
there are numerous simn pomille, we always were 
confuned try the fact that among these manifold sims 
there wae found no ground of cheics, Kor to show 
any renson why we have chosen in « given way be- 
tween two of thene sims, is to have « third sim thet 
includes one sil excludes the other, And the cheies 
of this third aim seemed again just as accidental as 
the first choices would have been without this third 
sim to justify it. Thus oir original thenght of sn 
sim, a6 the foundation of an ethical doctrine, had 
heen shattered before our syos inte © spray of nepa- 
rate posible or actual aims, and we saw no way of 
collecting this spray aysin into nnity, [f that was 
the resean for our skepticiam, then of cones any- 
thing more that we may say about ethics tmiust pre 
suppons & hearer who can fool such skepticion, x6 


TRE WORAL ENVIGRT. 148 


wast provisionally. The physical fact that be can 
wderstarl the patrre of our doubs is inateed: prresayp 
posed exe we can go further, but that is no objectiom 
to or progress. The physical face that we have an 
intelligent bearer must always be presupposed by 
we Ld ome cannot feel the doubs. then be cannes 
unmdextake any ethical inquiry, We only say to 
biva: “ If you doubs about the seveptance of a moral 
aim, this that we have potated out te vou is the real 
reason for your doubé 1f now vou understand vour 
Goubs, then you are actually iu the state that we have 
deseribal above. Your doubs has in fact a general 
eharacter, ly means a provisional moral shepticigna, 
found on an inaghs inte the couttics of attas 
This insight means skeptivian because, amd only be 
Caras, Yor are at the mozent af tusigtt voursell pos 
sessel of the contheting alts vourself ab war with 
Yourself, and therefore umdevided. This spray of 
alwas into which vour tins: pure Kew of a moral ann 
as suwh has been scattered, this confiusat aunt bln: 
ag clout of purposes, represents for vou your own 
woral position. Divided tx vourselt) dismuttied, con 
fused, vou float cloud-like and tractive, weking matey 
of aim and tieding nome. Bag if vou reflects on all 
this, vou see thas iu trash vou ovcupy the posifon 
that we have above desertted. You really have 
seit a hivhest alte, You seek unity. You destre the 
warfare te was. You have an ifeal AM thts ts 
to be sur a phistecal fact, dependert or Vout tae 
ture as voliuttary being: bag ists woe walnable fest 
for thar reason alone, bas for the reason shag tt dts 


covering this fact, you have discovered what you 


144 THR RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


were soaking for, You have found that you are in 
pomsamion of an ideal, You oannot gat away from 
that ideal save by repeating the very proces that 
haa brought you to it. Your moral insight In at- 
talned, and the foundation of your dootring is ne 
longer a particular ain that is acsapted by a mere 
eaprica of one individual, but it in the necamnry aim 
that arises in the mind of any one who actually real- 
ison the warfare of the particular alms, It te the 
ideal of ideals, It in the absolute ideal that arkeen 
for you out of the consideration of the separate 
ideals, Mach of them was rolative to tha mood of 
the man who happened to choone ft; thin Ideal fs 
relative only to the dusight that comprehands the 
whole moral world, Unable as we mon are fully to 
realize punt the aetual nature of every single alm in 
the world of lifa, still we are able fully to realize cer 
tain conflicting alms; and, realizing thin oonfllet, we 
ean form for ourselves the notion of that absolute 
realization that means, as we have seen, first the 
skeptical despair of our last chapter, and then, by a 
deapar reflection, the ideal that wa have just set 
forth above, Thus we no longer are oapriclously de- 
aiding upon the worth of physloal facts as such, 
Woe are posing a necessary judgment upon ideals as 
idonls, 

And we have tried to show that thin our resulting 
{deal is not a barren one, At first sight It seamen Ko, 
At firat aight one saya: “This harmony ia a aelf. 
eontradictory dream.” But no, not self-contradietory 
in the dream; for, if we cannot perfeatly realize thi 
new idval, if absolute harmony te unattalnable, one 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 145 


ean still walk in the light of the ideal. One can say: 
«~T will act as if all these conflicting aims were mine. 
I will respect them all. | will act in the light that 
has brought me my weral insight. And to that end 
I will act at each moment as one would act who 
saw himself about to suffer in his own person and 
at ane time all the consequences af his act for all 
the aims that are to be affected by what he does” 
But now the ideal becomes practical, now it ceases 
to be barren. It is no longer the mere wish that 
was at the heart of ourskepticism, a wish gloomy, in- 
active, terrified at the warfare that is in the work. 
Te is a cool determination. It savs: * This disease 
of conflicting aims cannot now be cured, but it shall 
be dealt with. These aims are as my own. = I| will 
deal with them as such. I will work for their har 
moay.” If ane doubts this ideal, then he doubts 
the very foundation of ethical doubt itelf. Bat this 
ts not all that our absolute ideal accomplishes. Not 
merely for the mament of insight dees this eal give 
an aim; bat it extends itself to the other maments 
af life. It savs: * The highest good would be realia- 
able only in case not merely the aim af this moment 
of insight itself, but the aims of all the canthecting 
wills in the world, were brought inte conformity to 
this insight. The highest good would be attainable 
if all the cuntlicting wills realized fully one another. 
For then, not abandoning each its own aim, each 
would have added thereta, through insight, the aims 
of the others. And all the world af individuals 
woald act as one Being, having a single Universal 
Will. Harmony would in fact be attained.” There 
1 


146 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


fore our ideal has another precept to give us, 6 
inays: * Act in wuch wine as to extend this moral in- 
wight to others,” IJlere is « definite practical alm, 
and it justifies usin maying to wll the conflicting 
wills: * You should respect one another.” For so in 
fact they all would do if they had the moral insight. 
And to have it, as we now se, is the prerequisite 
to the attainment of the highest: good, namely, this 
ideal Harmony that we sek at the moment of moral 
ineight, 


UU. 


We fear that such general discussion of what we 
have called the moral insight may seem, at first sight, 
too abstract to be real, We hasten to a more con- 
crete study of this insight. Jeaving those more ab- 
atract wise that bave been used as the foundation of 
moral systems, let us study our moral insight as It 
applies to the special aime that come into conflict 
When a man js dealing with his neighbor, Let us 
new how just the considerations that we have applied 
to the conflict of ethical aims in general apply db 
rectly to the conflict between selfishness and unself- 
ishness, which we so Jong snd sw vainly considered 
in the Jawt chapter, This warfare of selfishness and 
unselfishness iy indeed not the deepest of moral 
problems, and to solve the problem here involved in 
not, as some have supposed, to define forthwith the 
Highest Good, Yet we shall do well to fix our minds 
for the time on this special problem, 

Why bs selfishnens casier to me than unselfishness 7 
Because it iv easier for me to realize my own future, 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 147 


and my own desire about it, than to realize the desires 
of my neighbor. My will is the datwm ; his the dimly- 
gonoeived, remote fact. Hence it seems to me obrious 
thas his will must be w me less significant than my 
own. Therefore he and J are often in deadly war 
fare, just because [ realize his will not in its inner 
matare, but as a foreign power, and because he deals 
even so with me. We stand over against each 
other hke two moral svstems, condemning and fight- 
Ing each the other. Now, however, there often ap- 
pear disinterested moralists, whe try to patch up our 
differences. We have seen how and whr they have 
90 often failed. They tell me that my neighbor and 
I shall give each other much more selfish delight if 
we stop fichting and begin codperanng. But that 
Wie advice in no way touches the root af the diff- 
ealty between us. If we did codperate for this rea- 
som. we should still be two foreign powers, virtually 
Giscordant. And whenever it happened thar either 
of us coald do better by oppressing or by crushing 
the other than by continuing to codperate with him, 
be not anly would do a. bat, so far as we have seen, 
maust do sx. Anether moralist hopes that if we 
keep an coiperating long enough, we may evolve 
into parely unselfish beings sume day. The hope is 
@ pious ane, but gives us no sufficient reasan whr we 
ought to coiperate unselfishly now, when im fact we 
are selfish. Yet another moralist asks us to reflect 
om the nature of our emotions af pity and sympathy 
for each other. We reply that these feelings are in- 
determinate in character, and may lead us to do any- 
thing or nothing for each other. So all these mor 


‘ 


148 THK RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


alints lonve my neighbor and me just where we were. 
If it is to our personal slvantage to fight, we shall 
do so; otherwise we may by chances remain for a 
while in practical harmony; but, throughout, our 
moral aims will remain what they were, selfish and 
conflicting. 

Forsaking these unsatisfactory attempts to found 
a moral doctrine concerning one’s duty to one’s 
neighbor, let us try to do what Schopenhauer so 
haltingly sugyentl, namely, to seo what moral in- 
sight us moral insight, and not as pity or as far- 
sighted egoinn, tells us about the moral relations of 
selfishness and unselfishness. If aman not merely 
pitien but knows his neighbor's will, what moral 
ideal dows he get? Wo affirm that insight into the 
reality of the neighbor's will, insight that considers 
hin will as it is in itself, and that aeeordingly repeats 
it in us, gives us a position above the struggle of 
self and neighbor, and Jets us seo the higher ideal of 
Harmony, whose precept ins Actas a heing would act 
who included thy will and thy neighbor's will in the 
unity of one life, and who hud therefore to suffer 
the consequences for the aima of both that will fol- 
linn from the act of either, Thin insight is not the 
mere emotion of pity nor yet sympathy, but some- 
thing different from those, namely, something that 
involves the realization, and therefore the reproduc. 
tion in us, of the opposing will of the neighbor, This 
insight therefore deprives onch will in its separate- 
ness of ites absolute signifiesance, and commands that 
wo should act with an equal reference to both, I¢ 


says not merely, ‘Love thy neighbor as thyself,” 


7 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 149 


bat, “Tn so far as in thee lies, act as if thon wert 
at once thy neighbor and thysdf{ “ Treat these too 
lives as one life.” 

We must try to show how this insight leads to this 
reaulg. We must try so to bring home the insight 
to the reader that he shall in his person aceomplish 
the act of which we speak. and so come to acvopt 
the ideal upon which we are insisting, [Cis in him- 
self that he is to experience this ideal. or else he 
will not be able or willing to accept it We ean 
only suggest the way. And so we shall try forthwith 
to suggest what is the nature of that common imper 
fect realization of our neighbor's life which does not 
lead to the moral insight. and then to dwell upon 
this insight itself. 

IV. 

The common sense. imperfeet recognition of our 
neighbor implies rather walvation of the external 
aspect of his being, as that part of him whieh affoots 
ws, than realization of his inver and peculiar world 
af personal experience. Let us show this by example. 
First, take my realization of the people when LT eom- 
monly meet but do not personally very well know, 
e ge the conduetor on the railway train when | 
travel, He is for me just the being who takes my 
ticket, the official to whom 1] can appeal for certain 
advice or help if TE need it That chis conductor has 
an inner life. like mine, this Lam apt never to realize 
atall, He has to excite my pity or some other spe- 
cial human interest in me ere T shall even begin ta 
try to think of him as really like me. On the whole, 


160 THE R¥LIGIOUS ASI'ECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


he is for me reulized as an automaton. But still fre- 
quontly Ido realize him in another way, but how ? 
J note very likely that he in courteous or surly, and 
] like or dinlike him aveordingly. Now courtesy and 
discourtesy are qualities that belong not to automata 
at all, Hones I must somehow recognize him in this 
cue as conscious, But what aspect of his conscious 
now do | consider? Not the inner aspect of it as 
such, but still the outer aspoct of his conscioun life, 
ana powor affecting mo; that is what I consider, Ie 
treats mea no and no, and he does this deliberately ; 
therefore | judge him, But what I realize is his doe 
liburate act, as something important to me, It sel- 
dom occurs to me to realize fully how he feels; but 
f can mach more easily come to note how he is dis 
posed, The disposition is his state viewed as a power 
affecting me. 

Now let one look over the range of hin bare ac- 
quaintanceship, lot him leave out his friends, and the 
people in whom he takes a special personal interest ; 
let him regard for the first the rest of his world of 
fellow-men: his butcher, his grocer, the policeman 
that patrols his street, the nowsboy, the servant in 
his kitchen, his business rivals whom he occasionally 
talks to, the mon whose political speoches he has 
heard or read, and for whom he has voted, with some 
notion of their personal charactars, — and then all 
the rest of the outside world, the Turks or the In- 
diuns, the men of historic fame, Napoleon, Cicero, 
Camar, the imaginary people in fictions that have 
excited little of bis stronger emotional interest: how 
dvew he conceive of all these poople? Are they not 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 151 


one and all to him ideal or real ways of behavior 
towards himself or other people, outwardly effective 
hemes. rather than roalized masses of genuine inner 
hfe, of aentiment, of love. or of felt desire? Does he 
uct naturally think of each of them rather as a way 
ef catward action than as a way of inner volition ? 
His batcher, his newshoy, his aervant, — are they not 
for him industrious or lary, honest or deceitful, polite 
or ancivil, useful or useless people, rather than self- 
eonacions people? Is any one of these alive for him 
m the fal] sense, — sentient, emotional. and other 
wane like himself: as perhaps his own son, or his 
own mother or wife seoms to him to be? Is it not 
rather the kind of behavior of these heings towanis 
him which he malizes? Is it not rather in general 
their being for him, not for themselves that he oon- 
@ders in all his ordinary life, even when he aalls 
them conscions ? And this being for him is what he 
ealls their dispositions. They are all good fellows 
or had fellows, cood-humored or saly, hateful or ad- 
mirahle. They may appear even sublime or ideal 
beings, as a Casar might to a student of history. 
Yet their inner life need not therefore be malized. 
They remain powers, ways af acting. dispositions, 
wonderful examples of energy. They are still seen 
from without, Not their inner, voalinional nature is 
realimad, but their manner of ontwanl activity : not 
what they are for themselves, but what they are for 
others. 

Such then is our natural malization of our fellows 
even when we call them conscions The imperfect 
realization in question extends even to the case of 


162 THK KELIGIOUR ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


Closer affection, Lear renlian in his daughters, or 
thisskee that bus rectalizen, cornly thus dinpromsitionn that they 
expres, Heal effort to enter into the inner life of 
thucir ersscrticonin in ferrccigen tor bai sbssagoles sazsed insapoecricoas 
mnind, Even when J delight in assthucr’s love, J as 
atill apt to realize rather the disgemition than the 
inner and more personal emotional life that is the 
cause of this way of behavior, The act is what I 
want,’ thes veriea, this look, the gift, or the other as- 
surance Of an energy in harmony with my will The 
ordinary emotion of gratitude is another very good 
Uusmtrations of thee issperfeat rewlization of our necigh- 
borer thasat sacceccrssnpocasaiec ccveens thse poleainsent verbo) rene 
agnition of their conscious existe, As J write 
thucnes words, my heart in just now going out in sad- 
miration aml resect, not to way affeution, to 4 msn 
whi J but imperfectly know. J feel a desire to 
do him a favor, if it were powible, Why? Do J 
reflect on his true nature and sss ae a being like 
myself? DoT feel our connimon weakness, our cam- 
sricote Lessaggisagens 7 SA saves J binge eoed thus illusion of self- 
indincwn that separates us? No, —IF grieve and am 
sasbisesnscl tar ccconsfecmm it, — thin becinngg in ter see alsncomt 
ae wholly external as my plumber, not muuch better 
realinal than my walking-stick, J am dwelling not 
on his own inner life at all. In my mind's eye J 
wins just hin outer form, Yet he has written me a 
grauful and pleasing letter, expreming his interest 
in some of my plans, and his desire to help me, J 
arn selfishly leligghted to fired such help, J have an 


BSA yive all iy ines fron Areanland 
Vor w tench of her hand on my cheek,’ 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 168 


inatinctive feeling that it demands compensation. I 
feel an animal delight in being in friendly company. 
My gratitude is here no moral emotion at all, 

The emotion of ayinpathy does indeed often tend 
to make me realize the other and more completely 
internal aapect of my neighbor's reality: but: sym- 
pathy does this in the halting and uncertain way de- 
ecribed in a previous chapter, And at all events, 
whatever aympathy leads to, it is not by itself the 
ineght. And so, to sum up our prosent way of 
etudving the illusions of selfishness, we find by these 
examples that by nature our neighbor's conscious 
life ix realized for us rather as an active agoney that 
affecta our fortunes, than as an inner experience, or 
as itis in itself, namely, asa Will: and hence it is 
that we are disposed to treat it with coldness, rather 
than to respect ita true nature. Resistance, con- 
quest, emplovment of this agvney, seem to us ax 
omatic aims of prudence : unseltish respect for its 
inner accompanying experionces: seems tous a hand 
if not a meaningless task. Such is the nature and 
ground of the illusion of selfishness, 

If now our activity of realization were contined to 
the range of common-sense emotions, there would be 
ho escape from all this, Tt is our critical reflection 
that appears on the seone, saving: * QO) common 
wnee, what thou hast malized cannot be all We 
must resclve to recognize more, else will our reso- 
lutions never lose theiy invonsisteney and darkness, 
Be honest, O common sense, Ts not thy neighbor 
after all just a dead fact of nature, an automaton 
with certain peculiar energies?" And common 


164 9 THY BKIAGIONS ASPKOT OF PIILOSOFHY, 


sone annworn: No, for in he not mont amuredly » 
conscious sygent, whine action I reuline?” © Dont 
thens then keeow that he wills, aud not realize what 
thin will moans for hin, namely, that he exporienoos 
167°° Nes,” sanmowertn escotsstricrty mestiner, © if dies will ne 
[ do, he must experion as Todo.” © Kenlize it 
then, and ses what thew then wilt cleo with him.’ 
And common sen must, wo affirm, so renlicing, 
simply reply, * Aw he is renal, he in ae mush an ob- 
joct for my effort as I myself am, in cane 1 oan af- 
foot him, Ours in one life.” This commun sense 
stint wees, if it fully realizes tho neighbor, And if 
it roulizen hin astivity, an it always ies metic fantsdeon 
don, then it must enne to roaliag hin experiences, 
sarul my ter ronlizn hit fully, neo noon anit umlertakes 
tes cantnplestes thes inexnnpleste net by which it haw bee 
gun ty renlizn his will, This wompletion may be 
haatenesd bry pity, ce tsy bos bsinslerend bey the werk 
sens that prity afters involve ¢ tnt wheste it exsnem, it 
mist tn an net of clone insight, made jrmible by 
thes rational sutures of our mental life. Whatever 
Hea crvar Ghreragghit in chests int prurt, wes sores romuly either 
tay sabssarsclessy whusbly, cre tar Heskwke saltengcesthress, ssc weserts so 
wes ressalizes Chiat wes Iisever boven cloing it in part. Our 
resolution ty rengnive an existences cannot remain 
confused or solf-cmtinulictory when we cone to Pre 
alizn where the confusion and selfcomtrudiotion le, 
An! sewe simply ennnot give ug roccgenining our 
sussigelal nor, wes sesuint oof sicsecesmmity resmesl vey, whiesgs wer sew 
thin ineonnistesney of our natural renlization, to real 
ize hits wholly. 

uuch in enue restleetives acount of the proce that, in 


THE WORAL INSIGHT. 155 


some form, mast come to every ome under the proper 
the real knowledve of duty to others. The process 
m ome that any chiki can and dves, amler proper 
gunisnce. occasionally accoumpbsh. It is the process 
by which we all are seeustooed to try to teach humane 
bebsavior in concrete casen «= We try to get people to 
reabze what they are duing when they injure others. 
Bat to distinguish this process from the mere tender 
emutiwn of sympathy, with all its dhastens, is what 
muralist: have net carefully enoazk dome. Our ex- 
Beal proves. tu distinguish it from s) y as 
gach, and to set it up befure the vates of ethival du 
trine as the vreat producer of insivht. 

Bat when we say that to ths insivht commun 
sense must come, under the given cunditivns, we do 
met mean tv say: “Seu the wan, once having attained 
Iasivht, mast act thenceforth.” The reabzatien of 
ome’s neivhbor, in the full sense of the word res 
zation. is indeed the resvlativn to treat him as uf he 
were real. that is, to treat bim unselfishly. Bat this 
resolution expresses and belongs tu the moment of 
mizht. Passion may cloud the tmsight in the very 
mext moment. It alwavs does cloud the insivht after 
mo very long time. I[t ts as umposstble fur us to 
avoil the dlusien of selfishness in oar daily Lives as 
te escape seeing throagh the dlusien at the moment 
of insight. We see the realty of our neighbor, that 
KK we determine to treat him as we deo ourselves. 
Bat then we vo back tu daily activo, and we feel the 
beat of bereditary passions, and we straightway for 


1h6 THK RELICIOUS ANPKOT OF PITILONOPHY, 


govt, whatet, wer fataver mevesnn, Cee saevhggbalocar brewsenem cals 
menarend, Des dm cannes ancres vn forelyn power, Ble bn 
saneeseal, Wes carrer eagetaden cbevdracbed canned msesbtthe, § — SIady 
canta l ert, geereoe core ctael whll peer coe am long om wer Nive 
walters Cheer anscasesncees cof toners, © Miecorasersnten cof Vasmiyhit, with 
thede acompunyliagy ronolutionn; long strotohen of 
dolianben ssl nelfinhions ‘That ie our life, 


V, 


To behiag hone thin view in yet another way to the 
renee, wor unk Vili tor connor vary onrefially jut 
Whit congress bersserer Jace Free whee bier tebe tar revelling hile 
sacal gcbabocoes Han Claes Frabl sscornnser Ctarat, wee foeaver Seambuten! sagoenns, 
Neat prbty com osacse dn whaest, wer cleondees tbin to fowl, Kor 
whether on ie polty lagen too work fi hin aa self: 
Foobaly sorrel Vollendly sam wes Seaver ferssracd thot St cofterns 
Naveen werr'le, wOdUL ancnts tbacr cranacatdennn, Voeat Btes esconnescregtacrtnerem, 
mtn fa the mont favernhle aan give as what we 
wevesle, ADL Claes ferrssam cof mysergoatay torres anncorer Iennprtabaesn, 
Tt fu thie Veombehit tor whieh thoy belie im that las 
sneosiel vida, And again, the reonlixation of aur 
sacshpeDa acon’ cvnehmtersacsen bm suerte cot call ther cllnenoverry that 
Ines An snncoerer cose Levan sancefiad tor som poremernilly, AUD that 
wertslel cuneate orster tar mechtfadasveenn, Ten cnn cntiendy lif. 
Fevrevsne, woay wer seasset, rood izes Und comdoctarsacces, Uf wer ater tas 
Deer avverably cabtirrsadt.der, Woostat, tlocsan Su connse snerdgehatoroe 7 

W os Harel tlaest. coat Voy taerersatbenge Vadoan den theertalet Jrant 
na wedlo onurecdven, What art thou? ‘how art now 
Jurmts cx gorrcerseraet ootentor, witla Stim com goeverberancrerm, tlacotagelatas, 
anil cleabron,  USiat what in thy fitiare Self? Slinply 
futuro staten, future experiences, future theaghite 


TEE WORAL OMSVEHIT. 3st 


aare Jrostallesad dec thre as carta wo come, amd cask im 
game meal relatiem te thy presemt Set. What them 
ns tie megeter” = He nae sa Ona at staan wl es. 
JRomamoaes, thamets. amd aGecres post as meal as them 
watt. Ina uname bot vet wo desk present we thy expert 
enne in them is thy fume Sei He x met that 
fFene what freems er smikes at thee. althanch ote 
tdham thimbeat eff him .as omic thet. He a meat the 
aomm thet sordbes: er dedymds thee met the weice what 
apes ti thas met thet machine that cre whee 
wiht them dascest when them mowest @ woh the 
@iier wf memes. To he sre. them Gost ofem think 
eff hon wes if the wore that arkumatom “maar Thal an 
qmars thar whem them speeded to i. | Ret na thre 
mmancibbwr 3s was actnl ask amore. as thee art. | Jost 
aes thw fammre 2 ml thench pid pw thine ne tht 
mencibher 3s meal thom hs themchis mews ar the 
Ghamertes, Din then hater the’ Art theo snr 
wiknst it mpaam " [nn 8 for thee the Tere went 
af digs whol wmcedt jewaerd bom Whar we pow 
ask eff the Bo mo KiMtmmi. D> cosh af po. po 
treme weatness of scuepechy. bet a onbm, udaar 
Tnsnrtin. 

Ban ome save: * AG ths have 1 Some fom mr 
wentth wp. Sarwiv | bow amd atwars hace the. mr 
mecitwr to te Tak ani n> sanomakm Sams I 
Ieawe flaamed bk remeand, haw lem amore aa Lb il 
Woll awe resndeet iz ask srompadibt. haere ees. 22 
enoad tw is minim al mex Ste. Amica i haw 
mememmad seciss. Nav. hai cmt sa the moment 
When than hada zt act Reward: him s or sa, thes 


168 TH RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


wert ti longer anick to renlize him. Then it was 
that thy passion mace tim fer thee = whadew, Nhe 
certsllent net herve his, secneine there didet forget whi 
he was, ‘Then didet believe in him enough to four 
Feiten, ter hrsstes heion, ter fight with him, to revenge thy- 
elf upon him, to anes hie wit ae thy tool, bat not 
etunigh to trent him ae real, even nm thet thynelf art 
real. Nhe neon ty thas w little lene living than then, 
bhi life: io cline, it. im carl, it im % grade fire henidle thy 
erwin Wrning dewiren, Ble io 6 symbol of pamvion to 
thet, atl ineperlartly, coldly, with deal sanent, with- 
ent full meaning te thy werden, thes dont inulewd say, 
when sakes, that the symbol stands for something 
ronl, se vend am thyself, Peat what theme words monn, 
- hawt thers realized it, an, threnygh nelfioh feeling, 
thers emt roulize thy equally oxternal fatare Self 7 
1f bis in rod ike thee, then in his life ae brights 
light, ae warm # fires, ter hin, ae thine to thes; hie 
will in am fell of stengyling desiren, of hard probletan, 
tA fatedul detinicnn: his pains are am hatefal, his 
frys ne doar, Take: whatever then lnverwent of demire 
seruel orf shrivinigy, ef berarreitig Nerves sored of levees hatred, 
renlinn ae fully an thers cutie what that menne, snl 
then with clear certainty add: Nuch an that in for 
writ, ty tn it for him, nithing lean, V4 then dow that, 
can hes retrain te thee what he has been, % prictire, % 
plaything, % comely, or a tragedy, in brief mere 
Sherw? Wehined sil that wherw then hawt inelowd 
dimly felt that there in smething, Know that 
trath theremnghly, Pheri hewt regarded hin thennngtet, 
his fesling, ae sanehew different in sort from thine, 


Thurs ham mids % A pits in hit to net like © proce 


THE MORAL INSTANT 149 


m ure, but something far easier to bear.” Thou hast 
made of him a ghost, as the imprudent man makes 
of his future self a ghost Even when thou hast 
feared his acorn, his hate, his contemps thou hast 
wot fully nunde him for thee as real as thyself. His 
laughter at thee has made thy face feel hot his 
frowns and clenched tists have cowed thee, his sneers 
have made thy throat feel choked. But) that was 
only the social instivet in thee. Twas not a full 
wense of his reality. Even so the litde baby amiles 
back at one that stuiles at it, but not because it 
realizes the approving jov af the other, only because 
it by inatinet enjove a suiiling face: and even ao the 
baby is frightened at harsh spoceh, but not becanse 
it realiews the other's anger. Sa dimly and bv in- 
etinet, thou has lived with chy neighbor, and hast 
Kavown him not being bind. Thou hast even de 
sited his pain. but chen hast not fully walized the 
pain thac thou gavest. Te has been to thee. neg 
Pain in itself. bue the sight of Is submission, of his 
tears, or af his pale terror Of thy uewhbor thou 
hast made a thing, no Self at all. 

When then hast loval, hast pitied. at hast never. 
ened thy neighbor, then du fecling has possibly 
mised for a moment the veil of Wusionw, Phen dheu 
hast known what he truly is, a Self like chy prescut 
Self. But dh selfish feeling is too string far thee. 
Thon hast forgtion seon again what thou hadst seen, 
amd hast made even af Chi belowal ane only the instru. 
ment of thy own pleasnne, Even eat af chy power 
to pity thou hast made an obient of thy vainglory, 
Thy reverence has Guued again te pride, Thou hast 


100 «= ‘THK NELIGIOUN ANPROT OF PHILONOFHY, 


mawsespotend the Wisden once more, No wonder that in 
thai elise tesveven three fleulewmt, med inlinenn the only rule of 
nny moaning for thy condnet. ‘Thou forgettent that 
without realisation of thy future and an yet unre 
mest, evversn mesdfhmbancomm tovessstom sucrtbodnngg. = “Whose feorggert- 
tent that if thet pavent thy porenent thetght ever mo 
er thier tasmks cof reveldndaagy thay trevdgclabooe'n Lifes, mesdflabarsesn 
would seo ne more plain to thee than the love of 
thy soedgclslor. 

DVeaves cleotsey three with thin Glunion that thy Self 
dm call fry oll, «© Ssntanitdees teller hee te more about thy 
fastonres Melt thats Tt tendd tases aloont thy sedghibeorn, 
Ddevnleer, loved dtr thee by yonerntionn of wtriggyle for 
exintence, cmphanison the expectation of thy own 
fenlily future, the love for thy own lavlily welfare, 
cassel tustuccrn thay Docscly'm Differ mecevare tabersses tems, Et aden. 
poly tery tar berncow thoes Geeetle, Whee tersaths in that all thin 
world of lfc absent thes inns cond as then art. All 
cartinctentin Lifes In connedotin in ite own monsure, Pain 
in patin, joy in joy, everywhere oven asin thee, The 
somite cof thy Asmdgelat will bres dnvenvitestoles,  Mhres i leanherts 
vaniobing, they ylorloin prronpeet epenn hefora thy 
vinken, eed the oneness of thin Hfe avery when, 
the equal reality of all ite momenta, thew wilt te 
realy tar treveats 1 all witde theer rrevversresnncces Claret gorrtaclersneres 
wottld have thea show to thy own little bit of fiutare 
life, What prions in ite narrow renpentability 
curtetimesteul, Cheon wilt bee cenuly ta cleo inivernally, An 
the prideont man, seoing the reality of his fitters 
mesh, isnesviteatoly worthem fare ity men tlves cosndgelatersseal sian, 
wesdige the renlity of all ccnmedotn Ufo, renbiniig that 
ib in no vhidow, Iut fant, at ono and inevitably de 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 161 


‘yes. of only for that one moment of might, 
enter into the servive of the whole of it. 

Seo the illusion of seltishness vanishes for thy 
present thoovht (ales: not for thy future condaret, 
© ehild of passon:), when thea bokest at what 
selfisheess has so long hidden from thee. Thou seest 
mow the universal fe as 4 whole. just as real as thou 
art. Mientiesl in joy and sorrow. The contixt of 
seltishness and unselfishness vanishes. Selfishness is 
bet a bslf realization of the truth expressed In un- 
selfishness. Selfishness says: J shall exist. User 
seliishmess says: The Other Life is as My Life. 
To resize anothers pain 35 pain bs to cease to desire 
ik im itself. Hatred is diusion. Cowardly sympe- 
thy. that hides its bead for fear of realizing the neiyh- 
bors pain. rs imston. But unseltishness is the reak 
mation of fe. Unselfishmess leads thee oat of the 
masts of blind self-aderation, and shows thee. in all 
the bfe of nature about thee. the one ommipresent, 
ecomsetous stragvie for the getting of the desired. In 
all the songs of the forest birds: in all the ertes of 
the wounded and dying. strugyling in the captor’s 
power : in the boundless sea. where the myriads of 
watercreatures strive and die ; amid all the cvuntless 
hordes of savage men: in the hearts of all the guod 
amd loving : in the dull. throbbing hearts of all prts- 
emers and captives: in all sickness and sorrow: in 
ali exultation and hope: in sll our devoton: in all 
oar knowledze. — everywhere from the lowest to the 
mobdlest creamures and experiences on cur earth, the 
game constivas, burning, willful Life ts found. end- 
lessly manifold as the forms of the Lving creatares, 

it 


162 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


unquenchable as the fires of the sun, real as these im- 
pulses that even now throb in thy own little selfish 
heart. Lift up thy eyes, behold that life, and then 
turn away and forget it as thou canst; but if thou 
hast known that, thou hast begun to know thy duty. 


VI. 


But this unity that the moral insight has found 
for us in life must not be falsely interpreted. 
Rightly interpreted, the moral insight will solve for 
us many very difficult problems; but we must not 
imagine that it shows us all this individual life as 
in any mystical sense already actually in the har 
mony that wo seck. Not because these aims are al- 
ready in thomselves one, but because we, as moral 
seors, unite in one moment of insight the realization 
of all these aims, for that reason alone is this life 
one for us. It in in this sense alone that the moral 
insight gives us a solution of the problem of egoism 
and altruism, as well as a foundation for a general 
doctrine of the Highest Good. The moral insight 
does not enable us to say: These beings have always 
actually but blindly sought what was in itself the 
Highest Good. We can only say: Each one has 
sought in his blindness only what was to him desir- 
able. And not, save by the realization of the con- 
flict of dosire, can the truly highest good be oon- 
coived. The moral insight discovers harmony not 
as already implied in the nature of these blind, con- 
flictin, wills, but as an ideal to be attained by hard 
work, 


THE WORAL INSIGHT. 163 


We point this out in order to show that we do not 
fall into the hackneved error af thoce moralists who 
wasist that they merely tell men what ane thing it is 
that men have all been blindly seeking. Sach mor 
alists often say: ~ Our system is but an expression 
af the tendency that was always there. latent in 
seem. It tells them in plain words what ther al 
wars wanted, and then x tells them bow to get this 
end.” This specons pretense af so many moral svs- 
tens we have imphcitly condemned im the previcus 
part of car dissonrse, It constitutes in many cases 
that appeal to the phvsical facts which we have set 
amde as always useless and often ungrounded If 
eme looks the pretense fairly in the face. how fiat 
and stale it anems: Yonder vast wealth of canflict- 
img alms among men. hase and noble. devilish and 
divine, — what moralist has been able to sum all of 
them up in any formula. save in the wholly ahstract 
formula that we have above referred ta. namely. 
that al) these beings seck what seems to them desir 
able. How presomptocnos to sav to them: ~ In fact 
you al] desire this that |] formulate in my text-book 
ef morals” In fact ther do not. And it is absurd 
@ watch the tornines apd twistings of language by 
winch 3 moralst toes to make ont that they da 
For instance. Jet the moralist be J. S. Mill. and Jet 
bum declare. as be does. that happiness is the one 
goal af all men. If happiness inclodes the attain- 
ment of anv possible chiect of anvhadv’s desin. then 
indeed the theory is a troism. But with this truism, 
of acurse. Do sort of progress would have been made 


im ethics, §=Mil) must tell us something aboot what 


164 THE KIAASINIG ASPET OF VISIANOVHY, 


wrt of hiagrlnemn Uuere ure, ned alent what sorte 
anagelit tor Nome mersgghet sent oof wll, Shes ayn, ae wes 
Ia rrsrvw, thasah thrsrves saves bebegtrece ” sasud * Serwer ”” golem 
aves, msl Chiat Veigghucr poleramssrenm ensydit tr bee wnaght 
aa goveehervecnrsce: ty Uhiss eAbsecvn, thass prlermamtayes oof thee brtel- 
assrh, of seerrnesremity, enhs:,, itimhonsl of ties nesinins plone 
raven, = Whiwt cuss bees the pred Vbant bingrrissonm 
wan thse secd wes weeves tr leomrss, Veesemssncs ab) sessty tase 
tessabD y mercsle 14, Pdr Wome thoes * brigghuey '” bamegrprioneonin in 
thes pom, vsabtrey times sa Lerwesr Sorvin, berw ches wey bemess 
thisel? Phearmssnes toons adwaye ehunmes it” Inlud they 
thes tush, Ber Mill baum ter whift ths poonsims wo little 
Shuey cher neh abl of there metuadly woud i, lst dy 
wesislsl mele it iF aeey Iesuew it, Ment of than are ig- 
survent oh what tuey wenskd jrrizn ink, nusnely, of 
tums “higher” plemnirom, Sout here aygnin Mis 
pisses se Aimbscmartecriisnge Fash, Mart sass, 19 they every 
Vrve “Nigher” plomeuron nh all, uve Gnd loving 
thrscass reserves Fare a wheiles ise thats Khem) cenethrssniuann of 
ysristhe thisane Vatecr bir the porcrmmades Aislb trem of esis ley 
life, Men why haves kewrwn ths “higher” bagi 
news hy then Aclilwrutely turn sway fren it, Thin 
jn a veyilar Fit of Vife, well baurwts, ned often Ia 
porecavtcca§, §— BSarw heron Chain mggrens with Mill's ewtoins 7 
Albian! 1 Arve neh wpgrinee, madd cody Ney werrthibenn des 
vhaczmmy omens Nees carts) Frere biissmedh thee Suet, Shs 
poergober wheso corsfery Ahass Wrigehucrr besssrw thes berweer wail pee 
fort it, eae gueargler why ecrrjery Us berwor dar wr 
leovrw fh thee Nrihucr, ov, MY thucy aver knew it, hey 
bosaver Ferryerthen it, cor TE Uucy bomver such egesites Georyethon 
the Wider, tury aver * Lowt omgmaity for i.” An if 
wh) thrin cxrull tush jeawk oy plasswiloly bes meakel fren they 


THE MORAL INSTGRT. 165 


sxe of the “lower ™ pleasures. Just as if it were 
met constantly sald from that side in every good 
dmmbing-song, with a result precisely opposed to 
Mills. In fact Mill is driven in this controversy 
with imaginary opponents to the worst subterfage 
possible for so skilled a thinker. when he at het 
ways that the pleasure which seems the higher of twa 
Pleasures to the “ most of those who have experi 
enced both™ is actually the higher. For thus, to 
keep up the show of merely interpreting to men their 
actoal will, Mill has to appeal to the opinion of the 
majority, has to use a purely practical hahit af de 
Eiberative assemblies for the purpose af deciding a 
qeesten of thearv. and then has most absunily to 
@eclare that a man’s experience about his own 
pleasure is worth nothing as a test af its valve un- 
less the majority of his fellows agree with him in 
ats jadement. 

In fact all this is benevolent trifling. Men declare 
at ame time ane pleasure to be * highest.” that is, 
most. desirable, and at another Ume they declare an- 
ether pleasure to be the only desirable one. Differ. 
ent men persist In having different aims. To de 
fine their duty by telling them that they all have 
eme aim is wrong, Frem the point af view af the 
Woral insight all this straggling hfe becomes one : 
bat that is not becanse it as Vet ceases to struggle, 
bat becanse the being possasend of the moral insight 
fomes to realize it all at oace, For him it is one, 
because he identifes himself with the strusghng 
aims. He accks their harmony, and mast de ao if 
be have the insicht. But they are not in harmony 


166 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


as yet at all; else would he have no work to do. 
Let him then not deceive himself. The conflict itself 
is real and not illusory. The illusion lies in the fact 
that no one of the fighters realizes the inner life of 
the others. But to overcome that illusion in any 
soul is not to show that all the fighters have been 
desiring the same thing. 

J.8. Mill is by no means our only case of the ef- 
fort to convince people that they always have had 
one object of search, which the moralist has but to 
name in order to bring peace on the earth. Ben- 
tham undertook the same task, and showed in his 
blunt way as much skill in subterfuge as he ever ac- 
cused his opponents of showing, while he tried to 
make out that all men always have been Bentham- 
ites, to whom pleasure was the only good. Mr. 
Spencer in his turn tries to define the Good so that 
it shall agree not only with the popular usage of the 
word good, but also with the Spencerian notion of 
what constitutes the Good. If anywhere a usage of 
the word appears that does not agree with the Spen- 
cerian usage, Mr. Spencer insists, sometimes, that, 
Jf cross-questioned, the man who so uses it would 
have to come over to the Spencerian usage, and 
sometimes that the usage in question is a survival 
in culture of a savage notion, or that it is in some 
other way insignificant. Thus the proof of Mr. 
Spencer’s view about the nature of the ideal be- 
comes so simple and easy that when, a little further 
on, it is necessary to recognize the existence of pes 
simists, Mr. Spencer finds no difficulty in regarding 
it as perfectly plain that a man can become a pes- 


THE MORAL INSIGHT. 167 


aimist only in caso he believes that the Spencerian 
ideal of the Givod is unattainable. Thus axioms are 
manufactured whenever we need them. 

All this is mere neglect of whatever ideals do not 
at once tit Into one's own ideal, Such neglect is un- 
worthy of an ethical inquirer, Yet it has been fre- 
quently committed in revent times, and it is com 
mitted whenever a man endeavors or pretends, as 
Professor Clitford also very skillfully endeavored 
and pretended, to found ethical science wholly upon 
the basis and by the methods of uatural science. 
Such attempts are like the efforts of a man trying to 
build a steamboat, who should first drop the steam- 
engine into the water, and then seek to build the 
boat up about the engine so as to float it and be 
driven by it. For natural science will indeed give 
us the engine of our applied ethics, as indispensa- 
ble as the steamengine to the boat. But first we 
must lay the kvel, and we must get the boat ready 
for the engine, the ideal ready for the science that 
ia to apply it. All such attempts as those that put 
the “ avientitio basis" tirst, lamely strive te conceal 
their helplessness behind a show of appealing to the 
* facta of human nature and of the social structure, 
as sience discovers them.” But these facts reveal 
a confused warfare of aims among men, no one alu 
being actually chosen by the whole of men. And 
then the “ svientitic moralist " tries to show by all 
sorts of devices that all meu really have the sane 
aim. But he cannot shew that, because it is not 
true. What aim is common to the whole life of any . 
one of us? Much less then is any alm common te 
all men. 


168 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


But this mistake in not specially modern. Not 
only the modern scientific moralists have been guilty 
of it, buf moral preachers of all schools since Soc- 
rates have been prone to insist on oocasion, for pur- 
poses of persuasion, that somehow or other all evil 
conduct arises from mere ignorance of what one 
wants, This view in a mistake, One may want 
anything, and may know it very well. There in no 
known limit to the caprice and to the instability of 
the human will, If you find anybody desiring any- 
thing, the only tolerably sure and fairly universal 
gomment is, that he will stop desiring it by and by. 
You can seldom got any ultimate analysis of the 
motive of such a desire. 

But we do not found our moral system on any 
auch analysis. We do not say even that it is phys- 
joully possible for any of us to get and to keep the 
moral insight long together. What we affirm can 
once more briefly be summed up as followa: — 

1. Moral insight, whenever, however, to whomso- 
ever it comes, consists in the realization of the true 
inner nature of certain conflicting wills that are ac- 
tual in the workd, 

2. An absolute moral insight, which we can con- 
evive, but which we never fully attain ourselves, 
would realize the true inner nature of all the con- 
flicting wills in the world. 

8, The moral insight involves from ita very na- 
ture, for those who have it, the will to harmonize, 
n far ans may be possible, the conflicting wills that 
there are in the world, and that are realized at the 
moment of insight. 


THE MORAL INSIGIT. 169 


4. Uf the moral inaight be canverned dirvetly with 
two vontlicting willa, my neighbor's and my owe, 
then chia insight invelyvea the will to avt aa if my 
neighbor and myself were ene being Chat possessed 
atanee the adma af both af us, 

& Uf the moral inaight be converned with can. 
thicting: yreneral alma, aneh as could: osxpuess Chon: 
aelvua in ayateme af conduet, then che moral insishe 
invalvea the will ta avt, ao far as may be, as if one 
iweluded in one’s own being the life af all those 
Whaae contlioting aiima ane realises, 

G, Abaalute moral insight would invalve dhe will 
tu act heneeforth with atviet remand to the fatal af 
the vataequonees of one’s aot far all the moments 
and aime that are Co be affooted by thin at, 

T The moral tusight: stands ins all its forma op. 
posed to othical dogmatian, whieh avcopts ane sepa. 
rate etd andy. Pho iuaight: arises from the von, 
aviouianoas Chat this one ata is uot the enty ane chat 
is aetual,  linperfeotly and blindly othiow dagues 
than ala realises this (ruth, and so hates ar even 
anathomatioos the opposing alma But the hatiwd 
ta imperfeet rwalication. Phe tmaral insight there 
fare avya to thase who possess cho dognutio spirit: 
“Ta ao far as vou seok a reason for the faith that is 
ie you, you van dnd none shart of the assuuption af 
my position” Tho moral insight: save to itself, "| 
oyrht net to return te dhe dagmatie point of view.” 
So the moral insight insists upon piviag itself the 
rile, * Dogmatians is wrong,” 

8. ‘The only alternatives (a the moral insight ave; 
(et) ethioal dognatian, whieh onee for all pivea up 


170 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


the effort to get any basis for ethics save its own in 
rational caprice ; and (6) ethical skepticism, which, 
as we have seen, is only a preliminary form of the 
moral insight, and passes over into the latter upon 
reflection. 

9. There is no other distinction between right and 
wrong save what the dogmatic systems on the one 
hand give as their capricious determinations, and 
what the moral insight on the other hand shows as 
the expression of what it involves. 

Our conclusion so far is therefore this: Remain 
blind if you will; we have no means of preventing 
you. But if you want to know the whole ethical 
truth, you can find it only in the moral insight. All 
else is caprice. To get the moral insight, you must 
indeed have the will to get the truth as between the 
conflicting claims of two or more doctrines. This 
will being given, the moral insight is the necessary 
outcome even of skepticism itself. 

Yet now, after all our argument and enthusiasm, 
the reader must know that what we have so far por- 
trayed is only the most elementary azpect of the 
moral insight. The unity that we have insisted upon 
is so far an empty unity, a negative freedom from 
conflict. To show the real worth of this whole view, 
we must pass from the beggarly elements of duty to 
more advanced conceptions. The moral insight must 
be so developed as to tell us about the Organization 
of Life. The empty unity must be filled with con 
tent. We must discuss more in concreto what men 
possessed of the moral insight will do. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 


Dike webve Frethedt a ab) Sittlichhedt ding, dave der Wille nicht sdk 


Fettive, Gd. ik. cigemsaeatign somdern allgewedren ledalt aa wie 
Dewken det. — Hews, Emeyedgude 


UNEXPECTEDLY we have been saved from our eth 
eal skepticism even in and through the very act af 
thinking it out, Here. as elsewhere in philosophy, 
the truth is to be reached, neither by dreading nor by 
@iseountenancing the doubs, but by accepting, expe 
Fencing, and absorbing the doubt, until, as an ele 
meat in our thought, it becomes also an element in 
an higher truth, «We do not aay, therefore, fe cup 
mend our moral principle, as it: has just been pro- 
pounded, that it is immediately acceptable tf all 
healthy conseienees, or that it is a pious, or a respeet: 
able, or a popularly recognized principle. We say 
ealy this: Doubt rationally about mural doctrines, 
and your doubs itself, if real, thorough guing, allenr 
bracing, merviless, will invalve this very principle af 
ears, We tind the principle by means of the univer 
gal doubt. and it is this method of procedure that 
distinguishes the foreguing discussion of the basis af 
morals fran many of those that have previously been 
concerned with this problem. ‘To paint ous that the 
average man, or the reputed saint, or the inspired 


172 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


prophet, or the great poet, or the reader himself, 
whenever he is enthusiastic has or has had a given 
ideal, is not to justify this ideal. Yet of such a na- 
ture are the justifications that most moralists have 
given for their ideals. If we have gained our re- 
sult by any better method, that was because we were 
free to doubt all those pretended defenses of the 
good. We have found the nature of the absolute 
and universal will, by rigidly questioning the signifi- 
cance of all the individual wills. 

But our ideal must be made to do work in the 
world. It must accomplish something, by solving 
for us a few concrete moral problems, such as actu- 
ally trouble men. Even the present discussion must 
consider some of these consequences of our general 
principle; for religious philosophy, in seeking an 
ideal for life, does not want a barren abstraction, 
but such an ideal as can also be our guide. What 
does our principle tell a man to do? 

The principle, as is plain, may be viewed in two 
ways. If by moral insight we mean what the last 
chapter defined, namely, insight into the fact of the 
existence of other conscious wills besides our own, 
coupled with full rational appreciation of this truth, 
then our principle may be viewed as saying to each 
' of us: Get and keep the moral insight as an expe 
rience, and do all that thou canst to extend among 
men this experience. On the other hand, the prin- 
ciple may be equally well viewed as saying: Act 
out in each case what the moral insight bids thee 
do ; that is, as before explained, Having made thy- 
self, in so far as thou art able, one with all the cow 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 173 


Jlicting wills before thee, act out the resulting ani- 
versal will as it then arises in thee. Two classes of 
human duties are thus defined, one formal and pro- 
visional, the other permanent. We must explain in 
some measure each of them, in order that we may 
show the practical applivations of our moral prin- 
ciple. 
I, 


The firet class of ditties comprises those that have 
most especially todo with the moral education of our 
race, We are and must long remain, excvedingly 
imperfect and blind creatures, Tf there is possible 
any state of humanity in which all shall be ready to 
act in accordance with the moral insight, that state 
must be, morally speaking, better than any other. 
Therefore the first demand that the moral insight 
makes of usa so soon as we got it iv: So det as to 
increase the number of those who possess the insight. 
Herve, of course, is a prevept of a very formal char 
acter, and plainly provisional in its nature, Tt is as 
if one were to be among blind men, himself blind, 
and were by some magical act. say by accidentally 
washing in a miraculous fountain, to gut at one stroke 
and for the frat time the power of sight, in all its 
maturity and perfection, Such an one would per 
haps say: * How noble is this new sense! But to 
what end shall Touse it? For the frst TP must use 
it to bring these other men to the fountain, to wash 
their eyes, that they may miraculously learn ins one 
instant to seo this glorious world.” But some one 


might object: “In this way, if the only uae to be 


374 «= - THK RELAGIOUS ABPEOT OF PHILOQNOPHY. 


made of a man’s sight isto extend the power of dght 
ty others, of whet use is the power itaelf’? ‘The sole 
win of secing cannot be ty cause others ty see. Klee 
what good would result ty any one, if all followed 
your precept 1” The unewer would ine plain: 
“When all or de nowt of us gel the power, then 
jaded we can use 6 for other ends. ut because it 
je the bowl of powers for all Ghese other ends, there- 
fore Ue best provisions) use ) make of it is, not to 
spond inuch Gine upon these ends, but t spend time 
upon extending the possession of the power. When 
his is done, then first will begin the real use of the 
power for ite own wake.” Asin this case of the sup- 
posed wwiraculous wquiremcnt of & new sense in all 
ie wuudurity of power wt one stroke, wo it iw in come 
of Che much more gradual acquirement of the mora 
insight. ‘To be sure, the ultimate win of life cannot 
be merely the extension of the power wy realize the 
willy that wae ative about us, but must at just be 
found by dotiving the course of wction thet best bas 
muonives thems willy. Idut, provisionally, we bave » 
task before us Uoet iv ously defined, because elomwen- 
tary. Harmony cannot be even partinlly attained, 
the best human wetivily cannot be even imperfectly 
developed, until w very great number of men have 
thin, the very first, mow elementary requisite of con- 
minus morality, namely, the power ty wee the facty of 
Lumen life as they wre. So long as a en is bound 
up in his individual will, he may be juwtinetively up- 
Fight, be canna be conseigualy and with clear intent 
righteous. Sy long therefore as this is true of bin, 
lwo will Le dependent on traditions that are often per 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 1% 


BicteeRs, Om conscience that is often bratal prejudices, 
en faith that is often bigotry, on emotion that bs the 
bbindest of all guides; and if be dues good or if be 
dees evil, the power responsible for his deeds will 


mot be a truly moral impube. To gain the morl 
eads of humanity, the indispensable prerequisite & 


therefore the moral insight in its nerely formal as- 
pect, asan human power and as an expertence af life. 
When a good many more men have reached the pos 
session of this power, then more of life will be taken 
ep with concrete duties, Until that time comes, the 
great aim must be this formal and provisinal one : 
te prodace in mem the rma: rood, and so to pre 
pare the way for the further knowledge of the high- 
et good, Lf we pat the matter otherwise we may 
say: The moral insight, insisting upon the need af 
dhe harmony of all human wills. shows us that, wiud- 
ever the highest Ruwman good meng Be ae quam ong 
@ttwin if togetiior, For if ganiimes Aarneony, Thre 
berhest goad then is pet te be gor by any one of us 
or by any clique of us separamly. Either the hich 
est quad is for humanity unattainable, or the human- 
bty af the future must cet ita cmawre, Therefore’ 
the semse of communtiy, the power to work together, 
with clear insicht inte eur mass for so working. 
ts the firs need of humanity. Not what goad thing 
men mar hereafter come face, bat how ther shail 
attain the unlvy sense whereby they can ever ged fo 
see the good, is the creat present heman comm, 
Starting with chis duty, we can now examine 
what rub of Efe this duty will give us| Aten the 
moral iasigii amu mem, wed te thy oan Wifes 


17 THE BERISION ARPKAT OV FHIAMOFHY, 


Ahab im bss Srreet, scornevtnvianssdaerecneh, "Shas bb recesh, serrtanee- 
aginecnrsces bw Abed, wor vecgierebecst, Abuse Howth Auhy of smn in 
thoas grvrecmasrol, abeuy srsenensarh Noes achtdeace bon gyscl fatagogrionscin 
ibnvomeedf, oor, ine visew oof Aihw povcemcerel, whales of bivnnsn 
Ni fes, tar srniabees sbdvace prscarqeles omgrpry, AND Ahead base sy 
Havshasecsd Vote ine oosonanes snrsctomisnes vesguibvead tor cher, bot wot, 
Hoe Ahase povresmesnnd, whaatas orf thc werr'lsl, ams sare ccnusl, brat, werlscl y 
ams te assctetom bay sane ecousd. — “DUahm sa add ssvecneten ios tesrt, thes 
Ay for contecanenh, bak for worl 5 mned joy be now 
a prrepney pau of bana bike ehiathy in wr fae om it 
fasanebnn tay pourecmecyyes, ban Dnnscvestunns, Orv ban Ferber Abus moval 
Fowigbih — VNecvee wos Ianyer Mise prveemasiol pormstdonel wealie 
Aisrn wnigegecmbaced Fore ald Abuse sgressiobisrnis aborieh tbe right 
saresd wrernngs oof wor-aeeabbecsd Vrscabsrrvinnns. UU sabsrnimnn in thus 
gre bie of cane danger feat sansberntmnlbing of Uues moval 
Dawid, becanseverdceat Iuscsloninns mporinge Fron tus in 
wigcdobe WNoieh sovecny Vibeve dar Nove Sasagopry. — VRastad id ongy Weim, tbres 
buchisevecr Ju univernel ducloninn mayes Make men 
happy a fir an thin canal. Mut dhein per avedgrles of 
Hsacsaranimnay bos mnnvesdy snr, Whose Vonvterscalsatas trvadde Foor thibe 
prencah Mine, whitever may or may wd turn out ta 
Nose Wass avsnmnss han Featanvec, Meee tn Veabooor tao inaevsenmee bagel 
osc waney Fern Abies poveenasnnt anvecen Veo Vieerennee Uae incrval 
Vb nvsh anecovss oof snvecny.— arnnnes warren oof Uasaqoyebonecom bacrnal bay 
prrsabece vim Vabinnd, sam Vie jee Fisset Nrccen nbowi de for- 
mer ehngder,  Uilewn om exynerbenan yory bb 
Dacrdy thee vesbit ey oof bees econ thio, of wills ine Mein world, 
Woe srvrvd dredged, dis saga ban Porvmsebes: bei. Via cant 
Abs srerab Vande bl beeen pormetien dy wnsb veered, Us 
bigeboeist. pronod Foor Asananihy omni be pede VIere- 
fore WH fins of hingpinens Mint hinder ratducr ian 
July Ase msrnd insight wre cvil, mad we ought to dy 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. li 


what we can to vet rid of them out af the work. 
Ard all expericnees, however painful, that certainly 
tend to the Increase of the power af moral insicht. 
are goal for men: and if we se neo other expert 
eaces mor suitable for this purpose, we ought to do 
what we can te Inenwse among men the namber 
and the definiteness of these pains. 

Yet af course it will at once appear, when we ex- 
amine human emotional experienwes in the light of 
what we know af men, thar there is a decided Hmit 
to the morally educative power of painful exper? 
ences, and that, on the other hand, very many ploas 
@al experiences are useful to the moral insight either 
by directly adding in or by preparing a man te at 
tain it, In oonsidering this branch of the subject 
we at last mach the point where a scientife psv- 
Obalagy can give us a creat deal of hel We re 
jectad the soxcallal * sclontitic hasis ” for morals he 
@ause it founds the cao 07 7 Ae upon braml physical 
facts. Now, however, we can tam fo science to help 
ws in our present task, becanse, having definal our 
oaght to be we are doaling with apphed ethies and 
are asking how this moral insight is to be attaimead, 
Pevehoalogy must tell us what it can as to this mat 
ter, And here such SAgEEST tans as those in) Mr, 
Spemeer’s * Dara af Fhies " are indeed a useful) aid 
f applied moral doctrine. We reiat what the no 
on thar Mr. Speneer or any Eke taacher has even 
caught a climpse of the fundamental ethical problem, 
Mr, Speneer seems to te ! fa the most chilaike igto 
rane that there is any such prviiera at acl Bet we 
are glad to find that Mr. Spencer ance having very 

12 


178 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


illogically accepted a partially correct fundamental. 
notion about the ideal of life, does suggest a good 
deal about this problem of applied ethics with which 
we are now dealing. LHe does tell us some very sen- 
sible things about the attainment of this ideal. 
Among these sensible suggestions is the insistence 
upon the value of pleasure as an indication of the 
increase of healthy life in the man who has the pleas- 
uro; and the further insistence upon the thought 
that, since pleasure thus indicates in some wise 
health and efficiency, and since efficiency is an indis- 
pensable prerequisite to sound practical morality, 
there must always be a certain moral presumption 
in favor of happiness, and in favor of whatever tends 
to increase happiness. Properly understood and 
limited, this dovtrine of Mr. Spencer's is an obvious 
and useful consequence from what we know of psy- 
chology. Mr. Spencer dwells on it at tedious and 
wholly unnecessary length, but ho is surely justified 
when he protests, against the ascotica, that their 
ideal man must be in general a puny, inefficient, and 
perhaps wholly burdensome man, whose ill - health 
may make him, at last, hopelessly selfish. This we 
know on good acientifio grounds, and it is well to 
have said the thing plainly in an cthical treatise. 
But what is the result? Is happiness the only 
aim of life because the permanently unhappy man is 
apt to bea poor diseased creature, useless, or even 
dangerous? No; the consequence of all this is that 
the first moral aim must be to make a man efficient 
in possessing and extending the moral insight. Ef- 
ficiency for moral ends is still our proximate goal. 


THE OBGANIZATION OF LIFE. 179 


Happiness is, at least for the present, only a subordi- 
nate means. Therefore we say: By all means make | 
men happy, vo far as their happiness tends to give 
them and to preserve in them moral insight. True 
it is, as seientitiv psychology shows us, that a wan, 
in order to be as good as possible, must generally be 
possessed of respectable health, of what he thinks a 
good place in the world, of friends, and of numerous 
pleasures. Ile must digest well, he must eujey the 
esteem of his fellows, he must be strong, and he must 
be frequently amused. All this is true, and is in 
fact a commonplace. When an ascetio denies this, 
he maintains a pernicious heresy, that tends to de- 
atroy moral insight by depriving men of the phys 
ical power to get it. But these facts must not be 
misinterpreted. Whatever might be true of a society 
in which woral insight had been attained, nothing is 
plainer than that happiness at the present time can- 
not be regarded from our point of view as more 
than a means to the present jrreat end. Lf we try 
to amuse our neighbors, to relieve their woes, to tm- 
prove their worldly estate, wo must do so not as if 
this were the ond of the present life, but as workers 
in a very vast drama of human life, whose faroff 
Purpose must govern every detail, The pood Sa- 
maritan must aay to himself, as he helps the poor 
wreteh by the wayside: * In so far aa EP realiae only 
this man’s need, my purpose is indeed simply to ne 
Reve him. But my purpose must be higher than that. 
This man is not alone, but one of a multitude. My 
highest aim in helping him is not to make him indi: 
vidually happy, but to inorease by this, as by all my 


180 «= THR HRLIGIOUA AMPROT OF PITILONOFITY, 


acta, the harmony of mankind, Not alone that he 
may by and by yo away and enjoy hiimaelf do PE help 
Habana trcow, Voeate Lrerecratamer Loy veo cherkeage Po breagees thircngeh 
Didone too Uencerenssnes ratnconnge sree teeoteed frondgehit. Theses 
fore, notwithatandlag Sehopenbeaner's clllente, Mlehtes 
wre right ti mmydoge that wer congeht tar treat the Inelb 
Vidual man not chiefly asian didividual, but as an 
fnatrumont for extending and serving the moral law. 
BSercrvarones co corticlnn Kind of bapplnens moans affleloney, 
and efiidoney morality, therefore and therefore alone 
have we the right and duty, fo thin porement peonestn 
thorn, tro Dealocoee eons tlafs eSencd cof boeagogolenevnn, 

Kegunlly, therefore, it becomes our cluty to labor 
to Increnne palin, whenever pris in the hewt mena of 
fontorlng the moral inaight. ‘“Theraforn, bie this prem 
ent day, it cannot he our duty to labor to Henbnalsh 
pain in the workd, alinply as pain. Ayaln we mist 
appeal to paychology to guide us aright. The palin 
that fronts sercoread Veondgeht, salthoeosagche Dartteved fer seat 
ber and Intensity, are numerous, and still linpor 
feurtly clefined, Tt werk ber a sineful tank to ately 
more ti cletadl than paychologints have yot dona, the 
inotalizing power of palin. Thin in a task for the 
payeholency of thes fitire, Tn general, of conten, we 
ceany sey threat tdacs eranigces cof seeds godsin hream beets tse 
coneagecerreaterel toy rumcertiei, — Pbacdily godnn, If severe, in 
geernnestrrelly Voevastenlvsiange, ext Deseamt, feor sracont goercngoles, carsel 
thes teveotad Srombgelit. dn bon At cody Seo mer fas am thie ponent 
exporter of ledily ponise helps ts tee ketsow thes lg 
silflerances of the sufferlay of others, not by giving 
tis that blind emotion of sympathy before crltielned, 
but by giving us the ness to form o cool abstract 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 181 


estimate of the value of ths evil of physical pain. 
For thas we can realize the strength of the will that 
seeks to esxape it. and can act with due respect to 
this will, Bat nature generally etves a emoazh ex- 
perence of pain two farntsh excellent maternal for the 
calculations meeded. Therefore. bodily pais. save 
as punishments, are seldom useful instraments for 
our great parpose. Not thas cam self be duly mar 
tied. 


Ik ws different with certam mental pam. All 
those that tend to make the individual feel bis own 
meeessary limitations, and thereby to approach the 
realization of the great work! of Efe about him. are 
mevessary ertis, His will mast be overwhelmed. that 
the Universal Will may have plee to establish it- 
self im him. Therefore. without comilering whether 
we are thereby imereasine or diminishime the som 
ef boman msery. we all of us umbesitatingty set 
about the work of contending with blind self-com 
fidence amd selfshoorptiom wherever it may appear. 
Therefore it s right that we ridicule all pretentioas 
meedocrtty that 6 uncensehous of its stapadities 
Therefore. in fact. it ts right that we shoukd eritiese 
waspartngty all pretenders, however mock ther may 
be pained by our criticism. Therefore it is well that 
we should feel mot a selfish but a righteous jor when- 
ever pride has 3 fall. whenever the man who thinks 
that be ts something diseovers of a truth that be is 
mothe. Therefore. ale do we pat down excessive 
forwardness and vanity in growing children. although 
go to do hurts their sensitive vounr seltishmess very 
keenly. In all sack ways we mast ask and we mast 


183 = THK RELIGIOUM ASPKROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


show no mercy, save when these keen pains of 
wounded! vanity are wo given an to inflame and In- 
orense thin vanity itwolf, All healthy, truthful oritl 
ha of Individual Minttations ina duty, oven If it Ina 
promot torture to the Individual arlidoled, Mor this 
Kanchi vicbonmd dos Loddaacl Gar cotdaese: Lifer bocressatanes lies be wengopreel 
up in himeelf, ff by showlag hla hin dandgnifloanes 
you oan open tiie eyes, you are bound to do so, even 
though you make bhin werithe to neo hie worthlow. 
noms, Mor what wo here defend da not that Ul-tatured 
oritiolan when only alia in to gratify the miserable 
wolf of the erltie, but the arlticiun whose odo in 
turned in oarnent agalint avery form of self-untinfis 
theo Claret, Dalsaclesam Lnamhgchat, — Foest ou sanann boee nerd f-muetdne 
fled when he in at rent, after dinner, or ia merry 
qxomnpoarny, Tt de mw amessademe mrrel covers oo vancsftal carnitine 
mont, But when he is at work dolag good he ought 
tay Vrsates ocr famitdafercsthcors, whalers labeacerm the snoral fn 
alight, which oxalta hin will above the untverwal will, 
which taken the halfalona task for the whole task, 
and altogether glorifies the vanity of vagition, If 
now iy orltie rides me of moh solf-satinfaation, he 
any fart mes Koonly, bot he dn iny bewt felomd, My 
life may often he miserable fy consequence, hut then 
Daman instrument, whose purpose it into attain, te 
fimter, to extend, and to employ the moral lnalght. 
My misery ina drop, evil ne doubt ta Staalf Calnoe 
any poor Httle will must weithe and atrapgle when It 
noon Ite own vanity and the hopeslemnons of ita sepa 
rate watinfrctlons), but a rolative good, alin through 
Nt neneuy cottesden tao Claes anacoreed Veomigeht, ALL mish poration 
sunt Les cloalt with In the mune way. Honve the 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 183 


wilitarian principle of benevolent hedonium, even if 
right in its application to the faroff future, has bat 
Kittle direct practical application te a life that must 
today be Judged by such standards as thea. 


il. 


Rat haa the principle of hedonian any truth even 
dm its application te a work where all had attained 
the woral insight as an experience? If we com 
alder the higher human activities, whose worth is nat 
merely provisional, but permanent, the activities that 
wren will carry on when they have freed themselves 
froan selfish strife, is the aggregate happiness as such 
the gual af the action of this unselfish swlety ? 

There are existent already among wen activities 
that belong te spheres where selfish strife is, rele 
tively speaking, suppreseal, These activities are 
forechadowings af the life af the possible futare ha 
waanity that may come to possess the moral imaght 
Art, aeience, philosophy, are the types aff such life. 
These activities form sall but a suall part af the 
aggregate work of men, aad so ie must long be: yee, 
though subontinated in extent to the pressing moral 
weeds of an impertest state, these activities are ab 
realy anwng the highest in our lives, Phat now, are 
they valuable because of the aggregate happiness 
that they causes, or for sane other reas? Te judge 
of this we must study the definition af the seoumd 
Waore permanent class of human duties. 

Suppose then that the first and provisional ain af 
bawan conduct had been attained, aad that all men 


184 THE BELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


possessed the moral insight, what would this insight 
then lead them todo? Here the hedonist will expect 
to have his revenge for our previous neglect of his 
advice. ‘ My precepts have been set aside so far,” 
he may say, “as having no immediate application to 
the moral needs of the moment. To get this merely 
fornial condition of harmony among men, the moral 
man has been advised to subordinate all direct efforts 
towards making people happy, to the end of making 
them first possess what you have called the moral 
mood. But now at last, in the supposed case, the 
great end has been attained, and men are formally 
moral. Now surely they have nothing to do but to 
be as happy as possible. So at last my plan will be 
vindicated, and the ideal man will come to be a 
seeker of ideal pleasures.” 

The hedonist is too sanguine. His ideas of the 
highest state may have their value, but they are in- 
definite in at least one respect. When he says that 
he wants all his ideal men, in the ideal state, to be 
happy together, he never tells us what he means by 
the individual man at all, nor what inner relation 
that individual’s happiness is to have to the happi- 
ness of other men. All men, in the ideal state, are 
to be harmonious and happy together: this the he- 
donist tells us; but he does not see how many dif- 
ficulties are involved in the definition of this ideal 
state. Ile plainly means and says that in this ideal 
state the good of the whole society is to be an aggre- 
gate of a great number of individual happy states, 
which the various men of the blessed society are to 


feel. He assumes then that in the ideal state each 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 185 


man would be able to say: “I, separately regarded, 
am happy, and so are all my fellows.” Now pose- 
sibly the very notion of an ideal state, in which the 
separate selves are as such happy, and in which 
the blessedness of the whole is an aggregate of the 
blessedness of the separate individuals, is a contra 
dietory notion. At all events it is a netion whose 
meaning and validity every hedaunist coully and ua- 
questioningly assumes. Yet it is an assumption that 
we must examine with care. 

If a wan sets before himself and his fellows the 
goal of individual happiness, as the hedonist wants 
him to do in the suppused ideal state, can he con- 
eeivably attain that gual? The hedonist supposes 
that the only moral limitation te the pursuit of per 
sonal happiness is the moral requirement of altre- 
ism, acconiing to which ne one ought to seek his 
own pleasure at the cost of a greater misery to an- 
other. In the ideal state, as all would be in the 
moral mood, and all disposed to help one another, 
and to get happiness only together, this one limite 
tien would be removed. Then, thinks the hedonist, 
the highest law would be: (Wet the most Auppiness, 
wl of you. This happiness the hedonist conceives as 
an agyregate of states that would exist in the various 
separate individuals. Se each individual will strive 
after his own joey, but in such wise as to hinder the 
joy of nobody else. But we oppose to this the ques- 
tien: Is there not some other limitation than this to 
individual search for happiness? Is not the ideal 
of individual happiness as such an impossible ideal, 
mot because the individuals in the imperfect state 


186 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


lack harmony, but because, even in the supposed har 
monious state, there would be an inner hindrance to 
the pursuit of this ideal by any individual? Would 
not the moral insight detect the hindrance, and so re- 
ject this ideal? There are at least some very famil- 
lar reasons for thinking this to be the case. These 
reasons do not of themselves prove, but they certainly 
suggest, that the notion of a progressive individual 
happiness has in it some strange contradiction. 

First, then, we have the old empirical truth that 
individual happiness is never very nearly approached 
by any one, so long as he is thinking about it. The 
happy man ought to be able to say, “I am happy.” 
He can much more easily say, “ I was happy; ” for 
present reflection upon happiness interferes in most 
cases with happiness. So here is an inner difficulty, 
very well known, in the way of making individual 
happiness the goal of life. We have no desire to 
dwell here upon this difficulty, which has so often 
been discussed. We do not exaggerate its impor- 
tance. We consider it only the first suggestion that 
the hedonistic ideal of life has some inner contradic- 
tion in its very nature, so that there is some deeper 
conflict here going on than that between selfishness 
and altruism. 

In the second place, we notice that, if anybody 
tries to sketch for us the ideal state of human life 
as the hedonist conceives it, we are struck with a 
sense of the tameness and insignificance of the whole 
picture. The result is strange. Here we have been 
making peace and harmony among men the proxt- 


mate goal of life, yet when this harmony has to be 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 187 
conceived in hedonistic fashion, when the hedonist 
gives us his picture of a peaceful society, where, in 
the midst of universal good humor, his ideal, the hap- 
piness of everybody concerned, is steadfastly pursued, 
we find ourselves disappointed and contemptuous. 
That harmless company of jolly good fellows is un- 
speakably dull. One listens to the account of their 
happiness as one might listen to the laughter and 
merry voices of some evening club of jovial strangers, 
who had been dining at the hotel in which one hap- 
pened himself to be eating a late and frugal supper, 
in sobriety and weariness. Those unknown crea- 
tures whose chatter in the next room the traveler 
dimly hears at such a time, —a confused babble of 
stupid noises ; how insignificant their joys seem to 
him! Who cares whether that really wretched set 
of animals yonder, with their full stomachs and their 
misty brains, think themselves happy or not? To be 
sure, among them the harmony seems in some sort 
to have been momentarily realized. One would no 
doubt seem to enjoy it all just as well as they, if he 
were one of them. But one is viewing it at a dis- 
tance, from outside; and so looking at it he possibly 
sees that a mass of individual happiness is not just 
the ideal of ideals after all. 

Just such, however, is the feeling that comes to one 
in considering Mr. Spencer's description of his ideal 
society. And similar feelings have been awakened 
in many reflective people when they have considered 
traditional notions of heaven, and have tried tu esti- 
mate the value of the life of individual bliss therein 


pictured. Professor William James has recently so 


188 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


well stated these objections in a few brilliant sen- 
tences, that we cannot do better than to quote from 
his recent article on “ The Dilemma of Determin- 
ism”; } — 

“Every one must at some time have wondered at that 
strange paradox of our moral nature, that, though the 
pursuit of outward good is the breath of its nostrils, the 
attainment of outward good would seem to be its suffoca- 
tion and death. Why does the painting of any paradise 
or Utopia, in heaven or on earth, awaken such yawnings 
for Nirvana and escape? The white-robed, harp-playing 
heaven of our Sabbath-schools, and the ladylike tea-table 
elysium represented in Mr. Spencer’s ‘ Data of Ethics,’ as 
the final consummation of progress, are exactly on a par 
in this respect, —lubberlands, pure and simple, one and 
all. We look upon them from this delicious mess of in- 
sanities and realities, strivings and deadnesses, hopes and 
fears, and agonies and exultations, which form our pres- 
ent state; and tedium vite is the only sentiment they 
awaken in our breasts. To our crepuscular natures, born 
for the conflict, the Rembrandtesque moral chiaroscuro, 
the shifting struggle of the sunbeam in the gloom, such 
pictures of light upon light are vacuous and expression- 
less, and neither to be enjoyed nor understood. If this 
be the whole fruit of the victory, we say; if the genera- 
tions of mankind suffered and laid down their lives; if 
prophets confessed and martyrs sang in the fire, and all 
the sacred tears were shed for no other end than that a 
race of creatures of such unexampled insipidity should suc- 
ceed, and protract in secula sceculorum their contented 
and inoffensive lives, — why, at such a rate, better lose 
than win the battle, or at all events better ring down the 
curtain before the last act of the play, so that a business 

1 Unitarian Review for September, 1884. 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 189 
that began so importantly may be saved from so singw- 
larly flat a winding-up.” 

Now not anly does all this seem true in such cases, 
bat we have similar feelings about even so ideal a 
picture of happy future life as is Shellev's, in the last 
act of the ~ Prometheus.” There are indeed many 
deeper elements in that noble ideal of Shellev's, for 
he distinctly says that his true ideal is * Man — Oh! 
mot men ©; or. as he again expresses it : — 

* One undivided socal of manr a soul 

Whowe nature is its own divine contra, 

Where all things dow to all, as rivers to the xa.” 
And when he says this, he gets far bevond mere he 
donism. But yet there are other elements in his 
account that are not w satisfactory, and that are 
decidedly hedonistic. Their expression is indeed 
perfect. Surely if the noblest hedonism could ever 
succeed with us threugh the noblest af statements, 
such an advocate as Shelley would convince us. But 
when the poet glorifies mere individual pleasure, as 
he does in part of his picture, our clearest reflection 
is that, after all. the end af the tragedy is petty when 
compared with the beginning. 

For consider what a world it is in which we begin 
the poem. At first glance it is a gloomy and terri 
ble world of brutal wrong. But seen the picture 
grows brighter, even while the wrong is depicted. 
There is the glorious figure of the suffering Titan, 
there is the sweetness of the tender love that watehes 
him: and above the tyrant himeif one feels that 
there is somehow a heavenly might, that does not 
suffer him to do his worst. The world in which 


190 «THY RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF FIIILOSOPHY. 


thene things live is not intolerable. But then come 
the spirits that sing to Prometheus, in his anguinh, 
of immortal dewls done on the earth, of great 
thenghts and lofty puswions, All theses are born of 
the conflict, and have their being in the midst of the 
terrors of the tyrant’s dominion, I¢ is indeed no 
perfect world, thin; and one neods sino higher 
light, such as Prometheus has, to propheny that the 
gowd will ver triumph 5 but one neon forthwith that 
fron thes porfoct world, if it ever comen, thene grout 
atrivings for gon, thin sublime devotion and love 
and hervian, must not wholly vanish. Thorne things 
must net bes tail amides like old garments whenever 
Promathous wine and is free; their spirit must be 
preserved as an elonunt in the higher life of the 
future. If they are worth anything, their true na- 
ture must be eternal. 

Amd as for the real worth of this world in which 
the evil is so far triumphant —woe learn something 
of that from Demoyorgon, This mysterious being 
haw indewl no very definite religious philosophy to 
Offer, Hoe mosts plain questions with vague san- 
awern, whens Ania and Panthos catechise him; and 
one fools it to be well for his reputation as # pro- 
foun tomchesr that his questions aro neither men 
nor Socratic inquires, Tut still what he tells of the 
doep truth that in“ imagelons,” in onough to make 
118 fess) that even this world of hurrorn in net withernst 
0 dlivisus significnsun, Jove reignn, brut, whatever the 
Vinibsles werrdsl ssuty bos, thes tristh of thing is a world of 
hrergots sasscl lever, whesres thes real God is somehow abuve 


all asl through all, o Spirit of Kternal Goodness 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 191 


To have found this out in the midst of all the evil 
is surely not to have found life wholly vain. 

But then what happens? By the accident that, 
according to Shelley, rules the world, the revolution 
is accomplished, and Zeus is hurled headlong into the 
abyss. What glorious life shall now begin? When 
the deep and magnificent truth that was felt to be be- 
neath all the horror of the tyrant’s reign, comes out 
into full light, what tongue shall be able to sing the 
glories of that beatific vision? We listen eagerly — 
and we are disappointed. Prometheus arises grandly 
from his bed of torture, and then —he forthwith 
bethinks himself of a very pretty cave, where one 
might be content to rest a long time in the refined 
company of agreeable women. There one will lie, 
and wreathe flowers, and tell tales, and sing songs, 
and laugh and weep: and the hours will fly swiftly 
by. And then what will become of the rest of the 
world? Oh, this world simply becomes a theatre of 
like individual enjoyments. Everybody to his cave 
and his flowers and his agreeable companions, And 
that will then be all. No organization: just good 
fellowship and fragmentary amusements. 

No that cannot be all, Shelley felt as much, 
and added the last act of the play. There we are 
to have depicted grandly and vaguely the life of or 
ganized love, The world shall be all alive, and the 
universal life shall join in the hyinn of praise. All 
the powers of reality shall feel the new impulse of 
perfect harmony, and what shall spring from their 
union shall be some higher kind of existence, in 


which there is no longer to be any talk of thine and 


192 THE KRLIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


mine; but the “one undivided seul of many « soul,” 
“wheres all things flow to all, aw rivers to the sen,” 
shall enter upon a life of transcendent significance, 
upon a tank of eternal duration, and of a meaning 
tow high for us poor mortals of this present world 
well to comprehend. But this is no longer pure 
hedonism, although the verses heresbuuts are so full 
of the joyous outhursts and of the anticipations of 
rapture. In fine, the outcome in no perfect and har- 
Mmonious comenption at all. We find the joy of the 
free! and loving, yet till separate selves, and the 
higher life of the all-pervading universal spirit, both 
alike glorified; and we never get from the poet any 
cClearnen alinut their actual relation. Is the world 
blessed just because the tyrant no longer interferes 
with cach man’s flower-wreathing and other amuse- 
ments” Or is the sole sources of bliss the disposl- 
tion of everyludly to give everybuly else everything? 
Or in the real source of the perfection this: that 
thene souls, no longer oppresmeal by hatred, have a¢ 
last nne to feel not only their freedom, but also 
some higher sim of universal life? Shelley hints, 
but dom not consistently make us feel, what his real 
result is, There was in fact always about Shelley 
that childish innocence of benevolent hope, to which 
the only evil seemed to be the hatred of men for one 
another, and the highest youl the outhurst of uni- 
versal kindliness, Now that is the beginning of 
moral insight, but cannot be all of it. As if the he- 
nevolencs would not turn out to be utter emptiness, 
unlems there is something beyond it! As if there 
ewuld be any value in this unity of life, unless there 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 198 


ia something to be done by the one life after it ia 
united! As if the moral insight must not reveal 
aome deeper truth than van be seen in its first mo- 
ments | 

One expecta what we are coming to. In discuss. 
ing this problem of Shelley's we are reaching the 
sense that the moral insight must be yet further 
completed, or else it will be all in vain. The moral 
insight says to us all: tet as one being. We must 
come to that point; but we must also go beyond, 
We must ask: What is this one being to do, after : 
the insight has made all the individuals af one will? 
And we already begin to see, in opposition to hedan- 
iam, that it cannot be the end of this universal will 
simply to make of us so and so many new separate 
individuals once more. The mass of tedivusly happy 
aelyea seems insipid to our comman sense, Just be- 
cause wo all dimly feel the truth that we must now 
come to understand better, namely, that the aniven 
sal will of the moral insight must aim at the de 
struction of all which separates us into a heap of 
different selves, and at the attainment of some higher: 

/ positive organic aim. The “one undivided seul” 
we are bound to make our ideal. And the ideal of 
that soul vannot be the separate happiness of you 
and of me, ner the negative fact of our freedom 
from hatred, but must be something above us all, 
and yet very positive. 

Had we deduced our principle in any other way 
than the one we chose, we should be unable to take 
this, our present nevessary step forwarda, The feel- 
ing of aympathy, for instance, is converned with the 

48 


$94 THE RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPRY, 


jndividual object of our sympathy. ‘To sympathize 
with all men in to wish everybody happy, ouch ufter 
his own fashion. Isut we rejected that anutional 
wyinpathy as euch, Woe welds Thu facts of life show 
usa confiict of wille, Vo reulive thin conflict is to 
woe that no will in more justitad in ite soperatensns 
than in any other, Thin reoulisation is wthical slap. 
ticinn, » necomry stage on the way the true 
moral jusight, ‘The ethieal doubt mune and is the 
reulivation of thy conflict, Wut thin realization 
eas, as wo new on reflection, w real will in us thes 
unites thens reulinad wills iu one, and demands thu 
wd of their contict, Thin is our reulization of an 
Univerwd Will, The rewt of our ductrina must be 
the development of the nature of the universal will, 
This will fret mys to ouch of the individual wills: 
“Rubmit thyself to me.” Or otherwise put, lot 
wach will be wo acted out ae if by Ons Being who 
canned in himuelf wl) the other wills, Senew the 
univers will must demand, not the indofinitely con- 
eahyed or diinby and sentimentally dewirad sepurute 
wudinfaction of everybody, but an organie union of 
life ; such wn union ae thin our world would try to 
make of itaelf if it were already in emplrienl fact 
what the universal will demunds St ty be, namely, 
one Belf, This one Belf, however, could ny longer 
will ty cut itaelf up again Into the separate empir- 
jew) selves, any more than it could in any narrow, 
priggios fashion set iteelf up for a new spockuen of 
a lofty individual, to be obeyed as an arbitrary laws 
giver, Jt would demand al) the wealth of life thas 
the separate selvew now have; wad ull the unity thas 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 195 


any one individual now seeks for himself. It would 
aim at the fullest and mast organized life conceiv- 
able. And this its aim would become no longer 
merely a nezauve seeking for harmony, but a posi- 
tive aim. demanding the perfect Organization of 
Life. 


OL 


Bat the postalare of all hedonism. utilitarian or 
other. this postulate of the absolute worth of indi- 
vidual sansfacnien. finds its practical refutation for 
every growing character in vet another form. Everv- 
body has ted to realize the ideal of individualism, 
this ideal of a happy or satisfied self. either for him- 
self or for some loved ane: and everrbady finds. if 
be tres the thing lene enengh. what a bollow and 
worthless business it all is. If there is. or is possible 
anywhere. a really satistied self. it certainly has no 
place in anv fleshly bady: and the reasen is net 
alone what disappointed people call the ~ disacree 
able order of things in this wicked world” but the 
Inner contradictions of this negen ef a perfected ha- 
man self. Let us remind curselves of same of these 
contradicnens. 

Hedonism has neo meaning. unless the sansfied ha- 
man self is lomeally possible. The ileal of beden- 
ism. with all its vagueness. has at least one essential 
element. in that it demands the satisfaction of he 
man selves by the free supply of all that they destre 
for themselves. Hedonism therefore must and dees 
assert that what a man desires is his own content- 


ment; so that. if you could. pbvsically speaking, 


196 THE RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


give him all that he asks for himself, you would have 
reached the goul for him. But now, if all this ina 
delusion, if in fast a man does not really want his 
own watinfaction alone, but doo actually want some. 
thing more, that in not his individual satisfaction, and 
that in not to be attained through his satisfaction, 
then the hedonistic ideal doos not express the truth 
of life. And thin paradoxical oxperionce we all get, 
soonur or later, We find that our little nulf does 
doxire something that, if gained, would be not its 
own satisfaction at all, but its own destruction in ite 
separate life an thin self. So the aim of life cannot 
bo ultimately hedonistic. For, if possessed of the 
moral insight, wo cannot will that each self should 
get the greatest posible aggregate of separate natie 
factions, when in truth no one of tho selves seeks 
merely an aggregate of self-satinfrstions as much, but 
when enh doos seok something olie that is unattaln- 
able in the form of separate self-nnutinfaction, 

But possibly a reader may incredulously demand 
whore the proof is of thin self-contradictory dasire 
that all the selves are declared to have, The proof 
lies in the general fact that to be fully consaious of 
one's own individual life as such in to be consaious 
of a dintronting limitation, This limitation avery one 
very shrewdly notices for the first in other people. 
The knowledge of it expresses ituelf in personal erit- 
fcinm. = Ono firat puts the matter very nafvely thus, 
that, whoroas the rule of life for one's own person Sn 
dimply to got all the sntisfaction that one oan, the 
appearance of anybody elas who pretends to be gon. 
tout with Aimsolf munt be the signal not for admire 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 197 


tion at the sight of his success, but for a good deal 
of contempt. One sees at once that he is a person 
of serious limitations. One sees and feels perfections 
that the other has not. One despises then the other 
man’s complacency, because it is so plainly founded 
in illusion, “If he could only see hinself as others 
see him,” one says, “he could not be self-satistied.” 
Criticism thus seems to indicate why he ought to be 
discontented, and why he would, if he knew more, 
feel a contempt for himself. All such criticism is 
really an abandonment of the hedonistic principle. 
If an individual ought to be dissatistied, although he 
is actually satistied, and if he ought to be dissatistied 
merely because he has not some perfection that ex- 
ists in somebody else. then the doctrine that a self 
reaches its cual in so far as it reaches inner content 
ment is given wy No benevolent hedonist has any 
business to criticise a happy man who is harming 
nobody by his happiness. He is at the gual, or ap- 
proximately sa Let him alone. To do otherwise, 
by criticising hin, is a crime. 

Rat no: every ove feels that the true gual is not 
attained for this man. And this feeling, though in 
itself as feeling it proves nothing, is the first sug 
gestion to many af some deeper truth, This truth, 
however, enters like iron into his soul, when some. 
body else ably and justly and severely criticises him 
in his turn, Here. for example, T have been for a 
time content with myself, and have been saving to 
my soul: * Soul, take thy ease” and here comes one 
who says to me, very justly, * Thou fool” and points 
out some great lack in my conduct, or in my charac 


108 FH RELAIS ASKEAF OF PHILASOFHY, 


tse, cn i ny Kavawledge, Awl now | have « wtrnage 
eaperlcnes of contlicting paesione. ‘Pie eritie hind 
essnddcoucel dave: sa, useage gosttiee, Wace duagom Fo faates hada feor it 5 
Pit, bbaecea, wihveste Po gaee eovany saved Abedveke Ale detder cover, 
Beets Ahiiah Ho tae dues Faach, bes do eighe: Plde perent bine 
talents clevece saectisnlly eaten fore uc, and perbinpe TP ena 
beh vestoteawes TRS cre Pecan dak crabfece Frente penae of 
the bins eerie nied Jaen hetore, aad tere: 
fever angry. EP tlhe crities dial aod oluewed ae ta 
myself, Fo cbierialel Veawes fecget tlre blige. Mat it ie in 
Wien wasn bee Abidaake oof vetaseiidinge tee teak Trmencenee, fl 
si Vivedeced in wretch and a foods and thew whall £ 
wocnjus Hyeclt © Alas fur any deck qilensure i wane 
fastvaqabiad dung dney Fianeacdacel gacefecestieane | 

Bint nase < osannitort Pine Fiaech restarrae tar Rhiad ie HAPRRER, 
ail tar ie Pliosfid illusion af any one wert one 
nuns 0 Surely Pan if Eda bey adile, Pe flatter 
Hayoclt tar ectagines Rhee HTB. tar tidh of fide jenlonsy and 
of Vide Vlindnicans enrely thie will brig ae dened fa 
bey igeaveensaaieces agesioe dn ine, Dhes will dae feegratten, 
nel F ccesnetastiteced Phat sans Hirt, BY ethigditcned 
wel vecrilta Frenne tide lie. Pls clectecot is rend, aed f 
ease ik. Wonk any igenernsctoes mike it lewg real 7 
Per Vite Mids sbecfecot aad tar etiffecr fram it is had 
estertigede s Vat with Iuereee die Pew contecpilate the 
whites orf geordvage rete Peavecvece with Aide defect, bat still 
duraveraiek of ik anid eos tod cufhecring Fron it. My old 
Fea msancacpreces etsaciany decsaddy goiniteal, Ga seactancad dy aedede seamed 
ter Mey perecoenh pang of chagrin, tak | previonely 
enigebik tar Waves Fed thee ohiagerinn, weed yeh hed ih met, 
Envecaabele: when Fb oreHeet due, anid all that weltioh 
wrnplaccnay, | really wie 4 fal te while tine, and 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 199 


appeared so to discerning people. and vet knew it 
not. And therefore now, through all the pang af 
the discovery. runs the feeling that 1 would not if I 
could, na, not for any dehght of complacency, return 
to that state of hollow. delicious, detestable igno- 
rance. It was a fool's paradise: but | have eacaped 
from it. I know my nakedness, and I prefer the fruit 
of the tree of knowledge. with bitter exile, ta the 
whole of the delights of that wretched place. It is 
a contradictory state. this, My knowledge is torture 
to my foolish, sensitive self: vet while | writhe with 
the vainest of pangs, I despise utterly the thought 
of escaping it by lusion, or by forgetfulness, or by 
anv means save the actual removal or conquest af 
the defect. And this 1] feel even when the defect is 
seen to be utterly irremoevable without the destruc 
tion of myself. Detter go on despising myself. and 
feeling the contempt of others, than return to the 
delights of foolishness: or. if the pain of knowing 
what I am is insupportable. then it) were better 
te die. than to live in despicable icnerance. Oh, 
wretched man that Iam! Who shall deliver me ? 
Is all this mere emetion®? or is it insight? In 
fact it is a growing, though still imperfect insight. 
a form of the moral insight. The pangs of this 
wounded self-love are themselves in trath alse van- 
itv. hke the complacent self-love that they mourn: 
but only through the cateway of this pain can mast 
people get berond these vanines of individualism. 
For this wounded self-love, that refuses te be conr 
forted by anv deliberate return to its ald illusions, 


is, as Adam Smith long since pointed out, an emo- 


200 $$ THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


tional expression of the result of putting ourselves 
at the point of view of our critics. We see our 
limitations as they see them. Our will conforms 
itself, therefore, to their contemptuous will concern- 
ing us, because we realize the existence of that will. 
In recognizing and sharing their contempt, we there- 
fore realize in part the universal will that must con- 
demn all individual limitations as such. We prac- 
tically experience the truth that a perfectly fair judge 
of us all would not be satisfied merely with our indi- 
vidual contentments as such, but would also demand 
the destruction of all our individual limitations. We 
thus get practically far beyond hedonism. We see 
that as we are weak and wretched in the eyes of one 
another, we should all be far more so in the eyes of 
a god Our ideal of life must then be the notion of 
a life where no one being could fairly criticise any 
other at all. But such a life would be no longer a 
life of separate individuals, each limited to his petty 
sphere of work. It would be a life in which self was 
lost in a higher unity of all the conscious selves. 
Singular may appear this conception even now, 
after all that we have said; but it is a practical con- 
ception in our every-day human life. That we criti- 
cise the limitations of others, and desire them to sac- 
rifice their pleasures for the sake of removing these 
limitations, may be regarded at first as our cruel ca- 
price, if you will so regard it. But when the edge 
of the sword is turned against us, when we, feeling 
the ditterness of criticism and seeing our limitations, 
long to be beyond them, hate ourselves for them, and 
yet refuse to escape from the pain of all this by 


TRE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 201 


forgetfulness of the defect, we pasa from capricious 
criticiam to something higher. We accept with ag. 
eny the point of view of the one whe atanda outaide 
of us. And, ao doing, we pass in effect to the accep. 
tance of the domanda of the universal will, If there 
were a will that included in one conscioumess all our 
eoparate wills, it could not will our individual de. 
fevta aa wuch. It would be absolute critic, aa well 
aa absolute harmoniser, of all of us It would tear 
down these individual barriers of our petty lives, 
as the vorporation of a great city may tear down 
wretehed ald rookeries, It would demand that we 
be one in spirit, and that our aneness be perfeet. 
But if we experience thie universal will, we experi. 
ence that hedoniam, who life-blood is the insistence 
upon individual atates aa such, cannot be upheld by 
the moral insight, cither now, or at any future stage 
of our human life on this earth, We peresive too 
that we all have a deep desire for selfleatruction, in 
eo far aa we recognise that our selflave meana ab- 
senve of perfeotion. 
IV. 

We have seen in general the moral outcome of in- 
dividualiam. Lot us atudy some of ite forms and for 
tunes more in detail, lndividualiam, viewed as the 
tendeney to hold that the ideal of life is the separate 
happy man, is itself very naturally the normal ten- 
deney of unretlecting atrong natures, to whor happi- 
ness has boon ina fair human measure alrvady given. 
Children and child-like men, full of vigor, are inne: 


vently seltiah; or, whon they act unselfishly, their 


902 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


whole ideal is the making of others like themselves, 
They fall into a notion about life that the author 
not long since heard well-expressed by a cheerful 
young friend, a former fellow-student, who, having 
early plunged into a busy life, has already won both 

influence and property. This man, full of the enthu- 
' siasm of first success, was talking over his life with 
the writer, and fell to defining his opinions on vari- 
ous subjects, such as young men like to discuss. At 
last he was asked about the view of life that he had 
already formed in his little experience. Ile was 
quick, honest, and definite in his answer, as he al- 
ways has been. “ My notion of a good life is,” he 
said, “ that you ought to help your friends and whack 
your enemies.” The notion was older than the 
speaker remembered ; for Socratic dialogues on the 
Just, with their ingenious Sophists making bold as- 
sertions, form no part of his present stock of sub- 
jects for contemplation. But what was interesting 
in the fresh and frank manner of the speech was 
the clearness of the conviction that a world of suc- 
cessful and friendly selves, whose enemies chanced 
to be all recently “ whacked,” would be at the goal 
of bliss. Such indeed is and must be the individ- 
ualism of the successful and unreflecting man, by 
whom all the world is classified as being either his 
or not his, as to a cow all is either cow feed or not 
cow feed. A man in this position has never yet 
known the burden of Faust’s soul when he says, 
Cursed be what as possession charms us. If such 
& man gets any moral insight, it will be on this stage 
imperfect. He will seek only to multiply himself 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 203 
im the forms of other men. These he will call his 


friends. That in which he does not recognize him 
self, he will = whack.” 

Bat most men cannet keep this form of the ill 
ston of individualian, They pass most af their lives 
in the midst of disappointment. The self cannot get 
its objects The ideal independence is hampered. 
The stubborn world asserts iwelf against us We 
feel the littleness af our powers and af our plans 
The broken and despairing self has tw wek refuge 
elsewhere, And so individualism mest commanly 
assumes another shapes la inner selfdevelopment 
we seek what the world refuses us in euter self-realt 
mation, Theughts at least are free. Our emotions 
are our ewn, The world does net understand them ; 
bat the world is cold: and anappreciative. Let us 
be within ourselves what we cannot get in the outer 
work, Let us be inwandly complete, even if we are 
eutwanily failures Then we shall eatwit: the cruel 
world, and produce the successful self) in: spite of 
misfortunes. 

The reader need net be reminded of what vast 
development individualism has undergene tn this di 
reetion, Literature is full of accounts of struggles 
for inwanl self-realizadion, made by men whose outer 
growth is impeded. The Hamlets and the Fausts 
of poetry, the saints and the selfeonsetous marty 
of great religions mevementsy are familiar examples, 
We have already in a former chapter studied the out- 
come of this romande individualism in a few cases, 
There is no dime to dwell here afresh at any length 
en sv familiar a theme, but for the present we may 


~ 


204 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


point out that all illustrations of the tendency fall 
into two classes, representing respectively the senti- 
mental and the heroic individualism. These are the 
forms of that Nobler Selfishness which benevolent 
hedonism defends. They are efforts to find the con- 
tented and perfected self. Their failure is the fail- 
ure of individualism, and therewith of hedonism. 

As for the sentimental individualism, we have seen 
already how unstable are its criteria of perfection, 
how full of fickleness is its life. The sentimental self 
admits that the world cannot understand it, and will 
not receive it; but it insists that this neglect comes 
because the world does not appreciate the strength 
and beauty of the inner emotional life. The ideal, 
then, is devotion to a culture of the beautiful soul, 
and to a separation of this soul from all other life. 
Let other souls be saved in like fashion. One does 
not object to their salvation; but one insists that 
pach saved soul dwells apart in its own sensitive feel- 
Inge, in the world of higher artistic pleasures. Now 
in fact such lives may be not uninteresting to the 
moralist ; but no moralist can be really content with 
their ideal. Its best direct refutation is after all a 
sense of humor strong enough to let the sensitive and 
beautiful soul see once in a while how comical is its 
demure pursuit of these subjective phantoms. This 
miserable life of deep inward excitements and long- 
ings, how absurd it seems to any critic who, standing 
outside, sees that there is nothing more than froth 
and illusion and hypocrisy in it. Heine’s anecdote 
of the monkey boiling his own tail so as to get an 
inward sense of the nature and worth of the art of 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 205 


cookery, is what first comes to mind when we see 
such a man as this subjective idealist of the eamo- 
tions, You have only to get him to laugh heartily 
ones of twice, and his Philistine narrowness can no 
longer content him. “ Why is just my feeling worth 
eo much?” be will say. And then he will wake up 
to observe that hia ideal was all a bad dream: and 
that an experience haa no more or lesa worth because 
it happens in connection with the decomposition of 
his particular brain-atuff. Faust discovered that, as 
we have acen: and eo in time will any other sensible 
man, The real reason after all why Mephistophe- 
lee could not got Faust’s eoul was that Faust: could 
understand the Mephistophelean wit, which was 
throughout destructive of individualian, The sen- 
timentalist who has no humor ia ance for all given 
over to the devil, and need sign ne contract. He 
etares into every mirror that he pasees, and, cursing 
the luck that makes him move so fast in this work, 
he murmurs incessantly, Verwesle doch, di bist so 
ehva, And ao in the presence of the moral insight 
he ia forthwith and eternally dammed, unless some 
miracle af grace ehall save him. It is noteworthy 
that ane or two of our recent and youngest novelists 
in this country have gained a certain reputation by 
ecntimental stories of collegiate and post-graduate 
life that precively illustrate this aimplesninded but 
abominable spirit, May these voung authors repent 
while there is time, if indeed ther can repent. 

Les dangerous 0) genuine morality, and far 
higher in the wale of worth is the Titanic form of 
individualiam, the form that baa given birth to such 


UM TATE, RNASE ASI ETE OM PIIAAPHY, 


taprommions ne thes Keerlseting No of “Aart Monee 
trim.” Ths nites of Merennethusia ah contd springs to 
anise Vigem obese wes thetike of this view of Vile. Mere 
sash bucciame iy te Pealdy bess rergorecsessntsatives of Uitouniann, 
thst Ahesees ime ones bastter way of chisrseterizing ite 
wheels mgrteit. bbesare toe coll Gt thes Perey of Mrenne: 
Absastsm, Wess Sineasseh cof sal seecorsad Neecrecceterne, satel this Isat. 
Stes overe ll will sect, prrsseet, yer enstevsrd freedom, anal 
yere waes thes bed Mereenena of tbiet inverter Difes of belecsmaad 
esaentrbiertvs, «Yorn secagriaes Hh ite ertbusta s gerts tas bhiseh, 
thes severed insight essed, sapeereges wach my for of 
ra Gioeby mee prser satires any yeoe tor ine thee, Vath theres im 
satettbre Seren of se lE de cederpernent. Yara satiate bas 
parsceectbeannge. Why seta bees teenie, Verssoboly thas isbessel 
im te weer ll ch camiengesnis sed yea, Mak fined theske poe. 
Reachterne ine thee Veeebaspoeerabenace cf suction. VM rennesthectes 
grsaves bbnics belated se possecerdison ersegebiasiss bey resent of tbees 
Fass f, thesat bees basal sy Zocuns tay defy, Vt thes ssusses ileal, 
itt $e seetrees siete lacese be: ben an rac eny, i bbe sebeied cof snsany 
ss cqustect, sosbtece Of Fact nisin, hie bins Uitte binprpineaa, 
brat seovseche grid sareed ccrrecrgey, vebies ass booty beeey sored bens 
baaesabtday be bees woceatisnsecstosh, whee bentrns Little of poetry, 
bees Bese puter brecter ed thite teseerees of Meets the sna, boat 
Wher kenverws whit ih ta ta held his an in the fight 
ovithy thes overedel,  Chiis renter yer canned prot dean: 
oes cesapere, Vittles Pear thas daprbtntentes fiethers There ia 
tate jasd gees sabres beteas esnees Chen oor his conan he 
43 pete esnteed. s beet bees be eh, decteh tere ssbensesbele fe Very, 
Shas beecRertagem tae thes pss od Nobile | be belie cea ine 
thus eregne| Of esteceretel ovsen Stars fags sai teat, hater ome 
tr Nien evil, Nes cespeeeta anthers he winba bee ley 
germ bee bois wvsny, Moat fies thitsnkes thi thie bee at eevee 


THE CLGANTZATION OF LIFE. De 


Get ee eoold do worl te « make otber mem brave 
Te bommself 9 This bemeiv. acaive. indamitatk self 
Boe tihimiks the odes arpe of perfeetam Por bim the 
mporal Emachi dees pat gs terond the approval af 
wtih Tnfe as this, infetiniteis mutipled 

Tn os alwars & delrht te fallow this Tinanism 
Tite wartomss sige Rodubosm as we know. 8 a re 
Tnraem whodly feamded om seli-dezish amd hh cooks 
enter wifexsimam Ani ve. bw a sracce freak 
wif mural dialeeties. iz is Bodtzism ths: has mien 
ws some Cd the best expressdzms cf the Tinazae ind- 
Widimaiem Ins Rodctiss betty 2 the Soma Nb 
ita“ ome may find sorb an vecttars as ibe foc 
imypr.— ome of the foesg cf ibe iwetessooms cf the 
Thoms - — 

* Bisvimr hoi ade the rai acaieet a fetiticn and ue 
Tmtime aor od thems et po cet wish tue a wc. Toh hese 
for emp: : Jeo bon wander acme Che & rhoeore ron 

+ En boo who bes icvemeere wit stems atevsons 
mem nd ttem the suit whe fuosws akeveane = evesad- 
emimr tbe misery iui car cubes it RSet. eG cet We 
Ger wleme Eke a 2oipvern 

+ Hie wibo thes ecemtuadsc tbs Sruemds and metdece 
tall uma J:ses be irs ih. Lari a Temened 
mimd= seme was dances i: imamisi sy ko ate warez 
alime Ihe a rocserss.. 

+ Just asa dance asc eearee. WT Tis Prams ect 
qfied im emch ener. sock is the care co has wok tree, 
ami wate: bart Bhe the sheeq nf ute tacit meg tot 
tp amrvtihime. Lett ome wacelet ce Lok: Thltee zk 

+ Asp east mete! is ite dices oes feeeto ad Tura 

2 Wiese Whitien’s Sere luis a we bok Tak. qust wp 8 
= 


208 THY NYLIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


tire, a7 let the wise man, considering only his own will, 
warler alone like s rhinueerus, . . . 

oo. * Diseemtented sre some sscotion, also some 
honsshuldern, dwelling in houses; let one, caring little 
about other people'’n children, wander alone like a rhinve- 
ren, 

“If one sequires » clever companion, an sssuciate right- 
eous and wine, let him, overcnming all dangers, wander 
about with him ylad and thoughtful, 

“If one does not sequire & clever eumpanion, an sane- 
tlate rightovus snd wine, then asa king sbundening his 
conguered kingdotn, lot him wander alone like » rhinoe- 
CHM oe 

oo“ Kooing bright golden bracelets, well-wrought by 
the geldumnith, striking against each other when there are 
two on one arm, let one watler alone like « rhinoesros. 

“ Thas, if 1 juin myself with anther, I shall swear or 
seok! ; considering thin danger in future, let one wander 
alone like « rhinwesrm. . . . 

aoe Beth cold and heut, hanger and thirst, wind and 
a burning san, and yulflios and snakes, — having over- 
cones all thens things, lot one wander alone like « rhinoe- 
orem, 

“As the elephant, the strony, the spotted, the large, 
after lonving the herd walks at plonanre in the furest, even 
#0 let one wander alone like a rhineerm,. . . 

* Net adorning himeel!, net looking ont for sport, amuse 
ment, snl the delight of the pleasure in the worlds om 
the cmtrary, being lath of » life of droming, spouking 
the truth, let one wander alone like © rhinseeros, .. 

12s" Thin in w tie, in this there is little happiness, 
little enjoyment, but mere of prin, this iso fiehhook, so 
having unlerstennl, lot w thenyhtful tnan wander alone 
like « rhinuceron. 


THE OBGANIZATION OF LIFE. 209 


“ Having torn the ties, having broken the net as a fish 
in the water, being ike a fire not returning to the burnt 
place. let one wander alone hike a rhinoceros. . . . 

. . “ Not abandoning seclusion and meditation, always 
in the existences, let one wander alone hke the rhinoo 
eros. 

~ Wishing for the destruction of desire, being careful, 
no fool, learned, strennous, considerate, restrained, ener 
getic, let one wander alone like a rhinoceros. 

~ Like a lion not trembling at noises, hke the wind not 
caught in a net. like a lotas not stained by water, let one 
wander alone lke a rhinoceros. 

~ As a lion strong by his teeth, after overcoming all an- 
imals, wanders victorious as the king of the animals. and 
haunts distant dwelling-places, even s0 let one wander 
alone like a rhinoceros.” 

- - - “ They caltivate the society of others, and serve 
them for the sake of advantage: frends without a motive 
are now difficult to get, men know their own profit and 
are impure; therefore let one wander alone like a rhinoc- 
eros. 


When one contemplates the ideal of the heroic in- 
dividualism in this its purest form, ragged, empty of 
sensuous comforts, vet noble and inspiring im all bat 
the hichest degree. one feels how hard the decision 
as to its worth will be, unless the moral insight gives 
very definitely and authoritatively its ruling in the 
mnatter. But fortunately, in trying to judge of even 
so splendid a caprice as this, we are not left to our 
individual opinion. The will of the Titan as to the 
world of life is simply, by hypothesis, not the univer- 
sal will. The one being that included in his life all 

4 


910 = THE NELIGIOTE ANPEOT OF PITILOMOPHY, 


aut petty lives, how mint he vegearel thle med f-mesebe dingy 
Joneliness of dlaposition 7? What ia this heroic Hfe 
Init an overtlow from the groat stroam of universal 
Jifes, oo poesl, tdiret, Vette tao dtaedf lay reste seebontel rig 
flow, slowly drlew away in ite shallow atagnancy, 
aditdl At Veeco med-poddle ? And as for the 
proof of this, what becomes of your hero if you take 
hidins tat ide wereld, satsel feseves dedi tar didtnmed fl Whe a ehh 
noeeron 2 Then indeed he soon sithe te the level of 
a peeviel: antioal, Els adedeadle eharreter ie whist 
it in by renaon of dia contileta with bide fellows, andl 
by reason of the reapect that he excites in others 
Phtangs tsalbedsnge caloeoret Vaden, evetames xelersdedenge bidin, de tot 
event Hplit, with Inde, dynes bdin utterly 5 and with 
there external supports nee lide inner hevaisn vaninh, 
Ile endete we here, die fact, otily deesene he in int ots 
geretalee vesdatdente tar thes world abet didi. Pile hosted 
hanelinens ie on dlusdlon, Contd not Mephistopheles 
ataver Vide Venragele frevtes taney? 

Bat thes Titan is often preoaperly the here not only 
af aeomedy, but alan of & tragedy 4 and a tragedy, 
aa we know, always dlacovers ta tte the gloomy wortle 
lenses of this individaal Nfs ae anced. Mortal tan, 
anes Ironght to posenn the moral doalght, fide ta 
dewtiny tot ine bedtmedt, boat die thes Wifes abet bilan, oF 
int the delonl life of Gail. And the tragedy expronses 
one way of getting tile damdg ht. 

fi shert, just wheat the Meresy of Prometheus tas 
norte to be the perfort, namely, the complete and all 
slileel development of Life, just Haat enn ledeng only 
to the peneral, not to the individual Hfe,  Hetes 
Titanian always wonteadiote itnelf, tt anys that J, 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. Zi 


the narrow, limited self, who am dependent for every 
quality of my hfe on constant living intercourse with 
wther people. must became perfect. Independent, 
practically infinite. But to ask this is to ask that I 
destroy myself. and my Titanisa with me. Unquiet 
is and must be the hfe that seeks perfection m any 
group af selves And so the teal cannot here be 
found. 
Vv. 

Sanewhat hastily, as our limits have required, we 
have pursued the definigen af our ideal through the 
imperfect forms af individualism. And now what 
must it be that the moral insight. with is Universal 
Will, demands of the possible future moral humanity, 
net as the negauive task af preparing the way for 
goodness, but as the positive ideal task af the cam 
munity in which the moral insight is attained? This 
demand is: Organize ad Life Aud this means: 
Find work for the life of che coming moral human: 
itv which shall be so cunprehensive and detinite that 
each moment of every man’s life in that perfect 
state, however rich and manifold men's lives may 
then be, can be and will be spent in the accomplish 
ment of that one highest impersonal work, If such 
work is found and accopral, the gual af human prow 
ress will be mm so far reached. There will then be 
harmony, the negative expression of the moral in- 
sight : and there will be work, and organisation af 
werk, And chis work will be no more the work af 
90 and so many separate men, but it will be the work 
uf man as man. And the separate nien will not 


212 ##THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


know or care whether they separately are happy; 
for they shall have no longer individual wills, but 
the Universal Will shall work in and through them, 
as the one will of two lovers finds itself in the united 
life of these twain, so that neither of them asks, as 
lover, whether this is his perfection or the other’s 
that he experiences. For their love makes them 
one. In such wise we must figure to ourselves the 
ideal state of humanity. And anything short of 
that we are required by the moral insight to alter in 
the direction of that end. 

| The reader may ask, What work can be found 

| that can thus realize the universal will? It is not 

, for us to know the whole nature of that work. We 
set before us the ideal task to discover such forms 
of activity as shall tend to organize life. The com- 
plete organization we cannot now foresee. But we 
can foresee in what general direction that human 
activity will tend, if it is ever discovered. For we 
have certain human activities that do now already 
tend to the impersonal organization of the life of 
those engaged in them. Such activities are found 
in the work of art, in the pursuit of truth, and in a 
genuine public spirit. Beauty, Knowledge, and the 
State, are three ideal objects that do actually claim 
from those who serve them harmony, freedom from 
selfishness, and a wholly impersonal devotion. Both 
in art and in the service of the state, the weakness 
of human nature makes men too often put personal 
ambition before the true service of their chosen 
ideal, The faultiness of all such individualism is, 


however, generally recognized. The dignity and se- 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 218 


verely impersonal relationships and language of offi- 
cial life are intended to express the sense that no in- 
dividual has as such the right to recognition at the 
moment when he exercises an official function. He 
hves at the time wholly in his office. The state is 
Just then everything. Even so all higher criticism 
professes to disregard the personal pleasure of the 
artist, and the personal whim of the critic. The 
production and the criticism of Art are no amuse- 
ments of two individuals. § They are work done 
in the service of the one mistress, the divine art it- 
self. But still, notwithstanding the recognition of 
this ideal devotion to one’s country or to one’s art, 
our typical politician and our typical ambitious an 
tast show us that these activities still but imperfectly 
overcome individualism, or lead men to the higher 
plane of moral life. Better success in organizing life 
one finds, when one passes to the activity of truth- 
seeking, especially in fields where human thought 
is best master of itself, and best conscious of its 
powers. When one considers the work of a company 
of svientific specialists, — how each one lives for his 
science, and how, when the specialty is advanced 
and well organized. no one in official expressions 
of his purely scientific purposes dares either to give 
himself airs of importance as an individual, or to 
show any benevulence or favoritism or fear in con- 
sidering and testing the work of anybody else; when 
one sees how impersonal is this idea of the scientific 
life, how no self of them all is supposed to have a 
theught about his science because it pleases him, 
but solely because it is true,— when one consid 


Q14 TH BKIGIOUN ART Of PHILAOKOFHY, 


ae ld tale, cones mess Falntly wheat the felewl redatden 
of snssesaba dined wossdel bees, VF tees Velestl works for all sen 
wesses Fasssssd, — TVabes cbesvertescd meshesrstdties mprbidt, dn Ite f 
only an felon) even to-day s and all sorta of pornonal 
pavcrtd ver WAST Nentesrfesres tay intord ftw purlty, Dut 
Vesares, sat sald esversatin, corres weseam cUlardy Van tu cocvnseswester dete 
whsssveces wheat, tdues corgslsitdons of Ufs ty york bere 
crttnes, 

Now suppones a world ti whieh men hal maine one 
canned cf ceased vit baeat, cnnbteasd mconnnesticow call tdsee lies. 
eit, wtalv binge cof cose cnsetaives, — eesmtdaertder, meecbead, theese 
vestbestal, — Phangogocomes teal doa tics goseneadt of tile ened all 
dbacs yrestdeyr, ooes im Ds salasam cof Vashi vbeleadn fnacd bese fore 
gotten, Siappons that men wad no loners OT have 
won tila geoonl hiding for mynelf ancl any felony,” 
but only, Tbe poml in attadnedd,” ne mati by 
Who, Paagoprones that thas all lifes was ongantvnd in 
wel bvvestgele thie metivily, wo tit te rome ap 
wiil by cleowir tar rent, ater wand leek, onerednend saved 
+ puransarsese) Lab ssestassects, annests Vaden Fesldeowes, landbectel witty tdrcsae, 
Vivessl cussed goleasnnnessl wihtde theesron, Vostlt bebe edtdem, wean 
dered over thes coonnd, searohed the hewvenn with 
Vibes Casbecmccengoerisy arbbesel Van Vad Veabovorreataortesm, essseage bode 
crvagens, wirsotas Labs gocresnnny Veovessd sesnl cbbeud, ald fee the 
wervied of thin one pron work, and knew bie Wife 
dntly som tlaes savesiens tas meserves Closets cones ested, leet weal 
Abucs Vehessad cof tvs sencrreal Tavabpelits doe ettocdivel, Whe 
wecoelel cof Vifes wveonadel Joes sus cones WALL, woorkelange Checnaeh 
a sane San odd, ssesesbedange (dees coords oof ser conte frdbvddial, 
sardine ck for stay wtanpiel sessed sesestasebiaglesan ** apeyrese 
geradas "cof Deb vdelsated wstastasy, Vooek prosthtdinge what am bie 
wigclats Ht, clestarsasscln, (dees tabomeodistes Uaslty of Dafa, ‘Shen 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 215 


indeed we shonld have reached the ideal: and this 
heing the ideal all is good that helps us in the di- 
racion thereof, and al] is evil that drives us im the 

The imperfection and the relative jostificatiom im 
its place of benevolent hadanism are thus Imdicated. 
The moral inacht beme attamed by al] men as an 
expenenoe. this Inacht oonld not will for individuals 
sach painfo] expenences as wonld decrade the snf- 
ferers below the level of the nacht itself. hack to 
the strnrcles and the ilesions of indinduahsm. It 
would he the busmess of men then as now, to remove 
nseless pain out of the world. nat however for any 
ether reason than that pai imphes separanan af 
the sofferer from the oanscionsness of oniversal Life. 
and conseqnent disharmanr of his will in rs relation 
to other wills. Pain that sprmes from selfish disap- 
pomtments we must often temporary meraase. that 
we mav laad a man ont of himself. Rat for the 
rest, the moral insicht rejects pain. thench only he 
canse it maans disharmony af the wills that are m 
the world. 

Thus we have oompleted the expresnan of our cem- 
eral jdaal. We must add a few onncrete precepts 
that this jdaal has to cive ns ammoerning the oonduct 
of onr daily hfe. Piainhy. if soch a penal as this is 
what we aim at from afar. the acts of aor hres must 
be inffmenced by 2 | What relation herween me and 
mv netchbor todar does this moral law establish ? 

Thon and 1, neichbor, have in this world no mehts 
as individnuala We are instroments. The insicht 
that herins in me when | find thee. must so further 


] | afr : 
916 §# THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


I find not only thee, but also Life Universal. In- 
asmuch as I do anything for thee, I do it also to 
the life universal; but, even so, it is only because 
I serve the life universal that I dare serve thee. 
Thy happiness, however near and dear thou art to 
me, is but a drop in this vast ocean of life. And 
we must be ready to sacrifice ourselves to the W hole. 
But while we live together, and while we may with- 
out sin enjoy each other’s presence, how shall we treat 
each other? As mere masses of happy or miserable 
states? As selves to be made separately perfect! 
No, that cannot be. We must live united with each 
other and the world. Therefore must we do our 
part to find work vast enough to bring us all in so 
far as may be into unity, without cramping the tal- 
ent of any of us. Each then is to do his work, but 
so as to unite with the work of others. How may 
we accomplish this? By seeking to develop every 
form of life that does bring men into such oneness. 
Our vocation, whatever it be, must not end simply 
in increasing what people call the aggregate happi- 
ness of mankind, but in giving human life more 
interconnection, closer relationship. Therefore we 
must serve as we can art, science, truth, the state, 
not as if these were machines for giving people pleas- 
ant feelings, but because they make men more united. 
When we urge or seek independence of character, 
we must do so only because such independence is a 
temporary means, whose ultimate aim is harmony and 
unity of all men on a higher plane. In all this we 
must keep before us very often the high ideal that 
we are trying to approach. And when we judge of 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 217 


a goad action we must aay, not that this was good be- , 
vane it made some one happy, but that it was good 
lowaune it tonded directly or remotely to realize the 
Uoiversal Will, 

And av, however much mere harmony may be our 
aim, we muat be ready very often temporarily tu fight 
with disorganizing and scparating tendencies, forves, 
erimen, When we fight we must do se for the sake 
af conquering a peace in the name of the Highest. 
And ao we muat fight resolutely, fearlessly, mervei- 
learly. For we care not how many stubbornly disor 
ganiaing apirita are crushed on the way. The One 
Will must conquer, But on the other side we must 
be very careful of every soul, and of every tendency 
that may, without destruction, be moulded into the 
wervice of the Univeral Will) The moral insight 
desires that no hair fall from the head af any living 
creature «annecesaarily, “The one alm is stern to its 
ateadfast cnemies, but it is innitely mganiful af all 
the single aims, however they may seem waywand, 
that can at last find themselves subdued and yet 
raliged in its presence, and so conformed ty its will, 
All these rivulets of purpose, however tiny, all these 
strong floods af passion, however angry, it desires 60 
gather into the surging tides of its infinite ocean, 
that nothing may be lost that consents to enter. ts 
unity is no abstraction. The One Will is not a one- 
sided will, Tt desires the realisation af all possible 
lif however rich, strong, antent, courageous, mani- 
fold such life may be. if only this life can enter into 
that highest unity. All that has will is sacred to it, 


save in so far as any Will refuses to join with the 


918 THE MELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PIILOSOPIY, 


others in the song and shout of the Sons of God. 
Its warfare in never intolorance, ite demand for suly- 
mission i4 never tyranny, ites senne of the excellence 
of ith own unity in never arrogance; for its warfare 
in aimed at the intolerance of the separate selves, 
itn yoke in the yoke of complete organic freedom, 
ith pride in in the perfect development of all life. 
When wo sorve it, wo must sternly cut off all that 
life in ourselves or in othors that cannot ultimately 
conform to the universal will; but we have nothing 
but love for every form of sentient oxistence that can 
in any measure express thin Will. 


VI. 


We have done for the present with the ideal, and 
must turn to reality. Our religious conseiousness 
wants support for usin our poor efforts to’ do right. 
Is this real world that we have so niively assumed 
thus far, in any wise concerned to holp us in realizing 
ideals, or to support un by any form of approval in 
our search for the right? Wo munt face thin prob- 
lem coolly and skeptically, if wo want any result. 
Wo must not fear the thunders of any angry dog- 
matic thinker, nor the pain that such researches must 
ean us if they are usuecomful, It is something 
very precious that we seck, and we must run great 
rinks, if nood be, to get it. 

Let ius begin to define a little better what this is 
that wo neck, By a support for moral acts in outer 
renlity, we do not mean merely or mainly a power 
that will reward goodness. The moral insight cares 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 219 


not for individual rewards. Only the good intention 
is truly moral. Good acts done for pay are selfish 
acts. So the outer support that we want in our mo- 
rality is not reward as such. We want to know that, 
when we try tu do right, we are not alone; that there 
is something outaide of us that harmonizes with our 
own moral efforts by being itself in sume way moral. 
This something may be a person or a tendency. Let 
us exemplify what we mean by some familiar cases. 
Job seeks, in his conseiousness of moral integrity, 
for outer support in the midst of his sufferings. 
Now whatever he may think about rewards, they are 
not only rewands that he seeks. He wants a vindi- 
cator, a righteous, all-knowing judge, to arise, that 
ean bear witness how upright he has been; such a 
Vindivator he wants to see face to face, that he may 
call upon him as a beholder of what has actually 
happened. “Oh that I knew where I might find 
him, that I might cume even to his seat. I would 
order my cause before him, and fill my mouth with 
arguments. I would knew the words which he 
would answer me, and understand what he would 
tay unto me... . There the righteous might dis- 
pute with him ; so should I be delivered forever from 
my judge. Behold 1 go forward, but he is not there ; 
and backward, but I cannot perveive him: On the 
left hand, where he doth work, but I cannot behold 
him: he hideth himself on the right hand, that I 
cannot see him: But he knoweth the way that I 
take: when he hath tried me I shall come forth as 
gold.” 

So again in the great parable of the judgment day, 


220 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


in the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, the moral 
force of the story is not expressed by the rewards 
and punishments described, any more than in Elijah’s 
vision on Horeb,—the Lord was in the thunder and 
in the fire. But the moral force of the scene lies in 
the concluding words that the judge is made to speak 
to the multitudes of just and unjust. “ Inasmuch as 
ye did it unto the least of these, ye did it unto me.” 
That is, if we may paraphrase the words of the judge: 
“J,” he says, “represent all beings. Their good is 
mine. If they are hungry or naked or sick or im- 
prisoned, so am I. We are brethren; ours is all 
one universal life. That I sit in this seat, arbiter 
of heaven and hell, makes me no other than the rep- 
resentative of universal life. Such reverence as ye 
now bear to me is due, and always was due, to the 
least of these my brethren.” The infinite sacredness 
of all conscious life, that is the sense of the story ; 
the rest is the scenic accompaniment, which, whether 
literally or symbolically true, has no direct moral 
significance. Now the knowledge such as Job sought, 
the knowledge that there is in the universe some con- 
sciousness that sees and knows all reality, including 
ourselves, for which therefore all the good and evil 
of our lives is plain fact, — this knowledge would be 
a religious support to the moral consciousness. The 
knowledge that there is a being that is no respecter 
of persons, that considers all lives as equal, and that 
estimates our acts according to their true value, — 
this would be a genuine support to the religious need 
in us, quite apart from all notions about reward 
and punishment. A thinking being, a seer of all 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 221 
good and evil, is thus desired. This thinking being 
would sal have religious significance, even if it had 
wo other attributes than these, Should we find it 
necessary to regard this being as without affection, 
sympathy, or even power to act, as without willing. 
mess to avenge wrongdoing, if we had to deprive it 
af everything else that is human save knowledge ; 
let this be a passionless and perfect knowledge, 
an absolutely fair judgment of our moral actions, 
and there would sull be in the world something of 
religious value. It is not affirmed that we ought 
to rest content with such a conception as this, but 
at all events this conception would not be valueless. 
Kren so again, the conception of some natural ter 
dency in the workd that, being “a power not our 
selves.” “ makes for righteousness.” this conception, 
as Mr. Marsthew Arnold has so well shown us, would 
have a religious value. Something of this kind then, 
more or less definite and full of life, is what we wek. 
What indication is there that such search is not 
hopeless? For the author's part, he professes to be 
quite willing to accept any result of research, how. 
ever cloomy or skepuical, to which he is led by gen. ¢ 
wine devotion to the interests of human thought as 
thought. But he insists that as nraral beings we 
should make clear te ourselves what are the Inter. 
ests af thought, and that we should see whether ther 
do lead us to results that are not whally skeptical, 
nor altogether cloomy. There is no reason for clip. 
Pug our own wings for fear lest we should escape 
from our own coups and fy over the palings into 
eur own garden, Let us get all the sadisfaction froma 


202 ~=s« THE «RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


philosophy that we can. In truth we shall never get 
too much. 

But, for the rest, the reader must be reminded of 
one thing that was said in the opening chapter about 
the magnitude and boldness of the demands that re- 
ligious philosophy makes in coming to the study of 
the world. We said that we will be satisfied only 
with the very best that we can get. We want to 
find some reality that our ideal aims can lead us to 
regard as of Infinite Worth. If we cannot find that, 
then the best possible aspect of reality must be 
chosen instead. We will not be satisfied with little, 
if we can got much. Our religious demands are 
boundless. We will not falsify the truth; nor yet 
will we dread any disaster to our ideal aims, how- 
ever great the disappointment that would result from 
failure. But, while pursuing the truth with rever- 
ence, we will not withdraw our demands until we see 
that we can get no certain success in them. 

Wo innist, therefore, that the religiously valuable 
reality in the world shall be, if #0 we can find it, a 
Supreme Reality, no mere chance outcome of special 
circumstances, but an ultimate aspect of things. 

Furthermore, the special form that our ideal has 
taken demands another character in our object of 
religious satisfaction. It must be such as to support 
the realization of our particular ideal. If a power, 
it must aim at the unity of our lives; if in some 
other way approved as the deepest truth of things, it 
must show us how our ideal cither can be realized 
by us, or else is already realized at the heart of this 
truth. 


THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE. 333 


Such ia the work of our second book. We ap- 
proach it not aa if wo expected any myatical revels 
tion, but aolely aa having for our one desire to find 
out what a scnaible man ought reasonably to think of 
the world whervin he finds himeelf, 


CHAPTER VIIL 
THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 


WHEs we torn from our world of ideals to the 
world actaally about us, our position & mot ak once 
a happy posmon. Thee meal that we have agreed 
upon, in =) far as they are our own, do not make the 
workd and mesns Very naturally. then, we ako 
For if we want a relizivns doctrine that im thes days 
ean stand a im good stead, we must fear notching, 
and reost ron the risk of all the disasters of thought. 
The warfare of fabs 35 so angry and anetent, that 
we must be content if. with our best efforts. we get 
anything out of at all As millbons of brams must 
twal, doubtless, for centartes befure any amount of 
ideal agreement among men & attained or even ap- 
proximated, we mast be content if we do very little 
amd work very bard. We ean be talerably ceram 
thas. in a workd where nearly all & dark very moch 
of ow bhor will be wasted. Bot thn bs nstural 
There ts the delight of activity im trath-seeking ; bat 
when, at the outset, you compare your hopes and 
you may reach. the comparkem cannot seem other 
we than melancholy. Throegh the failures of mil- 


926 = THE BELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


lions of devoted servants, the humanity of the future 
may powibly (we do not, at least at this point in our 
wtady, kasow that it will certainly) bre bed to a gral 
auc, This far-off diving event to which, for all 
we know, our fragment of creation may be muaving, 
but which at any rate we regard with longing aud 
delight, constitutes the moral alin of our philowaplis 
whudies, It ie gonad ty wtrive, 

Jn the present chapter, therefore, we shall devote 
ourselyes for the most part to negative eriticion of 
eertain views that are or may be held about the real 
world. 


5, 


That skepticium in studying reality is to some ex- 
fant useful, most people will admit, Dut not every 
fons will follow us wt once bute the thorough-going 
and uncompromising skepticinn that wa shall have 
ty present in the following as the very basis of our 
powitive doctrine, It is surprising how easily the 
philosophic need ie satisfied fn the minds of mout 
persons, even in the minds of many professed philo- 
wophic students, A few yery wnnplacent questions, 
remlily if unintelligibly answered, put to rest the 
whole devire that such people feel to crow-examine 
reawon. In fact they seem to hold that a certain 
Uerespect would be shown by questioning reason 
any more sharply; and so thelr philomophy ia like 
Congressional jnvestigation of the doings of « politi- 
chan, conducted by his fellow-partieans, Wut we feel, 
in writing this book, that such a philosophy, whowe 
only business it into * whitewash” renaon, ie wa ie 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 229 


sult to reason. Reason's investiyations of its own na- 
of effect ; nor does reason seek, like a demagugue, to 
get a popular “ vindication,” bat solely to reach the 
deepest possible insight into its own absolute truth. 
Hence we refuse utterly to have the following re 
garded as in any narrower sense an “apology ™ for 
any religious truth, since the defensive or apologetic | 
attitade in presence of religious problems ts once for’ 
all an insult te genuine religion. If there is truth | 
absolute, we desire to know the same, and if we ever 
get a glimpse of it, doubtless it will need very hide 
apology from us. But meanwhile we propese to| 
doubt fearlessly and thoroughly. If our hits pre 

vent here the proper exhaustive search for all the 
actual difficulties of the views that we present, still 
we want to have, and as far as may be to show, the 
spint of honest, determined. conscientious skept- 
esm. A clerical friend of the auther’s impressed 
him very much in early vouth by the wands: * God 
hkes to have us doubt his existence, if we do so sin- 
eerely and earnestly.” These words are almost a 
truism: they surely ought to be a truism. Yet they 
have been forgutten in many a controversy. Sarely 
if Gud exists, he knows at least as much about phi 
Josophy as any of us do: he has at least as much ap- 
preciation for a philosophic problem as we can have. 
And if his own existence presents a fine philusophie 
problem, he delights therein at least as much as we 
dea. And he then does not like to we that problem 
half-heartedly handled by dmid. whining, trembling 
men, who constantly apologize to Gud because the 


280 «THR RRLIGIOUA ABPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


existence of cortain fools called atheists forces them 
to present in very pious language cortain traditional 
proofs of hin oxistnes. No, surely not in this spirit 
would « rational God, if he exists, have us approach 
the question, Hut with at least as much coolness and 
clearness of heal as we try to have when we til over 
a problem in mathomation; with at least as merciless 
an analysis of all that is obscure and doubtful and 
contradictory in our own confused ideas as we should 
use in studying selenes; with at least an much eager. 
ness in finding out the weuknewm and the uncertainty 
of mon's wavering and illtrained judgments an we 
should bring to the examination of an important 
commercial investinont,— with at least so much of 
caution, of diligence, and of doubt we should ap- 
proach the rational study of the Highest. Kor what 
can insult God more than carslon blundering? It 
fy shameful that men should sver have treated this 
matter an if it wore the aim of religious philosophy 
to have «a store-houne of formulates traditional an- 
swore rouly wherewith to silence cortain troublesome 
poople called doubters, In those matters the truly 
philosophic doubt is no external opinion of this or 
that wayward pomon; this truly philosophic doubt 
fn of the very onnences of our thought, It le not to 
be “answered "or “sileneasd” by so and so much 
apologetics plouling, The doubt is inherent in the 
aubject-mnattor aa we must in the Inyinning regard 
thier marries, Thain clenabt, bo ter ber sccssqrted an it cotnes, 
sural thresta ter bees clesvesdergoesed inn all ite filles and in all 
itw inntenmity, Mor the truth of the matter tn con 
eeuled in that daubt, we the fire in concealed in the 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 231 


stony coal. You can no more reject the doubt and 
keep the innermost truth, than you can toss away the 
coal and hope to retain its fire. Zhia doubt is the 
inaight partially attained. 

Such must be our spirit. And now, to apply it 
at once to the problems before us, where shall wo be- 
gin our search for « religious truth? We are to find,; 
if possible, some element in Reality that shall have 
religious significance. But how shall wo do this un- 
less wo have made clear to ourselves in what sense 
we know Reality at all? It would seem that our re- 
ligious philosophy must begin with the problem of all 
theoretical philosophy : What can be our knowledge 
of this world, and whereon can this knowledge be 
founded ? | 

A dark and dianal topic, one may say. But re- 
member, here and here only can our beloved trens- 
ure be found buried. Either there ia no religious 
philosophy possible, or it is here; and here we must 
delve for it. Nor let one be too much terrified at 
once by the forbidding axpect of the question. It is 
indeed no caay one; yet to anawer it is but to know 
the real meaning of our own thoughta. This truth 
that we scck is not in the heavens, nor in the depths 5 
it is nigh ua, even in our hearta. Only inattention 
can be hiding it from ua. Let us look closer. 

This real world that popular thonght declares to 
exist outside of ux —we have so far taken it on 
trust. But now, what right have we so to take it? 
What do we mean by it?) When we say that we 
can know it, do we not mean that it is in some way 


bound to conform to some of our thoughts? Or, if 


O82 THM RELIGIONS ASVEAT OF PHILAKOFHY, 


yes will prt the inatter in the reverse orler, and 
Will wmy, with morerrssitage ssrcwlemty, that cnr thenight ia 
wy enmimbitratonl sam tes haves so ccocrtaity Vilcortvenm tr reveal. 
ity, der yon remlly make the matter clearer? The 
srywterionin cunfermity betoveen nay thenaght ssl 
what in ne themght of ours remains, and we have ts 
make clout «nr senuiratin of that, Thin semranee 
Stwvosht, 14 wes geost it, wwertalel moresten tor bees ina Sram Cher mmere 
prmition wn in thes camferinity of whish it in tes semere 
tin, taal mgemizn wersslel bos erratatsles oof the external real 
wesrlsl, snl ine conse thenagghst, Yor thin ammerancses lw to 
tel) tam sarmesethinge aburit that external world, namely, 
Sta cumfermnity to certain of our thinychte, What 
can we thin kivrw abunit any external objet wt all 7 
Shes Aifticulty in une ob one, One wolation of it, 
$f wes seek sssry, snrtamt Mestesrassitus thes whales of cnr re 
Jigghsrnan thunight, Tat un noe at all events where the 
Aiftiosalty urinen, and why, Whusther er ne there in 
gurl tiles srry scodesticns, the difficulty plainly New in 
certains camnessiveul redaticmn bectween tas wand the world, 
AAV thess coresersecrts trrectenghrysbeml satel reslighsin ancterinen 
Hargeden Voy mecttdenge mo thiteolecce erverr sageuitint ann external 
wereld, which fos cheseDsavenl inrclesgoestscbectst of hin themaght, 
tassel whoivcly brim Saemnagehet im theres reveqrsivenl or gernmgs aniel 
lerverw, §— 'Thrins wsagrprmel vesationn of werbeferest, mand csbejenst 
selves aevesteagsbay mises Hho wecessenlengely Stameabestibes grrcbolestnim, 
Sivin thrinslecce, whrrnes theersagehet fn cornes Fucct, wheiler that 
wereld erat Chesres be snrthuse fot, berw mts be learn by 
whist teabesem poleases Ste aie Oherragetot, thet bm, fen thoes conse 
th tbresmes Lever mtagrgoracssl crabitierm, ovbiset sects core Ste thes 
rb beacer oof ASrcemes ecantit.deres, somenedy, ine thes wereld 7 Cereus 
fore all, thin ronrvelenin roslation of prretutallinhed hue 


NS a a 


THE WOELD OF DOUBT. 333 


mony between these supposed separate entities de- 
mands philosophic deduction. The relation, to be 
sure, may be itself a metaphysical figment. We 
hold that it is. We shall trv to show hereafter the 
baselessness of this notion of a work! of external 
fact on one side, in the barren isolation of its tran- 
seendental reality, with an equally lonesome thinker 
on the other side, sumehow magically bound to fol- 
low after the facts of that workd. We hold, to put 
it in plain language. that neither the external world 
ner the individual thinker has any swed reality as 
traditional pepular behefs, together with most met- 
aphysical schools, have desired us to assume. But, 
for the first, we cannot yet undertake to trouble the 
reader with this our philosophic speculation. That 
will come in its good time, we hope not toe unintel- 
hgibly, and it will have its place in var religious 

We begin, however, with the popular metaphys- 
feal concept, of a separate external workd, and of a 
thinker bound somehow te repeat the facts af it in 
his theaght. We ask. with popular metaphysics: 
How can we be sure that he does this? And from 
metaphysical systems, both popular and unpopular, 
we get an amazing jargon of answers. 

The mest popular answer, after all, is a threat. a 
threat repeated endlessly in all sorts of apologetie 
bouks, but still a mere base, abject, wholly unphilo- 
sophical threat. It is said to us that we must be- 
heve our human thinker tv be capable of thinking 
correctly the facts of this supposed external work, 
because, if he does not, the result will be disastrous 


984 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHIS.OSOPHY. 


\to the whole common sense conception of the world. 

If this thinker does not somehow magically repro- 
duce external facts in his private mind, then is our 
faith vain, and we are all very miserable. It is as- 
tonishing how this, the most helpless abandonment 
of all philosophic thought, is constantly reiterated 
by certain of those who pretend to be philosophers. 
Can a threat scare us from philosophy? To geta 
sure foundation for our religion, we begin by asking 
how a man can really know the external world at 
all. We get as reply the threat that, unless we ad- 
mit the knowledge of the external world, we must 
be in eternal doubt, and therefore wretched. To 
doubt this knowledge, we are told, would be to 
doubt all that makes life worth living. But it is 
Just because we want to find a sure basis for what 
makes life worth living that we begin with this 
doubt. We are determined to get at the root of 
this matter, however bitter may be the evil that will 
befall us if our skepticism does not succeed in get- 
ting past this guarded gateway of philosophy. We 
persist in asking, all threats to the contrary notwith- 
standing, just how and why and in what sense the 
external world can be known to us, if indeed this 
conception itself of an external world is justly 
formed at all. 

Yet we grant that the full force and need and 
bitterness of our problem may not be plain to the 
reader, unless he has first undertaken to examine 
with us at some length the philosophic character 
and consequences of this popular metaphysical con- 
veption of the external world. To get him to share 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 235 


well our doubt, we must first provisionally accept 
this notion of popular metaphysics itself. We must 
waive for the moment our difficulty, that it may re- 
our to us with greater importance by and by. Let 
the reader once come to see that this popular notion 
of an external world is an utterly vague conception, 
capable of numberleas forma, and religiously unsat- 
isfavtory in all of them, and then we shall expect 
him to feel the force of the deeper philosophic prob- 
lems involved. This present chapter will therefore 
proceed directly to an examination of the popular 
notions about the external world. We shall exam- 
ine them, namely, to find whether they offer any 
religious aspect. We shall find that they do not 
offer any such aspect in any satiafactory sense. 
That the good is supreme in the external world as 
popularly conceived, nobody can establish. This 
supposed external world is once for all a World of 
Doubt, and in it there is no abiding place. When 
the reader has come to feel with us this truth, then 
he will be ready to look deeper into the matter. 
Then some other more genuinely philosophic con- 
ception of Reality will have its place. Hence in 
the rest of this chapter we shall be accepting pro- 
visionally notiona that we are hereafter to reject, 
and assuming ‘much on trust that is at best very 
doubtful. We shall show that, even so aided, the 
popular notions about the religious aspect of thia 
world cannot bear critiviam. Thia visible world of 
popular faith will lose its worth for us. We shall 
have to look elsewhere. 

The religious significance once removed from the 


286 THR RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


popular realistic philosophy, with ita crudely mete 
physical notion of things, we shall be ready to Heten 
to skepticiam about the foundations of this notion | 
and we shall be ready for some new conception. 
This new conception will Indead not falalfy the true 
moral monning of that Innocent faith In a real world 
upon which we have so far depended {n our research, 
The popular notion of an external world, practioally 
useful for inmany purposes, and mfficient for many 
aclontifie ands, will be refuted and rejected in ita 
contrullctions and in ite absurditles, but the soul of 
truth that in in it will be absorbed into a higher 
conception both of the eternal Reality and of our 
relation thereto, Our seeming lows will become our 
gain. That bad dream, the dead and worthless 
World of Doubt In which mast of our modern teach- 
ers remain «tuck fast, will be transformed for ws, 
Woe shall seo that the truth of §¢ lea higher World, 
of glorious religious significance. 

Bo for the first wo turn to that supposed world of 
popular mataphysions, to text ite ratlglous value, It fs 
concalved naa world existent in space and time, and 
awn world of real things which act and Interact, For 
convenience sake, we shall in the following use the 
word Power to moan any one of these things, or any 
group of them, that in thin external world may be 
supposad to prodiuse affects upon any other thing or 
group of things, However thos Powers get thelr af. 
floloney, the religious significanos of the supposad ax. 
ternal world, If it has any, must He in the supremaay 
of the CGiood in thin world of the Powers, One mast 
thon view this external world historically as a mass 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 237 


of Powers, which work together in harmony or in 
discord, and which give you Products. The religious 
ideals must find satisfaction here, if at all, im con- 
templating the goodness of these powers and of their 
works. If the rehgiour ideals here fail, there will 
be the other aspect open. Regarded im a truly phil- 
osophical way, and in its eternal nature, the world, 
as we shall hereafter come to see, cannot be supposed 
to be either a power or a heap of powers. For pow- 
ers have their being only in time, and only m rela- 
tion to one another. If then all fails when we con- 
sider this external world of powers, this figment of 
popular metaphysies, the eternal nature of realty m 
some deeper view of that nature may still be found 
of infinite value to us. In fact we shall find the 
search for a religious truth, among the powers of this 
popularly conceived external world, very dishearten- 
inv. The jargon of their contending voices will noé 
unite into any rehgious harmony. We shall find 
these powers hke the thunder and the fire. The still 
small voice is not in them. We shall be driven to 
some other aspect of the world. We shall approach 
that aspect in ways that imply no disrespect to those 
who have been sv long scientifically studying the 
history and forces of the assumed external world. 
Their results, with the practical consequences in daily 
hfe, and with all that Agnosticism about the nature 
and parposes of the powers of this visible world 
which such men nowadays feel bound to proclaim, 
we shall on the whole accept. We too shall be Ag- 
ties, namely, as to the powers that rule the visible 
world. But we shall find a very different way, un- 


L4dalOlas 


t ( 


288 THR RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


trodden hy scientific research, and yet, we hope, not 
a way of mere dreams, not a way into a world of 
fancy, but a way that leads us to a point whence we 
get a glimpse into that other aspect of things. This 
way Modern Idealism since Kant has been busy in 
finding and clearing. [low wearisome sume of the 
exploring expeditions have been, we well know. Our 
search alnxo may end in a wilderness; but we fancy 
ourselves to have found an open path that to some 
readers will seem at least in part new. And some 
of the prospects on that road may not be wholly dis- 
heartening, even to the most exacting religious 
secker. But all this is anticipation. First then: 


‘The World as a theatre for the display of power, 
| physical or metaphysical. This is the World of 


Doubt. 


IL 


Let us begin our study of the powers that work to- 
gether in the supposed external reality, by accepting 
for a moment, without criticism, the notion of this 
supposed external world from which sctentifie eape- 
rience sets out. Let us say: there it is, an objective 
world of moving matter, subject to certain laws. All 
the powers are but manifestations or forms of mat- 
ter in motion. VPlancts revolve, comets come and go, 
tides swell and fall, clouds rise and rivers flow to the 
sea, lightning flashes, volcanoes are active, living be- 
ings are born, live, and die, all exemplifying certain 
universal principles, that are discovervble by experi- 
ence, that are capable of being used to predict the 
future, and that are related to one anther in suck a 


THE WORLD OF DOUAT. 239 


way aa to ahow ua a vast connected whale, the nat 
wral universe, Thia matter however ba dead; these 
lawa ave ultimate given truth We did not make 
them, eannat see why juat they and none other were 
from the beginning: we mat acvept them aa they 
are, The whole world ta a vaat machina A mind 
powerful enough might be poaessed of the knew 
edge that La Place, and, in our own generation, Prof, 
Du Bola Reymond, have ao finely deseribed aa the 
atentitie ideal, Sueh a mind might have an univer 
val formula, in ita powieadion, a key to the myatertea 
of the anoceadon af phenomena. Sueh a being could 
then, walng thia formula, caleulate all eventa, aa as 
tranamera now predict celipsea, At every inatant 
multitudes of alr pulaationa quiver about wa These, 
tn all thelr forma, aur mind poaeaaed af thin univer. 
aal formula, would have been able to predict agea 
agro, juat aa certainly aa you now can predict that the 
aun will rise teamarrew morning, All ia predeter 
mined: the glitter of every lee cryatal on your frasen 
windewepanea on a winter morning, the quiver of 
every muaele in the death agony af the flah that you 
pull out of a mountaliatream, the falling af every 
yellow leaf in the autumn weoda, — each af those 
eventa could have been foreseen, mathematically cab 
eulated, and fully deavribed, by ane able to wae the 
universal formula, and poaemed, myriads af wana 
wr, of an exact knowledge af the poadtiona of the 
atana af the original nebula fram whieh our great 
utellar ayatem condensed, Such da the natural warld, 

What religiona aapect can thia vast machine pow 
waa? What room iv there for a higher clement te 


far: 


11 rr | 


drat, ef 


G40 so THK RELIGIONUN ANPEOT OF PHILONONTY, 


foes Faatereoeboncsend Minter Chile rasan of clewl mathemationl 
facta’? ‘She anawarof nome roprancutativen of sab 
ane in our day ie well known tou. Whatever alae 
Hn clevsabotfral, many mncesbe tenestn, threvser wtesscle fant ther perent 
law of progres,  Kivolutlon in the physiol world 
Drevesernsncrm secstngcel poreogcrevon Fee thier world eof traran Hie. 
Sheer weorlel, sssvcdere thaes Veathrscsnncses cof call Chimes fraor-reeacte. 
Inge lawn, In catenlly growling forever better, ‘Then 
natural law agro with morality, ‘Thus there tea re 
Nylon nnpenst to the mechanionl laws of the snlverne, 

Fast in connor ones more the law of propre, 
Wo spoke of It ina previous chaptor, Mere it did 
sires bess tam, Mor wes weetstenl tar cygrene topen thie tae 
tire of inorality, We were treat beslpewd towered nth 
maggrevesstnertit, boy thes Aerscowlevelgces tbat threes fe tte thie 
world & physlonl evolution, Mor wo sould not tall 
what cnght to be, sneroly by ccnmbelorlige what is. 
Wo bial flest, to agren tpon a moral law, before we 
cartel clevsheles whether evolution Ie actully prregeren, 
But now, prrhiagen, we cnn tke cane of the law of 
cvverdeat denny tar eabel canner Uaneqsadery Vantar thes weed dgelersam semprenest 
af rendity, Moe now, bnevdige clotined wheat thier geod 
Jong wos snniny comtdannstes whether thes world In perowleagye ter 
wierd) thes proc, And if the world In morally pore 
ggrevmmbarge, (Daren cannes peovessat cloverssecnel cof thoes revi gclestam eveotee 
ibecslertmnnee de Fal filleel, Phen there ie a power net 


ourselves that works for rlyhteoumem, Or dn this 


retelly thes ceormmecguenes: of the law of evolutlon ? 

Ther Newt nmwerr dn that Uf thee in any tencenay 
wut, wernle Van Abner woredel thaeats tom tdennes peeaom conn aencrter sanuel 
ances Daesh yom srvceen Lan thecker ootertageyeles taowearele snetality, 
thin tesnedenay dn dnsleed, an far ae it you, what we 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. $41 


want to find. And if such a tendency is found, as : 
we are told, in evolution, the result is in just so 
far encouraging. Although the external world still 
often hinders moral growth, yet, we are told, as evo- 
lution reaches higher and higher stages, the world 
comes to harmonize more and more with man’s moral 
growth. This also seems to be what we seek. In 
tame morality will become a natural prodact of early 
childhood. Men will be born with characters that 
we now seek in yain to develop by a life-time of la- 
bor. Natural evolution, then, does help moral prog4 
ress, and the world is more moral to-day than even 
before. This then is to be the religious aspect of 
the outer world. Does it contain enough of the trath 
of things to content us? 

We are far from doubting the scientific worth of 
the natural laws that have been discovered of late 
years, and that have made so clear to us the great 
truth of far-reaching physical evolution. But let us 
reflect before we accept these facts as furnishing any 
deeply important contribution to our present prob- 
lem. We thoroughly believe in evolution; but we 
must take, in these matters, a very high position. 
If the world of powers apart from man is to have a 
religious aspect, then this aspect must belong to this 
world as a whole. A minor power for good 1s not | 
enough. It will not suffice to find that one bit of 
reality fights for our moral needs while another bit 
of reality fights against them, unless we can in some 
way harmonize these conflicting aspects, or unless — 
we can show that they that be with us are not only 
more important or significant than they that be 

16 


a ae ei 


49. 0' #7 ; . - oF i 
f iF ea. / ‘ re “4 A - ’ gt HAA 


de Maw, 


! 
’ } wr m4 St ww 


242 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


against us, but are really the deepest truth of things. 
Else we shall be left face to face with a gloomy world 
of conflict, where the good and bad are mingled in 
hopeless confusion. If such a world is the fact, we 
must accept that fact; but we cannot then say that 
we have made sure of an answer to our religious 
neods. Now suppose that in examining the world 
we found two tendencies at work, equally fundamen- 
tal, equally active, fairly balanced in power, produc- 
ing in the long run equally permanent, equally tran- 
sient results, but always in deadly antagonism to each 
other, the one making for moral goodness, the other 
for moral evil. Suppose that the world appeared as 
the theatre and the result of this struggle of the good 
and of the evil principles, could we say that we had 
found in these facts a religious aspect of reality? 
We should hardly answer in the affirmative. So 
gas we must fix our minds on this struggle of 
equally balanced powers, we could not find the world 
a religiously encouraging vision. Wo should either 
have to regard the world in some other and higher 
aspect, or we should have to give up regarding it as 
religiously interesting. An answer to our moral 
needs that is drowned by a hubbub of opposing 
noises can be no harmonious song. Now we affirm 
that #0 long as you look upon the world as a growth 
in time, as a product of natural forces, as an histor- 
ical development, you can never make it certain, or 
even probable, that this world is not such a scene of 
endless warfare. Ilence the progress that you may 
observe can never overbalance the probability that 
this progress is a transient and insignificant fact, in 


TRE WORLD OF DOTRT. MS 


the midst af a chaos of confused tendencies. There- 
fore progress an this plauet for a few thowands or 
millions of years indicates nothing about any true 
harmony between nature and morality. 

Let ws call attention to one aspect, wellknown, 
yet often neglvoted in recent diseumtons af a fow 
familiar facts. Modern wienee Bb jwitly sure of 
physical evolution, but & Ro less wre that evalu. 
tien on this planet & a process that began at a 
pertal distant by a finite and in fact by a not very 
gteat tine from the present moment. That our 
Planet was a nebulous mas at a date al Rust some 
where between twenty millions and one hundred nil 
ions of years acu, we have all heant, and we have 
ako had explained to us sane of the proofs af this 
fact. Our planet is still imperfecely couked. At a 
comparatively recent period in the histary af this 
stellar universe, this litle point af it was a spheroid 
af glowing vapor, fre which the moon had not ved 
been separated, The preaent heas of the earth is an 
imlicanion af its youth Furthenmear, what our 
Manet is to hecouwe In Qaw, the monn ivelf telb usa, 
having conled, by reason af itz small size, more rap 
Rily than we have done. Cold and dead, waterless, 
Vapariess, thas litde furrowed mass af rock dew 
ately rolls through its slow days, looking with pase 
siwlees stare at our stormy, anlent earth, full af we 
tien and of suffering, What thas mass is, our earth 
shall become, And progress here will cease with 
the thles, Al these are the commonplaces af pop 
ular seiemee. « Proeress then, as we know it hera B 
a fact of transient algnifianee Physical nature 


944 tHE RELIG ASPROT OF PHILASOPHY, 


perinits preapreen eather that renee it ecenmupy, 
Por pemn tm ate triecdeletet cof a coptaadte theepernsl prrevcenny 
hited of epracntle in the bistery of the emi pation 
of the energy of ne particilar tans of tatters, and 
thie, in at fae aa we yet hererw, 6 prreserih oattretie 
jteat dee ene nnedgteberefinnl, 0 beeael iter it the news of 
tes tetivernes, New thene are the trenitliar taete whose 
fedsntinge we wath tv etitersees je ant often repgleated 
Mapyert. 

Bhat, cree mteye, Al tide bie been anttiedpated bene 
Aveta ef times, It to teally antale tr delet pon 
wile things. Mere at leaet here, at fenet. terw, the 
wereld dees restive ente tnetal teeta by slerwing ti 
preegereas, ofa tert this all that we noel? May we 
trl, be centetort with the few millenia of youre of 
pererwthe that. remade ter cnte tae beferre thes ecpth 
geeerwa coll) de it teeth feerdiale tar bewshe deter fatearity 
mer etepdentishy 7 Wheat. nnetetdera 4 whether cline carttien 
galt in fareff ages / 

Pit, we still deste: We desire, vainly ot juatly, 
get ardently, thet thes wereld shall atsower ter nee 
nverhal needa reer bey seedelenst, tert by thee winy, tert fre 
i Hleee, brett Preven dhe crores tratrere aed forever, Tf we 
ean nee that preaent preegeeens Ta ate ledieatdene of thie 
rattiire of the viniverse, that the present ism ayesha 
ar a apeelinen of eternity, we abiall be content. Tet 
If thie ta ted ne, TP prreserh preegerens de aeete fer beef 
Hiere Aecddent, ar eddy tne the sheen of atenin, Chet 
prreaerh gpreegereas ism pleat Fact ter certetesenplatey 
fret tet a fred of any deep sigeifeanee, Stil we 
Rhee be ery lenge dee tlre clserhertess Fee stegrpreret steed finned 
hinge nvestes, = Mere teeterre will say tr enol of any tf 


THE WORLD OF DOCBT. 245 
give support to thy moral meeds so long as the tem- 
perature of thy earth crust & high emoazk t prevent 
thy oceams from being absorbed, so long as the ra- 
dant hest of the sam given oat In saiiveent quan- 
tines to keep thee warm. When the next stave is 
reached, I propose to freese and to dry thy fair 
home and all thy moral meeds, watil there shall be 
muthing foaed om thy planet lovelter than the ruined 
exags of thy bills as they gimeoer im the let red 
rays of a torpad sun. What bs thy progres to me?” 
Soawe then where our resi difficulty hes. The as- 
pect of the facts that we mow mean ib thn. = It 
mot because progress is to emiure on this plaset for 
a short or for a long ume, bat decunse the world in. 
which this progress is so to end. seems. thus re- 
garded, whally idifferent to progress, — this 3s the 
gipomy aspect. Today, even while progress & so 
swift and sure, at this moment, we are Living ma 
workd for which, as sienee displays tt to us this 
progress ts as mmuditferent and unessenttal as the 
feeting hoes of an evapurating suapbubble. Is the 
paysical fact of progress, thus regarded, a moral 
help to us? 

Yet men turn away from these plam and often- 
mentwoed facts to all sorts of fantaste dream: of a 
gouming golden sage. They make of future homanity 
a saintly people, ving in devutiwn, or & merry pew 
pie. slways dancing to waltaes yet umirvamt of, or 4 
scientific people, calculating by sume barber algebra 
the relative povitions and motions of the molecules 
in the rocks on the other side of the moon. Every 
dream of progress is to be resitaed in that blessed 


246s THY RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


time, and we are invited to praise « nature that 
could producs all this blewuudlnens by pure physical 
law. Now we must indeed wish well for the men of 
the year a. ». 1,000,000, but we van receive no re- 
ligious support from the knowlelye that if all goes 
right and if the sun keepe well at work, the men of 
that time will be better than we are. Kor still the 
world asa whole gives no support to our real moral 
newls, for only by a happy secident will this blessed. 


ness be posible, Or, in short, two tendencies are 


sein befors us in the world, one working for evo- 


lution, for concentration of energy in living beings, 


Yor ineresmes of their powers, for progres; the other 
or dissipation of energy, for death, for the destruc. 
ion of all that is valuable on our earth. We learn 
hat the latter tendency has triumphed quite near 

, on the moon, We hear that it is certain in 
time to trinmph on the earth, and that the other ten- 
dency in to be only of transiont superiority, We 
know that ite prosent predominance here is, phys 
jeally speaking, a happy accident, which « cosmical 
catastrophe might at any moment bring to an end. 
And now we are asked to ses in this combination of 
frctn a religions seaport. For the writer's part, he 
refuses to regard it as anything but an interesting 
atudy in physion, We delights in it as mdlones, but 
it has nothing to do with religion, Yet some people 
talk of a Kelivion of Mvolution, 

But no doubt believers in universal progress are 
realy with hypothenen that shall show how signifi. 
cant a feet progren rently in, A world that has 
progrenmel so many millions of years doubtless has 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 217 


resources of which we know nothing. There are all 
the stars with their vast stores of energy. Possibly 
they are infinite in number. Progres ceasing just 
here may flash out in renewed brilhancy elsewhere. 
Whe knows what is in store for the future, when 
the present seemingly chaotic arrangement of the 
stars gives way to vastly higher organized systems 
of interacting bodies, in whose lght life shall floor 
ish eternally ? 

Well, all this we can all fancy as well as our 
scientific neighbors, Nobody would call soch dreams 
selentific, but they are logically possible dreams, 
and they are very beautiful. But they have one 
terrible negative conskleration against them. This 
progress is either cunceived as having gune on 
through infinite past time, or else it has no genuine 
signiticance for the true nature of the universe. A 
world that has now grown, now devayed, that has 
sometimes progressed, sometimes become worse, is a 
world in which progress is an accident, not an essen- 
tial feature. Bat now, if progress has gune on 
through intinite time, it has so gone on as to make 
possible, after all this infinite time, just the misery 
and imperfection that we see about us. Let us re- 
member that fact. This poor life of ours is in the 
supposed vase the outcome of infinite ages of growth. 
That mast be our hypothesis, if we are to cling to 
progress as an essential truth about the workl. Very 
well then, all our temptations, all oar weakness, our 
Inisery, our ignorance — the infinite past ages have 
ended in fashioning them. ur diseases, our fears, 
and our sins —are they perfect? If not, then what 


948 THY BKLIGIOUR ABPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


in the meaning of endless progres toward perfec. 
tion’? = Vor we are an outcome of thin infinite prog. 
rows, = Another infinity of progrewm is not certain 
then to remove such Imperfections, Ilere in prog: 
rows put to the sisnple tent. Jw it the removal of 
evil? Then can infinite program, as fasts show us, 
paw by with evil yet unremoved, And if progran 
ie not the removal of avil, then what means prog. 
row? dw not the temporary removal of evil more 
probably a mere occaslonal event in the hbetory of 
the world ? 

Jt ie wurprining that we aver think of talking 
about universal progrem as an ommential fact of the 
popularly conceived external world, Uf mcotbbrag cere 
tain oan be made out about ft, till the world ava 
Whole seems, as far as we can judge by the above 
conmiderations, wo indifferent to progres, that it be 
marvelous to behold the religious comfort that, in 
their shallow optimistic faith, so many asnbables pao 
ple take, while they wax fervent over the thought of 
progress, Lets have clear ideas about the matter, 
What is in the trua nature of rewlity in as eternal 
aa rentity itwelf, ‘Then progress to elther an unes 
sential, insipnifiesnt aspect of renlity, or It be eter 
nal, UF progress bis been eternal, then ebther the 
world was in the beginning infinitely bad, or eles 
jnfinite progress has been unable to remove from the 
world the finite quantity of evil that was always ta 
it, Kor here in the emplrien) world ts evil now- Sf 
Judeed there is any empirical world at al) -— plenty 
of evil unremovedd, 

$f you found a man shoveling sand on the sew 


shore, and wheeling it away to make an embank- 
ment, and if you began to admire his industry, seo- 
ing how considerable a mass of sand he had wheeled 
away. and how little remained in the sand-hill on 
which he was working, you might still check your 
self to ask him: “ How long, O friend, hast thou 
been at work?” And if he answered that he had 
been wheeling away there from all eternity, and 
was in fact an essential featare of the universe, you 
would not only inwardly marvel at his mendacity, 
bat you woukd be moved to say: “So be it, O fend, 
bat thou must then have been from all eternity an in- 
finitely lazy fellow.” Might we not venture to suspect 
the same of our law of universal physical progress? 

Bat ket us already hint by anticipation one far 
ther thought. Why is not any parely histoncal ew 
of the work! open t the same objection? If the his- 
tory began by some arbitrary act of will at some 
time not very long since, then this history, viewed 
by itself apart from the creative act. may be intelli- 
gible enough in its inner unity and significance, al- 
thoagh an arbitrary act of will can be no true exph- 
nation. But the whole physical world cannot be 
regarded af ance as a complete, self-existent whole, 
with an eternity of past hfe. and as. in its deepest 
truth, an historical process of any sort. For it is of 
the essence of an intelligible histoneal process to 
have, hke a tragedy in Aristutle’s famous account of 
tragedy. a beginning, a middle, and an end. An in- 
finite series of sucuessive acts cannot be one organie 
historical process. Either this everlasting series of 
facts has no significance at all, or else it mast have 


pn ne a Pn fad thyy 


QE THK BELAGIOUS ASPET OF PINLARONHY, 


Sisal commectstially thes scare: wignificnieas all the way 
salertage, her, 10 thees werrlel tm seafisnites ins tisse, 16 cosane 
rut, wn se Whysles have, wtrictly npeaking, any history. 
Three Meorgcemt combina wteorry in thes vent thrilling of 
thas echrersags weceshe Dicom recsesshiam, sam Wes sores yeiverts ter ttt 
dlecrwteaswl, so cemeleamisrts at wernt: titne, Usain sans 
iasfitsites evssstinnnead story, with thes pour leovern eter. 
nally weeping asd quarreling, sod yons will nes what 
sts infinite biaterrisal pores in thes world wenld 
pesessasy, A wershel of cumsrnes Ans an eternal recqoectition 
CA thes searsase thine, sues wtoory at all, OF thes world, ro- 
gerereles) ise titnes, catstrt me whusles hissves any potstines 
brimterery sah sal, it i thascts besogchemm tes bens ist thes 
werrlsl'n brimtssry, sam Mintisuct Frese thes werrldl’n siature, 
fesr sasvytboisoge of Lessscbsasssectateal resbiggisrtsm mig reiMecsanseces, 

Aru wer we: sores thererwes braske ter cnr starting pesint. 
Thin splesulid camuacptions of wecietun:, thin world of 
tarsal tacrrsat shes sesscecbasarsiscad saw, ies whetechs sal) theisagen that 
asagrgreste sores prreslectecrininusl Fronn all eternity, this 
srsathcresatioe) sesuchines, bias a real bintery ter mere 
thesass three schsbrisnge sarssl Morwitsye westatisherm wershel biaves 
frian day to day any bistery, agrart Frens thee fact 
thrsat, threcy crtnecn: Niel suerte ecbobs canned fMesw sot all, Meter. 
nally resgoesatens rhythenn, or cosmecleme new cannti- 
sentient of elestsucnte, clash of atenna, ceiver of ether 
weavers, srecechisarsiecsal cchisassgeece Aesrecvecr 5 Nast rus eternal 
grrengrenis, tes Eebatsrrtocsnl wectiets tor the: whusles, --— that 
seccin thus sumeaghion of thes physical world as a 
Wharkes tes which we: sees Ariven, Ut in wtrietly sath 
ccrsesahsecsel, a polrysiesally insted igitsle, exsuagtion, bout 
wheat resDigehertia wigersfiecsasices besa it 7 Veet wesley im thes 
tnuarphion that we tiuat have of any etsmal phyt 
heal prrincemn, 


Pad 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 251 


We have gone through this thorny path of prob. 
lems, because we want already to indicate one thing 
as the result of it all, namely, that not what the 
present world has come from, not what it is becom. 
ing, not what it will be by and by, but what it eter. , 
nally is, must furnish us with the deepest religious | 
aspect of reality. <All else is subordinate. We do 
not care so much te know what stary anybody has 
to tell us about what has happened in the world, as 
to know what of moral worth always is in the world, | 
so that whatever has happened or will happen may * 
possess a religious signitioanee dependent an its rela- 
tion to this reality. That which changes not, wherein 
is no variableness, neither shadew af turning, that 
must give us the real religions truth upen which all 
else will depend. A particular event in the world’ 
may have a religious signitivance, but that signifi. . 
cance will depend on the relation of this event to 
eternal truth. And the eternal truth is what we 
want to know. 

Therefore our search will become somewhat nar 
rowed, whenever at least we grow fully convinced of 
this truth. The * power that makes for righteous 
ness” will becume a conception of doubtful religious 
value. <An eternal power, that with all its past 
eternity uf work vannot yet quite vindicate right- 
eousness 2 Perhaps we shall have to find the relig. 
ious aspect of things elsewhere. But let us leave, at! 
all events, the world of pure science. 

As we do a0 same objector may interpose the as- 
rertion that we have generalized too hastily in speak- 
ing of the insignificance of the historical aspect of 


Qh2 ‘TH RELIGIOUS ASPRKOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


things; for, after all, we have been talking of nat- 
ural science. Let us turn then to the more philo- 
sophical theories of the powers that are at work in 
this supposed external world of metaphysios, There 
are philosophical theories that try to show us of what 
hidden reality this mechanical world of ours is the 
more appearance, or phenomenal symbol, Let us 
swe if any of them can givo a religious interpretation 
to the powors that rule the world. 


17h . re 
TIL. 


We yams, then, from the scientific to the more 
metaphysical view of the world, What can we hope 
from realistic metaphysics? Let us first consider 
the value of that philosophic view nowadays moss 
frequently hold, namely, what in genoral is culled 
Monin We hear nowulays, with almost wearl- 
some repetition, of Matter and Spirit, of Force and 
Intelligence, of Motion and Sensation, as being op- 
posite aspects, or faces, or manifestations, of one ul- 
timate Koality, until we wonder whether clear think- 
ing is not in danger of lowing itself altogether in 
the contemplation of a more empty form of words, 
From whispers and low mutterings with bated breath 
about the inserutable mystery of the ultimate unity 
of Boing, one turns with satisfaction to efforts to- 
wards some intelligible secount of the sense in which 
all things oan be regarded as manifestations of one 
Powor or actual Existent. Yot in truth even those 
éfforta, in wo far an they consider the world of the 
Vowors, havo thus far failed to satisfy the demands 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 2538 


of criticism. Where they are clearly stated they are 
inadequate. Where they resort to figures of speech 
and tell us about the two sides of the shield, or the 
convexity and concavity of the same curve, as illus- 
trations of the ultimate oneness of nature amid the 
various manifestations of experience, there these ef- 
forts merely sink back into the primitive incoherency 
so dear to all pre-Kantian metaphysics. The same 
curve 18, Indeed, convex and concave; but matter 
and spirit are simply not the two faces of a curve, 
and the relevant circumstance on which this meta- 
phor tarns will never be clear to us until we learn, 
quite literally, wholly apart from fables about shields, 
just how, in what sense, and by what evidence, mat- 
ter and mind are known to be of like substance. : 
And that we must do, ere this hypothesis can have | 
for us a religious value. The failure of dogmatic | 
Monism, if it should take place, ought, indeed, not 
to throw us over into the arms of an equally dog- 
matic Dualism; but we must refuse to accept the 
monistic hypothesis until it has been freed from all 
trace of mysticism. We shall here follow the plan 
announced at the outset of the chapter, and confine 
our attention to the realistic Monism, that regards 
the events in the external world as the results of the 
action of the one Power. A very different form of 
monism we shall ourselves hereafter maintain. Bat 
just now we deal in negations. 

Let us begin with the attempts that have been 
made to interpret the results of modern physical sci- 
ence in a monistic sense, by regarding the ultimate 
physical or chemical units as endowed with some 


264 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


form of actual or potential consciousness. Orgaw 
isms of the highest sort are combinations of atoms. 
The whole is the sum of its parts. Why may not 
the mental possessions of these highest organisms 
be the sum of the indefinitely small mental powers 
of the atoms? An atom in motion may be a thought, 
or, if that bo saying far too much of #0 simple a 
thing, an atom in motion may be, or may be endowed 
with, an infinitesimal consciousness. Billions of 
atoms in interaction may have as their resultant quite 
a respectable little consciousness. Sufficiently com- 
plex groups of these atoms of Mind-Stuff (to use 
Professor Clifford’s ingenious terminology) might 
produce a great man. One shudders to think of the 
base uses to which the noble mind-stuff of Shake- 
speare might return; but the theory tries to be an 
expression of natural phenomena, not merely an ws- 
thetic creation, and must not pause before such con- 
sequences. And, if it be the truth, might it not 
somehow, no matter in what way, be made of relig- 
ious value? Or otherwise, if true, might it not end 
our vain search for @ religion ? 

Such is an outline that will suggest to the initiated 
thoughts common to several modern theories of be- 
ing. Are these theories in a fair way to satisfy crit- 
ical needs’? The writer is not satisfied that they 
are. Time does not permit any lengthy discussion 
of the matter hore, but let us remind ourselves of the 
considerations that will most rendily occur to any 
one that is disposed for a moment to accept one of 
these modern forms of monism., Even if they prom 
ised us the religions aspect that we seek, we could 
not accept them. As it is, we need not fear them, 





be regarded as an aggre- 
gate of elementary facts, such as sensations or as 
atoms of pleasure and pam? If soa, what aggregate 
of sensations forms a jadgment, sach as, “ This man 
is my father?” Evidently here is indeed an aggre- 
gate of sensations represented, but also something 
more. What is this more? A product, it may be 
said, formed through association from mnumerable 
past experiences. Granted for the moment; bat the 
question is not as to the origi of this consciousness, 
bat as to its analysis) This judgment, whereby a 
present sensation 13 regarded as in definite relation 
to real past experiences, as a symbol, not merely of 
actual sensations now remembered, not merely of fu- 
ture sensations not yet expenenced, but of a realty 
wholly outside of the individual consciousness, this 
fact of acknowledgimg something not directly pre- 
sented as nevertheless real —is this act possibly to 
be regarded as a mere aggregate of elementary men- 
tal states? Surely, at best, the act can be so re- 
garded only in the sense in which a word is an ae 
gregate of letters. For and in the one simple mo- 
mentary consciousness, all these elements exist as 
an aggregate, bat as an aggregate formed into one 
whole. as the matter of a single act. But in them- 
selves. without the very act of unity in which they 
are one, these elements would be merely an aggre- 
gate, or, m Mr. Gurmey's apt words! “a rope of 
sand.” Our mental life then, as a union of Innum- 
erable elements into the one Self of any moment, Is 
more than an aggregate, and can never be explained 
as an aggrevate of elementary atoms of sensanon. 


t Mind for April, 1881, article, “ Mouism.” 


V6 = THE RELAGIOUN ABPKOT OV PHILAMOFVHY, 


Nor may we sey Chat thy uldiwute stinie states of 
sonclousnens may be, we it were, chomlonly united 
inty w whole thet je more than wo agyregele. Phys 
ion) atone in wpa, If endowed with suftluiently 
numerous wtinitios, muy unite into whet wholes you 
wil); ut « nutes fact in wm mnontal fact, and ny 
more, An ulGnate iudependent unit of sonselous 
hows, conmived after the analogy of w sensation, oun 
have ty anothor Jike unit only one of throw relathons 5 
it nowy cowxint with this othur unit, or it ney pre 
wade op follow itin Gane. ‘Thwre be i othwr relation 
pouitle, Aftinity, or wtrecton, or appromeh of one 
pain or plossure, of one sention of pressure or of 
mation ty mother, in a momuinglen jingle of words, 
wilons, Indesd, euch a exprommion by uusd ty naa 
Ayuratively uy relations that in and for a compare 
Sug, sontrasting, uniting, woud separadng wetive con, 
nelousuns, bwy ideome wre pile ty bow, ‘Sus, thon, 
this atomic moninn Uidnge us ne newer Ue bufore 
ty the relation between dhe date of conseiousnann mead 
the facta of physical nabure, Kor Use rent, how mame 
chunten) seluues can be sutistled ty royurd ite wade 
ul polute us nothing but independently existing 
fragmenta of injnd, who whole being be Intunuatve 5 
Juow, out of Kum intensive unite, space-reladions sry 
be constructed ut wl) then questions we may 
for the proment neyleet, Atambe monion, « synth 
wis, or, rater, w jumble of physivloyien) paychology 
with doctrines that me Incompatible with may sl 
espa’ whiuatavey, liue never munwored Uyomes usntionn, 
saad hepa themn prever wid. 


Sut lot us not boy over bay, ‘Seve uve other 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 27 


forms of monism now extant. The purely material- 
istic monism, for which the hard and extended atoms 
of naive realism are already and in themselves po- 
tentially mind, the old-fashioned materialism of days 
ahke undreamed af, may indeed be neglected. 
That doctrine needed not critical philosophy, of more 
than a very undeveloped sort, to do away with it 
oace for all. Modern monism knows af supposed 
atoms that are in their ultimate nature psychical ; 
and af supposed psychical forces or agents that, when 
seen fram withoat, behave much hke extended atoms. 
Bat the ald fragment af matter that, being no more 
than what every blacksmith knows as matter, was 
yet to be with all its impenetrability and its inertia 
a@ piece of the soul, has been banished from the talk 
of serious philosophers. There remain, then, the 
numerous effurts that see in the work! the expression 
of psychical powers as such, not mere mind-staff 
atoms, bat organized wholes, related in nature to 
what we know by internal experience as mind, yet 
higher or lower, subtler ar mightier, wiser or more 
foolish, than the human intelligence. These views 
may be divided into two classes: those that we in 
nature the manifestations af a logical or intelligent 
power, and these that se in it the manifestations of 
an alegical or blind, though still psvehical power. 
Each of these classes again may be subdivided ac- 
cording as the power Is cancelved as caunscious ar as 
ancanscieus in its working. How do thes antulog- 
wal efforts stand related to critical thoaght ? 

First let us consider logical monism. Since he 

- enna 


258 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


man intelligence is itself an activity, a working to- 
wards an end, and since the logical monist thinks 
the external universe after the analogy of the human 
reason, the constant tendency is for him to conceive 
the world as a process whereby his World Spirit 
makes actual what was potential. Modern science, 
in fact, when viewed speculatively, though it does not 
confirm, yet lends itself easily to such efforts, and 
we cun always, if we choose, imagine the evolution 
of the organic kingdom as possibly the process of 
self -manifestation of one eternal rational Power. 
Only in this way we are very far from a satisfactory 
ontology. A world, the work or the child of the uni- 
versal reason, developing in time, how can any re- 
flective mind be content with this account of things ? 
The universal reason surely means something by its 
process, surely lacks something when it seeks for 
higher forms. Now, on a lower stage the universal 
reason has not yet what it seeks, on the higher stage 
it attains what it had not. Whence or how does it 
obtain this something? What hindered the possible 
from being forthwith actual at the outset? If there 
was any hindrance, was this of the same nature with 
the universal reason, or was it other? If other, 
then we are plunged into a Dualism, and the good 
and evil principles appear once more. But if there 
was no external hindrance, no illogical evil principle 
in existence, then the universal reason has irration- 
ally gone without the possible perfection that it 
might possess, until, after great labor, it has made 
actual what it never ought to have lacked. The in. 
finite Logos thus becomes no more than the “ child 


THE WORLD OF DOTRY. 259 


playing with babbles™ af the old philosopher. 
Kversthing about the process of evolution becames 
intelhwible and fall of purpose — except the fart 
that there should be any process at all where ail was 
in, and of, and for the universal reason at the outset. 
as a cat with a moase, letting it ron away a few 
aeans In time, that it might be canght ance mare in a 
Hitle chase, involving the history of some millions of 
workds of life. Is this a worthy canceptian ? = Nay, 
a3 it mot a self-contradictory ane? Evolution and 
creative Reason—are they compatible? Yes, in- 
deed, when the evolutian is ended, the haurly-barly 
done. the battle lost and wan: bat meanwhile — ? 
In short, either evolution is a necessity. ane af the 
twelve labors of this Hereales-Absalate. or elae it is 
irrational. In the one case the Absolute must be 
canceived as in bonds. in the ather case the Locus 
maast be conceived as bhindemnng. Both ooncepuens 
are rank nonsense. This kind of Montsm will not 
saiasiy critical demands. 

And then there is the objectian, stated by Scho- 
penhaner, and br we know not how many before 
him, and that we have already insisted upon. namely, 
that every histanecal conception of the work as a 
whole, every attempt to look upon Beings as a ra- 
Gonal prowess In time. as a perpetual evelanan from 
a lower to a hicher. is beset bv the difficahry that 
after an infinite time the infinite process 3s still in 
a very early stage. Infinitely progressing, always 
growing better. and vet reaching after all this eter. 
uity of work only the incoherent, troubloas, blad 


260 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


imperfection that we feel in ourselves, and that we 
see in every dung-heap and sick-room and gevern- 
ment on the earth, in every scattered mass of nebu- 
lous matter, in every train of meteor-fragments in 
the heavens — what is this but progress without a 
goal, blind toil? The world would be, one might 
think, after an infinity of growth, intensively infi- 
nite at every point of its extent. We mortals see 
no one point in the physical universe where one 
viewing things as we in this chapter have chosen to 
do, namely, from outside, might lay his hand and 
say: Here the ideal is attained. 

Yet we should be very far from dreaming of ac- 
vepting the opposing dogmatic theorem, the antith- 
esis of this sublime Antinomy, namely, “The world — 
is the product of an irrational force. The One is 
blind.” Schopenhauer undertook the defense of 
this antithesis, and, in bad logic, as we all know, he 
somewhat surpassed even that arch blunderer, the 
universal Will of his own system. This Will, after 
all, desired a good deal of trouble, and got his wish. 
But Schopenhauer desired a consistent statement, 
and, with all his admirable ingenuity and learning, 
he produced a statement whose inconsistencies have 
been exposed too often to need much more discus- 
sion. No; to the defenders of the alogical hypoth- 
esis, as a dogmatic doctrine, it has not yet been 
given to make out more than the purely negative 
case that we have stated above. Dogmatic panlo- 
gism can be assaulted, with much show of success. 
The opposite doctrine has not yet been dogmatically 
maintained without even worse confusion. 


THE WORLD OF DOUAT. 961 


Panlogiam and Alogiam are diffioult enough in 
themaelvesa, but how much worse becomes their can- 
dition when, aa in the * Philosophy of the Unoon- 
wioua,” of Von Hartmann, either one of them, or a 
hybrid of the two, ia burdened with yet another hy- 
potheaia, namely, that the One Being ia unconacioua, 
and yet in nature payohical, Founding himeelf on 
certain phyaiological facta, very doubtfully inter 
preted, an a monatroua perversion of the mathemat- 
ieal theory of probabilities, an an ingenioua view af 
the history of philosophy, on a like ingenious criti- 
eiam of Kant, Von Hartmann haa expounded an on- 
talogival doctrine of which, after all, serious thought 
ean make nothing, Thia uncanaious being, exiat 
ent not for itself, for it ia canavioua of nothing, ner 
fur others, because all else ia a part of it (and, for 
the veat, nobudy ever thought of it before Von Hart 
mann), ahall be the maker and uphalder of the unt 
verse, Surely all thia ia a philosophy of round 
aquares, and ia not to be taken very serioudy, 

Of course the previous critiviam ia absurdly inad- 
equate to the magnitude af the problema invelved, 
and ia intended only aa the mereat aketeh, dogmat- 
ieally atated, of oritival objectiona to certain ontalo- 
gies, Seoming irreverence, in’ thia haaty atyle of 
doing battle, muat be pantoned. Only against im- 
perfect metaphyaio aa auch do we war Critical 
philosophy halda no theoretical opinion aacred, jut 
aa it reanta ne earnest: practical faith as other than 
word, The queation is here not yet what we are 
to believe, but what we can in arrument maintain, 


and what our method af search ought te be. Abeo 


| 


: 
O82 = THK RELIGIOUS ABPROT OF IHILOSOITY, 


lute and Infinite, Daycon and not Lagos, Mind-Mtuff 
and Spirit -- what are they all for crithenl polrlleon 
poly, loved, dev three flame golacser, srnererer Uclevsam, corscverothortin 
of reanon, to be morcllondy analysed without regard 
Fores cvconamavegtncsnacsoen 7 

One way remalin whereby thin realiatics tmetiarn 
crate EUNL dacageey tao vercths wy ntlnfrustany aterternent of the 
workd-prollom,  Stzpeone that, one for all, the hiv 
torlonl form of wtaternont Ie alsancdened, while the se 
thet of the Henson asa power In retained, This may 
bes clone in oithor of two ways, Tho universal rennet 
ararey Ver corrneesd vend sam aeseanedfeomtdony Atmelf in thine, but 
acre daa ta mevecdeons cof covertntes threat cares cansdtend cam thier pomrte 
of wdagle proce, The workd-life may be conceal ved 
not ana miagle hintory, lit nun an otarnally repented 
product of the One renin, a procen ever ronowod 
namin AN flidnhed, an dnfinites nerion of prowling and 
denying worlds = worlds that are like the loaven 
of the forent, that spring and wither through an eter 
nity of changlay sennons, The rationality of the 
world proces ie thin waved for our thonght by the 
Lay goertdacsoles tare. eroctmote in aneat Dilees oo Decdeatand traverder, 
woarrleredenge Aarcotagehe thes abpht of tiene, meekly for 
we esl fronted i zeatdeone that, dn anesvera senaccdaewl, boat, eeatteere, 
Videos tbves tate Chaat. cored cliny Voegghaoe sefeembs bode coll 
tends, vovferdedengye cam ty pedeant den thes frollince of bide at 
tralseul porwer, Whenever reycrarcde the workd an it now 
In aw plainly no muffledent exporonnion of Inflidtes ra 
tharansel poerwerr, Am ret Vibecaty tar erascrergot Clam bay prerttacwnde g 
Donate Vues osname, poreszorazres tea setveweess tDncames cof Inde colrjereete 
ane too who ronson mein perfection, and ta when 
the world of nenne will not appear an just at prenene 
more porfest than the world of Cundida'a oxpert- 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 263 


ences. For every one but the blind optimist there 
is difficulty in regarding this wind-swept battle-field 
of human action as obviously and altogether a drama 
of unhindered infinite reason, to be repeated with 
unwearying tautalogy through an unending future. 
Thus, then, we are tossed back and forth between 
the possibilities suggested by our hypothesis. “ The 
word is the manifestation of infinite reason 5” 
good, then, but how? * Zhe world ts a rational 
growth from lower to higher How, then, is this 
possible if the infinite reason rules all and desires 
the higher? Was it not always at the gual? So, 
then: “ The world is not one process merely, but 
an eternal repetition of the drama of infinite reason, 
which, as infinite, is thas always active and always 
at the goal” But this hypothesis is seemingly over 
thrown by the appearance of the least imperfection 
or irrationality in nature. The first starving fam- 
ly. or ainged moth, or broken truth, or wasted: ef- 
fort, or wounded bind, is an indictment of the uni- 
versal reason, that, always at the gual, has wrought 
this irrational wrong. The other possible hypothe- 
sis loaves us, after all, in the sume quandary. Time 
may be a mere “mirage” For the eternal One 
there ix, then, ne process: only fact. This notion 
of a timeless Being is, no doubt, very well worth 
study. But, then, the eternal One is thus always at 
the gual, just as in the other case The One, we 
should think, cannot be infinite and rational and yet 
productive af the least trace af wrong, absurdity, 
error, faleehood. Again our Monism fails. For, 
after all, the world has been viewed by us only from 
without; and so remains dark. 


@"€ 


wy ££ rte ut ef ty wel 


ny ie ra 2 Sa hs 
2964 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


IV. 


Our monism fails, namely, to establish itself on 
any ground of experience. Absolute refutation is 
indeed not yet thus attained, for the defender of 
the hypothesis of an infinite reason always has at 
his disposal the suggestions of the ancient theodicy, 
modified to suit his needs. He can say: “The par. 
tial evil is, somehow, we cannot see how, universal 
good.” Or, again, “ Evil results from the free-will 
of moral agents, who have to suffer for their own 
chosen sins.” The latter answer, a very plausible one 
in its own sphere, is for the general problem insig- 

| nificant. That there is free-will we do not dispute, 
and that free-will, if it exists, is a cause of much 
mischief is undoubted. Yet if the universe is so 
made that the free-will of the slave-driver, or of the 
murderer, or of the seducer, or of the conqueror, 
works untold ill to innocent victims, then the fault 
of the suffering of the victims rests not wholly with 
the evil-doer, but partly with the order of the world, 

| which has given him so much power, such a wide 

, freedom to do the mischief that he desires. The 

, world in which such things happen must justify its 
. religiously inspiring nature in some other way. 

‘ The other answer, that partial evil is universal. 
good, we have to regard as a much deeper answer, ' 
shallow as have been the uses often made of it in the 
past. But if it is to be a valid answer, it must take 
a particular form. The words are usually spoken 
too glibly. Their meaning, if they are to have any, 
we must very carefully consider, ere we can dare to 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 265 


accept them. Only from a higher point of view 
shall we in fact be able to apply them. In the 
world of the Powers they find no resting-place. 

How can a partial evil be an universal ggood ? 
Only in certain cases, The notion plainly is that 
the evil in the external world of popular thought 
is, as known to us, only a part af the whale, and 
the whale, it is said, may be in character opposed to 
the part. This must indeed be the case, if the world 
as a whole is to be the work of an Infinite Reason. 
For if so, the evil must be, not merely a bad lesser 
part that is overbalanced by the guodness of the 


larger half af the world, but non-existent, save as a_ 


separate aspect af reality, so that it would vanish 
if we knew more about the truth. This is what the 
saying asserts : not that evil is overbalanced by guod 
(for that would leave the irrational still real), but 
that evil is only a deceitful appearance, whose true 
nature, if seen in its entirety, would turn out to be 
good. One could not say of a rotting apple, however 
small the rotten spot as yet is, that the partial rot- 


tenness is the universal soundness af the apple. If. 


I have but one slight disorder in but ane af my 
organs, still you cannot say that my partial disorder 
must be universal health. The ald optimists did not 
mean anything so contradictory as that. They meant 
that there is no real evil at all; that what seems to 


me to be evil, say tuothaches, and broken househalda, | 


and pestilences, and treasons, and wars, all that to- 
gether is but a grand illusion of my partial view, 
As one looking over the surface af a statue with a 


wieruscope, and finding nothing but a stony surface, 


266 THK RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PITIOSOPITY. 


might.any, how ugly / but on neoing the whole ata 
glance would know ite beauty; aven so one seeing 
the world by bits fancion it evil, but would know it 
to be good if he saw it asa whole. And the seem- 
ing but unreal vil of the parts may be necessary in 
order that the real whole should be good, Suoh fa 
the position of our optimists. Thin is the Platonio- 
Augustinian doctrine of the anreality of evil. 

Tho logical pomibility of all this wo do not for the 
firat vithor dispute or affirm. But wo are dealing 
with a world of diffleultion, and we oan only point 
out the antacedent diffleulty of thin theory. If the 
world of oxporionce simply lacked hore and there ine 
torent, or ponitive algna of rational perfection, then 
one might wall compare it to the statue, that seen 
only pieoomeal, and through a microscope applied 
to ite surface, would wholly lack the beauty that ap- 
pears when all in viewed at once, Thon one might 
any, with gront plausibility, that if porcaptible har. 
mony in wimply lacking to our partial view, the groas 
whole may still be a grand harmony. But the 
trouble liew in the seemingly positive character of 
evil, Not simple lnok of harmony, but horrible die 
vord, ia here. Low the tortures of the wounded on 
a fluld of battle oan anyhow onter into a whole in 
which, an soon by an absolute judge, there ia actually 
no traw of avil at all, thin in what we cannot under- 
wtand. Tt seca very improbable, Only absolute 
proof will aatianfy un And of course, as haa been 
lnclicntadl, by nome of our examples above, it in not 
the quantity of any ovil (if an avil bo a quantity at 
wll), but the cuality of it, that makes us urge it in 


TRE WORLD OF pouaT. 267 


opposition to the claims of reason to be the ruler of 
all things. <Any evil will do, if it seema to be a real 
and positive evil. For then it seema positively at 
war with reason. 

Actually, however, theodicies and kindred efforta, 
whether moniatio or not, in trying to vindicate the 
rational in the world have seldom consistently main- 
tained this high and alippery ground of the theary 
af Plato and of St. Augustine. Far from declaring 
that all physical evil is and must be apparent, the 
popular theadivies have aften consented to accept 
the reality of this positive evil, and to minimize its 
significance by certain well-worn, and, for the pur 
poses of this argument, contemptible devives. They 
have pointed out that tho evil in the world, though 
a reality separate from the good, exists as a means to 
good. Or, again, they have said that evil is neces. 
sary as something outside of the good, setting it off 
by way of contrast. Both devices, if applied to a 
world in which good and evil are conceived as sepa- 
rate entities, are unworthy of philosophio thinkers. 

For consider the firat device. “ Evil is a reality, 
not an illusion, but it ia a means to good. There- 
fore in the world as a whale, good triumphs. There- 
fore reason, which desires the good, ia the One: 
Ruler.” But first, to mention a lesser objection, 
the basis in experience for thia view ia surely very 
narrow. Much evil exista whose use aa a means we 
cannot even faintly conceive. But grant thia point. 
Then the real evil ia a means to a separate and ox-. 
ternal good end. But if the end was good, why waa | 
it not got without the evil means? Only two answers | 


968 = THE RELIGIOUS ASPKGT OF FHIAROFHY, 


muses presen Doles far Clade, fie estamos this evil ies meprrate from 
hess peoseed, — NGitdese hes Oltes Mtesunens wae dedven to 
daelecs just, Gdeie wary, sarael eartalel takes tra own ex gustnive 
cannes 5 Cat tats Odanes Vdessasiente, sesrte Veecbange Iortated tr thd 
renal, wAhll sasdobtoveedly ccbesomes tar tales ft frawtetad of 
better, Put either answer is fatal, Waa the One 
NRevsumerta sanssedobes tar der Desttee 7 Phen it de not thas only 
power at work, ‘lus Monian fille, Thies Henan 
we botatl, Piet bees whee Vehicle thes strong mn be 
wtaerrageese Ghaseee dacs, EE, ecowervere, theese (dines eshisames hide 
weny reetdoesee thacate oy bestest, theese thoes Canes cheeses esvil five 
btes cowan mtebees, —E'Jucy cUilesteansase bn Atseevitebales, 

Vo exemplify s Uf pain ie an evil, and if the evil 
at thes pride cone you by a dnt, or cut, ov beraise 
os framblttend oy may irae three oll-wines satire tnakom your 
hein mestacsbtdves tar tees esneed thisat yorte sry doer heeded fn 
bavesqrhiage St wholes; then the obvicis answer in, that 
Af avsahinves fo sell-wiees onal all-powerful snd hensvolent 
tavwiesels yorts, It wee test Nandan to fd a way of 
Hecsesqoage verter whebey din pressed whale, witht entail 
Faage sageone yoote thes tartare of thin prensut Injury, If 
oa sneseashabanes tlasah wes anasalees rrsatm procrly, wes sees nit line 
gress tao Valesnines cotsemesl veo, bin estes wes cares mires tint 
wes basaves closes cone very beset with it, Tat the ima 
shad aseses cof sab wees sesetanses snetimt ach eve whtde clevstertiese 
dives Fahestdertn, sateberwes sallewlees eosatosnes bratasticdes clesmtartegse 
Alves frdetdene, Whee msetnes restnsrle agoplles ta all the 
aslenegaestoh syresecesdoesm sabsertate ties eaditives value of enue 
waesr dane, VF aasetaaves cccntabel tssalecs tas preerfoast witht 
wsatesedege, sane AE waahfesrdange dy snert, dmesdf see comggrenedes 
park of our porfeetion, but only an external mein 
Usrete, then it was nature's rational busing to de 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 269 


velop us differently. But if nature could not perfec 
our characters save through this imperfect means, 
then nature's means were limited. Nature was not 
all-powerful. Reason had some irrational power be 
yond it that it could not conquer, Even so we can 
not vet run certain engines without smoke. When 
Wwe are more civilized, we shall abolish smoke, be 
cause we shall get more power over the processes of 
combustion. At present, by this hypothesis, nature 
can only make characters perfect through suffering, 
this smoke of the engine of life. So much the worse 
for nature. unless indeed, in some unknown way, 
suffering is really uo true evil at all, but itself a 
perfection that, if seen from above, would become 
plainly universal good. And does that as yet look 
probable ? 

Even worse is the other device often suggested | 
for explaining evil. * Evil is a reality, but it is use. | 
ful as a foil to good. The two separate facts, good | 
and evil, set each other off. By its contrast, evil 
increases the importance of good.” When this re- 
mark is made about us personally with our limite 
tions of body and circumstance, with our relativity 
of feeling and of attention, the remark has some 
psychological interest. Made to justify the supposed 
universal reason, the remark is childish. Always, 
indeed, it is possible that evil as a separate entity 
may be made out to be an illusion: and that good 
and evil have some higher unity that imvolves the 
perfection of the world. But if evil is real, and. sep- 
arate from goodness, then the talk about explaining 
it as a useful contrast is of no worth in the present 


270 THY RRLIGIOUS ASPECT OV PHILOROPRY. 


| argument, For we ask: Could not the One create 


: a perfect good save by making good more attractive 


‘aw wot off againet the foil evil? Shall we sey that 


Reason could do better than to depend upon this 
contrast’? Than why the evil? Jf, however, the 
One Reason could not do better, but had to use the 
contrast, than the One was lows powerful in ite da- 
vices than ts the maker of a concert - programme, 
who has no nesd to introduce Into his concert any 
waw-filing or tin-trumpeting or pot-scraping to set off 
tha beauty of his songs and symphonies, But asa 
fast of experience, ie mont vil seomingly even thus 
useful’? Aro the sick needed to make the healthy 
joyous? Was Judas necessary in order. that Jesus 
should show himeslf wholly good? ‘Tradition, in 
thin latter case, says you, and adds the mystical 
apesch about the need that the offense should come, 
But what enlightened man nowadays will have {t 
that, supposing good and evil to be separate facta, 
there can be logically possible nothing thoroughly 
good, in case some of this evil were removed? Could 
not Jesus have been what he was without Judas? 
One doubts here the fact of the necessity of the evil, 
aven in our own Jittle lives; and one is indignant 
at the trifling that supposes so weak a device as 
mere extarnal contrast to be the sole device at the 
disposal of the One Reason,  Yot thin weak hypoth- 
asia of good and evil as externally contrasting sepa- 
rate entities Is, aftar all, provokingly near in form 
to what we shall hold to be the true solution of the 
great problem. But that solution tu till far away 
from us and from this world of sense. =e 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 271 


Thus far, then, monism seems, if not am impos- 
sible, still a decidedly doubtful, view of the world. 
Its value as furnishing religious support seems small. 
We cannot yet by experience prove that the rational 
power is supreme in the world ; and we fail te make 
clear to ourselves a priori how it should be supreme. 
seem to be through the still doubtful doctrine of the 
unreality of Evil And that way seems very dark. 


Vv. 
in which the wise of so many ages have found so 
much support, the doctrine of a Father, separate 
from the world of created finite beings. who directs 
with supreme truthfulness all human acts. The re- 
ligious valve of this doctrine. an one side at least, 
nobody can possibly question. The Father. as Jesus 
conceives him. has in a very high sense the charac- 
ter that we desire to find in reality. To be sure, 
there is the other side. This God of the dualistic 
View is seemingtiy limited. As a Father pitieth his 
children, so this God pitieth. But this pity seems to 
be the love of ane who vet cannot or will not save 
us from al] our evil. -And if the evil is a reality, 
and is meant to work for our good. still there is the 
unanswerable objection that if the Father is not 
bound by an irrational power beyond him. he need . 
not have put us into so evil a state. but might have 
wrought us our good in some less painful anddan- | 


_ ws 
ak & “7 . 


milf 3. 
f 


O72 «= THY RELIQIOUR ABPROT OF PRILOROPITY. 


—gorous way. Tn feet, the only plausible explanation 


of rent vil, in com there is separate ovil in the 
world, an explanation which shall yet be consistent 
with the Mathers power and goodnans, In tha pre 


jViouwsly mantionad oxplanation, that, If belnge ware 


arantad, ns wo are, free, thay must noodle be alae 
free to choose the evil, But this explanation only 
nerves to axplain the evil that haw directly resulted 
from freo choloa, that dircetly affeota those who 
muule the choles, and that wan distinetly forossan 
by them when they chow it, No othar avil dn justl 
fable as ne vowult of freo-will 5 all other avil sone 
absolutely nystarions, when viewed with referanes 
to God's goodnons 5 and vary littl of the evil that 
we oxparienea tn this world in tha direct result of 
the daliberate choles of those who suffer it, It dn 


| hardly nesowary to Wlustrate these frets, which, ike 


fhe mont of the pronont chapter, belong to the bent 
known and mont frequently misropresntad of the 
mittorn of human controversy, The poor of groans 


—edtles, the men who inherdt Joathaome dseanes, the 


naturally work of will, the inane, the sufferarn bn 
saidants, the soldiamw Jed to slaughter, the slaves, 
the down-trodden penauite and Jaborers of the world ; 
all these, whone Gls ams simply ineonaelvable tn 


might, have no imore brought all thinon thamaalves 


of thair own froowill, than have the healthy nnd 

happy, the helen of woth, the over-joyous, earned 

for thomnalvens the good fortune to which thay are 

born, A immn enn do much with and for himself ; 

but the best port of him, and commonly of hin anv 

ronmont, is determingd by birth, And for mont of 
, 4 a} cho tA 


' 


bo. . mofo ate eel. a 


/ 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 2s 
that “ with which the face of man is blackened.” the 
power ts thus responsible which ve free-will of man 
bas made. This evil must either be an organie ele- 
ment in a real higher perfect unity of the work, or 
else free-will is no explanation or justification for its 
existence. . 

Bat really. the intelligent reader needs, when we 
get to this most familiar part of our discussion, no 
very lengthy repetition of the old story, His mind 
is doubtless made up already, and be will desire only 
a brief reminder of the chief points that have toe do 
with this question and with these questions most 
nearly related thereta. 

If, then, the doctrine of Gad's Fatherhood i to 
be religteasly useful to us. we must wake up our 
minds whether the Father that we sek is to be the 
omnipotent Ruler of things. or only a limited Power, 
or again, something else that & net power. In the 
bast mentioned case, he belongs to that aspect af the 
workd which we just now purposely exclude from 
consideration. Tf the Father is a Power, then we 
all know the old but eternally fresh dilemma about 
bis nature. He ws either infinite or limited. If he 
ts infinite, we find arising all the difficalties just ay 
gested in our consideration of the hypothesis of an 
Infinite Reason. and one other difficulty, wor. if 
anything. than ther all. That difficalty we shall 
wention sown again, But if. om the other hand. the 
Father is to be conceived as a limited power, if we 
are to accept some sort of modern Mantcheantam, 
then ve @ priori disproof of the posubility of the 
hypothesis can be offered: since, @ priori, any finite 

 ) 


e 

r 

by i “ 
rf 


es ! 
i 


7 Oe eee eee tee 


274 «= THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF FIILOSOPHY, 


power you please is « pomibility; but our great 
trouble will then lie inthe fact that only experience 
oan onteblish such an hypothewis, which by ite very 
nature neods a posteriori proof. And experience, 
as sumined ap in science, has in fact simply no need 
of that hypothesis, Hence wo shall be left salto. 
gether in doubt, at leant while wo study the World 
ae Power, 

tush in the argument in ite mont yoneral state- 
ment, Now as ty the pointe in grouter detail, The 
grout difficulty musutional above an lying in the way 
Of the hypothonin of an infinite creative power is» 
difficulty in thes comenption of croution itself, Cres 


yo 4 tion, for the popular conception, certainly involves 


pe 


producing « thing of sine kind by a crentive act, 
the thing produced existing forthwith outside of the 
creator, Tu give up this seperation of crestor aud 
prendre in ter bewurnes pranthesiatic. And with mania 
we are not hers comesrned. Iut now the idew of 
an infinite creative Power outaide of his products 
involves mors than one difficulty, Wo shall not 
well ity thes old difficulty that this infinite Power 
werlsl beware: finite an wm an theres wan in oxintence 
marisesthsisage enntwisles oof it, Wes shall proceed at nun 
to a sre fruittal and serious difieulty, which wo 
firsel ins this fact that the concept of producing an ex- 
ternal thing tamolnes, of nemennity, « relation to a 
Lunn, bine both grader unl grroduct, whieh do 
berininen the corulitionn unuler which there con be 
a grroduch ab all, hes erontive power must then 
work under conulitions, however tnagionl stl mynte- 
rious ite acto inay be. And working under condb 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 23 
thoms, it mast be finite. No device for minimizing 
the meaning of this separation of creative power and 
ereated thing will really eseape the difficulty resalt- 
of supposed creation. It may be summed up once 
more in the statement that any creative power in act, 
Fast a3 moch needs explanation in some higher hw 
and power as does the thing created itself, so that 
whatever creates a product external to itself becomes 
thereby as truly dependent a power a: we carselves 
are. Let we ify. 

~ Let there be light,” shall represent a creative 
act. If the bybt that resalts is simply a fact im God, 
then our difficulty is avoided, but the very concep- 
thom of a power cresting anything external to itelf 
i abandoned. Then one becomes frankly pantheis- 
te, and identifies all things with the creative power. 
Bet if the ght is net the crestive act, bat sepa- 
rate from it, then you have an inmsurmoontable diff- 
ewlty im the concepdwn. For the power that makes 
the Aut ts not iteelf the created thing. bat, as it were, 
this power finds the product as a result of the fut. 
God saying, Fiat (ur, finds that this act, this word, 
or whatever process it symbolizes as actually happen- 
bag in the divime mind, ws followed by the external 
appearance of something, namely, byht. Now as 
erestor of Lyebt, God not yet conceived as the 
erestor of those conditions under which just ths 
fat couki be followed by jast these consequences 
Bat the external sacvess of the fiut presupposes ex- 
ternal conditions under which the fiut can savcvead. 
Jest as when I say, ~ let there be Lyht,” and pro- 


G76 FHE RELAGIOUS ASHE OF PHIABOPHY, 


dives it by iny own flat plies the neceumnry jhrywend 
asta, svete vy Aves ecarizaceshveced GDerity fan thee ecernvecerd veced 
esas, Uurigh nealing wo other mene save bie Art, 
Hrsnes yet, vecezslerel Mase, carved Visas Peonvenl bbe flies mfti- 
shecrat, eanaeies oof bakes cow tecrrasal echaangees Frenne lirlediecmm bas 
Hight, — Bbaah frsents suet nrv yy erececasanes ban saneabedvage Uigelit, sessed 
explanation bry tus lawe of ai external world, mw 
Csenb'cs eonpscacacrney tae vnnsabeiangs Hh sabessy roscserdes ccm glannedierie, ti 
Acs axpaevee Abasaey ocevnvscech vocal, sabtdsernagels Vela tnvennin MPG Mtepye 
grersecdl Asn ein ares Voccesep acer ccrrnvagalece tlinne tninne have to 
Nec, BAe enn ds pr Woy ide coreeption ina world of 
Taw cwtecrread tor Viboveesdt, Mees law of ide world heli 
pesscdy sas weseqiad ves Mish, fae sreedece tay prrendiues light am ma 
eon lacrnaad Fiasch beas wlll perforin wo ceortndn wet, thes flat, 
Phacces Vnoves exccarsaves Valave evsnecececane, S1y Aves mayne nme, 
wnler jut Musas conulitiones, Phe flit inny itwelf be 
whisleverr prvemacns yond Will, 

NSyat, boar Mbescan obisd Aeccens connmbitdcrne meine’? I hew 
hes it Casals C bead fos sadeles to rakes ligt, we an oxiabonde 
external tr diinecll? The external conuliione on 
WHiiecds Vike porecuecnt, avec Mepnnule ming ideal have 
Prcesra gcd nn ccrecdscsl Voy Vidrnmecdt, Mvecey ove annae ered 
tusrw gorseed dy aensabees esertnnes Dengeecrateriees pencaslamailenin, Mri 
gnarled of tachepharnscs aad whit elt yore will, a AM 
day Naas wadabes far Vieate tm wbissbes Vrrsidedbaage Voy thes Seenporadines 
grrenbraccacal Soy corns yer y wbnngalee Heck, 6. (4 Wy spending 
Aves wwerviden, * Vat, Mvscves Does Vetl,”? spend inet mertines yore: 
gesarecel aenccrsadorsasves, Uitte wee noes bred veal fan jimh 
Abas evsagvace UDG acoab duces. Ay Aves nissan’ veered inaolend bet 
wenbl jragly se comferriity ter laa of nndaire prrecaul: 
Hage Wis prresecrnl, pwomece tor nies light, bey thes werd of 
his nnith, even wu, if Gal's sreative power haw pre 


THE WORLD OF DOTTY. 4 'E | 


waonsly erestiad the eomditioms ef the gueeess of this 
bons resent fiat, thhe sume qmesinoms woulld arise about 
those comditnoms, and soom ad infimitim. Alwaxs 
even the unfimmte sores of acts would imply, att every 
step off the remem, God working upom a mame ex- 
temmal wo himnselif amd so God as a fimite power, sb- 
ect to the Rawes ticet Det Reme work. 

Bat then unay we mot herempom accept the doctrime 
of God's imfimiy. amd say thet this imfimime power is 
ndemtacel with ms prodimcts” Sirall we mot be pamtha 
Ets of the oldfesinomed sort. amd wet keep the don 
trie of Grads Fatherhood? The anemnpe ts hope 
hess, Amd the ditfiiembmes im the way off the reliziows 
ese of the pomtibensme iwqpotihenes ihawe already been 
eomaderad. Furthermore, many theme thimkers 
howe felt the force of am old set of arrommemts that. 
me this eoumtry amd resemily. Professor Borwem:. im bs 
© Mecaphvsnss” kes more them ome set forth at 
Renerth. mamely. the thomcht that. if God eam be as 
Crestor idemmeal with his other erestiioms, he cammot 
asa Power well be ademmecal with os. who feel cor 
selwes ta be alla emantiive powers. amd mot mnere forms 
er acts im any other power, Bar of we are sears 
fron Gud. them im this class of exses hos ereamom off 
ws imvolwes sll the dtfienlmes befiome pommted cuatt. 
When he made ms bt icf was snnessfol berond 
bomself. The anwess meds a pretxistemt bow. wer. if 
you will 2 preéxiswmt power autmade of humm. to ex- 
plsim it : post exactly as any power to power ony homd 
or to wink my eve Implbes 2 whole caiverse of bem 
eunade of me in order to crve mv wll sms thos poe 
thom of amtbamty. Merely assume im your thonrht 


21% THK RELIGION ASVEAST OF PRIAMOVHY, 


thm cirsecepticnn, nesnoly, « iurwor thet acto nid on 
eontorr tated govenlisect veowslthtng Freres it mest s mend wh crise 
yon nowl w higher parwer seul « higher Jaw, external 
ty the few gwower, toy ocmgolades hurw the fiw sorwer, 
wbhsage Sse jest ein way, cursbl mesdelesves jumt thin axter 
wel veomsl,  Vhestssus wither (Send csremton sunthing anter: 
smal ter Vrisrameshf, cor colnen, inn eovenabinag, bres werrlen sstuloy 
thes Iawe that grvemeagrwrnes so parwor brigghssr these Seles 
wel f, sessed esuteorsil tor bebsvomeslf, Sea thes beviahewt ferrin s 
Auta that produce external changes imply adjumn- 
sae of ins tr etude, Ths wrontion of external 
thsisagees Su wnssche mans meet, «US solernm sate westory bn ihecnstiooal 
withe thee porewb each taal t, bese sestw Alsccvecferves be wal jones 
ter thes eater) esnulitioon oof ssbjuwterent, 4, 4.) be 
pustao bs Hosites, 

Certain tinkere wre meutmterineul to mayne ties 
they bam Cond Wy hinving obmessre siul ned f-sumtre- 
Abeterry ihemn wbaret bite, Vhectuus thay avoid all of 
than forverggehingg MiMecssbtieom Voy omblinng thes sremtivn wet 
w inysery, New thers wre miysterion nul inyuterion, 
Wes her susst, Nasser busow tarescen gerovw, msor why thes plasesta 
tAucy thes law of wrevitesion, Sut we meres mares tind 
try her, Oden hess srhbacey Samal, wes cher srt benerw ber 
pig raser eon voy Noes verssnsl s Voth wes Ioagepoesn bor thin ome 
tay proeresch yes tinh mguinvem cmsnet bas ronal, New if 
werasecsdnnhy tesddn sores thank Obed in te reise wegramve, navel 
sajrprinaln fas snes tr caninislecy vecverveently whuctbusy grechy 
sab Merwe ssves tay sesmccrt, fae viecw of tees serywhecry of Chel’ 
Vrockiage, Wind Obed in sud. wm resid myn, my anewer bn 
vecvy pollen, J miay st erteses Whiteh 16 anreimt bas wm Irveevecr- 
gers bar edd Ciowd sabmsared sepeed meclf eatenictory in bin 
wioknses sam ta onedl aise sassy tbaleegs eles imsvecslitadiles 5 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 279 


and that I, for my part, hesitate not to declare very 
frankly that though I know very little about God, I 
am sure that he is no round square. Now even 90, 
an absurd and self-contradictory account of the act 
of creation must not be allowed to escape us by 
pleading that creation is a mystery, and that nobody 
can see Aow God makes things. For, mysterious as 
creation may be, we can be sure that if creation is of 
such a nature as to involve an external power and an 
external law, outside of God's creative power itself, 
then God is himself not infinite. And we can be 
equally sure that unless God as creator is identical 
with his products, the idea of a creative act does in- 
volve just such a power preceding the act and out- 
side of Gud himself. The device then by which 90 
many thinkers seek to escape from this well-known 
and ancient net of dialectics, seems for us necessarily 
unsuccessful. There are mysteries that we have rev- 
erently to accept, and before long we ourselves shall 
find such, and we shall be glad to bow before them. 
Bat if creation is indeed such a mystery, at all events 
a self-contradiction about creation is not such a mys- 


tery. 
VI. 


We have dwelt at length on one of the alterna. 
tives of Theism. Disheartened, and without any en- 
thusiasm, we turn to the other. Must we after all 
remain content in our religion without any assur 
ance of the supremacy of the good? Must we be can 
tent with this halting half Theism of the empirical 
Design-Argument? If we must be, we must be. But 


280 THK RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PITILOSOPHY, 


what if that too should fail un? Lot us at least try 
it. Thin unsatisfactory view says: “ Whit powers 
there may be in the world wo oan never wholly know. 
Lbyt wo think that thore is evidence that they that 
be for the moral law are inore than they that be 
agninat it. Anil this ovidenes in given us by the etm, 
pirioally discerned marks of benevolent design about 
us in the world.” This view, whatever its relig- 
ions worth, in at all events capable only of empirical 
proof, and pretends only to such a rank, And it ts 
in discussing thin hypothesis, in the dim light of the 
weary centurion of disput about it, that one comes 
at Inet fully to fool the bitterness of the doubt that, 
like 0 tormenting disense, aasails and otornally must 
aassil one who tries to be content with this dreary vis- 
ible world in which wo have heen so far vainly sook- 
ing for comfort. Wrangle upon wrangle, conseloss 
balancing of probabilition thin way and that, opinions 
and ridicule and abuse forever, and no result: such 
in thin empirical teleology that seoks a world-manu 
frcturer, and cannot discover him. Let us take up 
the minoralls Inininow just whore we happen to 
fired it. 

There is no doubt about this, that the doctrine of 
evolution has rendered the popular empirioal proof 
of a special designing power mach harder than we 
timed to siappons. And whon wo pass to this aspect 
of our question, we must confess at ones that we have 
nothing to way which ean be new to any reuler of 
mnodern discussion. This ompirien! teleology will al- 
ways remain a doubtful subject for human inquiry, 


Any dogmatic disproof of intelligent finite powers 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 231 


or daemons abeve us must be regarded as impossi 


ble. The only question to be here solved is the 
possibility of purely inductive proof of the existence 
of such higher intelligent agencies. And here, as 
we hold, just the ancient difficulties as to the proof 
of any empirical teleological theory survive, and are, 
in spite of all that recent writers have done, rather 
Increased by our knowledge of the facts af evolution. 
Especially does evolution make the empirical hypoth- 
esis of the existence of any finite and guad daemonie 
power, intelligently and morally working in the 
world, continually mere and more obscure. For 
first, as to the intelligence of the higher powers, what 
the theory of evolution has done for us in this re- 
spect is simply to make us feel that we know nog, 
and cannot yet even guess, how much what we en- 
pirically call bare mechanism can do to simulate the 
effects of what, in an equally empirical and blind 
way, men call intelligence. Therefore no empirical 
design-argument has longer anywhere nearly the 
same amount of persuasive power that it ance seemed 
to have. The matter stands thus: An empirieal de- 
siemargument might very plausibly reason that, if I 
find a child's Moevks arranged to make a house or to 
spell words, [can assume that some designing human 
hand has so placed them. But the inductive forve 
of the argument rests an my previous knowledge 
that nothing is so apt te put blocks in that order, 
in this present visible work, as just a designing 
human hand. But if I discovered certain physical 
conditions that did very frequently work, and that 
did often so arrange blocks, then I should no longer 


oo 


282 TH RELIGIOUS AS’P'ROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


consider the given arrangement good proof of human 
design. Even so, until 1 see that natural selection 
can simulate the designing power of human beings, 
T may be dispomsxl to regard a given case of appar- 
ent design in nature as a fair inductive proof of 
some great carpenter or watch-maker working there. 
But the induction, never overwhelining, becomes very 
weak whon I learn that there are so-called physical 
conditions such as we or chance can produce, which, 
however, do nevertheless result in things that my eye 
would have called full of design. For then I am led 
to few) as if I could pass no judgment at all upon 
concrete canon, Yet only by concrete cases can an 
empirical hypothesis be proved. Therefore unless a 
pebble proves disign an eye does not prove design. 
But design, we hear, is not incompatible with evo- 
lution, Of course not. And if thers is a designer, 
| whe works through evolution, then indeed he shows 
wonderful foresight and mastery. But the question 
is, not what is compatible with evolution, but what 
can be proven from bare experience. And what the 
modern man hus very justly come to seo in that mere 
exporienmas must leave him in utter doubt about 
what powers, intelligent or not intelligent, are the 
sources Of all our experience, Wo can find laws; 
but they take us only a short way. And the more 
we know about nature, the less inclined we feel to 
dogmatize on the busis of mere experiences about 
What powers are behind the scenes, They may be 
intelligent, and they may be what we cull in this 
world of sonse mechanical, But an finite powers, 


given in expericncs, we men know them solely by 


THE WORLD OF DOURT. 288 


their effecta. And their effecta are very remote 
hinta of their real nature. It is really painful to 
read the elaborate waatea of effort made in our day 
to prove that aome theolagival dogma about some 
power beyond experience ia not refuted by expe- 
rience, «Aa if auch proof made anybody's creed 
either more or leaa doubtful. A really well-founded 
Theiam would not be, in thia tedious way, eternally 
on the defenaive. 


But there ia the other aspect of the matter. An _ 


intelligent power, were it admitted, would not need ta 


be moral, If there ia deaign, ia the designer demon: | 


strably good? Let ua pasa over to that queation. 


VU. 


If evolution haa done anything for ua, it haa 
tended to increase our aense of the myatery af the 
world of experience, and therefore the philosoph- 
feally minded religious atudent ia in truth, for yet 
thia other reaaon, weary of all thia empirival Theiam, 
namely, because he deapaira af fading out, by auch 
an empirical process, anything about the actual pun 
poaea of any cleaigner, even if there be a deaigner. 
To atudy Engliah literature in the rubbiah heaps af 
a book-binder'sa wark-ahop, would seen to a wise man 
a much more hopeful undertaking than to seek any 
ane notion of the real plan en whieh this world ia 
wade fram a merely empirical study af our little 
fragment af nature, Scienve ia right in abandoning 
auch undertakings whally and for all ita now prob. 
ablo future work. Religion must tind the religious 


284 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


aspect of roality in a totally different diroction. The 
higher the realities that wo study, the harder the 
task. The heavens declare very many things not 
wholly clear to us; but the earth and man declare, 
as natural facts, very many more and more confusing 
things. Only a poetical abstraction can show us any 
one plan of religious value in the world of sense, 
any one declaration of anybody’s glory therein. An 
equally strong opposing interest would find just as 
good evidence for what it sought if it should hold 
anothor view of what is designed. Nature is, so re- 
garded, a confused hum of voices. ‘ Nature,” says 
one voico, “is meant to provide bountifully for the 
wants of sentient life.” Therefore,” says another 
voice, “all the weak, the sick, the old, must starve, 
and all tho carnivorous destroy their neighbors.” 
“ Naturo aims at the evolution of the highest type of 
life,” says the first voice. ‘ Thorefore,” it is replied, 
“sho bountifully provides swanns of parasites of all 
sorts to feed on highor life.” ‘ Nature desires or- 
der and unity,” says the voice from the heavens. 
* Thorefore sho makes meteors and comets,” replies 
the echoing voice, — And if now the Fiend appears, 
and suggests, as the only satisfactory dosign-hypoth- 
esis, something of this sort, how could experience 
answer him ? — “ Nature,” he says, ‘is designed by 
a being who delights in manifold activity of all sorts, 
in variety of organization throughout the world, in 
the fine contrasts of the numberless forms of sentient 
life, and in whatever means vigor. He likes to see 
many living creatures, and ho likes to see them fight. 
He likes the sight of suffering, as well as of joy ; 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 235 


hecause both nrean variety of action. He delights fa 
the triumphs of the vietors, in the groans af the com 
qrered, in the sportiveness af young animals, in the 
writhing of a peor beast that dies in tartare, in the 
insidious struggle fer existence that the Aletozoe 
carry on, in the hepeless sighs that men send up te 
him in their woe, and in the Heal raptates: and 
agunies of saints artists, and lovers. All these things 
he likes, because they are just so many forms of ex. 
istence. He wants plenty of life and vigor to cur 
template. as a boy wants att soapauds to make 
pretty bubbles for his pleasure as he Hes idle. This 
being is doubtless finite Clike his brother, the Sete- 
bos af the inhnitalle monologue that Browning has 
put into Caliban’s mouth). Bat just now he reigns 
hereabouts, even as Caliban’s Setebus reigned in the 
island, Aud his designs are so ebvioudy shown in 
natury, that anybody ought to believe in him whe 
simply looks at the facts af experience.” 

OF this horrible doctrine we apprehend that ex 
perience as such affers ne dispreof, For all that 
selene can say, we might be in the hands af just 
auch a demon, Hence it behooves religions students 
tw evase looking for the living Ged among the dead 
facts of physical wience, and tu betake themselves 
to their own proper feld, Science aimply leaves all 
such hypotheses utterly doubtful Our litde carner 
af the world may have become what it is in any ane 
af nuuberloss physically definable ways Aud, if 
designed, ita humediate purpose may be any ane of 
nuuberless purpases, [tts not probable that expe 
rience can tell us much about that matter, Seleuce 


Gath tH, MMLAEIN ANDRAS C1 WHIIAIIPHY, 


im veswy wiggdet inn mgrpreetadinngy tar en pcos with wholly 
MifPesvestoh sadacem, semeanreshy, Fore Wbes mtabees rf tanscbeswobeaneed iregg 
hess Naw crt tbees mesegeacsereces crf gybeesteernecestim, Os (lees etedd 
Aint, over tertay bre sabsles tar borer whiek thes weerll plan, 
Iurwesvert At sremy bres Peewteceal, tlertom wetaindly weotley tom 
dhagstaboles of secwurtngslimbiienge jrssh tecw aed beecves bee trae 
cccrascevestes ieceliengen with tliingem, Anud if mechestsess, bite 
Marhenge sald thei, bosom tae tretaless cscs ttnlen prrrmtislndim, wield far 
sadcdstsgrh, Meesees erty Piadtds, Ahessee mrecche Posi tde, tberrvagte ih vecectdes 
Hrasbececed to sNesacgrosp Perversedativers, im vat Nestaand, tnerk ibeorobivaed 
Witdy ties prrscmnersagetierte Mbeiat, cereelesetateligs rch mbengly 
ar gorwetneliates, brut tar grrcoves Votsyereel clertabety prvectectidn ts 
Mimeurvece witle cacetanderty, Poernn brnres cm gssmlenrns, Chie 
dibaes were led svntebecse’m goliatom ther tagereces withe sntse syleetem, 
Afttese sll, mrche ccoveged vical WIeecdmtee im sommnasendenge ite 
peta ecoeh, meted sescrmet, echisesecctacedaties Pernere whet it mprpmnen 
site Lervageesee sam ou peostetizees Snvvecmtigemtare, Vrteh goemtsn nm thes 
Meakecrrsdiaait'n sebdarnaresy , Vdabeccer groeselessat, recBoegees Vested ancl thee 
wanhecey oof Mecbriadoc, saneed Decprrsernidn teted, ertbeece gotsergsles wheel 
sarmersintves tees Deevelecns oof recone, mated eobtdesce wbesrw 16 ter bow 
coco taadiily Prades, rm exlnes saccececge, 1h Pert thes mtahees tf greece: 


grblutiy. 
Vitt. 


Wee trsrrread Ar thes magne catecrnnl World of 
SY erwecem, sored wes betaoes Perret Ih ertbeece Meaneby, tre esbats 
gehveses be Mnrbe Hndd North faad segetccchiee. “This Serwern 
aensey avebertcad Ves merereesbeecny tof thee eigeheccert, everride. — Met 
Ade tie, totes DE es seccaengeh, vareereccost dere dnagely Whats wttgrgrt ened] 
dsabasprried overt del, bees ovece the eof Dh HDD mtscorem Merrabetteal, 
aed trecre es sate Wbees Vertageesn ore whined y Whee seetetdece, "Thee 
price lind evil rnsy bos vetdvectmal peenwl 5 bruh we cml tn 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 287 


in this external world see how, nor could we find 
proof of the fact. What a Power causes, that the 
power seems responsible for. And so the Powers 
that cause the inestimable might of evil in the world 
seem of very doubtful religious worth. 

We have already suggested in outline why this 
doubtful result was to be expected. These Powers 
were assumed to exist apart from our thought, in 
time and space, and to work in time. They have, 
as workers in time, no certain and eternal signifi- 
cance. <A single Infinite Power is, properly speak- 
ing, a misnomer. If a power produces something 
that is external to itself, then the very idea of such 
an occurrence implies another power, separate from 
the first, and therefore limiting it. If however the 
power is identical with its own products, then the 
name power no longer properly belongs to it. For, 
as we shall see when we come to speak of the world 
in its other aspect, namely, as eternal, the conceptions 
of power and product, of cause and effect, and of 
all like existences, are found to be only subordinate 
to the highest conception of the world as Thought. 
For the Eternal Thought are all these powers ; but 
in themselves they belong to the flux of things. 
Each one of them says, ot ia me, when you ask it 
for the significance of the world as a whole. Each 
power says: “I work here along with the others. 
I fight, I strive, I conquer, I obey, I seek my ends 
as Ican. But beyond me are the conditions that 
limit me.” And these conditions are the other 
powers. The world of powers is the world of the 
children of the dragon's teeth. Their struggles are 


288 THE RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


endless. The only religion that they can teach is the 
religion of endurance and of courage. Or one may 
compare them to the warriors in king Atli’s house. 
Only the all-secing Eternal Thought can possibly 
discover their significance. Of themselves they are 
just the fighters in the blood and dust of the ban- 
queting hall. 

All this we just now affirm without full proof. 
But our provious discussion has been one long illus- 
_ tration of it. You find or think you find in the 
world a religiously valuable power or tendency at 
work, But at once there stands beside it its sworn 
fou. Is it Evolution that you have found? There 
stands beside it Dissolution. Is it the tender care of 
a fatherly nature for the very sparrows? Then ap- 
pears beside it the cruelty and deceit of nature. Is 
it the beauty of the world that suggests a power- 
loving beauty? Nay, but the rottenness and tho 
horror of natural disease and decay assert as boldly 
the workings of a power that hates beauty. Are 
all these seeming powers just mere phantoms, whose 
truth is in the laws of pliysics? Then the world is 
a vast wreck of colliding molecules. Are these pow- 
ors real tendencies? Thon their fight is seemingly 
endless. The world of the powers is indeed full of 
physical law, because and only because its facts are 
found, by means of thought that has a deeper foun- 
dation, to be cases of certain general rules. But 
for our religious purpose, this world of the powers 
geoms & chaos. 

“ But,” says some one, “all this is no disproof of 
the existence of a real but to us not perfectly clear 


THE WORLD OF DOUBT. 289 


harmony of all the powers. This is simply absence 
of proof.” Yes; but if proof is what we want, and 
if every single power sends us beyond itself for the 
interpretation of the meaning of the whole, we can- 
not hope @ grasp that meaning so lony as we avoid 
studying the world in its eternal aspect. The pow- 
ers themselves make and unmake. We understand 
them not. They remind us of the night-svene of 
Faust : — 

Faust. Was webea die dort am dea Rabenstein ! 
Mephistepheies, Weiss nicht was sie kochea und schaiita. 
Faust, Schweben aaf, schweben ab, neigen sich, beagea sich. 


Meplistephacs. Eine Hexenkans. 
Feust. Sie streven und weiben. 


Mephistophaes. Vorbei! Vorbei! 
And if we will hear the wisdom of Mephistopheles 
about all this, he has elsewhere given his view, which, 
as an opinion about the world of powers by ane af 
the more authoritative powers in it, is worthy af 
as much respect as any other suggestion from an 
equally limited being : — 
* Was soll uns dann das ewige Schaffen ! 
Geschaffenes za nichts hinwerraraffen ! 
“The ist's varbei !* Was ist daran ra keen ! 
Bs ist so gat ala wares nicht pewesen. 
Cad treit sch doch im Kreis als wenn es wire, 
Teh liebte mir dafar das Ewin Leer” 


Amd possibly it would be hard for us to be sure of 
much more meaning in this world of powers as such, 
than Mephistopheles has found. 

For us, we turn, not with despair. but with hope, . 
elsewhere. We go to sek the Eternal, not in ex- 
perience, but in the thought that thinks experience. | 

~ n 
Re. ae a0 ay wo Cf rr a ee re pee 
Suet ; tat eof ts . . . » 


~at.: , ee 


O10) THK RKLIGIOUR ANPKGT OF FHIAMOPHY, 


Cdr haope in tert Lome bewnine we have found in the 
tassnporral wo world of denuht, Our song in ablinply 
ths Afanl-hy gen world, Tm yolny home," of 
tibacs ves A ggharsam suadsasdes oof voll mggem, ‘Whee trvaly vel i gglenan 
calesnancasaten oof Clessdmnns maven suse Tasarts Voy thes clemtonsctdon 
Of temlitisr aboot Ceshetdes wrgienta, St in only an 
camnansngilen orf mbaredlsow thesoragclat, whresae cobtbverr theer clesmtrvadte 
Ghves sor Alves cscrtsnobarnscctl ves Daisvbecerm Vassagehones Cheat, thoes brat 
ter An sheseshabesel Af Adeee worrlsd cof Abeer grorwesrn bn jaacl gesel 
Han snnnes winy cov Sen sannertdacar, Sead dgchsrts bn tame Sessbenqrersuel 
cana Gof DD Glavat ous Mirrivam fe Danedengoesnnsberst oof Cheer searthe 
wil, 


CHAPTER IX. 
THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 


Das bestiedize Wetzea der MNemer kt haagweilig, wenn maa Nib 
wa whneiden vorbat.— Loran, Methyl. 
Whats se ke as rwth Bb 
False ta thee ? 
Baowxrre. 


Ir the reader has become thoroaghly weary of the 
world of doubt, we are only glad of the fact. Armed 
with a genuine philosophy, a man may indeed go 
beck to that world, and find in it an expression of 
ideal truth in empirical form. We hope to have 
such a riyht ourselves in time: bat, without a well 
thought out philosophy, a man venturing into the 
world of empirical facts to find there any rehgious 
significance actually discovers himself to be in a nest 
of hornets : and he deserves as much. We destred 
to bring the reader to feel this with us; els our 
own prudent flight from that world to another might 
seem to him unnecessary. Now we are ready to 
come nearer to our former question, What right 
has any one to assume that empirical external world 
at all as having any absolute truth? =~ thou that. 
hast troubled us.” we may say. “what art thea at 
bottam more than our own assumption?” What 
raght has that external world to be the sole remon 


> 7 of 
eran . a. . . . . . awa 


s 
ah ae ~ ~ 
f 


"so w~ oe? 


802 THR RELIGIOUS ASPEAIP OF PHILOSOPHY, 


where we could seek the relighine truth, when per 
ahuanes te external world, as we naw it, in not 
wy hritds ot all 2 Pach as cclader onus more ane step, 
Pesvehsaness the velighouady jnapielag venlity fe fi mone 
higher world, Uf we ave only sheptienl enangh, pose 
asbasasnsces wes wbasald Sisal tdasat Wesabity, ‘Wbecren, darcberead, 
the old samunption of an external world of emplee 
foal fude may remain a part of our future thought, 
Dut it will yet a new sens, and copy a new place, 
Thus firet anewer tint avenues to thie our question 
alent te meaning of the external world that hes 
80 far troubled ua, fo thias Phe sesumuenl world be 
ne fixed datum, to which we are beuad to sulnnit ab 
A hazards, but a postulate, which je mule to wat 
afy certain familiar human needa,  1f this pAvtulate 
‘fe foul to have no religions signifieanss, we may 
Aupplenent the doubt thus arising by remembering 
that, wes whi pooatislsatead cues layer thes eight te proline 
Inte agin, Our religiously sativfactory truth may 
be venhed, not by hypotlewn about powers in the 
enpirionl world, but by a deeper faith in something 
that is eternal, and bebiad or above the world of tha 
enh Neots, 
1 This view vives usa new world, the world of tha 
Powtulates, We canna, be content to remain in thie 
‘workd, but we must pase through i on aur way Np 
wards, Vat ue hone St dewerilad, 


f, 


The world of Doult haw jpresed before us, a huge 
nes of inexplicable facts, Here and there we find 


THE WORLD OF TRE PosTULATSS 293 


a connection : we hope that we shall soon find mare 
connection ; but sall the vast plan. if indeed there 
be a plan, we search for in vain. Bat now, strangely 
enough, all this doubt affects in no wise the willing 
trustfulness af our devotion to the Interests, not only 
of common life. but also of science. The doubt con- 
fuses us only when we talk of religion. That the 
work! as a whole is dark. nobody admits more cheer. 
fully than does the modern scientific man, even when 
he looks to his science for all his relimous consola- 
tion. For he weks no consolation save what the 
phenomena as such furnish. But his philosphical 
doubt about the ulamate foundation of science 3s 
mo check to his scientific ambition. He believes in 
gchence just as ardently as if he did nat in the very 
first breath of cach new philoaophical dispute de. 
elare that the real workd is unknowable. His faith 
in the nrethads af his specialty is as firm as his in- 
difference to all extra - scientific speculanon. His 
work is in fact done with a kind of instineaive con 
fidence in himself and his fellows. The instinct is 
wo doubt highly trained, but it remains an instinct. 
and a delightful one it is to him. The untrained 
instinets of the unscientific man must indeed be cnt- 
tcised and altered in many respects ere ther can 
serve the purposes af science : but after all the crit- 
iciems and alterations, the instinct remains with al- 
wost all men an instinct, — useful, pleasing. ves In- 
dispensable : but its philoaophical justification few 
people care to know, while its self-confidence everv 
eckentifie essay. or lecture. or instructor will attest. 
Why now is it that. trusting as we all do this ster 


204 9 THR RELIGIOUS ANI KOT OF PHILGSOPIHY, 


tif ls Inatinat, wo all fool it hard to give « like trum 


tao thes rebielotn Inatinat, whone mont oneal tendeney 
In to have some sort of falth fn the goodnann of 
things? Why in tt that the doubtfulness and the 
aontrullotions of the real world seen to everybody 
ty throw a cloud upon religion, even when it is not 
supernatural religion, but to have no slgerdflennee 
whatever for the liane of welens? Thin sclantifie 
notion of a world of law, all of whose facta could 
eonaslvably be predletad by one formula, why does 
thet resela dy our indnds untonched by the doubts 
OF thes mbecprthesel goliilomcpshecrn, whiiles thes snsne sleeps. 
tein at ones neon to remove from ius that trast in 
the moral poodnam of things whieh religion has 
tiled to ontablind fn our hearts? Shall the world 
be dndifforsnt to one sot of our ideals, and not to 
anether? Shall the moral value of things be dark, 
arsed seco, sole thresher veelises for thes gouarpremen of meshes ? 
W bay dos thes corner cherestardnes socr Ui fPesresnnt, fron ther other 7 
You sre placed ina world of confusion, and you tm 
weeset, Chase, ben Dt sabtdennsutes corned evtaserracal sasetarses 16 arnwerrn 
your moral neds, That seme prominptious, You 
Abel not mbes that world. Tow do you know whether 
It ences for your moral ideale? Very wall then, be 
Fraprertial, You sre placed doa world of confuston, 
aanel yorts summesert, Gist, 1h sessmoerrn yortar Sentesd Levetansal 
sievsidm, sestsesdy, Chiat it ds se work of order, whine 
Firastion ccevnadel ees vreselssccesel tar meotenes rovtbeotssel setae Seatest lige. 
Doles snanitiy, «Wohrset Vrtarsdsvesmm trsaves yeos tas cleo that? Tn 
rere ccsussem yorta arsenemecessnel esxcqeesedesmens, = Neattares pelvenn 
you in experlsnees partial ovil that you ont in all 
cases porcsive ta be univers good, Nature aleg 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 295 


gives you in experience partial chaos that you can- 
not in all cases perceive to be universal order. But 
unwaveringly you insist that nature is orderly, that 
the chaos is an illusion; and still you do not feel 
ready to insist that the partial evil is universal guod. 
Why is this so? Is the ethical side of reality less 
important than the other? Or is it the very im- 
portance of the religious aspect of things that m 
us more ready to doubt the truth of this aspect? 
Such questions occur to us as suggesting a possi-' 
ble way out of our difficulties. It is not exactly our 
desired way, but is it not possibly a good way? Sci- 


ence, namely, uses a certain kind of faith, whenever | 


such faith is practically necessary. This scientific | 


faith is indeed no faith in particular uninvestigated 
facts, but it is a faith in general methods and prince 
ples. The creed of science knows of no dogmas 
about unexperienced single facts, as such: but it does 
know of dogmas about the general form of the laws 
that must be assumed to govern all experience. Now 
why may not religion be reduced to certain essential 
general and fundamental moral demands, that wo 
must make in the presence of reality? Woy are not 
these a legitimate, ves, a morally necessary object of 


faith? Why, as the scientific man postulates a the | 


oretical rationality in the world, may not we postu 


late a moral rationality in the world? These ques- | 


tions stand in our path. Might not the answer to 
them transform our barren doubts into something 
less disheartening ? 

We see what all this supposed religious faith 
would mean. It would not be a faith in any partic 


_ 
. @ . s "8 acvA@. > 


O08 THK RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OV PHILQKOPHY, 


ular facta of experience that might have for us per 
wocotneel ly co merDSimds vistas, wirerthiern yoresator ov lens, 16 
wortilel bres, Uber ther merbentiiies falth, wholly general, J6 
wertded cLersrosgicl that ther world) in bt cnthrety sbeconulel 
Does reyearclend am din manne higher wenn morally ra 
thorn), Et worsdel says “Ther veal workd sunt be, wheat- 
ever ite true nature, at lent ae high io the sonal 
mole ansny libghont idole of poodle, Ihave woo 
ryht to much wo falth? Jat os cautiously consbler 
bhiin grout, 

DSuat sat, connere wee snnrant cHoatdanggiabnhe ther prapreomend rea 
Viggheosam Feathe Foreony what wer obscoabe) cull sorcerer blbanal 
Faaltde, — V3binned feebthe Son what wes connot comteatoldnds ba 
Asncbescreh Dorseclssriobbobes, — Bdsat Chacsnn, bos thaceares spent capacotdaces 
Uehaneh cof Foaltde, three Uebored thot Users camercd San Dade ported. 
theal plillonophy? ‘To this may we not now turn? 
Porhape the world of the powers, apprencbend fie thes 
usual way, Jn dark, but the world for the prnctlonl 
rressansenny anneny Ves coprcervesel Gan cunnertduers weary, Krsat ooeabel, in 
affert s  Mesely canned menede meager rendition, of res 

i Nylous sbynifiennes, cannot be theoretloally proven 5 
but we enn nee why we ought to postulate thelr ax. 
i Sotanen, that in, we ean nee why me aught to act an 
Uf they erlated, Behind the voll of mens, we must 

i pontulate that there is nn boteliiyible world, io whieh 
wl) Jos Voearnancosny, susncl bev whrdeds tdecy bolyghreomt, grcrencd in 
renlivead,” May we not also try with Kant to de 
thin? | 

Wo whall fn any cone find thls effort, an offort 
tat tame been no often minds aloes Kant, a subject 
well worth our wtiudy aod enroful examination, In 
truth it in not by itnlf watinfuotory 5 but wo shall 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 27 


eee that it enters ax one moment into the higher 
view that we shall hereafter reach. So, in our own 
way, we shall now try to answer the question sug 
gested to us by Kant's method. Doves not then the: 
religious aspect af the world lie in the fact that, do- 
apite the contradictions of the wurld af sense, we 
may, and indeed, morally speaking, must postulate, 
that the Evernal, of which this world is the mere 
show, is in ieelf absolutely righteous? We shall 
not be able to answer this question with a simple 
affirmative : but still, postulates must enter in some 
Wise into every moment of our lives, and must there- 
fore have some value in religion. 


IL 


In the last chapter we sought for a demonstration 
of religious truth, and feund none. But perhaps it 
Was not demunstration that we should have sought. 
Possibly religion may be content & rest on posta- 
lates. 


A postulate is a mental way of behavior. In 
far it is like all other thought. Io general, w be 
lieve that a thing exists is to act as if it existed, 
But the act may be forced upon ane, oF it may be 
freely chosen. One cannot fail te act upon the prin- 
ciple that 2 + 2 = 4, a soon as he perewives it. Rut 
one may voluntarily determine to act in a given way, 
not being rationally forced so te da, and well know- 
ing the risk. In such cass ane voluntarily takes 
to himself the form af belief called a pustulan. 
Thus, apart from any philoayphic theory, we all pus- 


298 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


tulate a certain kind of uniformity in nature. We 
do so, whenever we reflect upon the matter, volun- 
tarily. For we then say that surprises are always 
possible, and that any law may have exceptions, but 
that we must act as if we knew certain laws to have 
no possible exceptions. Postulates, however, are not 
blind faith. Postulates are voluntary assumptions 
of a risk, for the sake of a higher end. Passive faith 
dares not face doubt. The postulate faces doubt, 
and says: “So long as thou canst not make thyself 
an absolute and cortain negative, I propose to act as 
if thou wert worthless, although I do well see thy 
force.” Blind faith is emotion, and often cowardly 
emotion. The postulate is deliberate and courageous 
volition. Blind faith says: “I dare not question.” 
The postulate says: “I dare be responsible for as- 
suming.” Examples of both are very common. 
Blind faith the fond parent has, who says of his 
wicked son: “ I know that he must be good, hence 
I will not suspect him, nor train him; I will not 
watch him, nor warn others against him.” A pos- 
tulate the wise parent makes, who sends his full- 
grown #on boldly out into the world, with the best 
attainable safeguards, saying: “It is useless to keep 
him longer in leading-strings, or to protect him from 
the world. It is now his place to fight his own bat- 
tles, since I have done what I could to got him ready. 
I postulate that he will win the fight; I treat him, 
and must treat him, as if he were sure to win, al- 
thongh I well know the risks.” Tho sea-captain 
beginning his voyage postulates that he can get 
through. The general postulates that he will be 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 299 
victorious, The Prime Minister of a country poste- 
lates that he can do his country better service than 
could the Opposition. We all postulate that our 
lives are worth the trouble. Yet we all know per 
fectly well that many just sach postulates must in 
the natare of things be blunders. But they imply 
not blind faith, bat active faith. With blind faith 
litle good is done in the workd : without active faith, 
expressed in postalates, very little practical good 
can be done from day to day. Blind faith is the 
estrich behind the bush. The postalate stands out 
Tike the hon against the hunters. The wise shall hve 
by postulates. 

IIT. 

Bat how is this postulating activity actually re- 
lated to oar knowledge af ralitv? Much mare 
clesely than one might suppose. Verr much of our 
thoaght naturally rests upon a hind faith, or upon 
what many take to be a Nind faith: but this, when 
we reflect upon it with due attention to the affice it 
fills. ts transformed before our eves into practically 
anavoidahle postulates, Such are the assumptions 
apon which our science rests in forming its Weal af 
an “universal formula.” There may indeed be some 
deeper basis for these postulates af science, Bat 
waost men know nothing of this basis. And aq, when 
we accepted in our last chapter these postulates, we 
had to admit that they are a kind of faith. If we 
then nevertheless objected to certain religions doe 
trines that they rest on insufficient evidence, we did 
this because they ect themelves up as dogmas 


er wir 
i/ 


800 THK RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


With further consideration, we might come to accept 
some one of them again in the form, not of a demon- 
wtrable dogma, but of a practically unavoidable pos- 
tulate, uncertain of course, but taken and to be taken 
on rink ; just as every one of us goes through the 
world taking all sorts of rinks day by day. Any- 
thing not contradictory may be a possible object of 
postulates; although, again, overy postulate in to be 
anmnumed only after careful criticism, and only be- 
cause we cannot do better 
To do justios then to the propor office of portu 
lates in our religious theory, we must sooner or later 
consider in what casos they naturally arise, what is 
the propor oxtont of their use, what is the basin upon 
which they can be made, in any special case, to rest; 
and, flnally, whether, in view of all thin, we can give 
them any important place in our religious doctrine, 
Wo confess at once that we want something much 
better than a postulate an the basis of our religion, 
in case wo can got it. If postulates are to have any 
part in our religion, we want them to be justified by 
nome ultimate religious cortainty that is more than 
nu postulates. Wo shall investigate all that in time. 
Wo shall seo what we shall soo. Meanwhile, what 
| in the work of postulates in the actual daily lifo of 
| amen thergpght 7 
Popular belief about an external world is for the 
first an active assumption or acknowlodgmont of 
somothing more than the data of consciousness, 
What is directly given in our minds is not external, 
AN direct data aro intornal facts; and in the strict 
ost sense all data are direct. Suppose a merely paw 





THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES, 301 


sive acceptance of what is in consciousness, and you 
have no belief in an external world. An addition to 
the data of consciousness, a more or less clearly vol- 
untary reaction, is Invulved in your idea of external 
reality. The trath of this principle appears when 
your belief in any particular object is called in ques- 
tion. You hold that you see yonder a snowy moun- 
tain. Your companion insists that beyond the wide 
misty valley there is to be sen only a gray cloud. 
You reassert your belief. and in the reassertion feel 
more definitely than at first the active addition of 
your own belief to the meagre data of sense. The 
addition existed, however, in your first assertion. 
Or again, one man is trying, perchance in sport, to 
make another doubt the existenve of material ob- 
yoots. * There is no external matter,” says the first. 
“There are but these states of consciousness in our 
minds. Nothing beyond them corresponds to them.” 
The second, maintaining the position of the man of 
commion sense, returts sharply : * Doubdess [ cannot 
rofute altogether your tinespun arguments: but they 
are nevertheless nonsense. For I persist in believing 
in this world of sense. I live in it, T work for it, my 
fellows believe in it, our hearts are bound up in it 
our success depends upon our faith, Only dreamers 
doubt it. Tam not a dreamer, Here is a stone: 
T hit it. Here is a previpive; I fear and shun it. 
My strongest conviction is concerned with the exist 
ence of this work of sensa Do your worst: [ant 
not afraid of tlk.” Thus then by every device af 
the active spirit, by reminding himself of his must 
eberished interests, of his affections and hatreds, by 


802 THE RRLIGIOUR ARPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


arousing hie social sentiments, by bodily acta, the 
practical man preserves himself from fantastionl apes 
ulation, When better-trained thinkers call the belief 
in an external reality “a natural conviction, to be ra. 
tained until we are compelled to abandon it,” or “a 
convenient working hypothesis, to be received on the 
testimony of consciousness, testimony assumed to be 
trustworthy until the opposite ie proven,” what are 
these but similar practionl considerations, appeals to 
the will? Concerning data of immediate conscious 
news such remarke would be wholly out of place, 
That J seo a certain color at this moment ie nots 
“convenient working hypothesis,” Is conselousness 
maraly a “ presumably trustworthy witnew” when it 
tentifies to the pangs of toothache? Nobody eould 
balances evidence as to the reality of hie sensation 
quad sensation when conslousnass is filled with the 
sound of a strest-organ, Bound, color, pang, these 
are data, not merely things believed in, But the 
external world —that ts actively aevepted aa being 
eyinholizad or Indicated by the present conscious 
ness, HOt as being given in thé present conselousness, 

In short, the popular aasertion of an external 
world, belng an assertion of something beyond tha 
dita of conselousnesds, must begin in an aetivity of 
judgment that does more than merely reduce present 
data to order, Such an assertion must be an aetive 
construction of nonadata, We do not recelve in our 
senses, but we posit through our judgment, whatever 
external world there may for us be. If thera te 
really a deeper basis for this postulate of ours, still, 
ait the outwst, itis just a postulate, 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 303 


All theories, all hypotheses as to the external 
world, ought to face this fact of thought. If the his- 
tory of popular speculation an these topics could be 
written, how much of cowardice and shuffling would 
be found in the behavior of the natural mind before 
the question: ~ How dost thoa know of an external 
reality? Instead of simply and plainly answer 
ing : ~ I mean by the external world in the first place 
something that I accept or demand, that I posit, 
postulate, actively constrnct on the basis of sense- 
data,” the natural man gives us all kinds of vague 
compromise answers: “I believe in the external re- 
ality with a reasonable degree of confidence; the 
experience of mankind renders the existence of ex- 
ternal reality ever more and more probable: the 
Creator cannot have intended to deceive us: it is un- 
natural to doubt as to external reality: anly young 
people and fantastic persons doubt the existence of 
the external world : no man in his senses doubts the 
external reality of the world: science would be im- 
possihle were there no external world: morality is 
undermined by doubts as to the external world; the 
immovable confidence that we all have in the prn- 
ciple of causality implies the fixity of our belief in 
an external cause af our sensations.” Where shall 
these endless turnings and twistings have an end? 
The hahits of the law-courts as condensed into ~ rules 
of evidence.” the traditional rules of debate, the 
fashion of appealing to the * guod sense ~ of honor 
‘able gentlemen opposite, the motives af shame and 
fear, the dread of being called * fantastical.” Philis- 
time desire to think with the majonty, Philistine 


B04 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF FHILOROFHY, 


terror of all revolutionary suggestions, the fright or 
the anger of a man at fading somes metaphywlelen 
ery Saag tar cyrseswtlern what mesetea tar bees thes feonandations 
capone whaleste cornea’ boreal whrvrabingg clerposrecde, --all three 
Nesmmery taetdvere saves myrqoertalend tor, ened thee cones ultiinnte 
murtive fe naglaul, The wltinnte motive with the 
man of every-day life in thes will to have an enter 
nal world, Whatever conselousnoms contain, ronan 
WANE grecvmbonts Lan mpurnatastsseramby scllbige thes thastaghat s 
© Ubiat Gbacseres wDasadl Voce marseagetdadaagy Dosysrtned thibw.” The 
external venlity sa meh Ca, oy, ties wpe beyond the 
Favtlicwt ater, many opeacces reot mecsemnbliles, evens whatever 
in tort wh any inoment given In m far no it ie viewed 
from that moment, in particular avery pawt event) te 
never a detain, We conetruct but do not receive 
the external rendity, ‘She  lnmeovalle wertalaty " bn 
not wish «deal praive certainty ae that with whieh 
wes vedesdves ss gual ce sn ecleatoles whan, Shas pore 
Hine newness of na external world in the xed da 
termination to sinke one, now mol beneeforth, 

Die thes geererral poogradar camecptionn of reality we 
Mosel thers thas Newh ees of powtulaten, We lave am yet 
Hey justificntion for them, But even thus we get ng 
dashes giatatas Veleet oof thuscde vines ead of tele nner, Wa 
tiioh Laake ab thes facta of everyday mental life w Ht 
es snares cleanly, Moe theres is a curliin tondenay 
af many br miele Uiewe: postulates appenr something 
esheses Dasenn whatat, thucy saree, Cf Len Unecy saver Seoterrprrestend 
ny Uf tbecy were no postulates at all, but data of 
pacnaees, CDE taen, cagesabon, Ubeecde martiver osaterres fw bape 
parcel in yet another way, aud they appear aw blind 
gonad ves feahtle, Misch fue frat they snviwt agopnner If we 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. $05 


reflect upon their mere content, and not upon the 
processes by which we get them. Bat if we inter 
pret them rightly, we shall see that they ought to be 
regarded as beliefs, taken for the first on risk, and 
because the risk ts worth taking. 


Iv. 
Sometimes we hear men asserting that their be- 
liefs are independent of their will. Sach a man 
will express himself m some such way as the follow- 


~I try to conquer prejadice: but having done 
this, [ can do no more. My belief. whatever it is, 
forms itself in me. [ look on. My will has noth- 
ing to do with the matter. I[ can will to walk or 
eat: bat I cannot will to believe. I might as well 
will that my blood shoald circulate.” 

But is this expression a fair one? Does sacha 
man really remain passive in the struggle that goes 
on within him? We think not. These bebefs in 
sach a man have resulted. we hold, from a sort af 
strarvle between him and the surrounding work. 
The world has tried sometimes to check his thoaght, 
and to confine it to one channel: anmetimes to con- 
fuse his thought. and to scatter it into spray before 
the quick, heavy blows of innumerable, disconnected 
sense apparitions. Bat the man, if he is a man of 
energy, has controlled the current of his thoaght. 
He has foaght hard, now for freedom from oppres- 
sive narrowness of thoacht. now for wholeness and 


unity of thought: and perhaps be has in so far com 


BOG THE RELIGIONS ASPET OF PHILAKOPHY, 


agussev) um ty bee th tinater of wn rianly aed sneny- 
wishess mywterese orf shevctrinns, Woe thitshe belete romgunsmible 
for Unin myntotn 5 nnd wes build et any sash sen 
anager bar sasbensit, thes rongurnibsility, 

‘Bsa hash y Vorlethy Chas semtesres of thes prem involved 
fsa mb mscshe sommes will bos Senqerrtnnt for cnr whole 
Aswhaite, Wes wheadd meee thusreclry bearw seatscshs enter thre 
avy 6h thus world seta itaedf tend tor fall sander the 
Hrscmsl cof thus gravely grometioml, Wes whl) synrraciuto 
abacs thus Nisvitatisonn of crrdinury Uunighet, aed the 
paseecd | seh wsrssess Weigehuece she) wheasshared ter vemmsrtsss tam Frere 
thiss graves musbipeutivity of incre gwotsilatem, Asul wo 
whand) bos cxrtetribvrationg Vey thus way tr 0 cumbia of tp 
phere est aterm, thees cgenesmbderte oh thes sivornlity of lnliaf, 

Kvery onus resungnizven tint wt lena one sure abe 
ward lerurwhewlyes equctule Ineyely tapers one OWR 
sietttal muchivity, Kasrwing in nuh sieve: pan ree 
waepndorn ih Susctens ore od truths, Lomrning be nnd solely 
sate Wade oh thes sevectvrry, Thus rms inl withunset ree 
Wecetisrns cartasseitn theism So snectcory in juwhhy carte 
graven tor 2 prvi, maul sight yet surve jawtly bo 
canipraves| tor thus myoriges oA Neanlet’n figures 4 34 ie 
bist meynseying yin, nul, sgomye, yon wheall bow dey 
mgesaian.”” Nev berssswlhealyses, tects, witherst sschives heme 
gritaaditiy ise Shoes vevisesl thesnk vesachverm thes beresrwloulyges, 
Shut, am mower em wes vesungriizas bn snecttad Viker sin cnney 
gwrwery tar nenlify ney rurwlesl yes bry temsin of ier we 
wets vity, frat wy meen Mer add ther oolsl eonngmerlonin of 
thoes vsbswsl far a wow Sasbslech, ay mo whuecert, oof pragner, crv ta 
tAbucr Vike; jrtacen) vee wtsbijearte uf jrnprremeberts, bsomes Foor ta 
theciy muecseing, Mecrtssd Vifes tesunnem for us, in view 
Oh Wasrmes Varden, 0 Siedl of canimtant mtivity, ‘Thee ony 


monest processes of knowledge acquire a new sipuiii- 
cance. 

Two kinds of activity are concerned in the attain-' - 
meat of knowledge. One kind consists m simply . 
receiving impressions from without, sach as sensa- 
tions, or, on a higher plane, statements of truth; the 
other consists in modifying and in organizing these 
impressions. The receptive activity is partly a phys- 
teal activity, since the one who receives information 
mwast use his eyes and ears, must keep awake, mast 
at times move about; and this receptive activity 1s 
also partly made up of the mechanical processes of 
the mecmory. Association by contiguity, or earning 
by rote, is in the main a reveptive process, though 
this process of reception requires some active effort 
om the part of the receiver. Committing words and 
semtemnes to memory is often hard labor, as we all 
ef us learned when we first were tortured with il 
wrought seorraphies and grammars, ar with merc- 
Jess Latin declensions and oonjazations. Bat af the 
whole of this receptive activity we shall make no 
ime. keeping your mind im a submissive attitade, 
edge, but has no reactive effert. does not modify the 
form or the matter of your knewledze. Senandls, 
however, knowledce is determined for each of us 
by bis own reaction upon what he nweives: and 
this saoand mentioned Kind of mental activity. that 
which forms our topic at present. oansists in a mod 


808 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PITILOSOPHY. 


flontion as woll as in an organisation of what wo have 
rocolved from without. All processes of ronsoning, 
and so all original dincoverion in solonce and in phi 
lonophy, all spooulations, theories, doginas, controvete 
slew, and not only those complex procesos, but, as 
wo shall aes, oven slinple judgments, commonplace 
bellofs, momentary asta of attention, Invelve sugh 
Independent reaction upon the material furnished to 
ws from without. The nature of this reaction we 
are further to oxamine, 

Lot ous condor simpler forms of knowledge, 
PhestunesLonnporesmmieotin cvcrnmtecnitly miagggcernt tar tim theatagghite 
in frst, wo have fow thoughts that are not either Lin 
mnelliately sigyoatecd by suse -linprosions, ot else 
mintalned in thelr course by a continuous stroam of 
wititable sennedinprossions, ‘lo carry on oven a tral 
of abstriant rensoniiyg, sotae-linpromions either prem 
ont or repented secon necemary aa supports. But 
when sense-lmpromions come to us, what transform 
then date thought 7 

The answor in, Meat of all, attention, an sotive 
mental proce, "Thos xcnaelnpronion in itaelf not 
yet knowledge. Ao senaolinpromdon to which we 
give no attention slips through conslounnens as & 
man's hand through water, Nothiag grasps and ree 
tidinn dt. Paltitdes effet, dn goracluced by it. Tt ds wate 
known, You eannot even toll what it iss Kor to 
know what such an tnnotdesed Imnproadon te world 
he tor pay attention ta dt. But let as now consider 
none fanilian exmnaples of the working of attention, 
A simple dnatines will being home to as how the 
houndarion of our consuiousnions are crowded with um 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 309 


known mapressnons — unknown, becamse not sttended 
to: bat yet im some imexphcable way a part of oar 
comscomsness. smce an effort of aiteminom serves to 
bem them. amy ome of them, cheariy into mental 
wesnom. At thes mmstamt you are booking at some 
thm. Now. withoat movie your eves try. br 
merely aitemdins to your vinxal Dmpressoms te say 
wheat as mow un the field of visom. and where ts the 
boundary lime of the field of visom. The exper 
weeat ts a bite hand. became oor eves. condensed 
exabodimments as ther are of tireless carosnity. are al- 
ways restless, amd rebel when wou try to bold them 
fast. Bat eomquer them for am imstant. and watch 
the resalt, As your attemtom roams aboot the arti 
Geetally fixed vismal field. vom will at first, imdeed. be 
comfased br the vacmemess of all butt the cemtre : Dest 
eoom wou will fimd. to wour surprise. that there are 
more different umpresssoms mm the theld tham vou at 
first cam distimzunsh One after ameter. many va- 
Whos impressions will appear, But moe: wou can 
keep vour atwmmon fixed om only a portmem of the 
field at a tmme. The rest of the field ms always los 
ma adm hare You most be receivime Impressoms 
alll the time ffrom all] points ef the field. Bat alll of 
these. except the few no which wou par athemman. 
meariv or quite disappear im the dim thockets what 
seem to surround the lite forest-chaarime made by 
our athentive qamachoasmess, A ke experment can 
be tried with the semee of bearime. whem wo are im 
a hrze room fall of peop who are taliime all areond 
You im many independent sroaps A mass of sound 
@ummes to your ear. Comsciamsmess interferes to make 


810 = THK RELIGIOUN AKPKOT OF PITILOSOPRY, 


you plok out one or another of the serlen of sounds, 
an wait which in tndead made pombble by the natural 
analytlo tondongy of the human auditory sense, but 
Which does not take place without a notlooable effort 
of attontilon, When you are lowrning a foreign lan 
guage, and are fora while mach among those who 
wponk It, there comes a thine when your oar and 
nia are woll enough tralned to follow and under 
wtand ordinary sponkers with only a Uttle affort of 
attention; but yot, at thin stage, you are able, by 
dlinply withdrawing your attention a mere trifle, to 
lot very common phrawn rian through your sense 
without your wndoritanding them one whit, You 
oan this, by a aight change of attontion, convert 
the fornign language from a jargon Into a famillar 
wpawoh, and back apni Into a jargon, juntas, ln the 
fixed vinual flold, you oan make yourself soa an ob 
Joot protty plainly, or lone it altogether, by ooaslag 
to give attention, 

All then Instances, which could ho indefinitely 
multiplied, prove, fest, that what we call attention 
mocdiflon the knowledge that wo at any moment got | 
andl necondly, that thin modi fontion, through atten 
tion, may take plan without any ohange in the line 
proisions that at any moment come from wlthout. 
The tlrat atagge inv gotta knowledge from bare sane. 
Lnpromions in therefore the modifloation of son hy 
attention oa proce belonging wholly to the stb 
Jootive sidey doe. to our own minds 

But what in uttention ? nnd how doo tt modlfy 
donmtion ? Apparently, attention in the provions 
dnatancon haw bean maroly a power to Inoroase or te 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. $11 
diminish the intensity of impressions. But is this 
all that attention does? No: there are many cases 
in which attention directly affects the quality, at 
Jeast of our complex impressions, This direct modi- 
fication is commonly attended by some alteration of 
our emotional state. It is a familiar fact, that in 
Listening to a series af regular and even beats, such 
as the strokes af an engine, or af a pendulum, or the 
teking of a watvh, wo have a tendency to modify 
the impressions by introducing into their series the 
more elaborate regularity of rhythm. In paying at- 
tention to them, we increase, at our pleasure, the in- 
tensity of overy third or fourth beat as heard, and 
90 make a rhythm, or series of measures, out of the 
actually monotonous impressions, Now attention, 
which here first acts by modifying the intensity of 
impressions, soon produces the effect af qualitatively 
raodifying our total impressien of the whale series, 
If I have taken the fancy to listen to the even 
strokes in quadruple time, intensifying by my own 
act every fourth stroke, the character af the series is 
changed fer me. The impressions are less monoto- 
nous, and they arouse new associations, They seem 
to be cansed by some foree that rhythmically in- 
creases and decreases. Perhaps a melody, or some 
phrase of a few wounds, arises in my mind, and per 
sists in assuwiating itself with the strakes. Probably 
some vague feeling, as af rhythmic motion through 
the air, or of pleasure or of displeasure in the pres- 
egce of some rhythmically moving living being, is 
awakened. Qualitatively, my consciousness Is thus 
altered through my attention. I seem to be expert 


B12 «FH RELIGION ASFRAT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


ecneshiage mmrtesectbidinge tint, ww ate clijeetive renlity, T de 
terh exe getcelesnees, — Marves wthviing Nnnunnen thin qualie 
taetives saltesrmbiony orf ecngusrlecnens Miverigeh mtterttierit, 
ite ccs erie Verdin fewer watechien oof iffecrent band, a 
me weatecde satel sa eclencle, send detects fer asthe wt cries Wb 
tlves imtsstees of in few ined, Newt, pcrhape, aepping 
ines ear ty navel centioien, Were, by attention, 
yin take oF fey ta ninke & connganind rhythin, 
mse Arim effort, wbtern oo prwnd betel tes terteal linyrrete 
wherts thet yet clestives Frente thes mend, FF the two 
nevies are wtih Hiatt alinple sinll multiple of the 
fitecrval of erties piven yint te wien monll mnitiple of 
dees ertheest’n interval, yer ean centnbrites tes te series 
Hieber rtses ebiythion, mad Alec theres in mn finmnedinte 
Hiseqovecnsierte nm if Ales bees pecrlon weeres venlly bat the 
carnegie Ahecbeinige orf srttes netizens of mend, Dat if the 
pies heces Will vasrh tagereces, Abeeses im sare ended mestenes orf mentite 
tbadnege weertge, te listagrpnritsbesd efferet, tar cannibitig, 
feritaccal,, precelisagm, with leniency tor bineten ene of the 
pots heses, te tam tor ttetabess 1h fagereces with thes ether, Ane 
(rb deece tacts wheres tattecntion altecre tie onlity of total 
dneegressersierton, teed tere anecrecdy thes intennity of any 
grsrt, mgrpasers dee casttain poyeludleplonl lalurratery en: 
gece devnestutas, sesoecribiced bry Worrell ite bebe Playwteder 
ghee Seyeberlengio.” Mere, tere thes mikes of deter: 
dasheadenge tees seachaniad tanaees taabecses Wry sate seek oof webbectebiortt, 
fate tabvcese yest im Aer tretebecs tage tcbecesheies migetiel fm mentee ae 
byes Nneertnee suing of te crtelte innprreonien, while 
Abies Dnesprrccmdorny ited ty qreewbiceel bry tte maletanit wb & 
fA vnaes comet y sectecrresi nea). Wha mertareces orf thes feeapengme 
pederny iy tbees einegedeage cof ta bell, thes Meals of ane electetie 
npierh, ie msinething of thes hind agreed upon at the 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. $13 


eatset. Teo distinguish from one another the various 
causes of the delay of the signal, the cunditiuns af 
experiment are vanously meditied. In one set af 
experiments, the observer dues not knew beforehand 
whether he is te experience a flash af heht, or a 
sound, or same sensation of touch. nor hew intense 
the sensation will be, ner when it will come; bat he 
knows that he is to be on the loukout for one of the 
three kinds of sensation. He waits. with attention 
all aroused. In this case, it always takes him longer 
to sivnal than if he knew beforehand the kind and 
the strencth of the coming sensativn. Moreover, bis 
attention now makes him uneasy: the coming sen- 
sation is expected, with signs of excitement, and 3&8 
often received with a start. Here the feeling of ef- 
fort that accompanies attention affects by its strength 
the character of the impression reveived. Morevrer, 
ia many of these experiments there appear phenom. 
ena that show that attention alters our perception 
of tame, not merely as to lenyth. but also as to se 
qeence ; so that under circumstances, an impression 
that really precedes another can appear in consciows- 
Bess as succeeding it. Yet more: attention some. 
times serves te combine two sets af simultaneous im- 
pressions, and to make them seem as if proceeding 
from one souree. 

Se much for the influence of attention alone. But 
what ts attention? We reply. evidently an active 
process. When impressions are moditied by atten- 
tion, they are actively mrodittad, And if vou ask 
about the nature of this active process, the reply is. 
ateention, in its most elementary forms, is the same 


fe, a aia 


814 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


activity that ina more developed shape we commonly 
call will, We attend to one thing rather than to 
another, because we will to do #0, and our will is 
here the elementary impulse to know. Our attention 
loads us at times into error, But this error is merely 
an acoompaniment, the result of our will activity. 
We want to intensify an imprenion, to bring it 
within the sphere of knowledge. But in carrying 
out our impulse, we do more than we meant. We not 
only bring something into clearvr consoloumness that 
was before out of clear consciousness, but we quali 
tatively modify thin thing in attending to it. I want 
to observe a sorien of boats, and in observing it, I 
make one beat in three or four seem heavier than the 
others, or I aven alter the apparent length of one ine 
turval in three or four, by making it sean longer 
than the othera. I observe a serion of visual im- 
promiona, and at the samo time a series of auditory 
impressions; if there ina certain agreement between 
them, | irresistibly unite these two serion by my aot 
of attention into one series, and refor them to a com. 
mon onde, And so in the other onsen, Attention 
noon to defent, in part, its own object. Bringing 
something into the fleld of knowledge seams to be 
a modifying, if not a transforming, proconn, 

Wo all know how this sumo law works on a higher 
plane. Giving our whole attention fora time to a 
partioular subject seoma necessary for the growth of 
our knowledge, Yot such attention, if long kept up, 
alwaya modifies our power to know, affeota our whole 
montal condition, and thua injures our power to ap- 
prociaty the relations between the subject of our 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. $156 


study and the other things in the world. Constant 
attention to ane thing narrows our minds, until we 
fail to see the very thing we are looking at. Our 
lives are thus really passed in a constant flitting 
from one more ar less partial and distorted view of 
things to anvther, from this one-sided judgment to 
that. Change the book you are reading, and your 
whole notion of the universe suffers same momentary 
change also. Think this week in the fashion of 
Carlyle, attending to things as he brings them to 
your attention, and human life — in fact, the whale 
workd of being as you thought of it last week, when 
you were fullowing some other guide — becames mo- 
mentarily clouded. This truth seems out of relation 
to that. Your change of attention qualitatively alters 
your apprehension of truth. Attending now even to 
the same things, you view them in new lights. The 
alteration of mental attitude becomes confusing to 
yourself. But refuse to make any such changes, set- 
tle down steadfastly to sume one way of regarding 
all things, and your world becomes yet more misty. 
You see only a few things, and those in such a bad 
light that you are in danger of utter darkness. Fre- 
quent change of mental view (we of course do not 
mean constant change of creed or of occupation, but 
only frequent alteration of the direetion of our 
thought) is essential to mental health. Yet this 
alteration implies at least some temporary ¢ in 
our knowing powers, and so some change in our ap- 
preciation of truth. 

Refure going on to speak of the effect of our own 
activity upon our knowledge, when attention is com- 


816 THK RELIGIOUS ABPEOT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


bined with active recognition of impressions, we 
want to formulate the law that governs the sction 
of attention upon sonse-lmprenions apart from reo 
ognition, ‘This law seems pretty well established by 
experience, and in, ut all events, quite simple, Tt is 
thin: Any wet of attention tonds, first, to strengthen 
the particular set of impressions to which it is at the 
moment mlapted ; and secondly, to modify thowe ime 
premions in buch a way as shall nuke the total im- 
pression derived from them all as simple an impres 
dion as possible, ‘Theno two statements could be 
reduced to one, thus: Attention constantly tends 
to make our consciousness nore definite and lew 
complex ; that in, less confused and more united, 
More definite, less confused attention tends to make 
consciousness; since, out of many vague impressions, 
attention fixes upon one or a few, and helps them 
to crowd out the others, Less complex and more 
united or integrated attention makes the impressions 
attended to; as when, for the indefinite multiplicity 
of the successive even beats of a wateh or of an en- 
gine, attention substitutes the simpler form of a rin 
ing wand Salling rhythm of more and less emphatic 
beats, or ws when two parallel series of impressions 
wre reduced to one, by combination. Tf impressions 
wre Ko complex and so imperative in their demands 
ni to impede yrontly the simplifying and clarifying 
efforts of attontion, the result is a disagreeable feel- 
ing of confusion, that may increase to violent pain. 
This Jaw, that our consciousness constantly tends 
ty the minimum of complexity and to the maximum 
of definitenom, ix of great importance for all pur 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 317 


knowledge. Here we have a limitation that cannot 
be overleaped. Whatever we come to know, what- 
ever opinions we come @ hold, our attention it is 
that makes all our knowing and all our believing 
possible: and the lawa followed by this, our own ac. 
tivity of attention will thus determine what we are 
to know and what we are to believe. If things have 
more than a certain complexity. not only will our 
limited powers of attention forbid ua to unravel this 
complexity, but we shall strongly desire to believe 
the things actually much simpler than they are. For 
our thoughts about them will have a constant ten- 
dency to become as simple and definite aa possible. 
Put a man into a porfect chaos of phenomena, sights, 
aounds, fochings : and if the man continued to oxint, 
and to bv rational at all. hie attention would doubt. 
less acon find for him a wav t make up mune kind 
of rhythmic regularity, which he would impute to the 
things about him, se ae to imagine that he had die 
covered some law af sequence in this mad new world. 
And thus, in every caso where we fancy ourrel ves 
eure of a nimple law of Nature, we must remember 
that a good deal of the fancied ainplicity may be due 
in the given case not to Nature, but to the ineruli- 
cable prejudice of our own minda in favor of regular 
ity and simplicity. All our thought: ie determined, 
in great measure, by this law of least offort. as it is 
found exemplified in our activity of attention. 

Rut attention ie net the only influence that goes 
to traneform acnseimpreasions into knowledge. At- 
tention never worke alone, but alwaye in company 


with the active procesa of recognizing the present 


$18 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


asin some way familiar, and of constrooting in the 
present ideas of what is not present. At these two 
other active processes we must very briefly glance, 
Recognition is involved in all knowledge. Hesny- 
nition does not always moan s definite memory of 
partionlar past experience that resembles s present 
one. On the contrary, recognition ia frequently 
only « sense of familiarity with something new pres 
ent, conpled with s more or less distinet applying of 
seine predicate to this present thing. 1 recognize » 
herse, & landacape, 2 star, = friend, a pieoe of music, 
a book, when I feel mere or less familiar with the 
impression of the object in question, and when, at 
the same time, I predicate more or less distinetly 
something of it. This, 1 say, is my friend, or the 
north star, or Webster's Dictionary, or Smith's 
here. Or, perhaps, in recengnizing, I recognize, not 
merely the whole object, but one of ita qualition, 
om of ita relation to other things. Then I say, thie 
ia large or small, good or bad, equal or anequal to 
another thing, and soon. In all there canes, recog: 
nition involyesa lively renetion of my mind upon ex- 
ternal impressions. Recognition is not found apart 
fronn attention, theongh attention may exist more oF 
kiss connpletely withont recognition.  Reoognition 
completes what attention begins. The sttentive 
man wants to know, the revognizing man knows, or 
thinks that he knows. Hecoynition implies sceom- 
panying attention. Attention withont recognition 
iinplies wonder, enriosity, perplexity, perhaps terror, 
Hut what is the law of this provess of recognition ? 
Dues the provess affect the impressions themeclves 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. $19 


that are the basis of the recognition? The answer 
is: Very distinctly, recognition does affect the im- 
pressions. The activity involved in recognition al 
ters the data of sense, and that in almost every case. 
Two of the ways in which this alteration occurs 
are these: (1.) In recognizing, we complete present 
data by remembered past data, and so seem to expe 
rience more than is actually given t our senses, 
Thus, then, in reading, we read over misprints (even 
against our own will), thinking that we see words 
when we do not see them, or when we see only parts 
of them. Again: in listening to an indistinct 
speaker we often supply what is lacking in the sounds 
he makes, and seem to hear whale words when we 
really hear but fragments of wonls. Or, merely 
whistling a few notes, we recall to ourselves, and 
seem to have present, the camplex instrumental har 
mony of some music that we have heard played. 
Or, in dim twilight, we imagine the form of a man, 
and seem te sve it plainly in detail, when, in fact a 
mass of shrubbery, or a coat on a chair, is the one 
source of our impressions, In all these cases, the 
activity of recognition alters the data of sense, by 
adding to them, by filling out the sketch made by 
them. (2.) However, even the qualities af senseim.- 
pressions are altered accanding to the way in which 
we recognize their objects. The colors of a landscape 
are dimmer, and less signiticant as colors, so long 
as we recognize the objects in the landscape. Louk 
ander your arm, with head inverted, and the calors 
flash out with unwonted brilliancy. For when you 


80 look, you lose sight of the objects as such, and 


820 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


give your attention solely to the colors. Mistake a 
few brown leaves in some dark corner of a garden 
for some little animal, and the leaves take on for the 
moment the distinctive familiar color of the animal ; 
and when you discover your blunder, you can catch 
the colors in the very act of fading into their dull, 
dry-leaf insignificance. Many facts of this sort are 
recorded by psychologists and by artists, and can be 
observed by any of us if we choose. To separate a 
sensation froin its modifications that are produced 
by recognition is not a little difficult. 

Now, in both these kinds of alteration a law is 
observed, very similar to the one previously noted. 
The alterations of the data of sense in the moment of 
recognition are alterations in the direction of simplic- 
ity and definiteness of consciousness. The present 
is axsitnilated to the past; the new is made to seem 
as familiar as possible. This reaction of the mind 
upon new impressions is easily seen in our thoughts 
and words in the first moment of great surprise or 
fright. When Macbeth turns from his door to the 
table, and sees the ghost of Banquo in his chair, his 
first words are not the “ Avaunt, and quit my 
sight!” wherewith he greets the second appearance 
of the ghost, nor yet even the “ Which of you have 
done this?” that he utters as soon as he recovers 
himself. No: his first conscious reaction, in pres- 
ence of the horrible impression, is a quiet remark, 
“ The tuble’s full.” And when they tell him that 
there is a place reserved, he persists with a 
“Where?” In this scene, Shakespeare's instinct 


is perfectly accurate. Our effort always is to make 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 821 


the new as familiar as possible, even when this new 
is inconceivably strange. It takes us some time to 
realize, as we say, a great change of any sort. Reo- 
ognition, however, is yet further modified by the in- 
terest with which we at any moment attend to thingy. 
But when we speak of interest, we are led to the 
third kind of active modification by which our minds 
determine for us what we know. | 

At every moment we are not merely receiving, at- 
tending, and recognizing, but we are constructing. 
Out of what from moment to moment comes to us, 
we are building up our ideas of past and future, and 
of the world of reality. Mere dead impressions are 
given. We turn them by our own act into symbols 
of a real universe. We thus constantly react upon 
what is given, and not only modify it, but even give 
it whatever significance it comes to possess. Now 
this reaction takes a multitude of forms, and cannot 
be fully discussed without far more than our present 
space. But we can name one or two prominent 
modes of reaction of mind upon sense-data in this 
province of mental life. 

1. Definite memory is possible only through pres- 
ent active construction from the data of feeling. 
Nothing can come to ua certifying for itself that it 
formed a part of our previous experience. When 
we know a thing asx past, we actively project our 
idea of it into a conceived past time. Without this 
active interference of our own minds, everything 
would be but a present, and there would be no time 
for us, only fleeting life from moment to moment. 


2. Definite belief in external reality is possible 
21 


822 = THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


only thremgh this active addition of something of 
one own to the impressions that are actually given 
to ns. No external reality is given to us in the mere 
senae-inrpressions. What in outside of us cannot be 
at the same time within us. But ont of what is in 
ts, we cometrnet an ides of an external world. To 
be sure this belief needs higher justification, like all 
other beliefs. But at the outast it is jast an setiv- 
ity of cmes. 

%. All abstract ideas, all general truths, all know)- 
edge of necomary laws, all seceptance of doctrines, 
begin in like fashion, through an active proses com 
ing from within. Change the fashions of our men- 
tal activity, and nobody can tell how radioally you 
wold change our whole conception of the universe. 

4. All this active comstrnetion from sense-impres- 
siims exproses cortain fundamental interests that 
one human spirit takes in reality. We want to have 
na oworld of nm partionlar character; and so, from 
RenM-iInpreNsiCnn, we are comstantly trying to beild 
ap such aworld. We are prejudice! in favor of 
regularity, necossity, and simplicity in the world ; 
and so we continually manipulates the data of senne 
for the nuke of bailding up a notion of # regular, 
nwwossary, and simple universe. And so, thongh it 
is true that our knowledge of the world is deter- 
mined by what is yiven to cur menos, it is equally 
trues that our idea of the world is determined qnite 
am much bry one own active combination, completion, 
anticipation f sense experiences, Thos all knowing 
iM, in a vary deep senns, noting ; it is, in fact, remet- 
ing ar creation. ‘The mont insignificant knowledge 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 823 


is in some sense an original product of the man who 
knows. In it is expressed his disposition, his power 
of attention, his skill in recognition, his interest in 
reality, his creative might. Exact knowledge is, in 
fact, best illustrated by cases where we ourselves 
make what we know. So only is mathematical 
knowledge possible; mathematical ideas are all prod- 
ucts of a constructive imagination. And so it is in 
all other thought-life. Mentally produce, and thou 
shalt know thy product. But we must remember, 
for what we produce we are in some sense morally 
responsible; and thus, in discussing the nature of 
knowledge, we are trespassing on the bordenland of 
ethics. 

To sum up all in a few words: Plainly, since ac- 
tive inner processes are forever modifying and build- 
ing our ideas ; since our interest in what we wish to 
find does so much to determine what we do find ; 
since we could not if we would reduce ourselves to 
mere registering machines, but remain always build- 
ers of our own little worlds, — it becomes us to can- 
sider well, and to choose the spirit in which we shall 
examine our experience. Every one is certain to be 
prejudiced, simply because he does not merely re- 
ceive experience, but himself acts, himself makes ex- 
perience. One great question for every truth-seeker 
is: In what sense, to what degree, with what motive, 
for what end, may I and should I be prejudiced ? 
Most of us get our prejudices wholly from the fash- 
ions of other men. This is cowardly. We are re- 
aponsible for our own creed, and must make it by 
our own hard work. Therefore, the deepest and 


—~—. 


824 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


most important of all questions is the one, “ For 
whut art thou ut work?” It is useless to reply, « J 
wm merely noting dawn what I find in the world. 
Lam not responsible for the facts.” The answer isa, 
“A mere note-book thou art not, but a man. These 
are never simply notes; thy thoughts are always 
transformed reality, never mere copies of reality. 
For thy transforming activity, as well as for thy 
skill in copying, thou art answerable.” 


V. 


Jt is not then that postulates occur here and 
there in our thoughts, but that, without postulates, 
both practical life and the commonest results of the- 
ory, from the simplest impressions to the most valu- 


' able beliefs, would be for most if not all of us ut 


' terly impossible ; this it is which makes active faith 


60 prominent a subject for philosophical considera- 
tion. An imperfect reflection makes that appear as 
blind faith which ought to appear as postulate. In- 
stead of saying that he takes all these things on 
risk, and because they are worth the risk, the natu- 
ra] man is persuaded by such imperfect reflection to 
say that he trusts very ardently that he is running 
no risk at all. Or ayain: the natural man is moved 
to fear any examination into the bases of his thought, 
because he does not wish to discover that there is 
any risk there. And so we live dishonestly with 
our thoughts. Where there is a deeper basis, that 
involves more than mere risk, let us find it if we can, 


But where we have nothing better than active faith, 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. $25 


let us discover the fact, and see clearly just why it 
is worth while to act in this way. 

To speak more particularly of the postulates of 
developed science. The ancient discussions about 
the basis of physical knowledge of all sorts have 
had at least this as outcome, that it is useless to pre- 
tend to make science of any sort do without assump- 
tions, and equally useless to undertake the demon- 
stration of these assumptions by experience alone. 
No one has ever succeeded in accomplishing such a 
thing, and the only difference among thinkers about 
these assumptions is that some think it worth while 
to seek a transogndental basis for them all, while 
others insist that a transcendental basis is as impos- 
sible as a purely experimental basis is inadequate, 
and that in consequence we can only use the form of 
threat and say: Unless you make these assumptions, 
the spirit of science is not in you. As for the exact 
form that in more elaborate scientific work ought 
to be taken by these postulates, opinion differs very 
much, but an approximation to their sense may be 
attempted very briefly as follows. 

In addition to those postulates that. as we have 
seen, accompany and condition all thinking alike, 
science may be considered as making a more special 
assumption. This assumption has been well defined 
by Professor Avenarius, in his well-known essay on 
“Die Philosophie als Denken der Welt Gemiiss dem 
Princip des kleinsten Kraftmasses.” He regards it 
as an outcome of the general law of parsimony that 
governs all mental work. The world of phenomena 
is conceived at any stage in the simplest form, and 


826 = THE RELAGIONIS ASPKOT OF PHILAKOrHY, 


the roulity that we sept in for us at any time the 
Mtrrplent description of the phenemens ae known to 


ws, To put thin view in our own way, wo might 
nay that the world in msiontifieslly viewed ne nm pst 


festly united whole, which would, if fally known, 
fully satinfy our highest mental desire for continuity 
aiul perfect regularity of conception. Therefore it 
ia that the “universal formula” of the lant chapter 
fe 6 comuuytion that exprenen the scientific ideal. 
With laws perfection, harmony, andl anity of thenght 
alant the world, ntenes will never rest content ao 
Leng wa shes comtinnem to be netones, But for thin 
very rennin silences pomtilaten that thin perfect order 
rant be slrouly ronlized in the world. It in net 
inerely that thin order in the practically tinattainahle 
bt still necenary idenl fer onr reasons but wo 
fram pontalate that this order in alronly present in 
things, far off as our thought is from it, This pow 
telate given life ty onr melentifie thenght. Withent 
ft one search for wn order that need not exist in 
tneatinglom play. 

This postulated order, however, if found, world 
mean for un relative sinplicity amd economy of com- 
ception. ‘The infinite masa of phenamens would be 
camusived aa one whole, The maximnm of wealth 
of fate world he grasped with the tinimemn of men 
tal effort, We pomtnulate after thin fashion that the 
world loves parsiineny, even as we do, 

To iMustrate bry the cans of one aciencs, A great 
trosustese cf rrveechisesnictel mectestiees ham eadled it thes science 
which given the sitplost pemsible description of the 
mitions in the world, Tf we acoept thin accent of 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. S27 


mechanics, we are at once puzzled by the fact that 
the forces at work in the world, and that all of them 
predict coming facts. Bat forces form no part of 
the experience or of the mere description of motion. 
And the future is not yet given to be described. 
How then does all this agree with the definition in 
question? Very well indeed. For those who as- 
same forces to explain given motions, always assume 
Jast those forces that will directly explain, not any 
description at random of the motions given in expe- 
Mence, but the simplest possible description. Any 
lute. we can assume at pleasure any point in the 
world as the ongi or pomt of reference that shall 
be regarded as at rest, and so we can get an infinite 
number of descriptions of any given motions We 
can make any object in the world move at any de- 
sired speed or m any desired direction, simply by 
altering the origin to which we shall choose to refer 
its motion in oar deseription thereof. But all these 
possible descriptions are not equally useful for the 
purposes of the science. Some one of them is the 
simplest for all the motians of the system in ques- 
tion ; and this we regard as best expressing the ac- 
tual natural truth in the matter. The assumption 
ef just such forces as would explain this simplest 
system of motions as described, satisfies wu. We 
say, these forees are the real ones at work. Bat 
still we know that the forces assumed only express 
m another form the fact that the deseriptian in ques- 
tion is the simplest. Is this, however, really all that 


$28 THER RELIGIOUS ASPEOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


the science does with the given motions? No, one 
thing more the science assumes, namely, that if the 
| system of motions in question is not subject to any 
external influence, it will remain fundamentally and 
_ in deepest truth the same in future, that is: Zhe 
simplest description of the given motions in a sys- 
tem of bodies that ts wholly independent of the ac- 
tion of bodies without the system, this description 
és permanent for all states of the system. This 
assumption is needed before mechanical science can 
venture on any prediction, or beyond mere descrip- 
| tion of past and present motions, This is the pos- 
\ tulate of the uniformity of nature in its mechanical 
‘shape.! The complete present description of the 
world would reveal the whole future of the world. 

What, however, does this postulate of uniformity 
express for our thought? What is the philosoph- 
ieal outcome of it? It expresses for our thought the 
demand that nature shall answer our highest intel- 
lectual needs, namely, the need for simplicity and 
absolute unity of conception. Mechanical science 
can no more do without this assumption than can 
any other science. 

The ground that we have here very briefly passed 
over is known to all readers of modern controversy. 
We can only add our conviction that, as far as it 
goes, the foregoing view is a perfectly fair one. 
Whether or no there be any deeper basis for this 


* Professor Clifford, in his esaay on Theories of the Physical 
Forces, in his Lectures and Essays, vol. i., p. 109 sqq., has under- 
taken to reduce this postulate to the general one of Continuity 
The philosophical outcome would be the same. 


TRE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 329 


postulate, it is sure that science makes the postulate, 
and does not give any deeper basis for it, For nat 
ural science it is a faith. 

Now this faith, not blind faith but postulate, not 
basely submitted to merely because we must submit 
to it, but boldly assumed because we think it worth 
the risk, wherein does it differ from what our funda 
mental religious faith would be if we made of that 
also noe mere dogmatic creed, but a general assump. 
tien, no mere passive trust, but an active postulate ? 
Beneath all the beliefs that we could not demon- 
atrate in our last chapter, lay the determination not 
ao much to preve one castiren aysten of dogmas, 
as to find same clement of reality that should have 
an intinite worth, The world should be at least as 
high as our highest conception of goodness. And 
to this end the partial evil should be in’ deepest 
reality universal good, even though our huperfect 
eyes could never show to us how this vould be, - 
could never seo through the illusion to the “image. 
Jess truth " beneath. Therefore, although we vainly 
aught among the Powers of the world for proof of 
all this, may we not still hope to appreach the 
Eternal Reality with these postulates, and tu ay: 
“Though thou revealest to us nothing, yet we be- 
lieve thee good, And we do so because this faith of 
ours is a worthy one” Posdbly then our Religion 
will be just the highest form af our conduct itself, 
pur determination to make the warld good for our: 
eolves, whatever baseness experience shows us in it 
Then wo can say: dust as avience is undaunted by 


the vision of the world of confusion, eo shall our re 


880 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ligious faith be undaunted by the vision of the evil 
of the world. We shall war against thin ovil in the 
trust that the highest reality is not against us, but 
with us, just aa we try to comprehend the world with 
the faith that the highest reality is in conformity 
lwith our private reason, In both cases wo take tho 
risk, but we take the risk because it in worth taking, 
because to take it is the highest form of autivity. 
As the faith of science helps to make life rational, 
‘go tho religious faith helps to make life in the high- 
eat sense moral, by insisting that the ideal labors of 
; our moral life are undortaken not alone, but in har. 
mony with the world as known to the Infinite. 

To make the parallel a little clearer, wo may say 
that science postulates the truth of the description 
of the world that, among all the possible doscrip- 
tions, at once includes the given phenomena and at- 
tains the preatost simplicity; while religion assumes 
the truth of the description of the world that, with- 
out falsifying the given facts, arouses the highest 
moral intorest and satisfies the highest moral needs. 

All thin has often been said, but it has not always 
been cloarly enough joined with the practical sug- 
goxtion that if one gives up one of these two faiths, 
he ought consistently to give up the other. If one 
is woary of the religious postulates, let him by all 
means throw them aside, But if he doos this, why 
does he not throw aside the scientific postulates, and 
give up insisting upon it that the world is and must 
be rational? You, lot him be thorough-going, and, 
sincs the very perception of the walla of his room 
contains postulates, let him throw away all those 


THE WORLD OF THE POSTULATES. 331 


too, and dwell in the chaos of sensations 
unfriended. There is no reason why he should uot 
do this unless he aes a deeper foundation for his 
postulates. We have no more dogmas to urge here, 
Let one abandon all mere postulates if he has not 
the courage to make them, but then let one vansist- 
ently give them all up. The religious postulates 
are not indeed particular creeds, One may abandon 
creeds of many sorts, and yet keep the fundamental 
postulate, But if he abandons the fundamental poe . 
tulate of religion, namely, that universal goodness 
is somehow at the heart of things, then he ought 
consistently to coase from the fundamental poste 
late of svience, namely, that universal, ordenloving 
reason is somehow the truth of things. And to do 
both is to lack the courage of rational and of moral 
life. 

Such is the way of the postulatea. And yet we 
desire to find, if we can, a more excellent way. 
These postulates must be contirmed if possible, and 
then subordinated to higher result. It was the 
skeptical work af the last chapter to turn attention 
away from false or incanclusive methods af estab- 
lishing religious faith, There we saw how much 
muat seem, acoarding to all the ardinary apologetic 
methods, thearetically doubtful. In this chapter we: 
have seen how postulates, thearetically uncertain, | 
but practically worth the risk, are at the foundatian 
of our whole lives, Hereatter we shall seek to dig 
beneath these foundations to that other sort of theo 
retical certainty whervef we have made mention. If 


we get it, then all our work will have been worth 


882 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


while. Our skeptician will have saved us from an- 
tiqguated methods, aad from worn-out dogmas. Our 
faith will have been purified by being reduced wo 
certain sunple postulates that are not Wentical with 
the traditional creeds, although those creeds tried to 
express them. And both our skepticiam and our 
faith will then finally become elements of a broader 
Religious Insight. 

The dead external reality, into whow darkness we 
had to peer in vain for light, has indeed transformed 
itwelf? tis no more merely dead, or merely exter 
nal. [tis ours and for us. It was a world of doubt 
in the last chapter, just because we made it dewd 
and external. Now that we have wen how it was 
the expression of postulates, it wens to have become 
plastic and ideal, Yet what it has gained in plas 
ticity, it has lost in authority. After all, is not this 
business of postulating into the void a dangerous 
one? Js it not a hollow and empty activity this, if 
we really refleet upon it? Courage indeed we must 
have; but is religion no more than courage? Nay 3 
we must have if possible some eternal Truth, that 
is not our postulate, to rest upon, Can we not get 
Bome such comfort? And may there not be some 
higher relation of our lives to that truth, — such a 
relation that the truth shall be neither the arbitrary 
product of our subjective postulates, nor a dewl ex- 
ternal reality such as was the world of doubt? We 
are bound still to search, 


CHAPTER X. 


IDRALIRM, 


Bic ror Sher elparde deat hear 42 a ether dyer the Ged 
ARTIETUCLR, concerning the devtrine of Xenrphanes. 


STILL we are wecking the Eternal,  Postulates 
about it we must indeed make, or else we shall do 
nothing. But can we not go beyond the mere postu 
lates? Is there no other rad open to the heart of 
things?) Tn fact many other wave have been sue 
gested, The religiously interesting efforts towanls 
& sugyestion af such ways have been the special work 
of philosophical Idealism in the past. Let us then 
we to what results philosophical Idealian offers to 
lead us. 


1. 


\ “The world of dead facts is an illusion. The| 
trath of it is a spiritual life.” That is what philo- 
sophical idealism says. This spiritual life may be 
defined in many ways. Bat the multitude af the 
ways of detining it do not altogether obscure the 
sense of the doctrine, Plato and St. Augustine and 
Berkeley and Fichte and Uegel give us very various 
accounts of the spiritual life that is to be at the 
neart of things, but they agree about the general 


thought. As to the proof of the dovtrine, very many 


aulatiiabid. 


884 THR RRIIGIOUR ARPROT OF FHILOROPRY, 


writers have presented thin idealiom asa wort of prod 
weet cof yrrsotbond fasrtamy, sorrsd bsnver tdrervesboey breslyreud tp 
bedng it inte dinrepute, We profane no wich entdiu- 
dawn, Jf we are to give any foundation for our 
prwtaaliateam bay serstnaim cof are Leleadbntbes cbaveshedaves, thresta 
this firnulation aunt be ne mare postle fancy, but 
weal -frmsnvesl pobaibsomergolates csocstarbanes, selales tar wtasnl cslt 
loin, andl to watinfy very unemotional alin, as wall 
ne the highsr moral alm thomwclven, Tat if islet. 
fan in to ronelve vigil thearatdon) toute, we miay whill, 
In view of our prement Uneamndon aad fe meals, be 
halpesd on our way more direstly if we frst consider 
vary generally and beletly what llowdinn svnld do 
for wn lf it ware emtalliohed, Musrenfler golng on to 
ther thrswarestienad cconmislereatdone cf Siw cleabuon, 

That the Hternal is a world of apiritianl Wfe in 
What, thus Welenlinta of the puat have meadatadiel, ancl 
the religious forme of thelr dowteina Iny net wo mish 
In the lawight that wae thus offers eonesrning the 
Hates of the powers Chat are in the world, aw in an 
drtdiecy Srambghit, Daum besvea Aahesalbatbes laotadives acl ite 
nites haw been waldo oompreheulal, even by 
thes ideselinta Uusnmelven, ‘She world, marely viewed 
aK heap of warrlng Powers, wannol be a world of 
wplvitual life, Uf thes vow) world te neverthelown a 
were lal cof saaseshe sagobebtaaeal Wifes, St arssamts bree mer Doccorsnsanes, 
besyencl wal above the Powern, there in thin higher 
wpleitieal Vabfes tbat Vaedisdew Weer asl watehen over 
| Abvesnen sas Abies yresertantere waited thus tengerly, —w Ufa 
Jan whatesdy taeey Vives sunsl asrsoves sassel Vatrves tdeceder dresden, 
The charuders tna tragedy dla not constitutes ae WHE 
rhage puowerrm, bas these mespotarrates euSternisns, the mignlle | 


IDEALISM. 335 


cance of the tragedy. The spectator, the overseeing 
thought, for which and in which these fancied pow- 
ers contend, this it ts that gives them unity and sy. 
nifance, Even 390 the highest_spiritaal life life that!. 
| che idealist finds in the world is mot to be a power: 


{among other powers, but a thourht for which exists | 
i>. Hence the deepest assertiun of Mealion | r( 


i mot that above all the evil powers in the workd —. 


Ghat doce mot so much cneabe ao voustisate cham that | 
they are, and 90 inchade them all. 

How all this ts to be more fally explained, and 
how it is to be justified, if at all, by Mealism, we 


There we found a work! of contending elementary 
forees, AL BC, ete. As contending powers they 
must needs appear finite. If one was good. another 
was or might be evil) And as we had to deal only 
With the warring elements, the thoaght that partial 
evil may, after all, be universal good seemed not 
very Nlausible, and quite indemonstrabke. The word 
being the collection of the powers that are in it, the 
good and evil of the whole seemed to be the sum of 
the separate good and evil elements. Bat now we 
have a thought that may make possible the existence 
of aniversal goodness. If the tragedy as a whole is 
good, although its elements are evil, 90 like the tray: | 


ene, 


SA THE RELAGUHIS ASPET OF PHIUASOPHY, 


ally may the world be univerenlly good if the angle 
evil oof vebitiy, Vikess Chase wingeles prarte of thus bengenly, 
saves echeatssasniteg ae ty Whasaden Ahad, comdates Fare tay tad h -tasces- 
dng, wblinaluwive Spirit, jn when woe add hinge, asl 
Wherace sradnares sas Windle: de pod. “Sian, en, if we 
demand yooh wees jel Ari Wes partial evil je univerund 
ged hen bass bdinscdiead ves sdil, wee enn wlrewAy, from 
tyes sitet, A, Lena, Fasuey bbw 16 ay wr de. ‘Sus AIL 
Mufolding may te god even although of necewiby 
eve are elenonte in hie world of infinite ex periensue 
ink, separadaly eonwlered, may be ovis. Bo ident 
dann offern na ihe Misendiey anarh Miwd Ue world eantainn 
rp lin of wend purwern, cp bhiad Mie erendi ves porwer, 
when iL manele te devilinb rower, Ail) snennt well 5 
bat Wie Maendiey of idealion wigpeade a way in which | 
vil may he, after all, wo partial view of an wll-om- 
Pvmesbiage prowl pssn, 

Vhecnraces thay innperrtanses, far one prea dasneon, 
of an effort ty trond calmly maul ariticnlly the nowin 
Aewtvine of phrilemsrprbiies isdendionn,  Ueove ud, lama, in 
wine mgecendicne Of a lamas thal, wee pamy, in bide, 
wane: Wa vine nurve inere jordsladen, mil nny Found 
wm ywrsitives veligionin Masry. Mav the pordnbaden are 
Sosbecesd, jn Alecervnel yew, nar ononigh. Wa wan, f° 
pormibilec, > got Vrecyened then, Uungh we wre rewdly ty 
wae accra firmd iF wer ome day er bnstdacr. York 
we wre ADI farrued ty begin one meet of idemdindin 
Aspertriaiss wilde pucrtdabvage Voters tAaaae portal adscn. 

a a a ee | 


IDEALISM. 837 


IL 
The imperfection of the author's private under 
- standing of deeper truth has forced him to come to 
idealism in the first instance by a very straight and 
easy path, that most deeper idealists would deride. 
After he had by that road reached the definite con- 
ception of one form of idealism, he found a further 
thought by which this klealiam seemed to be tran>- 
formed into a doctrine of greater philosophical and 
religious significance. At the same time, the proof 
of the doctrine first seemed to him to become clear 
and all-embracing. Now a reader carve little for 
the cuntents of an author's note-book, or for a his- 
tory of his opinions; but sometimes the exposition 
of a view is a little helped by presenting it in sue- 
cessive parts that follow in their order somewhat 
the line of the author's own development. Hence 
the prevent chapter shall sugyest philosophic ideal 
iam as a mere hypothesis, that still only tries to ex- 


press our fundamental postulates. Then we shall 


go on to see what deeper foundation for it we can 
find. And furthermore, our tirst sugyestion of ideal- 
ism shall be a purely theoretical conception, not 
assumed to satisfy directly an ethical postulate, but 
merely to express theoretical postulates about the 
world. Then we shall be able to see what religious 
dovtrine can be built upon this foundation. This 
way commends itself as avoiding the greatest dan- 
ger of idealism, namely, fantastic speculation with 
noble purposes, but with merely poetical methods. 


Our present method shall be coldly theoretical, how 
2 ae 
“eh re 2 oe » vv 


AL vim 7 


888 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ever deeply our religious philosophy is concerned in 
the outcome. 

For the first then we shall suppose our whole task 
to be the suggestion of a plausible, 7. e. of a simple, : 
adequate, and consistent hypothesis about the nature 
of external reality. Hereafter we shall consider 
more critically the foundation of such hypotheses. 
Provisionally, then, we shall suppose that, by a per- 
fect theory of knowledge, the following result has 
been reached : Human beings are able to form ideas 
that correspond in some way with a real world, out- 
side of themselves. That is, the sequence of human 
ideas corresponds to sequences of external events, or 
to relations of coexistence among external things. 
The necessary or uniform connections of human 
ideas correspond to regular or to universal connec- 
tions among external things. Or, in the brief form 
of Mr. Herbert Spencer’s phraseology, to each nec- 
essary relation a: 6 in human consciousness there 
corresponds a relation A: B in the external world. 
Suppose, then, that all this has been established. No 
one will admit more readily than the writer that this 
supposition is at this point merely tentative. Our 
theory of knowledge is yet to be completed, and be- 
tween its conception and its realization there are still 
wide oceans of doubt. We shall, in fact, deal with 
the problems of this theory in the next chapter. But 
for the moment suppose admitted what scientific 
thought generally takes for granted, namely, the cor- 
respondence of inner and outer relations in such 
wise that the former are naturally copies of the lat- 
ter. And, on this foundation, suppose that we in- 

) 


IDEALISM. $39 


tend to consider what hypothesis as to the nature of 
the related terms A and B in the external world is, 
on the whole, the most plausible. 

For the sake of avoiding controversy we may for 
the moment leave out of account two old } 
We cannot really escape either, and both will sternly 
confront us before we get in at the door of the tem- 
ple of certainty. Bat here at the outect we are 
playing with hypotheses, and may be absolved from 
the responsibility of securing ourselves beforehand 
from all possible attacks. The first is the question 
of the idealists: How can any reality be conceived 
unless as unplying or inclading states of conscious- 
ness? For the mament we will waive this part of 
the Berkeleyan contention altogether ; for we are not 
yet concerned to prove by metaphysical analysis the 
universal coincidence of consciousness and reality. 
We wish merely a plausible hypothesis to be ad- 
vanced as to the nature of what more popular thought 
means by reality. The second question that at the 
outset we avoid is the ane cancernihg the ground 
of the assumed agreement between the external and 
the internal orders of facts. Whether this ground 
hes in a causal determination of our consciousness by 
the external world. or in a preéstablished harmony 
of both. matters not. We first take our stand, then, 
upon the facts admitted by popular belief. Here are 
feelings, sequences of feelings, thoughts, trains of 
thought, systems of scientific belief: all internal 
facts. Beyond the consciousness of these internal 
facts stretches (so we now assume, and only assume) 
another world of facts, in which something corre 


840 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


sponds to each one of these feelings, some order of 
facts to each sequence of feeling, some system of 
facts and of laws to each properly constituted system 
of beliefs. The external order of the world beyond 
corresponds to the order of this internal world of 
our consciousness, but is not this order. A plausi- 
ble hypothesis is required as to the nature of this 
corresponding external order. 

Let us examine Berkeley’s familiar hypothesis, 
which, as a mere hypothesis, we can examine apart 
from any study of Berkeley’s philosophical argu- 
ments for his idealism. According to Berkeley there 
exist conscious beings, more or less like ourselves, of 
whom the head and father is God. Now external to 
all beings besides God there is a real world. This 
real world is made up of the eternal system of God’s 

thoughts. 


“© When I deny sensible things an existence out of the 
mind, I do not mean my mind in particular, but all minds. 
Now it is plain they have an existence exterior to my 
mind, since I find them by experience to be independent 
of it. There is some other mind wherein they exist, dur- 
ing the intervals between the times of my perceiving 
them; as likewise they did before my birth, and would 
do after my supposed annihilation. And as the same is 
true with regard to all other finite created spirits, it nec- 
essarily follows, there is an Omnipresent Eternal Mind, 
which knows and comprehends all things, and exhibits 
them to our view in such a manner, and according to such 
rules as he himself hath ordained, and are by us termed 
the lawe of nature.” } 


1 Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, T1. 


C@Ernst tec esd oa cy Ve 


IDEALISM. 841 


This so familiar hypothesis of Berkeley is in part 
founded upon a thought that for the present we have 
agreed to neglect, é. ¢. upon the notion of the exter 
nal world as the catse of our internal impressions, 
Not being caused by myself, my ideas, reasons Berke- 
ley, must have an external cause. And the only 
intelligible cause is an active spirit. Yet for our 
present purpose this thought is not important. We 
are not asking about the cause of our conscious 
states, but about the way in which we can most plau- 
sibly conceive of an external world corresponding to 
these states. The correspondence is assumed. Into 
its ground, be it preéstablished harmony or physical 
influence, we do not just now inquire. Our only 
criteria of plausibility, if causal explanation is 
dropped, are therefore adequacy, simplicity, and con- 
sistency. Is Berkeley's hypothesis consistent with 
itself. and is it the simplest hypothesis possible ? 
Stripped of non-essential features, the hypothesis is 
that there corresponds to our consciousness another 
higher and farther-reaching consciousness, containing 
all that is abiding in our consciousness, and much 
more besides, This consciousness is in form and 
matter a rational spirit, having definite purposes in 
the creation and education of the various finite spir 
its. ‘These purposes require for their accomplishment 
that our conscious states should within certain limits 
agree with this higher cousciousness, — should corre- 
spond to it in form and toa certain extent. This corre 
spondence constitutes what we mean by truth. There 
is no external world but this other consciousness, 


-To Berkeley, as we know, the essential part of 


X S . . arr Ae yes Sheees.t 


‘ 


.f og . 
a aes haw ~ ah aha 


vy, " -e ecoor’ a. nis een ta CK ts * 


—m~e 


— 


842 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


this doctrine was the teleological part. That God’s 
thoughts and our correspondence thereto result from 
and express God’s purposes in creating the world, 
this was for Berkeley the main point to be proven. 
But if the teleological element of the doctrine be for 
this first left out of account, there is another part 
that we just now wish to hold fast. Our thought 
is true by reason of its correspondence to the facts 
of an actual consciousness, external to our own: 
this hypothesis has an interest apart from its origin 
and from its original use. Why in philosophy should 
we be afraid of doctrines because they have an as- 
sociation with some dreaded theological dogma, or 
with some enthusiastic and over-confident system of 
the past? About the nature of the external world 
we have at the outset nothing but hypotheses. Be- 
fore we test them in any very exact way, we may 
with safety try to understand them. Perhaps what 
seemed the wildest of them all may turn out to be 
the very best. Because a certain hypothesis was 
put forward rather as a demonstrable and eternal 
truth than as a hypothesis, shall we reject it without 
further examination? Perhaps it may in fact turn 
out to be part of the eternal truth. 

The hypothesis now before us is Berkeley’s with 
the teleological element omitted, along with the 
causal. Ilow this external consciousness comes to 
affect us, and why it takes just such forms as it does, 
we say not. This we ask: What is this supposed 
external consciousness? Llow does it correspond to 

‘our own? We shall not call the supposed conscious- 
ness by question-begging names. It is not for us 


IDEALISM. 343 


just now either absolute or divine. It is simply con- 
aciousness, and external, The hypothesis is that 
truth consists in some kind of correspondence be 
tween our thought and this outer reality. What 
kind of correspondence ? 

Two conscious beings can have corresponding 
states of consciousness, without having like states. 
The notes of a melody could have corresponding to 
them the variations in intensity of some source of 
light. The light-flashes or beats would 
to the notes af music by having the like rhythm ; 
yet there would be no resembkance iu the content. 
Correspondence may be yet more obacured. The 
dashes on a piece of paper that has passed under the 
point of a telegraphic pen, the series of characters 
printed from the press in a dosen languages, the 
sounds af the voice af a reader, the eries af signals 
flashed from shore to a distant veseel, all these dis. 
similar series of events might correspond exactly and 
throughout, if it were their purpose to convey in va- 
rious ways the same meaning. In order, then, that 
my consciousness should correspond to some other 
consciousness, external to mine, it is only nececary 
that for cach event or fact in my consciousness there 
should exist same event or fact in the other con 
sciousness, and that some relation existing among 
MY conscious states should be like ar parallel to the 
relation existing among the conwious states extemal 
to mine. The more numerous the point af reser 
ance between the two aries of states, the closer 
the correspondence, But correspondence in the ab- 
etract implies only some one definite and permanent 
resemblance found throughout the two series. 


844 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


Such being the nature of correspondence in gen- 
eral, let us consider our hypothesis more in detail. 
Suppose the clock yonder has some such reality as 
this hypothesis supposes. There is the clock, with 
its pendulum beating. For me now that clock is a 
combination of sensations, joined with a belief in 
certain possible sensations. For one in the same 
room with me, the clock has a like existence. But 
suppose that the clock has, apart from my conscious- 
ness, apart from the consciousness of any other hu- 
man being or animal, an existence for some other, as 
yet undefined, consciousness. Suppose that for this 
consciousness the clock in its whole present condi- 
tion exists, not at all as a “ possibility of sensations,” 
but solely and in all its parts as a present group of 
sensible facts, standing in definite relations. Sup- 
pose that the sensible facts that constitute this clock 
as it is given to this hypothetical consciousness are 
in quality unlike the sensations that for me consti- 
tute the clock; but that in their relations, in their 
number, in their grouping, in their differences from 
one another, these sensible facts as they are for the 
hypothetical consciousness agree with the sensations 
and with the “ possibilities of sensation” that for 
me constitute the clock. Suppose that the clock as 
it is in the hypothetical consciousness endures for 
a considerable time, and is called the real clock. 
Then when I shut my eyes or go away or die, there 
exists stil] the real clock, i. e. the clock in the hy- 
pothetical consciousness. Though all my fellows die, 
there is still the rea] clock, independent of our con- 
sciousness. The clock may for a time go on rum 


IDEALISM. 345 
ning ; that is, in the hypothetical consciousness there 
may be a rhythm of sensible events, corresponding 
to what for me, were I present, would be the rhythm 
of the pendulum -beats and the movement of the 
hands. 

Now suppose this hypothetical consciousness ex- 
tended, so that it contains facts corresponding to my 
ideas of the ether-vibrations that fall upon or that 
are reflected from the face of this clock. Suppose 
that it further contains facts corresponding to each 
of my ideas of the relative position of this clock and 
of other objects. Suppose at last that the hypothet- 
teal consciousness is extended to all the facts of what 
I call my universe of actual and of possible sensa- 
tian. Suppose that each possible or actual experi- 
ence of each moment in my life or in the hfe of any 
other animal is represented by sume actual momen- 
tarily present fact in the hypothetical consciousness. 
Then consider the hypothetical consciousness at any 
moment, and see what it will contain. Every mate- 
rial atom, every wave of ether, every point of space, 
every configuration of material bodies, every possible 
geometrical relation, will be represented in the hype- 
thetival canawiousness by some definite fact. The 
relations af these facts will be in nature and in cam- 
plexity similar to the relatiens among the facts of 
my actual or possible sensations On the other 
hand, the limits of my possible cansiousness at any 
moment will be determined by the actual cansvious- 
ness af this supposed universal Knowing One. What 
it actually knows, I conceivably might new knew, 
If it is conswious of a certain series of facts, then I 


8405 THK RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOBOFITY, 


might be conslous, wore [now on the other «ide 
of the moon, of living creatures there. [f the hypo- 
thotionl consalousnoss contains another aot of fasta, 
thon T might be unable to find such living boings 
wore I there, And so with all facts of possible ox- 
porlonce, 

Wo can onsily soo how, under this supposition, 
conformity to the supposed universal consciousness 
Will become on iny part a goal of offort. Knowledge 
of possible oxporionoes is useful tome, But all pos 
Niblo oxporionces are or will be actual in the hypo- 
thation! consciousness, Tf Tam standing nowr a con- 
colod pitfall, or am in danger of a blow, or iu dan 
gorof doath from poison, that fact, translated Inte 
ultiinate torma, monns, wo may suppon, that in the 
Universal consciousness there is now the knowledge 
of certain relative positions and motlons of atoms, 
The sequence of states in the universal consolounnons 
must be supposed to he a regular sequonen, subject 
to fixed Jaw. But sequences dows not now oapoclally 
concern un; since wo aponk only of the nature of 
thin oxtornal consciounnoss, Tt in onongh, thorefore, 
fo point out that thin supposed universal knowing 
conmoiounnon, thin Not-Ourselves,” has, under the 
conditions atated, all the oasential charnetoriation of 
wren work!  Ttin beyond an; it in indepondont of 
wn; ith frota have a certain correspondence to our 
xonantionn, Under the aupponition that by nature 
jwe tend to be in ayrooment with thin connoiousians, 
broggrenn it ties lofinitenonn and extent of one aggre. 
‘anent with it may be both posible and pretionlly 
Aefal. This agrooment would constitute truth 


IDEALISM. S17 


No other real workdd meed be sepposed bebred or 
shove this comacousness. Rejection of an old theory 
amd ameptamce of a mew. as when the Copernican 
docormme replaces the Ptobemeac, will mean the 
growth of a belaef dhkat the mew system of ideas cor 
matter. bat with the saqaence of states mn the univer 
sal comsmcesmess. The aniversal comsmoeses: it- 
self will be mo ilmsary coamacvesmess, It will mot 
need a further comactonsmess to support m= It will 
need no dead matter oumade of it. Our mature beads 
ws ta look up te it as wo our meadel Icaelf is the 
patzern. looking ap to po ather model. The parpose 
trammehed thoacht. For as there i a mde rane 
of actxal semsaiaom. m the midst of a vast anean of 
possible semsamom. For the universal oomacomsmess 
there are at any moment aniy acmmal data We ae 
the elack-face : amd far as ube inside af the clack is 
possible sensation omiy. Fir the sappasad comaoens- 
mess the mode will be as moch present as the out- 
ade. For as colors and adars smemest passible aee- 
saiboms, which acsence Interprets as bemer im the est 
amalvsas the possible semsatbans knows a5 ahosns. pe. 
thems. vebacmmes. dastamass. For the umiversal com 
Rebomsmess, these aems. smotoms, welactpes. and di 
tamees. ar the ultimane facts te which these motos 
correspomd. are nat passible bat actual data. There 
mead te then. im the bast amalysis. ne dead unewn- 
AORS ahams. mar wet mmoamacams tthe atam-aqmbs. 
sirsving. ihe. loving. unitims: thers naed be im 
the bast analysis only a comectouspess of facts come 


wwe . a VE 
Cava e242 @ean nfs, 


848 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


sponding to what we mean by motion, velocity, ex- 
tension, distance, impenetrability. Corresponding 
to the relation a: 6 in our consciousness there will 
then be the oxternal fact A: B, whereof so much is 
supposed to be known: first, that the relation a: 5 
is somewhat like the relation A: B; secondly, that 
the terms A and B, whatever their particular char 
acter, aro facts for a consciousness, and nothing 
but facts for a consciousness. And the hypothetical 
consciousness for which these facts aro all present, 
together with their manifold relations, this we may 
call a World-Consciousness, An illusion in my 
consciousness will moan a failure to correspond with 
the world-consciousness, <A truth for my conscivus- 
ness will be a relation a: b that corresponds with 
some relation A: B in the world-consciousness. 
But for the world-consciousness itself there will be 
no question of its own truth or falsity. It will be 
for and in itself. It will not have to create a real 
2} world ; it will be a real world. It will not have a 
| Nature as its own Otherness, over against itself. 
| It will be in its own facts and in their sequence a 
nature. As to the individual intelligences, its rela- 
tion to them is so far viewed as one of independence. 
Whether hereafter wo shall be foreed to modify our 
view or not, so far we trent the individual intelli- 
gences as separate from the world consciousness. 
They aro neither its “ omanations” nor its “ modes.” 
But their whole business and purpose will be to carry 
out and to make full and definite that correspondence 
with this universal consciousness upon which their 
existence and their peace dopend. A certain lack 


IDEALISM. 849 


of correspondence with the universal consciousness 
en the part of any animal's ideas will be followed 
by the cessation of that particular grouping of facts 
in the universal consciousness that is known to us 
as this animal's body. With the dissolution of this 
animal's body will cease his consviousness, his chance 
of disagreeing in his states with the states of the 
universal consciousness, and therefore his lack of 
correspondence, An ultimate law of sequence, with 
which, as with all causal connection, we have here 
nothing to de, thus binds the individual beings to 
the World-Conseiousness. The whole universe ex- 
hibits the phenomenon, first, of one great conscious 
ness, embracing an infinitude of geometrical, phys 
joal, chemical, physielagical facts: and, secondly, of a 
vast multitude of individual conscious beings, whose 
number and serts we shall never be able tu tell, whose 
destiny, however, demands af all of them a more ar 
less imperfect likeness between their states and the 
relations thereof on the one band, and the facts of 
the universal consciousness an the other hand. The 
universal consciousness, be it noted, is 90 called thus 
far as including in its ken all ultimate mathematical 
and physical facta. Of its natuge beyond this we 
pretend to suppose nothing, And we have not sup. 
posed it tv include the individual conscious beings. 
Our hypothesis is not yet pantheistic. ner theistic, 
We simply suppose a * Not-Ourselves ” that i 
cludes all natural knowledge. This is the External, 
Reality. 

We have omitted, moreover, all reference to the 
teceolugival clement that is generally introduced into 


AYA Aire AOR te FHILAOFHY, 


try Uecerry ot te Werrldl Spirit. Seo tur, ine fe, ener 
W lA Cirtraetensetices ja th whit jaune men Wy % 
Well Spirit. A Byirit, * wemrving tes living vote 
an Visit,” one Wel Comacienuneon in nhs for ne 
wots hing elecmecribeeced In abet senbeity, it tesscvedy Newel cm, 
38 Vewsher teh ite sows wtiakecn, 1) Usome sores wtp te 
bs sabbergzectteece the erwin, piven Prertte tite higher mertevenn, 
Beh tam ter Mbeccde ceeeconients cre thache werethy, Ul bee 
geivetsinege ere Abecte etl, owes bine end aeAbing, Sbie 
Clenszetrnziess betes Use eteahes, Nek ones banves wntpywomedl 
Bhesere tes yet, br bom sabtaecneslece) Aoy tue ecrreiene th plea 
sane top th ponte, Vey ter seenlif ying remetion of will, 
Pia ceneeinisnee jen a Crethen, it le Beer, 
An Sere thee inalivicheateh earneina Necinge, 1b den net 
seasabees erp sareteviabes, thecies Noy sere scnacpeiane of purer, 
Whey, cn the cenhenry, nee tinle wud vena me: 
care Mitte tam Abycres wapize cor Mizsgrpecter in Miia setivecrmed 
Cartest Mriixtitee, Heer tecdes peorniges tt Mites Ubiseh, see reepriecs 
wetted ite ene seertal tunnghh, wee endl ongania 
living Nwolinn, with teenies, nvAvniz, ebrietirin, fane 
ficriex — “S Yesssete gereene gon prime, saneed with Urey Uae indivi 
nel crneirienees Uh veperictesd with emech, Pix 
prove tle sand Meet ix sitngly te Iw of cx potcp lect, MH 
aieniate. sot jeer plienbde serquenen  Sat Uh enh 
yep) comacumzness Uf nbn, fe whieh each of 
that xe. gereceegen Oh pbeyzienl Peete cedsteal Abok pecnendtin, 
Sin tAbees weds. Kewede seasiennd Voy ix recprpcomscttacl 
d00 Chee sani vecrail bene lneateer, we eeishe enby tn ty 
fine te Ih de pecgrrtcmmnyhadh Abetcvecdes, eve ix beneomn ber thes 
prrscncon re tre bee tebbeccy satedttenda, “Ube sneha visdeasad tevieael 
Abaiok eccotcar bat withe Dida Vwoby Frsem Moras ting tite pegre conecte 
hook) vex hee thas vated vervneed certenecheremtacen. Ft pasctie bey 


IDEALISM. $51 


exist and be real for itself. With the group of facts 
in the universal consciousness to which, as we say, 
corresponds our idea of the body, the independent 
group of facts called the animal's mind lives and 
dies, The universal consciousness and the individual | 
tminds make up together the sum total of reality. 


So far and so far only do we as yet go. The sequel | 


will show whether we can rest content with this. 
Continuing to mention the consequences of our 
hypothesis, we see that the well-known questions 9 
often asked of idealists are no longer puzzling when 
we accept such an idea as the foregoing. Such 
questions are: What existed before there was any 
conscious life on the planet? In what sense was 
there light or heat, matter or motion, before there 
Were eyes to see, tactile organs to feel, animal intel- 
ligence to understand these external facts? The 
question of Kant too about the aubjectivity of space 
would seem to have been answered. Before there 


were conscious beings on this planct, this planet ex- \ 


isted only in and for the universal consciousness, 
In that consciousness were facts corresponding to all 
the phenomena, er possibilities of experience, that 
geologival science may declare to have really existed 
at such a time. When the earth became filled with’ 
life. there appeared in the universal consciousness 
the data known as oryanisma, And at the same 


time, beside the universal canaciouaness, sunnchow 


related to it, there arose individual conacious beings, | 


whose states were more or lesa imperfect copies of 

the universal consciousness in certain of its facts. 

Even 90, empty space is now existent beyund the 
e 


\ a 


852 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY.- 


borders of finite observation only as a group of 
states in the world-vonsciousness. Space is subjeo- 
tive, belonging to the states of the universal con- 
sciousness; and yet to us objective, since in think- 
ing it we merely conform ourselves to the universal 
consciousness. But the consequences of our hypoth- 
esis are numberless. Enough has been said of them 
for the present purpose. 

Wild and airy indeed! But why so? The ordi- 
nary uncritical Atomisin is a worse hypothesis, be- 
cause wo nevor got from it the least notion of how 
this otornally existent matter may look and feel when 
nobody sees or feels it. The mystical “one sub- 
stance with two faces ” is worse, because that is no 
hypothesis, only a heap of words. Schopenhauer’s 
“Wille” is worse, because it is only a metaphor. 
The hypothesis that ascribes to the atoms independ- 
ent life and volition is no more adequate than our 
hypothesis, and much loss simple. The old-fashioned 
pantheistic  Welt-Goist ” of Schelling, and of the 
romantic philosophy generally, is more poetical than 
our hypothosis, but that Welt-Geist is a Power; and 
no one ever comes to understand how this One Spirit, 
who after all is represented as a sort of big half-con- 
acious Daomon, a gigantic worker, is related to the 
many individual minds. They are parts of him, or 
olde apart from him, In the ono case their confidence 
' that they really oxist as powers and are not “things 
in his dream,” is unfounded ; in the other case his 
all-embracing unity is dostroyed. In our hypothesis 
nothing is as yot wonderful but the one miracle of the 
series of orderly conscious states, following through 


all tiwe accanting to fixed laws. Beyond that all 
is clear, “That there should be a consciousmess com 
taining Meas of all matertal relations & wo harder 
to believe than it is to believe iv the ordinary unin- 
telligtble work of atoms. That beside this con! 
achousress, and ia fixed relation to its facts. there 
should oxtst a great aumber of different series of 
conachots states, each gertes being called an indived- 
wal, this is wo harder to believe Ghan are the ondi- 
nary facts of nervous phystokgy. le reality this 
hypothesis gives us a simple expression, easily intel 
ligible, for all the facts and laws of phywos of ner 
vous phrstalagr, and of comscioumess, Take as a 
final case, Professor Chifford’s well-inown example of 
the man looking at the candka lu the workd-com- 
achoustvess Urere is the croup of states G0". 6. 
That is the real candhe Tu the workdconsctowsmess 
there ts also the group of states AAA... That 
ts the “cerebral image” of the candle a phrsiclae 
wal fact. Finally. according to the hws of reality, 
the existence in the worktoonactousness of the facts 
Rw WLR... gromped as they are has coexistent 
with it the growp of Meas C in the man's mind. 
This croup C corresponds mare or bess completely to 
the group ce")... as that group exists berand 
the man's mind, in the workboonsctonstess, The 
group C is the man’s Alea of the candk. Such is 
oar hypothesis ina natshell, We ange for the mo- 
ment only this in its favor: that it ix sample intelli 
gible, plaasible, After all. it is bat an br pothesss. 
We must now follow it anal we shall find it, by vir 
tee of ome mvmentons consideration, saddenly trams 
2 


854 THK RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


formod from an hypothosis into a theory, and from 
a doctrine of an eternal normal thought into a doo. 
trine of an all-ombracing Spirit. 


Wi. 


In sovoral respects our hypothosis noods oxplana- 
tion before it oan woll ploase a philosophic student, 
This oxplanation will noxt loud us into a decidedly 
tochnion! discussion, and this a ronder not spocially 
aceustomed to philosophic discussions, if such a 
rouler wo yot have, will do woll to omit. Wo must 
in faot, in the present section, more particularly sot 
forth the motives that have determined us to try just 
thin hypothonin about Roality. 

Kirst, thon, wo are concerned to show why wo have 
left out of view the causal clomont that popular 
thought makes so prominont in’ its conception of 
Reality, For popular thought, the world isa Power 
that causes our poreoptions, But wo, both here and 
in our subsoquent religious discussion, shall copsidor 
ithe eternal not as Power, but as Thought. Why is 
‘thin? Wo shall here try to explain, still regarding 
the real world meroly as somothing postulated to 
moot the inner needs of our thought, Lot us ask, 
without ax yet going beyond this point of view, what 
in the doapost motive of our purely theoretic postu. 
Jaton about reality 7 Init not to have something that 
correaponda to our ideas, wand wo given them truth ? 
Therefore in not the postulate that reality corre. 
sponds to our idons, deopor than the postulate that a 
real world causes our ideas? And wo is not the 


IDEALISM. $55 


causal postulate in fact but a subordinate form in 
our theory of the world? To exemplify. Whea I 
say that my thought demands some cause, C. for a 
sensation, «does not my thought even here actually 
demand something prior to the principle of causa- 
tien, and deeper than that? Does not my thoaght 
here demand that my idea ¢ of cause in general, and 
my idea r of the causal relation R between C and s, 
shall a prior! somehow correspond to the truth of 
things? Can I conceive of a real caus save by vir- 
toe of a postalate that my conception of a real cause 
is hike the real canse itself? Therefore, when men 


that our sensations need a cause, and that this cause 
must be external to us.” do they say mare than this: 
“We know (or postalate) that to one of our Heas, 
namely, the idea of a necessary causal relation, there 
corresponds a reality external to the dea?” For 
sarely I do not know the validity of my idea of a 
causal relanon merely an the ground that I know 
that this idea af causal relanon must itself have 
been caused by the real existence af causal relations 
In the world. Sach an attempt to justify my idea 
would mean endless regress. The deeper notion 
that we have of the world is therefore founded an 
the insight or on the puostalate that there must be, 
net merely a sufficient cause for our thoucht. bat a 
sufficient counterpart thereto. 

We can easily illustrat this view by considering 
the nature of oar thoncht about past ume. The 
Jadsment ar assertion that there has actually been 
a@ series of past events, is not a judgment of causal- 


8566 9 THM MELIGIOUR ASPROT OF FIILONOPHY. 


ity, J bulleve ina past an T bolleve in a future, not 
tu watinfy my faith bn tho principle of causality, but 
toy wuthnfy sry tesnsbesresy tor pormtulate or Inubesfinites 
thasres-mtsreseasn, Vikces Ann sosataseres tas sery goreomesnst meacscsesnmberts 
of iinnusliately given wtaton, 1 believe in wm reul 
tharess, sort gorrissssarily tam thoes cssesames Donat tom thes cxrtantasr- 
part of my notion of tims. How othorwins shall I 
form thus dow of 0 cts wt all, unlows | have alrouly 
aantsienl thes reality of tins? A caus Sor my be 
Vissf iss thus pommt Jo tor bos cornusivend, if at all, only as 
alrisuly a prt fact, ‘Thos comsption that it in to cre 
gates So su ccrtselithcons cof ites cowsn combmtassscces, sasnlaswm Sascbesescd 
cnses basen saclosnittend what wes winks aclaittend, tht, laow- 
covery this ccsames seaey bs whthe thes Voesdlesf fsa samy conse prant 
fast, thos beshiof in pat rowity ae wach be prior to our 
Rreadicsf thaset cosas porresmesat mtcates Iasues Voeserta csssasneel oy thus 
punt. Wut the wanes priority of thus bodlef fe some 
sageresestanestal Vostwesesss try bles torud thus external ronlity, 
fn feorasrcl iss al) clegnartinsnte of thought, A susterial 
Csegtanss CF seny cox yreseheciness Im sa cosasames btn qrmcs, = Sbut,, 
Havweeverr J cssassnes boy ths Sales oof wpotucns, sry prresmestat. boise 
Vief in thes reality of spruns preunden any particular 
Vosdiceh fae su sessatacrisel crests for sy pourtictabser mestonsetioons, 
ssn vrecnscbecem tbess Veattacer boesdiesf pormiboles,  Mhues ccanausp 
thon of ronlity furninhead bry thes sesaroh for causes bn 
this alwityn miabsorclinsetes ter thoes casncasption of reslity 
Surnintusl by our fleet, postulates, Thin firwt ponte 
Dsates im, thrsat conser Selecsem basnves sscotnsestbaiange basyeoned these 
ad like them, Ro at enh moment of my life | 
promtislsetas so pret, sunel Futssres of sny own, likes my prresme 
ant conncionsnem, but external thereta, So my se 
chal cxssimeciertamsneonm, ny Oviggisssed ussresflinstives testelenay 


to work with and for other beings, implies the pos- 
takate of the external existence of my fellow-mea, 
like myself and lke my ideas of them. So to the 
present Intuition of the space In the retinal field or 
at my finger tps I join the postalate of an infinitely 
extended not perceived space, lke the perceived 
space, and hke my spaceadeas. 

The external reality conceived by us is therefore, 
30 far as we have yet seen, conceived throagh a spon- 
taneous reaction of the receiving consciousness In 
presence of the sensedata received. The forms of 
this reaction it was the purpose of the Critical Phi- 
losophy to define. The task set by Kant has not yet 
been accomphshed. But the fact of some reaction 
seems established. And the general law af the proce 
ess seems to be that the external reality is conceived 
after the pattern of the present data, with such mod- 
ification as is necessary to bring the conception into 
harmony with already established habits of thought, 
and with the conceived results of previous experience. 
The aim of the whale process seems to be to reach 
as complete and united a conception of reality as is 
possible, a conception wherein the greatest fullness 
of data shall be combined with the greatest simple 
ity af conception. The effort af consciousness seems 
to be to combine the greatest richness of content 
with the createst definiteness of organization. 

This character of our activity in farming our ne- 
tion of reality implies the subordination af the can 
sal postulate to other motives. In the scientitic field 
the postulate of causality is predominant, because 
there the notion of a world of causal sequences In 


$568 THR RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOAOPRAY. 


time and in space has heen already built up, and 
what romaine inv to fill out the ploture by discovering 
the particular sequences, But if 1 try to baniwh al- 
together from my notion of external reality the ides 
that it in an adequate counterpart of my subjective 
atates of consciousness, what will remain? Simply 
the notion of an utterly unknowable external cause 
of my sensations, Of thin nothing will be sald, but 
that it fs, Selene, experience, serious reflection 
about reality, will utterly conse, | shall have re- 
maining « kind of Distigured Hoalism, where the 
real will be as unknowable, aa unreal as possible, 
But reintroduce the omitted postulate, admit that 
reality is conosived as the counterpart of my con- 
aclousnoss, and then the principle of causality can 
be fruitfully applied. Thon Indeed experience may 
lewl us to conceive the oxternal reality as unlike 
this or that suggestive sensation, unlike this or that 
provisional ides, But wo shall be lod to new concep 
tions, and shall be able to make definite progress, Ko 
long an wo postulate some sort of lilesnoss between 
Arasnesr sonnel costae’, 

In brief, an counality moans uniform sequence, the 
tuxeptines of any causal relation as real invelven 
a conception of the uniform sequen that is to be 
accaptil, When finally naecssptedd, the sequence in 
quontion in conceived as a real fact, wholly or peur 
tially external to present conseiousness, but like our 
prosont iden of ital, Crsmnl sequence cannot there 
fore bo placid flewt, san giving un se totally undefined 
notion of an oxtarnnal ronity ; but second, as oti 
bling us to develop in detail the iduw that reality is 


IDEALISM. 859 


like our own states of consciousness. Of course to 
prove by sense experience that the external reality 
is like our states of consciousness, this we can never 
accomplish. But from the outset we have seen that 
verification through experience is in this field impos- : 
sible. The whole of this sensuous reality, past, pres- 
ent, future, all that is outside of what one now sees 
and feels, all space, time, matter, motion, life beyond 
this immediate experience, — all that is so far only 
a postulated experience, and therefore never a da- 
tum, never in detail veritiable for sense. Since we 
believe in this external reality, if experience suggests 
with sufficient force the idea that some causal se- 
quence is real, our postulate that such suggestions 
have their counterpart in an external world leads us 
to regard the conceived causal sequence as an exter 
nally real fact. Not however do we first conceive of 
the external reality as cause, and then in the second 
place only find it to be or not to be the counterpart 
of present consciousness. All our thinking is based 
on the postulate that the external reality is a coun- 
terpart and not merely a cause. If with time, we 
drop mythological conceptions of external reality, 
we do so only because, in the presence of a larger 
and fuller experience, we no longer find ald concep- 
tions, founded largely on lower forms of emotion and 
on narrower experience, adequate to our notion of 
the external counterpart of consciousness. For de- 
mons and entities we substitute atoms and ethereal 
media, not because we abanden the position that ex- 
ternal reality resembles our ideas, but because wider 
experience is found to be best reduced to unity by 


860  #$THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


the latter, not by the former ideas. The atoms and 
the media are themselves only provisional notions, 
since more experience may be better reduced to unity, 
for all we yet know, by some other ideas. But 
throughout remains the postulate : external reality is 
somewhat like our ideas of its nature. 

We have been betrayed by the doctrine that we 
have combated into forms of speech that do not ade- 
quately express the Critical notion of reality. We 
hasten to complete our conception by adding the 
omitted elements. External reality is like our con- 
ceptions of it; so much, we have seen, is universally 
postulated (postulated, be it noticed, not directly ex- 
perienced, not forced upon us from without). But 
the kind of likeness still remains to be defined. Can 
the external reality be conceived as being, although 
in nature like our conscious states, yet in no neces- 
sary relation to consciousness, as being neither a con- 
sciousness nor for a consciousness? The answer is 
the whole struggle of idealistic thought, the whole 
progress of philosophical analysis in modern times. 
One cannot go over the field again and again for- 
ever. Tho state of the controversy can be roughly 
stated thus: When the notion of external reality 
is based solely upon the application of the notion of 
causality, all degrees of likeness or unlikeness be- 
tween thought and things are assumed, according to 
the tastes of individual thinkers. External reality 
is once for all .absolved from the condition of being 
intelligible, and becomes capable of being anything 
you please, a dead atom, an electric fluid, a ghost, a 


devil, an Unknowable. But if the subordinate char 


INBALISN. 861 


acter of this postulate of causality is ance under 
xtoad, the conception of reality is altered. What is 
real must be net only vaguely correspondent to an 
ill-defined postulate, but in a definite relation of like- 
hess to my present consciousness, That this is the 
actual postulate of human thought is shown by those 
aystems themselves that ignore the postulate of like- 
ness, and has been illustrated in the foreguing. But 
what forms does this postulated likeness take? For 
the first, the postulated likeness between my. idea 
and the external reality may be a likeness between 
my present consvious state and a past or future state 
of my own, or between this present state and the 
consvious state of another being, The whole social 
consciousness implies the postulate of a likeness be- 
tween my ideas and an actual consciousness external 
to mine, fashioned in my own Image. But the aeo- 
ond generally revognized form in which the postu 
late of the likeness of internal and external appears 
is the form acvording to which | postulate that a 
present idea of my own is not like one of my own 
past or future states, not like any actual past or 
future state in another being of my own kind, but 
like a possible experience. That our ideas can ade- 
quately express possibilities of sensation that are 
actually never realized, either in ourselves or in any 
other known creature, this is a familiar postulate of 
natural science. The laws of nature are generally, 
as is admitted by all, what Lewes called * ideal con- 
structions,” expressing experiences for us never real- 
lavd, but permanently possible, And so extended is 
tho use of the vunvept of possible experience, that, as 


$62 THE TLELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


we know, Mill in one of his most interesting chap- 
ters gave “ permanent possibility of sensation” as 
an adequate definition of matter. 

Now the position of modern phenomenism is, that 
by these two postulates, or forms of the one postu- 
late of Likeness, the whole notion of external reality 
is exhausted. 

The external world means, according to this posi- 
tion, the possible and actual present, past, and fut- 
ure content of consciousness for all beings. And 
this result of modern phenomenism we regard, thus 
far, as the most acceptable postulate about the world. 
Either as postulate or as demonstrable theory the 
position is maintained by all the modern idealists. 
You can find it, for example, stated in Fichte’s “ Bes- 
timmung des Menschen” and other shorter philo- 
sophic essays (less succesgfully, we think, though 
much more at length, in the two larger expositions 
of the “ Wissenschaftslehre), in the Hegelian “ Phi- 
nomenologie,” in Schopenhauer’s “ Welt als Wille 
und Vorstellung,” in Ferrier’s “ Institutes of Meta- 
physic,” in J. S. Mill’s “ Examination of Hamilton,” 
in Mr. Shadworth Hodgson’s “ Time and Space” 
and “Philosophy of Reflection,” in M. Renouvier’s 
“ Logique Générale,” in lesser books innumerable, 
for example, in Professor Baumann’s “ Philosophie 
als Orientirung iiber die Welt” (in the first chapter), 
in Professor Schuppe’s “ Erkenntnisstheoretische 
Logik,” in Professor Bergmann’s “ Reine Logik.” 
Not of course that all this multitude of thinkers, dif- 
ferent in method, in ability, in aim, in everything 
but in the fact that they are post-Kantian idealists, 


IDRALISM. 363 


would accept the foreguing statement as a fairly 
complete account of their doctrines. Some af them 
would laugh at the simplicity of our terms. Bat, we 
choose to mention so confused a list to show how, in 
the midst of the greatest variations, they all agree 
about one fundamental truth, namely, that thought, 
when it inquires into its own meaning, can never 
Test satisfied with any idea of external reality that 
makes such reality other than a datum af conscious 
hess, and so material for thought. Senawalism and 
the nrost tranwendent « prion! speculation agree in 
coming at last to fice in coascless unrest from every 
support for an external reality that may som to 
offer itself beyond the bounds of consciousness, This 
phenonrenism of post-Nantian speculation we accept, 
as at all events the simplest and least contradictory 
postulate. . 

So much, then, for ane mative af our hypothesis 
about the world-conscioures. Reality appears as 
the object either of an actual or of a posible con- 
eciowmness, Rut there remains in this definition 
of the postulate still one obsoure point What is 
meant by possible consciousness? What can there 
be for conscioustess beyond the grand total of all 
wetual past and future states of consciousness in all 
beings? For what purpose and by what right shall 
we buikd a workd of posuibility above or beside the 
work! af actual experience? This question seems 
too little appreciated and too much evaded by most 
thinkers. When Mill called matter a * permanent 
possibility of sensation.” he left room open for the 
puaaling question: But what is this creature called 


BAA THE ARLAGIOUIN ARPROT OF PHITAROFHY. 


we prmnitrility 7 In it mn nected foot’? “Shen whet 
sactvetel fre” OF tect, nesteral, then in being © mere 
pemaibility matter ia noteexintent | 
Thin scholastic character of the almtract non 
 nmmibility wae remarked and criticinel by Mra. 
finer Max Miiller in an article in" Mind,” O91! 
Wes bread rest fived inn tent weiteen or thin mtabrjent lewn 
asholaatic or better defined terme for naming the 
wternes naprenet, of the pomtilate of external reslity, Un 
frst, if wes migrpemes that one sarveya the whole range 
Of sustained comncionimnenn, promt, prrenent, and fatrre, andl 
prmtrlaten ne frete that are tert fore tondl in cnmcdonin 
nena, it in iMod ta nee what will be the meaning 
of any slded “possible reality.” Possible, for the 
flrat, in anything that one wonesiven, in ac far te one 
curisiven it tet all, FP cenall pumaibly have wingen ancl 
fe ler tail, an hendeedd ayer, andl we menntain of gold, 
All that im grmmmible, trot in whist, serie? fie this 
mestines, thet, Fol aetanlly immagine imnynelf im premmene 
Hoge tbvesmes thetrogem, — “* Mrnngrty poommidrilitien,”” ore “ feneteg- 
draticrrim tom cries world,” see facta of ccrtmederimtien itt 
mtr Fear ferris tam threcy sores dernegeinneel 4 sarel they braves te 
Other cxistenes. The world of trath in not enriched 
ry three prcmmibrilinion, whemes whole exinteriues in in 
thie mestaral cemecionin ides of thee, Pat tert ite thle 


18 47, TE thereferte Mill and hia follecware tnaginn that by 
Asfining Matter na the proettianott pemalldlity of aenantion, and Mind 
AE Lhe prrpranntel prtemaitdlity tf Pnedinngy, thay breve pagrerved the Af 
flerlty td Kate's Ling an sich, thay nee mistaken — Chele fanmtddl. 
Hy tf aatantien, Hf preepmely Analy sed, moana things tp anbatantne 
Whieh wan baectnn thjeote tf aonantion.” bettannce Mittlor's tants 
la nth th that wa entre whelly aeoagt » bie critieintn «fd tha word 
perenitAlitcy Va Vergrtet tent. 


IDEALISM. $65 


sense is matter to be a “permanent possihility of 
sensation.” The icebergs in the polar seas are to be 
real, not in so far as I now imagine them, but in so 
far as there exists or holds good the law, that were 
I present I should see them, were I to touch them I 
would be determined im certain ways beyond the 
control of my will. The pages of that closed book, 
the bones inside the body of that cat, my own brain, 
the molecales of the oxygen that I am breathing, all 
these, in so far as they are not now actually in my 
consciousness, are to be still real as “ possible expe- 
riences.” But what kind of unreal reality is this 
potential actuality ? 

If we inquire into the motive that leads us to 
postulate these possible experiences, we shall find it 
to be the familar and universal wish to apply the 
postulate of uniformity to our confused actual ex- 
perience. Our actual experience is not always gow 
erned by obvieus laws of regular sequence. ‘Bat in 
postulating consciousness beyond our own immediate 
data, we are led. by our known prejudice in favor of 
unity and simplicity, to postulate that the real suc- 
cessions of facts are uniform, whatever may be the 
case with the fragments of reality that fal] within 
our individual experience. I see an apple fall. and 
no more than that. Bat I postalsate that if I could 
have had experience of all the facts, I should have 
observed a series of material changes in the twig on 
which the apple hung. that would have sufficed to 
restore the broken uniformity and continuity of my 
experiences. In this way it is that, as remarked 


866 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


above, the conception of causal sequence does not 
create, but organizes and perfects, our notion of ex- 
ternal reality. There is something beyond our expe- 
rience, namely, another experience; that is the first 
postulate. Experiences form an uniform and regular 
whole of laws of nequence. That is the other postu- 
late, suburdinate to the first. This postulate helps 
to form for us our idea of the material world beyond 
individual consciousness; an idea that science ac- 
cepts for its uniformity, without inquiring further 
into its uature, while a more critical reflection de- 
¢clares that the facts axsumed as existent beyond the 
range of individual conscious beings are “ possible 
experiences,” 

This assumption of “ pomible experiences,” an as- 
sumption made to satisfy the postulate of uniform- 
ity, was expressed, in our hypothesis of a world- 
consciousness, by the supposition of an universal 
actual experience, Why? We answer, because 
the asmuned “possible experiences” themselves, by 
ideally filling up the gaps of actual experience, are 
intended to lead us to the conception of one uniform 
abmolute experiences, Thins absolute experience, to 
which all facts would exhibit themselves in their 
connection as uniformly subject to fixed law, is 
conceived as“ ponsible.” But once again, what does 
that mean? Jn the meaning only the empty tautol- 
ogy that if all the yaps and irregularities of indi- 
vidual experience were got rid of by means of con- 
necting Jinks and additional experiences, these gaps 
amd irregularities would disappear? Is the mean- 
ing only this, that if there were an absolute expe- 


IDEALISM. 867 


rience of an absolutely regular series of facts, this 
experienos would be absolute and uniform? Or 
again, is it enough to say that any possible experi- 
ence, an iceberg in the polar sea, my brain, the in- 
side of yonder book, exists for me only as “ my rep- 
resentation? Of course, | know of it only what I 
conceive of it, yet I postulate that it has some real- 
ity beyond my representation. This postulate is for 
us in this preliminary discussion a fact, of which we 
want to know, not the justification (for we still seek 
none higher than the fact itself of the postulate), 
but the meaning. I know of my fellow only what 
I conceive of him. Yet I postulate that my oon 
ception of him is like him, whereas I do not postu- 
late that my conception of a dragun is like any real 
animal. Just so I postulate that my conception of 
the “ possible experience” called an atom, or the 
North Pole, is valid beyond my experionce, and be. 
yond the actual experience of any known animal. 
But I do not postulate that my conception of tho 
possibility that future men might have wings and 
tails is like any future reality whatever, or in any 
way valid beyond my conception. 

Here, then, is our dilemma. Matter as a mere 
possibility of experience is more than any animal's 
known actual experience. And yvt this matter is to 
be real for consciousness, Nor is it to be real for 
consciousness simply in so far as the possible expe- 
rience is represented or conceived. The reality con- 
sists not merely in the representation in present cone 
eciousness of a possible experience, but in the added 


postulate that this conception is valid beyond the 


868 THE RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPILY, 


present consciousness, Low is this postulate to be 
satinflod unloss by assuming an actual world-con- 
aciotisnons / | 

Lot us sum up tho conditions to which wo have 
hore subjectod our theory of reality. Kxternal roal- 
ity was to bo postulated, not given; oxistent for us 
because wo willed it to be. ‘To a portion of our con- 
goloun states wo asoribed a validity beyond the pros 
ont. ‘This aseription of validity was to constitute 
our whole knowledge of the oxternal world ; for ox- 
ample, our belief in our own past and future states, 
in our neighbor's oxistence, and in the existence of 
spice, Of matter, and of motion, Such an oxtornal 
reality wan always conceived as mory or loss come 
pletely the counterpart of our idoa of it, and hence, 
as in nature, like the facts of our consciousness. 
Tho idea that we at any moment form of the real- 
ity beyond ourselves was the expression of the effort 
to reducs to unity the prosont sonsedata and the 
present conception of our own past oxporionce, This 
reduction to unity took place in certain forms, This 
wo concsived the external reality as in space and in 
timo, and, in the second place, as in enusal relation 
to ourselves, The conesption of eausal relations 
thus projected into the oxtornal reality becomes, 
when completed, the conception of a completely 
united and uniform whole of fasts. We conceived 
the oxtornal roaity as subject to fixed laws of so 
ones, cortainly oxistent, oven though, in our lim: 
ito oxportonce, they bo undiseoverable, As subject 
to much Jaws the external renlity was a whole, pow 
wsning organio unity. But tho external reality was 


IDEALISM, 369 
also conceived as being real for comscioemess and 
real only for consctousmess. The external reality, 
as the object of an absolute expertemos, to which ali 
facts are known, and for which all facts are sabject 
to universal kaw. Bat there thas has arisen an ob- 
scarity in our theory of reality. The mal is to be 


popalarly thought as existent in our fellow-beings. 
And vet the postalated reality is to be an onganiec 
whole, containing sertes af facts that to these beings 
are known only as possible, not as actaal, expersences. 
We are then im dis position. To complete oar 
theory, we “ want a hera™” Not. to be sare. a Doan 
Juan, bat a hypothetical sabject of the ~* possible 
expersences.” This hypothemcal sabject we have pos- 
talated oaly as a hypothesis. That is, its existence 
is Bot vet seen to be a necessary resalt even of the 
postalate that there is an external reality. One can 
form other hypotheses. Bat this hypothess has the 
advantace of being simple and adequate. Moreover, 
t ascame a conscisumess for which the “possible _ 
~ are present facts, Is to do mo more than 

eee umn to need : whereas any other hypoth- 
esis (Berkeley's thealozical hypothesis, for example, 
im its original form) seems to assume more than 
ts so far demanded by oar theoretical conceptian 
of reality, For the sake then of expressing one as 
pect af oar fundamental postalate, we suggest what 
of ovarse we have not vet proven, that all the con- 
ceived ~ possible experionces ™ are actual in a Con- 
acpommmens of Sek we 0 Sr anepece Bene 


ret. pee KET w *. 


a 
Fie! 


eM, 


Hoste: m a. -- 


870 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


that it knows these experiences, or knows facts corre- 
sponding in number and in other relations to these 
experiences. Thus our idealistic doctrine in this its 
first form is explained and defended. 


IV. 


But all this hypothesis needs the deeper confirma- 


tion that we are here seeking for our philosophic 
doctrines. How is any such idealism to be estab- 


lished? And then, if established, how is this notion 
of a passionless eternal thought to be transformed 
into anything that can have a religious value? What 
we have advanced as hypothesis, expressing the pos- 
tulates of popular thought, is to receive such ad- 
ditions and such foundation as shall fit it to rank 
as a reasonable philosophic theory of reality. So 
far it has been a wish of ours, and we have not even 
shown that it is a pious wish. Can we make of this 
All-Knower a religiously interesting Spirit? And 
what shall we do with his still vague relation to the 
single conscious lives that are to get truth by agree- 
ing with him? If he is not in deepest truth a power 
that makes them, then so far there is a strange, dark, 
inexplicable necessity, determining somehow their 
harmony with him. Plainly, though we find it best 
to approach our doctrine by this road, we have not 
yet reached the heart of the mystery. 

There is one haunting thought that now must be 
permitted to come for a time out of its hiding- 
place and to confront us. It says: “ All this postu- 
lating how vain and worthless, this hope for a proof 


IDEALISM. 871 


of your doctrine how absurd, when your very hy- 
pothesis shuts up your human thought as it were in 
acage. As yuu state the relation of the Universal 
Consviousness in which exists the physical world, 
and the individual consciousness of the particular 
thinker, you make indeed the truth of this individ- 
ual thought dependent on its agreement with that 
all-seeing thought, but as you so far utterly separate 
the individual thought from the allveeing thought, 
you make impossible any sort of transition from one 
to the other. This individual can never go out of 
himself, to meet that Infinite thought, and to see if 
he agrees with it. You put the model allembracing 
thought M in a relation to the poor human thought 
A, in which no transfer of thought really takes place, 
but still you give to A the command that it shall 
copy M. Then you postulate that which is by your 
hypothesis unknowable, namely, that this correspond- 
ence has been attained, and this empty postulate you 
call a philosophy. After all, say what you will of 
the beanty and nobility and courage of postulates, 
all this seems a rather wearisome business. For 
the postulates appear the vainest of all things when 
viewed in the light of the very theory that they are 
to establish.” 

This objection is a common-sense one, and formid- 
able. But, like all philosophic skepticism, rightly 
understood it will be our best friend. Possibly, in- 
deed, we shall have to complete somehow our notion 
of the relation of the individual minds to the all-em- 
bracing mind; but meanwhile let us take the objec 
tion in its worst form. What does it lead to when 


\ 
| 


B72 FHM RELAGSIONS ASPECT OV PHILASOFHY, 


emarrlead tor ftw Fullont extent? 16 lemede tor abolite 
ilecsgrtheshnten, St mtsyns “ Decrbeagem theects, after all, thie 
Hesletherem cf corse Aedbviedeaal thiotaght tres wich that 
thasves Sn ganmiboles for un te feranlation whatever for 
aney prrmteslaten, ‘Whuasy sores toll ite thes ale, Mverything 
Ho chentahet heal, Wee srry bees fen esrrar everywhere, Core 
tadestiy borat thes verted werrlel beesyerteel bw sasmttedenatile,” 
At thaies prsbaeh theesen wes torres Fiucces tor Frucces with thas utter 
Bruit thuwsretbectel wheegrtledann, What shall we de with 
167%)  Whay, jit whist wes dial with esthilesal wheegrtichann 
in an arlicr chapter, We inant recelve it in w 
Firiestubly mprhvit, rsd sersamt Aived coat ovbeat 16 sreestesm snd 
sammissssesn, = BG will, bes fasct, tretenforrin thin farall ox- 
tesriseal werrlsl oof thes poammtilaten bite w tras world of 
Pyiritunl bAfe, 

(Danes thabeage thabes wbessgrtbechnnss Seeagel berm, —— cries thing wes 
wineajiles sam peesteesreally tor cxmestagnes tocrtloes serene this Mme 
wareaget destin oof conne theese, St dangelbem thest we eos bes 
din errire lirut an eaternal world, Pbesvetove even 
thiol eswtrrernenes whescgrtdeshmess susevaserewn thite Ahere: dn os hi ffere 
ane hetunvemn true dnl filne abihernente cabins nthe, 
Sbest, anscow whist im isavesd veel bee weay henge Gbeeat mo mtelectesssnt 
Ls echtbasser tarsus ove Seales 7 We safthertas, tar clesmny, tos clestabst, 
ald Sango y sy wessal sbi barectberts bstwersts treaths meal error 
sabh tbasveses tbeesny Savwerd ves fan eccrtsnnsnerty tbees smmseaten get deris 
that, tbreseres in sosaeche oo bamtdenectterns, § — “WViat, whlch bn bene 
work veh sabilecs Nortbe fos tbses tesathe sated fan thes falwity of 
He wtaatestrscetel, teatical. Atesccdf bree cvecertendady tarasse, sored ccsensesert 
Does sha rahrhasel, — iat, white fen thabes semmonsssagetdorte Heeagobbaed bn 
three verry temmecert torts Aisa to wheatecrsecnt abn moe external 
were del bey cor antey dee feabees 7 This Anequlery wes snsant 
saisahecs If wes torres tos sasselesrmternel citar cower wheeytlolnnn, 


IDEALISY. 373 


If we begin this inquiry, we are met at once by a 
very vexatious paradox. There seems to be an as- 
pect in which all sincere jodgments are troe. Let 
us remember the fable of the knights and the shield. 
Each aceused the other of lying. To each the oth- 
er's account seemed deliberate falsehood. Yet each 
spoke the truth. Only neither expressed himself 
fally. Each should have said, “ The shield as it ap- 
pears from my side is gulden ™ or “is silver.” Bat 
each left out the qualification. Each said the shield, 
simply. And hence the battle. 

Bat this commonplace about the knights and the 
shield begins to worry us, when we reflect upon it, 
by becoming altogether too general in scope. Do 
we, in fact, ever make sincere assertions about things 
save as they appear tous? If I say, “ Sagar is pleas- 
ant to the taste.” and my neighbor says, “ Sagar 3b 
hateful to the taste,” is this a conflict af veracity ? 
May we not both of us be sincere and trathful in 
what we say? And are colorblind men lying when 
they say that there is no difference in color between 
strawberries and the leaves of the strawberry plant 
when seen in certain hghts? Bat why is it not just 
so with all the rest of the things that people say? 
If you are sincere in what you say, are you not al- 
ways in your awertions simply relating hew your 
ideas appear to you and are grouped? If you say 
that nothing happens without a cause, do you not 
mean that what you conceive by the ward cuwse is 
conceived by you as in connection with every event 
that you now have in mind? If you say that a 
straight line is the shortest distance between tace 


874 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


points, do you not mean that what you now conceive 
under the name straight line agrees with what you 
now mean by shortest distance? Very well then, 
how can there be any direct opposition between two 
sincere statements? Your neighbor says that Dar- 
winiam is absurd. You say that Darwinism is true. 
Where now is in fact the controversy? He says 
that he has two ideas in mind; namely, an idea of 
what he chooses to call Darwinism, and an idea of 
what he chooses to call absurdity. He says that 
these two ideas agree, just as the knight said that 
his shield (i. e. the shield as seen by him) was silver. 
You say that your idea of Darwinism agrees with 
your idea of truth, as the other knight said that the 
shield as seen by him was golden. Why fight about 
it? Thus all statements appear to be narratives of 
what goes on in our own minds. If they are sincere, 
if we mean them, who shall doubt that they are all 
true? Can any of us make assertions that are more 
than clear accounts of how we put our own ideas 
together? Why may not the thief before the judge 
sincerely say: “O judge, my idea of what I call 
chicken-stealing agrees with my idea of what I call 
virtue” And the judge may truthfully reply: “O 
rascal, my idea of what I call your chicken-stealing 
agrees with my idea of what I call detestable petty 
larceny.” Are these two opinions really opposed, so 
that one is true, the other erroneous? Are these 
not rather different aspects of the universe? What 
is truth, moral or physical? Is not every investiga- 
tion, every argument, every story, every anticipation, 
every axiom, every delusion, every creed, every de 


IDEALISM. STS 
nial, just a mere expression of a present union of 
ideas in somebody? Where do two assertions meet 
on common ground, so that one can be really trae, 
the other really false? Have different jodgments, 
in different minds or made at different times, any 
real common object at all? If they have not, how 
can there be any trath or falsity at all? 

This paradox is wild enough if you look at it 
fairly. And yet many thinkers actually have main- 
tamed it under vanous disguises as the doctrine of 
what ts called the Total Relativity of Truth. Hav- 
ing himself passed through and long tried to hold 
and to rationalize this doctrine of Relativity, the 
author has seme nght to say something in opposition 
to it. What he has to say can be very briefly pat. 
In its paradoxical form as above stated, the doctrine 
may be made planuble. and 3s a suggestive paradox, 
bat it is certainly meaningless. If there is no real 
distinetion between truth and error, then the state- 
ment that there is such a difference ts not really false, 
but only swemiagly fale. And then ia truth there 
is the distinction once more. Try as you will, you 
come not bevond the fatal cirele. If it ts wrong to 
say that there is Absolute Trath. then the statement 
that there is absolute truth 8s itself fake. Is 1 how- 
ever fake only relatively, or bs it fale absolutely? 
If it is fake only relatively. then it is rot fake abso- 
lntely. Hence the statement that it is fake abso- 
lately is itself fale. Bat false absolutely. or fake 
relatively? And thas you mast at lst come to some 
statement that is absolutely fake or absolutely true, 
er else the infinite regress into which you are driven 


876 = THY RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILONOPIY. 


makes the very distinetion betwoon absolute and rel 
ative truth lowe all ite moaning, and your doctrine of 
total Helutivity will also lose moaning. No almo- 
lute truth oxista,” — oun you say thin if you want to? 
At least you munt ald, “No absolute truth oxiets 
wane thin truth itaclf, that no absolute truth eniata.” 
Otherwise your statement has no monde. But if you 
adinit thin truth, then there in in fact an absolute 
distination betwoon truth and orror, 

And whon wo hore talk of an “ absolute” dintine 
tion betwoon truth and error, we mean morely o 
“rol” distinetion betwoon truth and error, And 
thin rol dintinetion the florcest partinan of relativ. 
ity wdmite ; for doo he not after all argue for rela 
tivity againnt “abmolutinta,” holding that he in really 
right, and they really wrong, 

Yet, sure though wo feel of the distinotion, the 
parulox and ite plausibility romain, How have 
difforent judgmonts, mule at different times, any 
real common object at all? If thoy have none, 
then whore in the postulated distinetion of truth and 
error? What shall wo do with our paradox? In 
whit sone oan privates opinion of one man bea 
gonuine error? ‘Phare mant be such a thing as real 
genuine error, or olay even our very akoptiocinm fails 
te» Jrsuver thoes Destemt, mestines, sacl we fall back into the 
utterly irrational chaos of not being able with truth 
to say whothor we doubt that we aro doubting, But 
yot how whall wo oxplain the posibility of error? 
Kor hore in an unique and fundamental postulate. 

The next chapter shill be devoted toa more apootal 


and dutailod study of this problem. But alroudly 


IDEALISM. STtT 


we shall venture to suggest our solution. It is one 
that needs possibly some little consideration, and the 
reader will pardon us if we already state it, although 
we shall repeat it in another form hereafter. In 
fact, it is a critical matter for our whole discussion. 
Here, in fact, will be the point where we shall pass 
from idealism as a bare hypothesis, expressing pos- 
tulates, to idealism as a philosophic doctrine, rest- 
ing upon the deepest possible foundation, namely, 
on the very difference between truth and error itself, 
Our logical problem will become for us a treasure- 
house af ideal truth. But just now we make only a 
sugyestian, to which aa yet we can compel no agree- 
ment. 

When one says even the perfectly commonplace 
thing that not all assertions are equally true, that is, 
that not all of them agree with the objects with which 
they mean to agree, he really makes an assumption 
upon which all thinking, all controversy, all the 
postulates that we previoualy studied, all science, all 
morality depend; and, as we maintain, this assump- 
tion is: Zhut the agreement or the disagreement 
ef his judgments with their intended objects exists 
gad Aus meaning for an actual thought, a com 
sciousness, to which both these related terms are \ 
present, namely, both the judgment and the odject® 
wherewith it is to agree. So that, if my thought 
has objects outside af it with which it can agree or 
disagree, those objects and that agreement can have 
meaning, can be possible, anly if there is a thought 
that includes both my thought and the object where- 
with my thought is to agreo. This inclusive thought 


87% = THK RELAGIOUS ASPHOT OF FIILAMOPHY. 


ment be related to my thenght and ite objects, as 
my thenight in relator te the varios prrtiol thenischte 
that it inelisdem ard redicom to unity in any one of 
my onnplex amertions, Kor only by some woh 
unity an thin oan thin highsr thought compare my 
judgment with ite object, and sw cmatitnte the 
Polation that in implied in the truth or in the error 
of my thnght. Ho, in the commonplace sammpe 
tion that « ataterment of ining can agrees or oan fail 
tor agro with ite real objet, when thin object is 
whally «ntaide my thenight, iss thin ammnungption, with- 
ont which you van mnke no rational statement, ia 
curtitealsonl isragliccithy thes mamssnprticn that all reality, 
apiritual aml material, in prennt in ite trun nature 
to an all-canbrncing, intelligent thought, of which 
ining is simply ome subordinates part or element, 
In truth, a0 wo whiall cennes tor noe, roynrcledd in itealf, 
my mind oan be comesrned only with ite own iden, 
Sat in thes view of all mercmdlenl wubijective idoulinn. 
Hut if my sind oan be comesrned only with ite own 
ileum, thes winearity and truth are identionl, truth 
sash oserrese will ws sabibees Asngurmmitiles, What I talk 
sabwrest, will bos siny islessom 5 theesie cobsjencte will bn them 
mech vesm cotbrese Sbessam cf arvitecs, saneel sesestesrings emily theme 
Lslessam wheste J ressalecs smmesrticrtin, | csasinest Fil tor smb 
carrreut, aumsrtisnin shunt thems, the objects that I 
monn, Fut thus controversy, program townrdn 
trosth, filtres tor yet, truth, mri, refutation, yon, 
estitrt, Stmoslf, will all cesnmes tr have any moaning 
Whiatwnsver, Fut if my thought in related to & 
higher theniyht, ever sm thes parte of one of my 
thunghte are rolatwl to the while thought, then 


IDEALISM. 879 


wrath and error, as objective truth and objective 
error, are possible, since my thought and its object, 
both as I think this object and as it 1s, are together 
in the universal thought, of which they form ele- 
ments, and in which they hive and move and have 
their bemg. As my thoughts have a unity more or 
less complete in themselves, so all thoughts and ob- 
jects must be postulated as in unity in that thought | 
for which is the whole universe. As I can say to | 
myself with solely subjective truth, Zhis line that 
I mentally picture is in truth shorter for me than 
that, and to say otherwise is to speak falsely > even 
go my statement, All straight lines are in all cases 
shortest lines between their extremities, is trae ob- 
jectively, and its contradictory false only in case 
both the world of possible straight lines and my 
thoughts about this world are known to a higher 
thought, are in fact members of a higher thought, 
which, comparing what [ cannot compare, making 
a synthesis of what is to me separate, unifying what 
is for me diverse, finds my thought really true or 
false. 

This is the barest outlme of a proof by which, in 
the next chapter, we shall try to reach the position 
which some call absolute or objective idealism. We 
shall find this theory as just set forth a necessary 
assumption, which we shall make because we want 
to think clearly, and because we find nothing else 
that even suggests an answer to the critical questions 
that trouble us as to the nature of thought. We 
shall not substitute this conception of reality for the 
scientific conception. On the contrary, this concep 


ne 


880 = THK RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PIILOSOPHY, 


tlon will merely undertake, presupposing the selene 
tifla aplelt, to Inolude the sclentifie conception of 
the world In one that will, aaa whole, batter satlefy 
the neadle of thin selentifia aplelt ttaelf. Our theory 
will ylve us ne a griord moount of facta of expe 
renee, but athaory of that which makes experience, 
awa whole, powdbla, ‘This theory, which we offer as 
the one rational awount of the natura of truth, ts 
the dotelne that the world deta and for a thought, 
All-anbracigy, all-knowlng, universal, for which are 
all relations and all tenth, a thought that estimates 
perfectly our laperfeat and halting thoughts, 
thought ja whieh and for which ara we all, No 
other view, as we shall affirm, offer any chance of 
a philosophy, nor any hope of even a rational sole 
entitle notlon of tliagw, 

The rouler may be Impatient to sea, In detall, the 
argument by which wa undertake to establish such a 
thenly as the foregoing, Of that argument he shall 
get onough In another chapter, But we ase him te 
walt yet a moment, while we hint te hin the aonwe. 
quences, for our rellylous theory, that will flow from 
our hypothe when wa have got lé more certalnly 
Ja ovr anda, 

The ambiguous relation of the consaloun individ 
Wialnto the undversal thought In the forsgolug flewt 
wtsotarnsncrant, cof cougar Uelenaddmaa, WHlh Vocr cleseleledl fas the 
mend Of thele inehuslon, an clomente, dn the wunlversal 
thought, Mey will Indead not become “tinge ta 
the deean of any other pomon thin thonmelven, 
hut thele whole reality, just oxnotly an dt In da them, 
Wil be found to be but a fragment of a higher 


there is any objective truth m moral conceptions, 
this truth is eternally known t this all-embracing 
thoaght. If there be moral or immoral acts, they 
are forever known and jadged in and by this all- 
embracing conscious thought. And thus we shall 
have found Job's longed -far, perfect, all-knowing 
jadce. ~ He knoweth the way that I take.” Here 
is an absolute estimate, objectively present in the 
workd, an estimate of all your good and evil deeds. 
You are a part of the universal fe. Your thoughts 
are parts af the whole. Your acts form an element 
in the universe that the great Judge knows. All af 
you then is known and jastly estimated by the ab- 
solute thoaght that embraces all posable truth, and 
for whom are al] relations, present. past. and future 
of all possible beings, acts, and thoughts in all places. 
If there be any virtue, this virtue is known to the 
infinite thought of the universe. If there be any 
Vice, that vice is estimated, in all its infinite hase. 
mess, by the infinite cansciousness. Inasmuch as ve 
do good unto the least of these. ye do it with the 
aniversal consciousness as onlooker: your work 5b 
al] accomplished in the presence of the Absolute. 
With this troth before us, we shall be ready to 
eave unsolved oar problems about this or that 
Power, about this or that future state, about the 


682 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPRY. 


fallen angels, or about the historical justification of 
God’s ways. The world of Divine Life will be in 
deepest truth not a Power at all, but the Infinite 
Knowing One, for whom are all the powers, but who 
is above them all, beyond them all, —no striving 
good principle that cannot get realized in a wicked 
world, but an absolute Judge that perfectly estimates 
the world. In the contemplation of this truth we 
may find a religious comfort. 

And then, by all this, we shall make tho postu- 
lates of our previous chapter appear in a new light, 
The postulates, we said, express the conditions 
under which we are determined to do our work, 
They are expressions of the spirit of courageous 
devotion to the highest. They find and can find no 
perfoct verification in experience. They dwell in 
part on the unseen. But they do not resist verifi- 
cation, if any can be offered from a higher source, 
But this, our new doctrine, if we truly get to it, 
will offer them their higher verification. Their 
office will not thereby be vacated or abolished. 
They will forever remain the maxims of our work. 
But they will no longer be just leaps in the dark. 
We shall soo that when science assumes rationality, 
and religion assumes goodness, as at the hoart of 
things, they have neither of them acted vainly, We 
shall thon have reason to go on assuming both, and 
to regulate our lives accordingly. Faith of somo 
sort will continue to bo our meat and drink ; but it 
will bo faith with a philosophical foundation, 

The reuler will pardon us for having detained 
him so long in tho study of idealism as a bare postu 


Keto. whem we have a unere senioes doctrime bebind. 
The taveterate prejudices and sninenderstandings to 
which sdealstae dheortes fall prev. fernish car excese 
for trving to reconcile carselves te an impertect foren 
ef idealism as a mere postalate, before going on to 
set forth an absobete idsaliom as a demonstrable 
theory. 


CHAPTER XI. 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 


on ne sort dignement la philosophic qu'avec le mame feu qu’on sent 
yer une inaltresse. — Roussxau, Nouvelle leldise. 


We have before us our theorem, and an outline 
of its proof. We are here to expand this argument. 
We have some notion of the magnitude of the is- 
sues that are at stake. Wo had found ourselves 
baffled in our search for a certainty by numerous 
difficulties. We had found only one way remaining 
so far quite clear. That was tho way of postulat- 
ing what the moral consciousness seems to demand 
about the world beyond experience. For many 
thinkers since Kant, that way has seemed in fact 
the only one. They live in a world of action, 
* Doubt,” they say, clouds all theory. One must 
act as if the world were the supporter of our moral 
demands. One must have faith, One must make 
the grand effort, one must risk all for the sake of 
the great prize. If the world is against us, still we 
will not admit the fact until we are crushed. If the 
cold reality cares naught for our moral efforts, so be 
it when we come to know the fact, but meanwhile 
we will act as if legions of angels were ready to sup- 
port our demand for whatever not our selfish inter- 
est, but tho great interest of tho Good, requires.” 


THE POSSIRILITY OF BRROR. $85 


Such is the view of the men whee religion 3s foanded 
upon a Postakate, 

We, toa, felt chat such faith Bb reign We 
were Willing te accept it, if nothing better could be 
found. But we were not content with it. Life has 
ts unherote days, when mere postulates fail us. At 
such times we grow weary of toiling, evil seems ac 
tually triumphant, and, worse than all. the sense 
that there really ib any perfect: coadness yet unat- 
tained, that there ix any worth or reason in our 
fight for goodness, seems to desert wa. And then it 
will indeed be well if we can get for ourselves some- 
thing more and better than mere postulates, If we 
eannat, we shall not wek to hide the fact. Better 
eternal despondency than a deliberate le about our 
deepest thoughts and their meaning. If we are not 
honest, at least in our philosophy, then are we whally 
base, To trv once nwre is not dishonest. 

So we did make the effort, and. in the het chap- 
ter, we sketched a result that seemed nearly within 
our mach, An unexpected result this, became it 
springs from the very heart of skepticism itll. 
We doubted to the last extremity, We ket everr 
thing gu, and then all of a sudden we seomed to find 
that we coukld net hese ane priceless treasure, trv as 
we woukd, Our wiklest doubt assumed this, namely, 
that error ik possible, And so our wildest doubt ar 
sumed the actial existence af these conditions that 
make error possibka The conditions that determine 
the logical possibility of error must themselves Se 
whale tratA, that was the treasure that remained 


to us amid all our doubts. And how rich that trem 
% 


886 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ure is, we dimly saw in the last discussion. That 
dim insight we must now try to make clearer. Per. 
haps our previous discussion has shown us that the 
effort is worth making. 

Yet of one thing the reader shall be warned. The 
path that we travel is hereabouts very thorny and 
stony. It is a path of difficult philosophical inves- 
tigation. Nobody ought to follow it who does not 
desire to. We hope that the reader will skip the 
whole of this chapter unless he wants to find even 
more of dullness than the rest of this sleepy book 
has discovered to him. For us, too, the arid way 
would seem hard, were it not for the precious prise 
at the end of it. 


I 


The story of the following investigation shall first 
be very briefly told. The author had long sought, es- 
pecially in the discussions of Kant’s “ Kritik,” and 
in the books of the post-Kantians, for help in see- 
ing the ultimate principles that lie at the basis of 
knowledge. He had found the old and well-known 
troubles. Exporience of itself can give no certainty 
about general principles. We must therefore, said 
Kant, bring our own principles with us to experi- 
ence. We know then of causation, because causa- 
tion is a fundamental principle of our thought, 

whereby we set our experience to rights. And s0 
long as we think, wo shall think into experience the 
connection of cause and effect, which otherwise would 
not be there. But hereupon the questions arose that 
havo so often been asked of Kant and the Kantians 


THE POSSIRILITY OF ERROR. S387 


Why jast these principles and no others? “That 
is Inexpheable.” replies Kant. Very well, then, 
See Oe EP PR Sing © expenence ose 
batrary principles of ours. Suppose we choose to 
stop thinking of experience as causally connectad. 
What den? ~ Bat you cannot stop.” says Kant, 
“Your thoaght, being what it is, must follow this 
one fashion forever.” Nay, we reply, how knowest 
thoa that, Master? Why may not our thought ret 
a new fashion some day? And then what is now 
@ meoessary principle, for example, that every event 
has a cause, would become unnecessary ar even non- 
aenswal. Do we then know a priont that our ¢ 
priori principles must always remain such? If 30, 
how come we by this new knowledge ? 

So Kant leaves us still uncertain aboat any fan- 
damental principles upon which a sure knowledge 
of the world can be founded. 

Let us, then, examine a little deeper. Are there 
any certain judgments possible at all? If one is 
skeptical in a thoroagh-going way. as the author 
triad to be, be is apt to reach, throagh an effort to 
revise Kant's View, a positian something hke the fol- 
lowing, —a provisional position of course, bat one 
that resalts from the effort to acwept nothing with- 
out critacism : “ Kant’s result is that our judcments! 
about the real world are foanded on an uniun af 
thought and sense, thought giving the appearance of 
mocessity bo our judement, sense giving the material. 
The necessity af any judgment amounts then anly to 
what may be summed up in the words: So thc pres 
ent union of thought and sense makes things ap 


H88 THE RELIGIOUN ANPROT OF PIHILONOIHY, 


peer. UF altho thoiyght or metnes relterend Ito cheated 
tar, trith wold alter, Elen every nlacere jraclge 
ment dn freed true for the imoment ia which it is 
iiule, but not necemmarily trae for other momenta, 
Wounly pontulate that it is true for other momenta’ 
And so," ta continue thin view, “Tt in only by 
means of postulates that our thought oven seamn to 
have any unity from moment to moment. We live 
dn the prenent, TF our thought has other truth or 
fulnity than this, we do not know ft Past and ft 
ture extant not for this present. They are only pane 
tulatad, Save an powtulated, they have no presen 
senenne ndings, 

W hon he held and expressed this view, the author 
In free to acliodt that he was not always oleae whether 
he ought to endl it the dostelne of the relativity of 
truth aon not. Et sdhit beaver everteled te almurdities 
af total relativity by taking form as a dovteine that 
thes prronent motets judgment in really trad or 
filme, for ty rend pant nicl futire, bat that we, bedag 
Hinited to proneit iomenta, oan never compare of 
Jerclpernsevantin wihtly rrestulitiy tar Caacl whrestdaee conse judge 
giiccrits sees dasey or fale. Dut althengeh thin detest. 
pretation ds ponntile, thin view often did oxpronn it 
wolf for the nathor ws the doctrine of the total rela. 
tivity of truth. The latter dootelie to de mute has 
no ronal moaning, but the author usd with many 
Obhoen (a foney Ghat it baud, 

To apply the view to the case of caused relations, 
Wo continually postulate,” the author used ta 
polat out, wo demand, without bela able to prove 
it, that nature ia future shall be uniform.” Sa, 


TRE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR, 389 


varrying out this thought, the author used to say: 
~ lu fact future nature is not given to us, juat as the 
past is not given to ua Sense«data and thought 
unite at every instant afresh to form a new judgment 
and a new postulate. Only in the present haa any 
judgment evident validity. And our postulate af 
causal relation is juat a way of looking at thia world 
of vanveived past and future data. Such postulates 
avoid being absurd efforta to regulate independent 
favts of sense, becanae, and only because, we have in 
experience no camplete aeries of facta af sense at all, 
only from mameut to moment aingle facta, about 
which we make aingle judgmenta, All the reat we 
must postulate ar else do without them.” Thus ane 
reaches a akepticiam aa nearly complete aa is poa- 
alhle te any ane with earnest activity af thought in 
him, From mament te mament one can be sure af 
each moment, All else is postulate. 

From the deptha of this imperfectly defined akep- 
tivian, which aeemed to him preovisianally the only 
view he could adopt, the author eavaped anly by aak- 
ing the ene question mere: “ If everything beyand 
the present is doubtful, then how ean even that doubt 
be possihle?" With this question that bare relativ 
ity af the present moment is given up What are 
the conditions that make doubt logically intelligihle ? 
These conditions really tranavend the present mo- 
ment. Plainly doubt implies that the statement| 
doubted may be false. So here we have at least ane! 
aupposed: general truth, namely, * All but the im-| 
mediate content af the present mament’s judgment, 


being doubtful, we may be in error about it.” But. 


890 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


what then is an error? This becomes at once a 
problem of exciting interest. Attacking it, the au- 
thor was led through the wilderness of the following 
argument. 


IL. 


Yet before we undertake this special examination 
of the nature of error, the reader must pardon us 
for adding yet another explanatory word. The diffi- 
culty of the whole discussion will lie in the fact that 
we shall be studying the possibility of the plainest 
and most familiar of commonplaces. Common sense 
hates to do such things, because common sense thinks 
that the whole matter is sure from the outset. Com- 
mon sense is willing to ask whether God existe, but 
unwilling to inquire how it is possible that there can 
exist an error about anything. But foreseeing that 
soinething is to follow from all this, we must beg 
sommon sense to be patient. We have not the 
shadow of doubt ourselves about the possibility of 
«ror. That is the steadfast rock on which we build. 
\Gur inquiry, ultra-skeptical as it may at moments 
seem, is into the question: //ow is the error possi- 
hle? Or, in other words: What is an error? Now 
there can be little doubt that common sense is not 
rvady with any general answer to such a question. 
Error is a word with many senses. By error we 
often mean just a statement that arouses our antipa- 
thy. Yet we all admit upon reflection, that our an- 
tipathy can neither make nor be used to define real 
error, Adam Sinith declares, with common sense on 
his side, in his “ Theory of the Moral Sentiments,” ! 

1 Part L, sect. L, chap. lii., near the beginning. 


that: ~ To approve or disapprove of the opinions of 
vtbers ks acknowledcad, by everybody, to mean Bo 
moore than to observe their agreement or disagree 
ment with oar own.” Yet po one woahl accept asa 
definition of error the statement that: Error is eng 
opinion that I persomadlg dio mot like. Exeor bas 
thus 3 very pugaling character. For commoa wane 
will readily admit that if a statement bs erronevas, 
it must appear errumeoas to every “ right mund ~ that 
is in possession of the facts. Heace the perwaal 
taste of one man is not envmch to define it. Lhe 
there might be as mxany sorts of error as there are 
minds, ft is only the “ night mind ~ whose perwmal 
taste shall decide what is an error in any partecalar 
cane. Bat what then is a normal mind? Who is the 
right-minded jadze? There seems to be danger that 
common sense shall ran at this point int an infinite 
reeress. Tsay: Thad opinion is um error, What 
do I mean’? Do I mean that I de not ke that 
opinwa? Nav. [ mean more. [mean that J onghs 
not bs lie ne te aope i. Why vagtt Love? Be 
cums the ately riphtmimdied pers woeld met, 
seeing the given Eaces. bold that opinion about them. 
Bat who ts the ideally rigbt-minded person? Well, 
CORO sae may answer. fy is oy alee person, 
the muphinrenaied mas es Toner him. Bat why 
ts muy bieah the trae adel! = Becuase I like it ? — 
Vig, beans, 03 the ideal pada, hast kind of” mind 
soouid seem, the iden, Bat who is the aleal padee ? 
Ani s common sinse is driven from point te point, 
enable to yet to anything definite. 

So mach, then, t show im general thet common 


892 §§ THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


sense does not know what an error is, and needs 
more light upon the subject. Let common sense not 
disturb us, then, in our further search, by the con- 
stant and indignant protest that error must some- 
how exist, and that doubt on that subject is nonsense. 
Nobody has any doubts on that subject. We ask 
only how error exists and how it can exist. 

For the rest, what follows is not any effort to 
demonstrate in fair and orderly array, from any one 
principle or axiom, what must be the nature of er- 
ror, but to use every and any device that may offer 
itself, general analysis, special example, comparison 
and contrast of cases, — anything that shall lead us 
to the insight into what an error is and implies. 
For at last, immediate insight must decide. 

We shall study our problem thus. We shall 
take either some accepted definition of error, or 
some special class of cases, and we shall ask: How 
is error in that case, or in accordance with that defi- 
nition, possible? Since error plainly is possible in 
some way, we shall have only to inquire: What are 
the logical conditions that make it possible? We 
shall take up the ordinary suppositions that com- 
mon sense seems to make about what here deter- 
mines the possibility of error. We shall show that 
these suppositions are inadequate. Then the result 
will be that, on the ordinary suppositions, error 
would be impossible. But that result would be 
absurd, if these were the only possible suppositions. 
Hence the ordinary suppositions must somehow be 
supplemented. When, therefore, we seem to say in 


the following that error is impossible, we shall mean 


only, impossible. under the ordinary suppositions of 
common sense. What supplement we need to these 
suppesitions, our argument will show us In sum 
we shall find the state of the cas to be th: Com- 
mon sense regards an asvertion as true or as false 
apart from any other assertion or thought, and solely 
in reference to its own object. For common sen 
each judgment, as a separate creation, stands out 
alone, looking at its object, and trying to agree with 
it. If it suceeeds, we have truth. If the judgment 
fails, we have error. Bat, ax we shall find, this view 
of common sense is unintelligible. A judgment can- 
not have an object and fail to agree therewith, un- 
less this judgment is part of an organism of thought. 
Alone, as a separate fact, a judgment has no intell- 
gible object beyond itelf. And therefore the pre- 
suppositions of commen sense must be supplemented 
or else abandoned. Eidther then there is no error, 
or else judgments are true or fal oaly in reference| 
to a higher inclusive thought, which they presuppose, , 
and which must, in the last analysix, be awumed as 
Infinite and albinelusive. ‘This result we shall reach - 
by no mystical insight, by no revelation, nor yet by 
ANY mere postulate such as we used in former dis- 
cussions, but by a simple, dry analysis of the mean- 
ing of our own thought. 

The most formidable opponent of our argument 
will be. after all, however, net common sense, bat 
that theught mentioned in the last chapter, — the 
theaght that may try to content itself with some- 
what plausible jargon, and te say that: * Zhere is 
no real difference between truth and error at ell, 


$04 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


only kind of oprinion or comsenaun of men about 
a conventional distinction betneen what they choone 
ty call truth and what they choose to call error” 
This view, as the author has confemed, he once tried 
to hold, Still thin mosninglow doctrine of relativ- 
ity is not the mame an the view that contents itself 
with the postulates before discussed, That view 
might take, and for the author at one time did take, 
the powsible and intelligible form thus oxpromible s 
6 Truth and error, thugh really distinguishable, 
are for us distinguished only through our port 
luton, inno fur an relates to past aul future time” 
Sich views, while not denying that there in real 
truth, donpiir of the sttainability for us of more than 
momentary truth. But the doctrine of Total Hela- 
tivity, thin view above expronmed, differs from gen 
tine skepticinn, It tries to put oven wkepticiamn to 
reat, bry declaring the opinion, that there ta error, to 
bes ites! f an error, This is not moroly a moderate 
expromion of human limitations, Imt jargon, and 
therefore formidable, hecauses jargon in always unan- 
awernhle, When the fameon Cretan declared all 
atatemente mule by Crotans to be in all canon lien, 
hin declaration was hard to refute, became it wae 
sch hemnent- seeming nonsenne. Kiven so with the 
statement that declires the very existences of error 
to be an erronemuly believed fancy. No consenmn 
of men can make an error erroneous, We can only 
find of commit an error, not crests it. When we 
cannimit an error, we say what wan an error already. 
Jf our skeptical view in previcus chapters sesmed to 
regard truth and error as mere objects of our poste 


THE POSSIRILITY OF ERROR. $95 


lates, that was only because, to our skepticism, the 
real truth, the real error, about any real past and 
future, seemed beyond our reach, a0 that we had 
to content ourselves with postulates. But that real 
error exists is absolutely indubitable. 

This being the case, it is evident that even the 
most thorough-going skepticism ts full of assump- 
tions, If I say, « There may be no money in that 
purse yonder.” I assume the existence of the parse 
yonder in order to make just that particular doubt 
possible. Of course, however, just that doubt may 
be rendered meaningless by the discovery af the 
actual non-existence of that particular parse. If 
there is no purse yonder, then it is nonsensical either 
to affirm or to deny that it contains money. And 
so if the parse of which I speak is an hallucination 
of mine, then the doubt about whether, as an actr- 
ally existent purse, it has money in it, is deprived 
of sense. My ral error in that case would he in 
supposing the purse itself to exist. If, however, I 
ahandon the first doubt, and go on to doubt the real 
existence of the purse, I equally assume a room, or 
some other environment, ar at all events the universe, 
as existent, in order to give sense to my question 
whether the purse has any being in this enviroament 
or in this universe. But if I go yet further, and 
doubt whether there is any universe at all outside of 
my thought, what does my doubt yet mean? If it 
is to be a doubt with any mal sense, it must be a 
doubt still with an object before it. It acems then 
to imply an assumed order of being, in which there 
are at loast two elements, my lonely thought about 


896 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


an universe, and an empty environment of this 
thought, in which there is, in fact, no universe. 
But this empty environment, whose nature is such 
that my thought does wrong to suppose it to be an 
universe, what is that? Surely if the doubt is to 
have meaning, this idea needs further examination. 
The absolute skepticism is thus full of assumptions. 

The first European thinker who seems to have 
discussed our present problem was Plato, in a too- 
much-neglected passage of the “ Thextetus,” 1 where 
Socrates, replying to the second definition of knowl- 
dge given by Thewxtetus, namely, knowledge is 
True Opinion, answers that his great difficulty has 

ten been to see how any opinion can possibly be 
alse. The conclusion reached by Plato is no very 
definite one, but the discussion is deeply suggestive. 
And we cannot do better here than to pray that the 
shade of the mighty Greek may deign to save us 
now in our distress, and to show us the true nature 
of error. 


III. 


Logicians are agreed that single ideas, thoughts 
viewed apart from judgments, are neither true nor 
false. Only a judgment can be false. And if a 
reasoning process is said to be false, the real error 
lies still in an actual or suppressed assertion. A 
fallacy is a false assertion that a certain conclusion 
follows from certain premises. Error is therefore 
generally defined as a judgment that does not agree 
with its object. In the erroneous judgment, sub- 
| 


1 Plato, Th., p. 187 sqq. 


TRE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 897 


ject and predivate are a0 combined aa, in the object, 
the corresponding elements are not combined. And 
thus the judgment comes to be false. Now, in this 
definition, nothing is doubtful or obscure aave the 
ane thing, namely, the assumed relation between the 
judgment and its object. The definition asaumes as 
quite clear that a judgment has an object, wherewith 
it can agree or not agren, And what is meant by 
tho agreement would not be obscure, if we could see 
what is meant by the object, and by the possession of 
this object implied in the pronoun its. What then 
is meant by és abject? The difficulties invelved in 
this phrase begin to appear aa soon as you look 
eloser, First then the object af the assertion ia as 
auch supposed to be neither the subject nor the pred- 
ivato thereof. It is external tu the judgment. — It 
has a nature of its own, Furthermorn, not all jude 
ments have the same object, so that objevta are very 
numerous, But fram the intinity af real or af pos 
sible abjeota the Judgment samehow picks out its 
ewn, Thus then for a judgment to have an object, 
there must be something about the judgment that 
shows what ane af the external objects that are be- 
yand itself this judgment does pick out aa its own, 
But this something that gives the judgment its al- 
ject can only be the intention wherewith the judy 
mont is avoampanied, A judgment haa as object 
only what it intends to have aa object. It haa to 
conform only tu that to which it wants to canforn, 
Bat the easenee af an intention is the knowledge af 
What one intends, One can, for instance, intend a 
cleed or any af its consequenees only in ao far aa he 


898 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


foresees them. I cannot be said to intend the acci- 
dental or the remote or even the immediate conse- 
quences of anything that I do, unless I foresaw that 
they would follow; and this is true however much 
the lawyers and judges may find it practically neces- 
sary to hold me responsible for these consequences. 
Even so we all find it practically useful to regard 
one of our fellows as in error in case his assertions, 
as we understand them, seem to us to lead to conse- 
quences that we do not approve. But our criticisms 
of his opinions, just like legal judgments of his acte, 
are not intended to be exact. Common sense will 
admit that, unless a man is thinking of the object of 
which [ suppose him to be thinking, he makes no 
real error by merely failing to agree with the object 
that I have in mind. If the knights in the fable 
judge each other to be wrong, that is because each 
knight takes the other’s shield to be identical with 
the shield as he himself has it in mind. In fact 
neither of them is in error, unless his assertion is 
false for tho shield as he intended to make it his 
object. 

So then judgments err only by disagreeing with 
their intended objects, and they can intend an object 
‘only in so far forth as this object is known to the 
thought that makes the judgment. Such, it would 
seom, is the consequence of the common-sense view. 
But in this case a judgment can be in error only 
if it is knowingly in error. That also, as it seems, 
follows from the common-sense suppositions. Or, if 
wo will have it in syllogistic form : — 

Everything intended is something known. The 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 899 


object even of an crroneous judgment is intended. 
-. The object even of an error is something known. 

Or: Ouly what is known can be erred about. 
Nor can we yet be content with what common sense 
will at once reply, namely, that our syllogism uses 
known ambiguously, and that the object of an erro- 
neous judgment is known enough to constitute it the 
object, and not enough to prevent the error about it. 
This must no doubt be the fact, but it is not of iteelf 
clear; on the contrary, just here is the problem. As 
common sense conceives the matter, the object of a 
judgment is not as such the whole outaide world of 
common sense, with all its intimate interdependence 
of facts, with all its unity in the midst of diversity. 
On the contrary, the object of any judgment is just 
that portion of the then conceived world, just that 
fragment, that aspect, that element of a supposed 
reality, which is seized upon for the purposes of just 
this judgment. Only such a momentarily grasped 
fragment of the truth can possibly be present in any 
one moment of thought as the object of a single as- 
sertion, Now it is hand to say how within this arbi- 
trarily chosen fragment iteelf there can still be room 
for the partial knowledge that is sufficient to give to 
the judgment its object. but insufficient to aecure to 
the judgment its accuracy, If [aim at a mark with 
my gun, I can fail to hit it, because choosing and 
hitting a mark are totally distinct acta. But, in the 
judgment, choosing and knowing the object seem in- 
separable, No doubt somehow our difficulty is solu- 
ble, but we are here trying tirst to show that it is a 
difficulty. 


400 ‘THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


To illustrate here by a familiar case, when we 
speak of things that are sulely matters of personal 
preference, such as the pleasure of a sleigh-ride, the 
taste of olives, or the comfort of a given room, and 
when we only try to tell how these things appear to 
us, then plainly our judgments, if sincere, cannot be 
in error. As these things are to us, so they are. 
We are their measure. To doubt our truthfulness 
in these cases is to doubt after the fashion of the 
student who wondered whether the star that the as- 
tronomers call Uranus may not be sumething else 
after all, and not really Uranus. Surely science does 
not progress very far or run into great danger of 
error #0 long as it employs itself in discovering such 
occult mysteries as the names of the stars. But our 
present question is, How do judgments that can be 
and that are erroneous differ in nature from these 
that cannot be erroneous? If astronomers would be 
equally right in case they should agree to call Ura- 
nus Humpty Dumpty, why are not all judgments 
equally favored? Since the judgment chooses its 
own object, and has it only in so far as it chooses it, 
how can it be in that partial relation to its object 
which is implied in the supposition of an erroneous 
assertion / 

Yet again, to illustrate the difficulty in another 
aspect, we can note that not only is error impossible 
about the perfectly well-known, but that error is 
equally impossible, save in the form of direct self- 
contradiction, about what is absolutely unknown. 
Spite of the religious awe of some people in pres 
ence of the Unknowable, it is safe to say, somewhat 


TRE POSSIRILITY OF ERROR. 401 


irreverently, that about a really Unknowable. nobody 
could make any sincere and self-consistent assertiona 
that could be errora, For self-consistent assertions 
about the Unknowahle would af necessity be mean- 
inglesa, And being meaningless, they could not well 
be false. For inatance, ane could indeed not aay 
that the Unknowahble cantemplates war with France, 
ar makes sunapots, ar will be the next Presidential 
candidate, because that would be contradicting ane’a 
self. Forif the Unknowahle did any of these things, 
it would no longer be the Unknowahle, but would 
become either the known or the diacoverahle. But 
avaid such aelf -cantradiction, and you cannot err 
about the Unknowahle, For the Unknowable is sim- 
ply our old friend dbracadabra, a word that has no 
meaning, and by hypothesis never can get any. So 
if T aay that the Unknowahle dines in vacuo with 
the chimera, or is Humpty Dumpty, I talk nensense, 
and am therefare unable to make a mistake, Nan- 
aonee is error anly when it invalves self-cantradiction, 
Avoid that, and nonsense cannet hander, having no 
abject outside of itself with which it must agree. 
But all this illustrates from the other side our diffi- 
culty, Is not the object af a judgment, in so far aa 
it is unknown to that judgment, like the Uuknewa- 
bles for that judgment? To be in error about the 
application of a aymbol, you must havea symbol that 
symbolises something. But in se far as the thing 
aymbalized is net known through the symbol, how 
is it symbolised by that symbal? 1s it net, like the 
Unknewahle, ance for all out af the thought, se that 
one cannot just then be thinking about it at all, and 
* 


402 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


so cannot, in this thought at least, be making blun- 
ders about it? But inso far as the thing symbolized 
is, through the symbol, in one’s thought, why is it 
not known, and #o correctly judged? All this in- 
volves that old question of the nature of symbols. 
They are to mean for us more than we know that 
they mean. How can that be? No doubt all that 
is really possible, but how? 


IV. 


We follow our difficulty into another department 
‘Let us attempt a sort of provisional psychologica ) 
description of a judgment as a state of mind. So 
regarded, a judgment is simply a fact that occurs ia 
somebody's thought. If we try to describe it as an 
occurrence, without asking whence it came, we shall 
perhaps find in it three elements, — elements which 
are in some fashion described in Ueberweg’s well- 
known definition of a judgment as the “ Conscious- 
ness about the objective validity of a subjective 
union of ideas.” Our interpretation of them shall bo 
‘this: The elements are: The Szulyect, with the ac- 
| companying shade of curiosity about it; the J?red- 
 geate, with the accompanying sense of ita worth in 
| satisfying a part of our curiosity about the subjevt ; 
- and the Sense of Dependence, whereby we feel the 
value of this act to lie, not in itself, but in its agree- 
ment with a vaguely felt Beyond, that stands out 
there as Object. 

Now this analysis of the elements of a judgt,ont is 
no explanation of our difficulties ; and in {-ct for 


THE POSSIRILITY OF KRROR. 408 


the moment only embarrasses ua more. But the na- 
ture of the difficulty may came home to ua somewhat 
more clearly, if we try to fallow the thread of thia 
analyaia a little further. Even if it ia a very imper. 
fect account, it may serve to lead ua up to the true 
inaight that we aeek into the nature of error. Let 
ua make the analyaia a little more detailed. 

In ita typioal form then, the judgment aaa mental 
atate aeema to ua to begin with a relatively incam- 

ete or unatable or diaconnected maaa of conacioua- 
neaa, which we have called the Subject, aa it firat be- 
gina to be present to ua. Thia aubject-idea ia at- 
tended by some degree of effort, namely, of atten- 
tion, whose tendency ia to complete thia incomplete 
aubject by bringing it into oloaer connection with 
more familiar mental life. Thia more familiar life ia 
represented by the predivate-idea, If the effort ia 
anocesaful, the anbject haa new elomenta united to it, 
aaanmea in conaciouanesa a definiteneaa, a coherency 
with other atatea, a familiarity, which it lacked at the 
outaet of the act of judgment; and thia coherency it 
geta through ita union with the predicate. All thia 
ia accompanied further by what ane for ahort may 
call a aense of dependence, The judgment feela it- 
aalf not alone, but loaka to a somewhat indefinite ob- 
ject aa the model after whivh the preaent union of 
ileaa ia to be fashioned. And in thia way we ex- 
plain how the judgment ia, in thoae worda of Ueber 
Wog'a detinition, © the conacionanesa about the abjeo- 
tive validity of a aubjective union of ideaa,” 

Now aa a mere completion of aubject-idea through 
the addition of a predivate-idea, the judgment ia ainy 


404 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ply a mental phenomenon, having interest only to 
the person that experiences it, and to a psychologist. 
But as true or as false the judgment must be viewed 
in respect to the indefinite object of what we have 
called the sense of dependence, whereby the judg- 
ment is accompanied. Seldom in any ordinary judg- 
ment does this object become perfectly full and 
clear; for to make it so would often require many, 
perhaps an infinite, series of judgments. Yet, for the 
one judgment, the object, whether full and clear or 
not, exists as object only in so far forth as the sense 
of dependence has defined it. And the judgment is 
true or false only with reference to this undefined ob- 
ject. The intention to agree with the object is con- 
tainod in the sense of dependence upon the object, 
and remains for this judgment incomplete, like the 
object itself. Somewhat vaguely this single act in- 
tonds to agreo with this vague object. 

Such being the case, how can the judgment, as 
thus described, fairly be called false? As mere pay- 
chological combination of ideas it is neither true nor 
falne, As accompanied by the senso of dependence 
upon an object, it would be false if it disagreed with 
its imporfoctly defined object. But, aa described, 
the only object that the judgment has is this imper- 
fectly defined one, With this, in so far as it is for 
the moment defined, the judgment must needs agree. 
Tn wo far as it is not defined, it is however not object 
for this judgmont at all, but for some other one. 
What the imperfect sense of dependence would fur 
ther imply if it existed in a complete instead of in 
an incomplete state, nobody can tell, any more than 


ome cam tell what towns would grow ap br a given 
ram-pool, if mt were mo pool, bet arrest bike. The 
object of a samghe fadyenent. bene what it is. mamely, 
a vaguely defimed object. present to this yedcenent, is 
yest wheat wt is for this jedruneatt, and the jedcunent 
seems omoe for all to be tree, im ouse it Es sincere. 
Soame ome mxay here af omoe answer that we mar 
bect: nm this descriptzen the close imisendependeace of 
wartoms Fadeunenits. Thowyitt. some ome may say. ts 
am organic waity. Separated from all else bet its 
cammet be erromeoms. Only in the onganic unity of 
a somes of padeunents. havime a common object, is 
the error of ome of them possible. We reply that 
alll thrs will term oat to be jest oor resakt. Bat the 
esnal sappesitinom at the omtset is that amy jodcuent 
has bv itself its ewe object, so that thereby alone, 
apart from other Pademments. it stands or Falls Amd 
thes fer we have tried to show that this matnral sap- 
position feads es unto difficality, We cammet see 
how a single sapcere jpedcenent shoald possbly fall 
tho aemee with its owm Ghanem object. Bast emoagh of 
our problem im gemeral, We mast comnder certain 
classes of errors more im detail. Let us see how, mm 
these spacial classes af canes, we shall sncaoeed im ver 
livime the matural presappositiom of commen semne, 
as wot wholly presemt te mind and which assumes 
that a jodement can have an object that is vet only 
partially present to mind, In chaosinge the classes off 
cases, we shall first follow commem sense as to ther 
definmmom. We shall tabe jest the acomptions of 


400 = TH NRLIGIOUIN ANPRIT OF PHILONOPHY, 


Atily lites, mtscl mbesadl mbecrwy theists they fered sm ttter diff 
milty, We are tet for the Ment bane ter expleadte 
why theme saniiptionn are mae, ‘Mat cette 
meicimes tretehec threats dm eteentegele, 

Mit let the render remembers The whole vali of 
ate aegiinent Hen int ite parfout generality, flew. 
ever mich we dwell on particles claaes of ertern, 
we corres tetetdalinge Pere thes greeneel tliat jem theme erecta 
ate Inexplicatle, beat only for the fact thet they iL 
ltntrate how, withett mete entirely new hypertdenia, 
Abaolitely all error heetiem linponsitle. ‘Tile on 
that clawn of Jrdginente mney he ote ite which all the 
jilgmenta are relative, bet the total relativity of 
enti Gheertegelots Heregoliesm sate Vtscsertengreesheestemd isles eatndl conetete 
Aittiry atate of things, Atty hypothesia about error 
that msken Uriel relativity the only adtnianitle view, 
itinh therefore give place te mene tow hyperthenia, 
Atl ote hiateationns in the following are intended 
tay vlrerw that jeemt whit cenimtdtiiton the diMeulty in 
penpet if theme Ilemtrationa, taken the oxletencs of 
any error inexplicable witht ame new hypethesta, 


Vv. 


‘The Glass of eevcem iat we aliell Newt take meettin, 
fer certemnen Aotiae, eonninete etenegh, fh in the clan 
htewi aa errors abet otte nedgeliber'a mttten of andted, 
Jet um then, for aegement's aake, vane without 
preel that one nedelbere do exiat. Mor we wre tre 
here coneerned to neawer Bolipalan, bet merely to 
Gaeriplify the diMelton abet the natare of spect, 
Hf cue neighhors did not exist, then the nature of 


THE POSSIRILITT OF ERDOR. 40T 


the error that woukl he im saying that they do exit 
weoakl present abmest exactly the same diffcalties. 
We prefer, however, to begin with the common-sense 
assumption about ourselves and our pmeighbers as 
separate individual, aad te ask how exror can then 
arte im jadging of our neighbors’ minds. 

In the first place thea: Who & my pewhbor? 
Sarely, on the assumptions that we all make, and 
that we pxade all through the ethical part of oar dis- 
cassie, he is Bo one of my thoughts. nor is any part 
of him ever aay pagt of my thought. He is net my 
object, bat. in Professor Chifford’s phrase, am ~ ejeet.” 
wholly outside of my ideas. He is no “ thing in my 
dream.” just as I am not in his dream, 

Yet I make jodgments about him. and he makes 
them about we And whea I make jodyments about 
him, I do so by having in my thought sume set of my 
own ikieas that. although net himself. do yet, as I 
say, represent him. A hind of dammy, a symbol, a 
graven imace of my own thought’s creation, a phar- 
tom of mine, stands there im me as the represente- 
tive of his mind: and all I say about my meizhbor's 
inner hife refers directly to this representative. The 
Seottish philosaphy bas had much to sar to the workd 
about what it calls direct or presentative, as opposed 
to representative, knowlbedge of objects. Fat surely 
the most obstinate Seodtash philosopher that ever ate 
oatmeal cannot hold so tenaciously by his naional 
doctrine as to say that T have, according to common 
sense, anything bat a representative knowkadge of 
my neighbor's thoughts and feelings. That is the 
enly sort of knowledge that common seas will re 


408 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


gard as possible to me, if s0 much as that is possible. 
But how I can know about this outside being is not 
now our concern. We notice only that our difficulty 
about error comes back to us in a new form. For 
how can I err about my neighbor, since, for this com- 
mon-sense view, he is not even partly in my thoughts ? 
How can I intend that as the object of my thought 
which never can be object for me at all? 

But not everybody will at once feel the force of 
this question. We must be more explicit. Let us 
take the now so familiar suggestign of our great hu- 
morist about the six people that take part in every 
conversation between two persons. If John and 
Thomas are talking together, then the rea] John and 
Thomas, their respective ideas of themselves, and 
their ideas of each other, are all parties to the con* 
versation. Let us consider four of these persons, 
namely, the real John, the real Thomas, John as 
Thomas conceives him, and Thomas as John con- 
ceives him. When John judges, of whom does he 
think? Plainly of that which can be an object to 
his thoughts, namely, of Ais Thomas. About whom 
then can he err? About his Thomas? No, for he 
knows him too well. His conception of Thomas is 
his conception, and what he asserts it to be, that it 
is for him. About the real Thomas? No, for it 
should seem, according to common sense, that he has 
nothing to do with the real Thomas i in his thought, 
since that Thomas never becomes any part of his 
thought at all. “ But,” says one, “there must be 
some fallacy here, since we are sure that John can 
err about the real Thomas.” Indeed he can, say 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 409 


we; but ours ia not this fallacy, Common senae has 
made it, Common aense haa aald: “ Thomaa never 
ia in John’s thought, and yet John can blunder 
about Thomas.” How ahall we unravel the knot ? 

One way auggesta itelf. Mayhap we have been 
tuo narrow in our definition of edject, Common 
wnae surely inaiata that objects are outaide of our 
thought. If, then, F have a judgment, and another | 
boing aeea both my judgment and some outaide ob- 
ject that waa not in my thought, and seen how that 
thought ia unlike the abject in some critical reapect, | 
this being could say that my asertion Waa an error, 
So then with John and Thomas, (7 TRomeas could 
know John's thoughts about Aim, then Thomaa could 
pomibly see John's error, That is what is meant 
by the error in John’s thought. 

Rut mere disagreement of a thought with any nue 
dom abject door not make the thoaght errmneoua, 
The judgment muat diaagree with ifs chosen ubjoot \ 
Tf John never haa Thomas in thought at all, how 
ean John choow the real Thomas aa hia object? Tf 
I judge about a penhalder that ia in thia room, and 
if the next ron ia in all reapocta like thik, aave for 
a penhalder in it, with which my assertion does not 
agree, who, louking at that penholder in that other 
root, can aay that my judgment ia falze? For | 
meant not Cat penhulder when FE apoke. but: this 
one, | knew perhaps nothing about that one, had 
it not in mind, and so could not err about it, Even 
mm, suppose that outaide af John there ia a real 
Thomas, aimilar, aa it happens to John’a ideal 
Thonwa, but lacking some thought or affection that 


410 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


John attributes to his ideal Thomas. Does that 
make John’s notion an error? No, for he spoke and 
could speak only of jis ideal Thomas. The real 
Thomas was the other room, that he knew not of, 
the other side of the shield, that he never could con- 
ceive. Tis Thomas was his phantom Thomas. This 
phantom it is that he judges and thinks about, and 
his thoughts may have their own consistency or in- 
consistency, But with the real other person they 
have nothing to do. The real other is not his ob- 
ject, and how can be err about what is not object 
for him? 

Absurd, indeed, some one will reply to us. John 
and Thomas have to deal with representative phan- 
toms of each other, to be sure; but that only makes 
each more apt to err about the real other. And the 
test that they can err is s very simple one. Suppose 
a spectator, a third person, to whom John and 
Thomas were both somehow directly present, so that 
he as it were included both of them. Then John’s 
judgment of his phantom Thomas would be by this 
spectator at ones compared with the real Thomas, 
and even so would Thomas's judgment of John be 
treated. If now John’s phantom Thomas agreed 
with the real Thomas, then John’s ideas would be 
declared in so far truthful ; otherwise they would be 
erroneous, And this explains what is meant by 
John’s power to err about Thomas. 

The explanation is fair enough for its own pur- 
pone, and we shall need it again before long. But 
just now we cannot be content with it. For what 
we want to know is not what the judgment of s 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 4ii 


third thinker would be in case these two were some- 
how not independent beings at all, but things in 
this third being’s thought. For we have started out 
with the supposition of common sense that John 
and Thomas are not dreams or thoughts of some 
higher third being, bat that they are independent 
beimgs by themselves. Our supposition may have 
to be given up hereafter, bat for the present we 
want to hold fast to it. And so John’s jodgment, 
which we had supposed to be about the independ- 
ently existing Thomas, has now turned out to be 
only a judgment about John’s idea of Thomas. Bat 
Jodgments are false only in case they disagree with 
their intended objects. What. however, is the ob- 
ject of John’s jodgment when he thinks about 
Thomas? Not the real Thomas. who could not pas- 
sibly be an object in another man’s thoughts. John’s 
cere, and if fully conscious of what he means by 
Thomas, fail to agree in his statements with his own 
John and Thomas are independent entities, each of 
which cannot possibly enter in real person into the 
thoughts of the other. Each may be somehow rep- 
resented in the other's thoughts by a phantom. and 
only this phantom can be intended by the other 
when he judges about the first. For unless one talks 
nonsense, it should seem as if one could mean only 
what one has in mind. 

Thus, like the characters in a certain Bab ballad, 
real John. real Thomas, the people in this simple 
tale, are total strangers to each other. You might 


412 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


aa woll ask a blind man to make trae or false judge 
monts about tho real effects of certaln combinations 
of colors, as to nal either John or Thomas, doflned 
an common sonme defines them, to make any judge 
monts about enoh other, Common sone will aasort 
that @ blind man can learn and repeat verbally cor- 
rect statements about color, or verbally fale state. 
ments about color, but, according to the common. 
sense view, in no case oan ho err about color-ldeas 
ax such, which are nover present to him. You will 
bo quite reuly to say that a dog can make mistakes 
about tho odors of the niumberlow tracks on the 
highway, You will assure us, however, that you 
cannot make mistakes about them because these 
odors do not exist for you. Agvording to the oom- 
mon-sonse view, a mnathomatiolan can make blunders 
in demonstrating the proportions of equations, A 
Bushman cannot, for ho can have no idons correspond. 
ing to equations, But how thon ean John or Thomas 
make orrors about each other, when neither is more 
present to the other than in color to the blind man, 
the odor of the tracks on the highway to the dog's 
maator, or the iden of an equation to a Bushinan? 
Hore common senso forsaken is, assuring us thas 
there is auch error, but refusing to define it. 

Tho inconsistency involved in all this: common 
konne view, nd the consquondes of the inconsistency, 
will apponr yet better with yot further Mustration, 
A dreain in filas in so far as it contains the Judgmont 
that such and such things oxiat apart from us; but 
at lonst inno far nas wo moroly asert in our dreams 
about the objucts an we concelve them, wo make true 


THE POSSIBILITY OF EZSOR. 413 


sssertioms. Bint i: mot our actual iife of assertness 
aboot acral felow-beimes mock hie a dream to 
which there showld happem to correspomd some real 
aoeme or event im the workd? Sach correspondence 
would mot make the dream really “tree” por vet 
false, It would be a coumcidemce, remarkable for an 
eatsnde olbserwer. best mome the hess would the dreamer 
bet about the thimgs im bis dream Bat & mot our 
sepponed Thomas a. amd omly so im the thot of 
Johm as be would be if Joba charmed to dream of 
a Thoomss that was. to am extermal spectator. hie the 
real ome? Is mot then the phantwon Thoszss. John's 
ealy direct object. actually 3 thimg im Joba's thowzt? 
Is them the independent Thomas an object for Jobe 
im any seme” 

Yet agai. Let us suppose that two mem are shat 
wp. each ra a chased room: by humelf. and for bs 
whole life: amd let ws suppose that br a Lamterm com- 
trivance each of them is able at tumes to prodiace om 
the wall of the others room a serine of pactmres 
Bat metther of them eam ever know what pactares he 
prodimces ie the others room. and meither cam know 
amvthing of the others rooms. as sach bet only of 
the pocrares, Let the two resmam forever im ths re- 
Esmom. 9 Orme of them. A. sees om bis wall pactnmres, 
which resemble more or less what be has sea im bos 
own room af other times. Yet he pereeives these to 
be only paetures. aed be supposes thes to represent 
What goes om un amother roomn, whodh be eomeeares 33 
bike bis own. He i interested, be examumes the phe. 
nomecea, be predacts their fatere changes, he passes 


414 = FHKE RKLIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


judgment upon them, Ho may, if you Ihe to con 
tines the hypeothenin, fil sone way of affecting 
thesia, bry babssnelf sustiig inn me way mnysterionim ta bibsne 
self no as to produes changes in 1's aestual room, 
which again affect the ploturen that the road 13 pro 
dis in A's room, Thus A might hold what he 
wold oall communication with his phantom roan, 
Keven mo, DB liven with pleturen before him that are 
produc from A's room. Now one more supposl 
thon, namely, that A and 1 have absolutely no other 
menin of commiuniontion, that beth sare whut up alte 
ggcstbaesee sesmel salwerye beaver loess, that neither haw any 
ahjeets before him but his own thoughts and the 
Changi plete on the wall of hin room, In this 
assumes Whiset, cLifFestestnecss cles 16 snakes whether or tu the 
pletrarem fen Alm renotin sases scstesedly Heer Cher things 
thisat, cccrsabel oes messy fee D3'w ron 7 WOE that sake 
A'n judyinonte either tei or fialus? Wven if A, 
necting boy snes Chit bes bisamelf ensinot snelermtandd, 
In able to control the pletares on hie wall by some 
sltesmstion diate tanemmclounly produce in 15's 
roo sil iw pletiuren, till A oannot be wild to have 
any knowledge of the ronl 1 aad hin room ab all, 
And, for thes same ronaan, A catinot tne tnintakes 
tbacriat, thoes sessed rent of U5, feo bees will mervese coves 
tbadrade cof Abaca, essed sreoconse, fee WHT, Vileos oo ane ft ow 
Nvessusea, CUsbaede sesnod beer saboles tor thodrale condy of ther prise 
tasvem cote tide well, | And what hie refers them to an 
crnatanbeles cesnsanees, Vacs cLeacees rocrt srneeseny boy Cai csstsanes Chie renal 
BS saneed Vobes sessed srcnersen, Cone bees Vasa snesveser cDeresssnesed oof thay 
rend 1, bat onby of ties pletion of bile own fate 
pretation of them, bls can thoresfors make no falee 


THE FOSSIRILITY OF ERROR. 415 


padeueents aloet B's rocea, any more then a Basken 
ean make fale yedrenents about the mitegral cabcales. 

If to our present world there doe: correspond a 
qecomd workd somewhere off za space.a world exactly 
Ike dhis, where jost the saune events at every unten 
make about var workd are mot acteally tree or fale 
with reference to tikat workd. for we scan this workd, 
mot that ome. whee we pedve. Why are act Joba's 
"Dhownas and the real Thoms related hke this workd 
and tikat secomd world im dixtamt space? Why are 
mot both The the rebatiom of A's comecaved phantom 
roum and Bs real roo”? Nothing of evther real 
Foun is ever present to the other. Each prmomer 
ean wake tree of fake pedemeots if at all then, 
only about the poctores om bis wall: but mother 
Teas evem the saerestiion that could bead him tw moke 
a bhunder shout the others real room, of whack he 
kes and can have mot the farses odea. 

Ome reasom why we fail two we at ome this fact 
hes in the comstamtt temdemry to rezard the matter 
froma the peoomt of waew of a third person, mead of 
froma the pount of whew that we still imphiculy atirib- 
wie w A amd B theamselwes. If A coohd vet commde 
ef hts room ome and ae Bs room. them he weld 
say: ~ My pactare was a good oma” or the reverse. 
Bat. in the supposed case. he mot omly mever sees B's 
roorn, but he mever sees anvthimg bot his owm pee 
tares. mewer vets oat of fos room at all for amy per- 
pese. Hemee. bis sole objets of aasertom bee his 
poctares, he 2s iImmocemt af amy power to err about 
Bs room as it 35 im iteelf, even as the mon bere bind 


416 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


is innocent of any power to err about the relations 
of colors. 

Now this relation of A and B, as they were sup- 
posed to dwell in their perpetual imprisonment, is 
essentially like the relation that we previously pos- 
tulated between two independent subjects. If I can- 
not have you in my thought at all, but only a picture 
produced by you, I am in respect to you like A con- 
fined to the pictures produced from B’s room. How- 
ever much I may fancy that I am talking of you, I 
am really talking about my idea of you, which for 
me can have no relation whatever to the real you. 
And so John and Thomas remain shut up in their 
prisons. Each thinks of his phantom of the other. 
Only a third person, who included them both, who 
in fact treated them as, in the Faust-Epilogue, the 
Pater Seruphicus treats the selige Knaben (Er 
nimmt sie in sich, says the stage direction) — only 
such an inclusive thought could compare the phan- 
toms with the real, and only in him, not in them- 
selves, would John and Thomas have any ideas of 
each other at all, true or false. 

This result is foreign to our every-day thought, be- 
cause this every-day thought really makes innocent 
use of two contradictory views of the relations of 
conscious beings. Qn the one hand we regard them 
as utterly remote from one another, as what Pro- 
fessor Clifford called ejects; and then we speak of 
them as if the thoughts of one could as such become 
thoughts of the other, or even as if one of them 
could as an independent being still become object 
in the thought of the other. No wonder that, with 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 417 


such contradictory assumptions as to the nature cof 
our relations to our neighbors we find it very easy 
to make absurd statements about the meaning of 
error, The contradiction of common sense has in 
fact just here much to do with the othioal UWuaon 
that we called the illudon of selfishness, To clear 
up thin point will be useful to us, therefore, in more 
ways than one, 


VI. 


Disappointed once more in our efforts to under; 
xtand how error ia possible, we turn to another class 
of cases, which Ho in a direction where, at least for 
thie once, all will eurely be plain. Errore about 
matters of fact or experlence are certainly clear 
enotyh in nature, And as thin clase of errora ts! 
practioally moat important, the aubtlotion of our pre 
vious investigation may be dhankwed with Ight heart 
bo noon as we have gotten rid of the few little quee- 
tions that will now beset ua It ie to be noted that 
all errors about materlal objects, about the laws 
of nature, about history, and about the future, are 
alike orrora about our actual or posible experiences, 
We expect or postulate an experience that at the 
given time, or andor the given conditions, turna out 
to be other than it waa postulated or expected to be. 
Now alinee our experiences not now present are objeo- 
tive facta, and capable of clear detinition, it would 
room clear that error concerning them ia an cally 
comprohonaible thingy, 

But alaa! again we are dheappointed. That er 
yore in matters of experience are commen enough bs 

w 


418 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


inf@ubitable, but equally evident becomes the diffi- 
culty of defining what they are and how they are 
possible. Take the case of error about an expected 
future. What do we mean by u future time? How 
do we identify a particular time? Both these ques- 
tions plunge us into the sea of problems about the 
nature of time itself. When I say, Zhus and so 
will it be ut such and such a future moment, I pos 
tulate certain realities not now given to my con- 
sciousness. And singular realities they are. For 
they have now no existence at all. Yet I postulate 
that I can err about them. This their non-existence 
is a peculiar kind of non-existence, and requires me 
to make just such and such affirmations about it. 
If I fail to correspond to the true nature of this 
non-existent reality, I make an error; and it is pos 
tulated not merely that my present statement will 
in that case hereafter turn out false or become false, 
but also that it is now false, is at this moment an 
error, even though the reality with which it is to 
agree is centuries off in the future. But this is not 
all tho difficulty. I postulate also that an error in 
prediction can be discovered when the time comes 
by the failure of the prediction to verify itself. I 
postulate then that I can look back and say: Thus 
and thus I predicted about this moment, and thus 
and thus it has come to pass, and this event con- 
trudicts that expectation. But can | in fact ever 
accomplish this comparison at all? And is the com- 
parison very easily intelligible? For when the event 
comes to pass, the expectation no longer exists. The 
two thoughts, namely, expectation and actual expe 


THE POSSIRILITY OF ERROR. 419 


rience, are separate thoughts, far apart in time. 
How ean I bring them tugether to compare them, 20 
as to see if they have the same object? 1 will not 
do to appeal t memory for the purpose; for the 
samme question would recur about the memory in its 
relation to the original theught. How can a past 
thought, being past, be compared to a present thought 
tu awe whether they stand related? The past thought 
lived in itvelf, had its own leas af what it thea 
called future, and its own interpretation § thervof. 
How ean you show, or intelligently affirm, that the 
eanception which the past expectation had af its 
future moment is av klentival with the canception 
which this present thought has of this present mo- 
ment, as to make these two conceived moments ane 
and the same? Here in short we have supposed two 
different hleas, ane af an expected future, the other 
of an experienced present, and we have supposed 
the two ideas to be widely separated in time, and by 
hypothesis they are net together in ane canseiousness 
at all. Now how can ane say that in fact they relate 
tv the same moment at all? How is it intelligible 
tw say that they de? How, in tine, can a not-given 
future be a real object af any theught; and hew, 
when it ts oace the object thereaf, can any subse. 
quent moment be identified with this object ? 

A present theught and a past thought are in fact 
a parate, even as were John and Thomas. Each 
une means the object that it thinks. How can they 
have a common object? Are they not ance for all 
titterent thoughts, each with its ewn intent? But 
im onler to reader intelligible the existence of error 


—— = 


421) THE RELIGIOUN ANPKOT OF PITILONOVITY, 


about matters of fact, wo must make the unintalliyt 
ble asmniimption, so it world sees, thet thems two ifs 
ferent thoughts have the same intent, and are but 
one, And sush is the diffloulty that wo flad in our 
sovond great dliuas of canon. 


VIL, 


Bo much for the problem, both in general and in 
going particular lastances, But now may not the 
role inalet, after all, that there aun be in this wine 
no errors whatever? Contradiatory as it seams, have 
wo not, after all, put our judgimonts into a position 
Whore oncupe for ts in finpostble? If every judg. 
mont Is thus by its nature bound up ina closed ofr 
ole of thought, with no outlook, oan any one dome 
afterwards and give it an external object? Porhaps, 
thon, there inn way out of our difflaulty by frankly 
waylige that our thoughtw may be nelther truths nor 
errors bayond themselves, but just ossurronces, with 
awimonning wholly subjective, 

Wo dloalies the rauler to try to realize this view of 
total relativity ons more in the form in which, with 
tbl Atos Vsabacsrernnts svlowtarelitlow, 40 sserw cscrtsiem locke to us 
for the lant thie, Tt anys,  Mvery judgment, A da 
Bln fast dow agrees and oan agrees only with its 
own object, whlete Im prement, frantic wher lt in meade, 
With no oxternal obfeet ann it ygroe or fall to agra, 
Jt stands alone, with Ite own obfeat, Tt law nelther 
truth norerror beyond Itwelf, Tt fulfils wld fie later 
therm, aad dn tri, df It nyereene with what wes gorenend 
to It when It was thought. Only tn thin sense in 
thore any truth or falsity possible for our thought.” 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 431 


But once more, this inviting way out of the diff- 
eulty needs only to be tried to reveal its own contra- 
dictions. The thought that says, * No judgment is 
true beyond itself,” is that thought true beyond it- 
self or not? If it is true beyond itself, then we have 
the possibility of other truth than the merely subjeo- 
tive or relative truth. If it is false, then equally we 
have objective falsity. If it is neither true nor false, 
then the doctrine of relativity has not been affirmed 
at allasa truth. One sets up an idea of a world of 
separate, disorganized thoughts, and then says, ‘* Each 
of them deals only with its own object, and they have 
no unity that could make them true or false.” But 
still this world that one thus sets up must be the 
true world. Else is there no meaning in the doo- 
trine of relativity. Twist as one will, one gets not 
out of the whirlpool of thought. Error must be real, 
and yet, as common sense arranges these judgments 
and their relations to one another, error cannot be 
real. There is so far no escape. 

The perfectly general character of the argument 
must be understood. One might escape it if it ap- 
plied to any one class of errors only. Then one 
would say: “In fact, the class of cases in question 
may be cases that exclude the possibility of both 
truth and error.” But no, that cannot be urged 
against us, for our argument applies equally to all 
possible errora, In short, either no error at all is 
possible, or else there must be possible an infinite 
mass of error. For the possibilities of thought being 
infinite, either all thought is excluded once for all 
from the possibility of error, or else to every possi- 


| 
i 
| 
| 
| 
| 


422 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


ble truth there can be opposed an infinite mass of 
error. All this infinite mass is at stake upon the 
issue of our investigation. Total relativity, or else 
an infinite possibility of truth and error; that is 
the alternative before us. And total relativity of 
thought involves self-contradiction. 

Every way. but one has been tried to lead us out 
of our difficulty. Shall we now give up the whole 
matter, and say that error plainly exists, but baffles 
definition’? This way may please most people, but 
the critical philosophy knows of no unanswerable 
problem affecting the work of thought in itself con- 
sidered. Here we need only patience and reflection, 
and we are sure to be some day rewarded. And in- 
deed our solution is not far off, but very nigh us. 
We have indicated it all along. To explain how 
one could be in error about his neighbor’s thoughts, 
we suggested the case where John and Thomas 
should be present to a third thinker whose thought 
should include them both. We objected to this sug- 
gestion that thus the natural presupposition that John 
and Thomas are separate self-existent beings would 
be contradicted. But on this natural presupposition 
neither of these two subjects could become object to 
the other at all, and error would here be impossible. 
Suppose then that we drop the natural presuppo- 
sition, and say that John and Thomas are both actu- 
ally present to and included in a third and higher 
thought. To explain the possibility of error about 


' matters of fact seemed hard, because of the natural 


postulate that time is a pure succession of separate 
moments, so that the future is now as future non-ex- 


TAR POSSIBILITY OF ERROR, 433 


latent, and so that judgments about the future lack 
real objecta, capable of identification. Let ua then 
drop this natural postulate, and declare time once 
for all present in all ita momenta to an universal 
all-inclusive thought. And to aum up, let us over 
come all our difficulties by declaring that all the 
many Beyondsa, which alngle signifleant judgments 
qwem vaguely and separately to postulate, are pres- 
ont an fully realized intended objecta to the unity 
ef an all-inclusive, absolutely elear, universal, and 
conwious thought, of which all judgments, true or 
falww, are but fragmenta, the whole being at once 
Absolute Truth and Absolute Knowledge. Then all 
our puasles will disappear at a atroke, and error will 
be possible, because any one flnite thought, viewed 
in relation to its own intent, may or may not be seen 
by thia higher thought aa anccesaful and adequate in 
this intent, 

How thia absolute thought ia to be related to in 
dividual thoughta, we can in general very aimply de- 
fine, When one aya: “ This color now before me 
ia red, and to any that it ia blue would be to make a 
blunder,” one representa an ineluding consciousness, 
One includes in one's prosent thought three distinct 
elementa, and has them present in the unity of a sin- 
gle moment of insight. These elements are, firat, | 
the pereeption of red; secondly, the reflective judg 


mont whoee object in this perception, and whose | 
agreement with the object constitutes ita own truth; | 


and, thirdly, the erroneous reflection, Thia ia blue, 
Which ix in the mune thought compared with the per 
ception and rejected aa crror, New, viewed aa sep- 


of , | 
gave 
lhe , 


yee 


424 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


arate acts of thought, apart from the unity of an in- 
cluding thought, these three elements would give rise 
to the same puzzles that we have been considering. 
It is their presence in a higher and inclusive thought 
that makes their relations plain. Even so we must 
conceive the relation of John’s thought to the united 
total of thought that includes him and Thomas. 
Real John and his phantom Thomas, real Thomas 
and his phantom John, are all present as elements in 
the including consciousness, which completes the in- 
complete intentions of both the individuals, con- 
stitutes their true relations, and gives the thought 
of each about the other whatever of truth or of 
error it possesses. In short, error becomes possible 
as one moment or element in a higher truth, that 
is, in a consciousness that makes the error a part of 
itself, while recognizing it as error. 

So far then we propose this as a possible solution 
for our puzzles. But now we may insist upon it as 
the only possible solution. Lither there is no such 
thing as error, which statement is a flat self-contra- 
diction, or else there is un infinite unity of conscious 
thought to which is present all possible truth. For 
suppose that there is error. Then there must be an 
infinite mass of error possible. If error is possible 
at all, then as many errors are possible as you please, 
bince, to every truth, an indefinite mass of error may 
be opposed. Nor is this mere possibility enough. 
An error is possible for us when we are able to make 
a false judgment. But in order that the judgment 
should be false when made, it must have been false 


before it was made. An error is possible only when 


THE POSSIBILITY OF EXROR. 45 
the jadgment in winch the error & to be expresmed 
always was false. Enxror, if posible, = then eter 
mally actoal. Each error so possible implies a jade 
ment whose intended object & beyond itzelf, and & 
also the object of the corresponding tree jodement. 
Bat two jodgments cannot have the same object save 
as they are both present to ome thought. For as 
have previously seen in detail. So that every error 
Imaphes a thought that incindes it and the corre 
spomdimg truth im the unity of one thought with the 
object of both of them. Only as present to an m- 
eluding thought are they either true or fake. Thus 
then we are driven to assume an infintte thought. 
Jedeing truth amd error. Bat that ths mmifinite 
thoaght must ako be a rational uontty, not a mere 
aggregate of truths, = evident from the fact that 
error ts possible not only as to objects, bat as to the 
relations of objects, so that all the possthle relations 
of all the objets In space, in time, or m the workd 
of the barely possthie, muust also be present to the 
allinelading thoaght. And to know all relations at 
once ts to know them im absolute rational unrtty, as 


What, then. i an error? <An error, we reply, 5 . 


an Incomplete thought, that to a hivher thought, 
which inchades it and its intended object, is known 
as having failed m the purpose that it more or less 
clearly had. and that 3s fully realized im this ivher 


thought. And without suck higher inclusive thought, | 


am assertion has no external object, and is no error. | 


I 


ps 


426 THK RELIGIOUS ASIPKOT OF ILILOKOPHY. 


VUL 
If our argument wore « Platonic dialogus, there 


would be horsabeuts an interruption from some im- 
patient Thrasymachus or Callicles or Polus, who 
would have hoon watching us, threatening and mut- 
tering, during all of the latter part of our discussion, 
At last, porhapy, ourrpivas lavriv ome Onpliv, he 
wold spring upon us, and would say: “ Why, you 
honsenme-mongers, have you nut bethought you of 
the saltsrnative that represents the reality in this 
question of yours’? Namely, an orror is an error, 
neither to the thought that thinks ft, nor of necessity 
to any highor inclusive thought, but only to & poss 
ble critical thought that should undertake afterwards 
to wonnpare it with ite object. An error is a thought 
auch that if a critical thought did come and compare 
it with ita object, it wuld be nun to bes falno, And 
it has an object for such a critical thought. ‘This 
critics! thought need not be real and actually include 
it, but may bes only a possible judge of its truth. 
Bernas your Infinites all-knower is no reality, only « 
Logics! possibility ; and your insight smounte to this, 
that if all were known to an al-knower, ho would 
judlye wrror to bes imintaken, And so error in what 
he would peresive to be error, What dos all that 
amount to but worthlow tautology 7” 

This argument of our Thrasymachus is the only 
outwardly plausible objection that we fear to the 
forvyoing snnsalynin, beens it in the only objection 
that fully expresses the oldl-cntablished view of com- 
non sense about such problems, Though common 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR, 427 


sonse never formulates our present difficulty, com- 
mon senae atill dimly feela that to some posible 
(not actual) judge of truth, appeal is made when 
we aay that a thing fs false not merely for us, but 
in very truth. And thin possible judge of common 
wena wo have now unhealtatingly declared to be an 
Infinite Actuality, absolutely necessary to constitute 
the relation of truth and error, Without it there 
ts for our view no truth or error conceivable. The 
wonla, This is true, or Thin ta falec, moan nothing, 
we declare, unless there is the lncluaive thought for 
which the truth ia true, the falachood falea No 
barely possible judge, who eveld aco the error if he 
were there, will do for ua He muat be there, this 
judge, to conatitute the error, Without him nothing 
but total subjectivity would be powdhle: and thought 
would then become purely a pathological phenome 
Hon, an occurrence without truthfulness or falalty, 
an occurrence that would interest anybody if it 
could be observed; but that, unfortunately, being 
only a momentary phantom, could not be observed 
at all from without, but must be dimly felt from 
within, Our thought needs the Infinite Thought in 
onler that it may get, through thia Infinite judge, 
the privilege of being ao much aa even an error 
Thia, it will be avid, fa but reaasertion, But how 
do we maintain thia view againat our Thraaymachua? 
Our anawer da only a repetition of things that we 
have already had to aay, in Che argument for what 
we here reamert. Tf the judgment oxiated alone, | 
without the incluatve thought to judge it then, aa it 
existed alone, it either had an object, or had none, 


ee 


428 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


But if it had none, it was no error. If it had one, 
then either it knew what its object actually was, or it 
did not know what its object was, or it partially knew 
and partially did not know what its object actually 
was. In the first case the judgment must have been 
an identical one, like the judgment A pain is a pain. 
Such a judgment knows its own object, therefore can- 
not fail to agree with it, and cannot be an error. If 
the judgment knew not its own object at all, then it 
had no meaning, and so could not have failed to agree 
with the object that it had not. If, however, this 
separate judgment knew its object enough to intend 
just that object, but not enough to insure agreement 
with it, all our difficulties return. The possible 
judge cannot give the judgment its complete object 
until he becomes its actual judge. Yet as fair judge 
he must then give it the object that it already had 
without him. Meanwhile, however, the judgment re- 
mains in the unintelligible attitude previously stud- 
ied at length. It is somehow possessed of just the 
object it intends, but yet does not know in reality 
what it does intend, else it would avoid error. Its 
object, in so far as unknown to it, is no object for 
it; and yet only in so far as the object is thus un- 
known can it be erred about. What helps in all 
this the barely possible judge? The actual judge 
must be there; and for him the incomplete intention 
must be complete. He knows what is really this 
judgment’s object, for he knows what is imperfectly 
meant in it. He knows the dream, and the inter- 
pretation thereof. IIe knows both the goal and the 
way thither. But all this is, to the separate judgment 
as such, a mystery. 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 439 


In fact, the separate judgments, waiting for the 
possible judge to test them, are like a foolish man 
wandering in a wood, who is asked whether he has 
lost his way. “I may have lost it,” he answers. 
“ But whither are you going?” “That I cannot 
tell?” “Have you no goal?” “I may have, but 
I have no notion what it is.” “What then do you 
mean by saying that you may have lost the way to 
this place that you are not seeking? For you seem 
to be seeking no place; how then can you have lost 
the way thither?” “I mean that some possible 
other man, who was wise enough to find whither I 
am trying to go, might possibly, in his wisdom, also 
perceive that I am not on the way to that place. So 
I may be going away from my chosen gual, although 
IT am unaware what gual it is that I have chosen.” 
Such a demented man as this would fairly repre- 
sent the meaningless claim of the separate judgment, 
either to truthfulness, or to the chance of errar. 

In short, though the partial thought may be, as 
such, unconscious of its own alm, it can be so uncon- 
acious only in case it is cantained in a total thought 
as one moment thereof, 

It will be seen that wherever we have dealt in the 
previous argument with the possibility of error as a 
mere possibility, we have had to use the result af the 
previous chapter concerning the nature of possibil- 
ity itself. The idea af the barely possible, in which 
there is no actuality, is an empty idea. If anything 
is possible, then, when we say sa, we postulate same- 
thing as actually existent in arder to canstitute this 


possibility. The conditions of possible error must | 


480 «= THK RERLIGIOUA AAPROT OF PITILONOPIHY, 


he actual, Bare possibility is blank nothingness, If 
the nature of error nooosarily and with perfect gon 
orality demands cortain conditions, thon thom oon. 
ditions are as cternal as the orroneousnoss of error 
itaelf in otornal, And thus the inclushve thought, 
which constitutes the error, must be postulated as 
oxintent. 

So, finally, lot one try to affirm that tho Infinite 
content of the all-incliuding mind dows not oxint, and 
that the foregoing idealism isa more illusion of ours, 
Ho will find that he fs involved in a circle from 
which there is no osoape, For let him return to the 
ponition of total relativity and so mys The Infl 
nite thenught is unreal for me, and hones you are 
wrong.” But thon also he adinite that wo are right, 
for in affirming this infinite wo affirm, secording to 
this doctring of total relativity Itself, something thas 
fn fit ns trie ae it seore to us to be tris, Mh ope 
posing argument is this at onch moment of ite prog. 
rons involved in a contruliction, Or again, let him 
jnwint that our doctrine is not only relatively, but 
really files. Thon however he will fail to show us 
whit thin resl fiulwity is, Lee fost dies snye whet all our 
previous oxuminntion shows to monn, this, namely, 
“that nan infinite thought doo oxint, and dows oxpe- 
Hones the truth, and compares our thought with the 
truth, anc thon observes this thought of ours to be 
Fialncs, thas, in, Ht climecovesem thaset itmesdf in tucoss-asx intact. 
Whoover likes this ronult may hold it if he onan. 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 431 


IX. 


Now that our argument is completed as an inves- 
tigation, let us review it in another way. We started | 
from the fact of Error. That there is error is in- | 
dubitable. What is, however, an error? The sub- | 
stance of our whole reasoning about the nature of 
error amounted to the result that in and of itself 
alone, no single judgment is or can be an error 
Only as actually included in a higher thought, that ‘ 
gives to the first its completed object, and compares | 
it therewith, is the first thought an error. It re- 
mains otherwise a mere mental fragment, a torso, a 
piece of drift-wood, neither true nor false, objectless, 
no complete act af thought at all. But the higher 
thought must inchide the opposed truth, to which 
the error is compared in that higher theught. The 
higher thought is the whole truth, af which the error 
is by itself an incomplete fragment. 

Now, a3 we saw with this as a starting-point, there 
is no stoppingplace short of an Infinite Thought. 
The possibilities af error are infinite. Infinite then 
must be the inclusive thought. Here is this stick, | 
this brickhat, this snow-flake: there is an infinite 
mass of error possible about any one of them, and 
notice, not merely possible is it, but actual. All the 
infinite series of blunders that you could make about 
them not only would be hhunders, but in very truth 
now are blunders, though you personally could never. 
eenunit them all. You cannot in fact make a trath © 
or a falsehood by your thought. You ouly fad ane | 
From all eternity that truth was true, that falsehood ' 


482 THE RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOFIY. 


falne. Vory well then, that infinite thought muat 
nomohow have hed all that in it from the beyinning. 
If aman doubte it, lot him answor our previous dif- 
ficultion, Lat him show us how he can make an 
error save through the prosonce of an actual inclu- 
sive thought for which tho orror always was orror 
and nover became such at all. If he can do that, 
let him try. We should willingly accept tho romult 
if he could show it to us, But he cannot. We 
have rambled over thos barren hills alrouly too 
long. Save for Thought there is no truth, no error, 
Save for inclusive Thought, there is no truth, no 
error, in separate thoughts. Beparate thoughts as 
auch cannot then know or have the distinction be- 
twoon their own truth and their own falsity in them- 
selves, and apart from the inclusive thought. There 
ia thon nothing of truth or of error to be found in 
the world of separate thoughts aa auch, All tho 
thoughts are therefore in the last analysin actually 
true or falas, only for the all-including Thought, the 
Infinite. 

We could have reached the same result had wo 
mst out from the problem, What in Truth? We 
chose not to do so becuse our skepticinm had the 
placid answor ready: “No matter what truth is, for 
vory likely thors is little or no truth at all to be had, 
Why trouble one's mind to define what a fairy or a 
brownie in?” “Vory woll, thon,” we seid to our 
akepticiom, “if that in thy play, wo know a move that 
thou thinkest not of. We will not ask theo of truth, 
if thou thinkost there is none, Wo will ask thee of 
error, whorcin thou revelost.” And our skepticism 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 433 


very cheerfully, if somewhat imeoherently, answers, 
that, “if there be httle or no truth here below, there 
is at least any amount of error, which as skeptics we 
have all been detecting ever since we first went to 
sehool.” “ We thank thee for that word, ob friend, 
bat now, what is an error?™ Blessed be Socrates 
for that question. Upon that rock philosophy can, 
if it wants, build we know not yet how much. 

It is enough for the moment to sum up the truth 
that we have found. It is this: ~ All reality must 
be present to the Unity of the Infinite’ Thought.” 
There is no chance of eseape. For all reality is re- 
ality because true jadyments can be made about it. 
And all reality, for the same reason, can be the ob 
Jeet of false yadyments. Therefore, since the fake 
and the true judgments are all true or false as pres- 
ent to the infinite thought, along with their objects, 
no reality can eswape. You and I and all of us, all 
good, all evil, all truth. all falsehood, all things ae 
tual and pussible, exist as they exist, and are known 
for what they are, in and to the absolute theaghit ; 
are therefore all jaded as to their real character at 


this everlasting throne of yadement. 
This we have found to be true, because we tried 
to doubt everythmg. We shall tv we in 


the coming chapter the rehgivus value of the concep- 
tion. We ean however at once see this in it: The 
Infinite Thoaght must. knowing all truth, melade akko 
a knowledge of all wills. and of their contiet. For 
him all this conthet. and all the other facts of the 
weral work, take place. He then must know the 
eateome of the cuntlict, that Moral Insight of our 
ws 


494 THR RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


firat hook, In him then we have the Judge of out 
ideals, and the Judge of our conduct. He must know 
the exact value of the Good Will, which for him, — 
like all other possible truth, must be an aotually re- 
alixed Kaot. And so we cannot pause with a siinply 
theoretical idesliom. Our doctrine in practical tou, 
We have found not only an infinite Seer of physical 
frota, but an infinite Heer of the Good aa well as of 
the Kvil, fle knows what we have and what we 
lack. In looking for goodness we are in no wise 
looking for what the real world does not contain. 

Thin, we say, we have found as a truth, because 
we tried to doubt everything, We have taken the 
wings of the morning, and we have fled; but be- 
hold, we are in the midat of the Spirit. Truly the 
wotds that some people have thought so fantaatic 
ought henceforth to be put in the text-books aa vom- 
monplaces of logics! analysia: 

“They recket ill that leave mea ont; 
When ma they fly, Lam the wings, 

Pam the dothter and the dotht.” — 

) Mverything finite we can doubt, but not the Infinite. 
That eludes even our skepticism, The world-tnild- 
era, atl the theodicies that were to justify them, we 
could well doubt. The apologetic devices wearied 
ws. All the ontologies of the realistic schools were 
just pictores, that we could acoept or reject as we 
ghose hy means of postulates. We tried to escape 
them all, We forsook all those gods that were yet 
no gods; bat here we have found something that 
abides, and waxes not old, something in which there 
is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. No 


THE POSSIBILITY OF ERROR. 485 


power it is to be resisted, no plan-maker to be foiled 
by fallen angels, nothing finite, nothing striving, 
seeking, losing, altering, growing weary; the All- 
Enfolder it ia, and we know its name. Not Heart, 
nor Love, though these also are in it and of it; 
Thought it is, and all things are for Thought, and in 


it we live and move. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE BELIGIOUS INSIGHT, 


If thou betake thyself to the ever-living and abiding Truth, the de 
sertion or death of a friend shall uot meke thee sad.— /mitation of 
Chrid, 

Cum contra sapiens, quatenus ut talig coneideratus, vin animo ma- 
vetur, aed oui et Dei et rerun aeterna quadam necessitate conscina, 
nupquam esse desinit, wed semper vera animi acquiescentia potitur. — 
Brinoza, Ethica, 


Ws are in a new world of Divine Life, The dark 
world of the powers has passed away from our 
thought, Ilere is the Eternal, for which all these 
powers exist, in which they dwell. Here we are in 
the presence of the Ideal Judge who knows all Good 
and Evil. From the other side the world a6 we ap- 
proached it had seemed so restless, so disheartening, 
wo deaf. The world of our postulates was a brighter 
one only because we determined to make it so. But 
there was something lonesome in the thought that 
the postulates got, as answer from the real world, 
only their own echy, and not always that. Their 
world was rather their own creation than an exter- 
nal something that gave them independent support. 
Sometimes there seemed to be nothing solid that 
could echo back anything at all, Now we seem to 
look upon a truth that satisfies indeed no selfish 
longings of ours, no whims of theological tradition, 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 487 


no demands of our personal narrow lives. We shall 
not learn in this way who is first in the kingdom of 
heaven, nor how the dead are raised, nor any answer 
to any other special demand of any set of men. We 
earn, however, this at least: AU truth is known to 
One Thought, and that Infinite. What does that 
imply? Let us see. 


L 


Our argument is somewhat near to the thought | 
that partially satisfied St. Augustine when he found 
it in his Plato. That there should be a truth at all 
implies, we have seen, that there should be an Infi- 
nite Truth, known to an Infinite Thought; ar, in 
other words, that all is for thought. and without 
thoaght is nothing that is. We also area part of 
this infinite thought. We know not vet more of the 
dature of this thought, save that it must be eternal, 
all-embracing, and One. What then shall we be 
able further to say abuuat it? 

To answer would be ta expound a system af phi- 
lamphy. But we must limit ourselves here to the 
necessary. And sa. for the first, we shall try to 
point out what this ideal and infinite life af thoaght 
that we have found as the eternal truth of things | 
carrot be expected to accomplish for the purposes 
of our religion, and then to cansider what we may 
~evertheless dare to hope from it. 

It cannot be expected to furnish us an a priori 
knowledge of any fact of experience, af any particn-; 
lar law of nature, of the destiny of any ane finite be. ; 
ing. All that remains just as dark as it was before. 


434 THE RELIGIOUS ABPKF OF PHILOMOPHY, 


Wa nalthar rajolos in thin ronult, nor lament 6, Noe 
Dooly wher wrssdenn fate thier lead world may axpeos 
ty fined Wt ordered for bin Individual ulvantage 5 nov 
need the try to Mel there good Inventinanta for his 
savonnery, — 'NIacs Vafinnites clam not walt for hin Sadivide 
ual approved; although morally wpoakiug he may do 
wall to yet the approval of the Infinite. Whe Inf 
nites wan not elesteal to offies by his vote, and he 
may net fpenel it for disregard of bin lumble poe 
tiilonn for good things, nor threaten ib with wane of 
cnninilalenies eens 1 loon not menue paanayge for hie 
peivecies billy, Tino far am too wey thie in to condemn 
this Vdesud, we sibewiiatingly dow, Iut thon, an we 
waw Ji cour etdlend dimuon, the moral lusight ja not 
wo mnths concerned with private bills, aw with oortaln 
grentar mation, Of the moral Janight wante relige 
Lown mappoart, powibly thier failures of all theme per 
ronal concern of our, to find any hint of response 
from the Almolute, may vot render linpomtble the 
est Dadeeead sannebesetaabedaagen of Alves Doves wplelt, Sf am be 
A vbclessade wer sovtimt beeen Woes deeslful words from the 
mpledt of smtures Lda yledehat hem Calet don de 
hegre(fat, nicht mie yp A ib de pomnible that with » 
Vidyghaser Snombgg lot, Ueobedenge sapwory Ulodw wternes wpleit fe ite 
eternal ancl Into nadie, we may yor some with 
Fil) vena wh Vent tor ways Mrdhner Celut, lu gabat 
ml, gahat mle allen, wmernn deh bat, Vor there are 
Mesnrntanesdn sonnel cbecnrecazcdn, Misssn, tom Larvese, cbessnssasteln mustse 
cea din Dever, rand diss women of the world may thwart 
aban 5 tam Cerddesy, Does chesprasnedn fer Nabssomesdt provmsorad See 
mortality, and the cours of the world may oere 
naught for bin dadividual Ife; as berowved, as 


TRE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 489 


mourner over his dead, he may demand for his loved 
ones also this immortality, and the course of the 
world may leave the fate of all his loved ones mys- 
terious forever: as lover of mankind, he may de. 
mand an infinite future of blessed progress for his 
race, and the law of the dissipation of energy may 
give him the only discoverable physical answer to 
his demand ; as just man, he may ery aloud that evil 
shall cease from amang men, and the wicked may 
still langh in triumph unpunished. And yet for all 
this he may find some higher compensation. Agnos- 
tie as he will remain about all the powers of this 
world, about the outcome of all finite processas, he 
will take comfort in the assurance that an Infinite 
Reason is above all and through all, embracing 
evervthing, judging everything, infallible, perfect. 
To this Thought he may look up, saying: * Thoa 
All-Knowing One seest us, what we are, and how we 
strive. Thou knowest our frame, and rememberest 
that we are as dust. [a thy perfection is our Ideal. 
That thou art. is enough for our moral comfort. 
That thou knowest our evil and our good, that gives 
WS our support in our httle striving for the guad. 
Not worthless would we be in thy sight; not af the 
vile, the hase, the devilish party in the warfare of 
this world. Thoa that judgest shalt say that we, 
even in our poor individual lives are better than 
naught. Thou shalt know that in our weakness and 
blindness, in our pain and sorrow, in our little days, 
In our dark world, ignorant as to the future, con- 
fused with many doubts, beset with endless tempts 
tions, full of dread, of hesitation, of sloth, we yet 


440 = THK RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILONOPHY, 


nought, such as we were, to be in our own fashion 
like thea; to know the truth as thon knowenst it, to 
he full of higher Hfe av thow art full, to he above 
worifo an thou art above it, to he of one Spirit as 
| thou art One, to be perfect aa thon art perfost. ‘This 
| thou shalt see in us, and thin record shall be eternal, 
Hike our knowledge, In thee what wo vaguely alm 
ty woncalve In oleae Hyht. In thee the pene that we 
wtrive to Mia is exporlendad. And when we try to de 
right, we know that thou sent beth our striving and 
our siecennen and our fallures, And herela we have 
manfort. We perish, but thou endurest, Ours ds 
not thy eternity, But in thy eternity we would be 
ramemberal, not an rebele ayalint the good, bit as 
down of the goods not as blots on the fase of this 
part of thy Infinite reality, but ax healthy leaven that 
flourished fora tlie on the branches of the eternal 
tree of fe, and that have fallen, though not Inte 
foryetfulnew, For to thee nothing in forgotten. 
This thought, of the Jidge that never ceases to 
think of un and of all (hinges, never changes, never 
ninimtaatecen, Manel Clit: lercown ther Chal sdsapoly brereseatine 
| that, Chened In cana eleanent of the Prath —- perhage this 
| conse meuwteader cam wher all edmer fallen, Neotdedaage bout thin 
may be certadin gs dat thin, if ithe net all that seme 
grerergaler Snsuver mertagelit., snncey toe ee beedyo tar sem, Phadn Hes 
Jiglon may have ne aiedh hot Httle Meem on tte altars 
nae wer at Meet loner fog dt then dt in a very old 
abjection tothe stam to nay that they bake ws ne 
Novel, and only glitter up theve dn the dark to be 
Jookedl at Yet even the stars are worth something 
14) 11M, 


tH Ocean of als Sed. 
‘ ‘ * £ -~ ot ° f 
Prt. AS awnen Ce ae lan af —~% @ 6 on 4. wot, . 


THE BELIGZOUS DSSIGEr. asl 


i. 
Bat if we leave these limitations of our view, and 
pass to its positive relmous valee, our first sense is 


ome of joy and freedoea to find that car lng sought .:“ 


deal of a perfect unity of life is here attamed. Let 
ws book away for a moment from oar finite existence, 
with its doubts and its problems, to the conception 
of that infinite hfe. In that life ts all trath, fally 
present tn the unity of one eternal moment. The 
world ts no mass of separate facts. stack one to an- 
other in an external way, bat, for the infinite, each 
fact ts what it is only by reason of its place In the 
tafinite unity. The workd of life is then what we 
desired it to be, an organic total: and the indived- 
wal selves are drops in this ocean of the absolute 
trath. 


the homan tasks that we sketched im car ethical 
discussion find their piace m the objective workd. 
Now, and in fact for the first me, we can see what 
we were really trying to accomplish throagh car 
tdeal. We were trying in a practical way to real- 
ize what we now permeive to be the falimess af the 


life of God. So that the one highest activity, in. 


which all haman activites were to jom. i known to 
|S Dow as the prograssine realization by men of the 
eternal life of an Injinite Smrit. So whereas we 
formeriy had to say to men: Devote vourselves to 
art. to aclenoe, to the state. ar to any Like work that 
does tend to organize your lives into one life. we 


may now sabstitate one absolute expressva for all 


on MOL» de 26 2, ek CB Ma re rer 


. 


cy oe 


Thas then, seen im the hehbt of this car resalt, 


442 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


those accidental expressions, and may say: Devote 
yourselves to losing your lives in the divine life. 
For all these special aims that we have mentioned 
are but means of accomplishing the knowledge of 
the fullness of the truth. And Truth is God. 

Now this precept is no barren abstraction. It 
means to take hold of every act of life, however 
humble and simple. ‘“ Where art thou, O man?” 
our ideal says tous. “Art thou not in God? To 
whom dost thou speak? With whom dost thou walk? 
What life is this in whose midst thou livest ? What 
are all these things that thou seemest to touch? 
Whose is all this beauty that thou enjoyest in art, 
this unity that thou seekest to produce in thy state, 
this truth that thou pursuest in thy thought? All 
this is in God and of God. Thou hast never seen, 
or heard, or touched, or handled, or loved anything 
but God. Know this truth, and thy life must be 
transformed to thee in all its significance. Serve 
the whole God, not the irrationally separate part 
that thy delusions have made thee suppose to be an 
independent thing. Live out thy life.in its full 
meaning ; for behold, it is God’s life.” 

So, as it seems, the best that we could have wished 
from the purely moral side is attained. The Di- 
vine Thought it is that actually accomplishes what 
we imperfectly sought to attain, when we defined 
for ourselves Duty. In the Divine Thought is per- 
fectly and finally realized the Moral Insight and the 
Universal Will of our ethical discussion. And this 
‘insight and will are not realized as by some Power, 
| that then should set about to accomplish their ful- 
| 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 443 


fillment externally. But in the infinite, where all i 
eternally complete, the insight is both present an 
fulfilled ; the universal will gets what it 

There is no lack there, nor hesitation, nor striving, 
nor doubt, nor weariness ; but all is eternally per. 
fect triumph. 


Now this, though it sounds mystical enough to ~ 
our untrained common sense, is no mere poetry of ..- 
thought. It is the direct philosophical outcome of 


what we have found by a purely logical process. 
The driest thought, the simplest fragment of ration- 
ality, involves this absolute, infinite, and perfect 
thought. <And this it involves because it involves 
the possibility of error, and because, as separate from 
the infinite, this possibility of error in a single thought 
becomes unintelligible and contradictory. We did 
all that we could to escape this conclusion. We 
wandered in the thickets of confusion and contra- 
diction, until there was no chance of finding there a 
further pathway. And then we turned to see, and 
behold, God was in this place, though we had known 
it not. The genuine God that we thus found was no 
incomplete, struggling God, whom we might pity in 
his contlict with evil, but the alkembracing thought, 
in which the truth is eternally finished. And this 
God it 1s that we now see as the complete realization 
of our own ideal, as of all worthy ideals. 

For consider if you will this element in our con- 
ception of this Thought. Can this infinite know it- 
self as imperfect, or as not possessing some object 
that it knows to be good? This is impossible, and 
doubly so. Not only does the conception of an In- 


fu</ 


444 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


finite, in which and for which are all things, wholly 
exclude the possibility of any good thing beyond 
the Infinite itself, but also in still another way does | 
the same truth appoar. For if you suppose that this 
infinite thought desires some perfection G, that it 
has not, thon either it is right in supposing this per. 
fection to be truly desirable, or it is wrong. In 
vithor case the previous argument of Chapter XI. 
shows un that the truth or tho falsity of this judg- 
mont of desire about G must oxist as known truth 
or falsity for a higher thought, which, including tho 
thought that desires, and itself actually having this 
desired good thing, compares the dusired objoct with 
the conception of the thought that desires it, and 
judges of them both. Above tho dosire, then, must 
in overy caso oxist the satinfaction of the desire in a 
higher thought. So that for the Infinite there can 
be no unsatisfied desire, Unnatisfled desire exists 
only in the finite beings, not in the inclusive Infinite. 

The world then, as a whole, is and must be ab- 
solutely good, since the infinite thought must know 
what is desirable, and knowing it, must have presont 
in itself the true objects of desire. The existence 
of any amount of pain or of other evil, of crime or 
of basoness in the world as wo see it, is, thus viewed, 
no evidence against the absolute goodnons of things, 


rather a guaranty thereof, For all evil viewed ex. 


tornally in just an ovidence to us finite beings that 


there exists something desirable, which wo have not, 
and which we just now cannot get. Howover stub 
born this ovil is for us, that has naught to do with 
the perfection of the Infinite. For the inflnite did 


THE RELIGIOUS OOSIGET. 445 


not make this evil, bat the evil, together with the 
sraking of i, which indeed was also in its separete- , 
mess evil, — all this ts a phenomencn for the Infewe 
thoaght, which, m keowing this evil, merely knows 
the absolete destrablenmess of that which it also pos- 
sesses, mamely, the absobately sued. 

We have used bere an argument that ooald not be 
wed im our stady of the “ Werld of Doabt.” Whea 
we there thought evil to be possible for the workd as 


one, and would do so believing that state to be better 
this desired state to be better. or would be oaly hope 
30% Who trely knows the valne of a state save the 
ome that possesses it? Kaowledge ts of the present. 
ter state, unless rt were already acteal for hme. Bat 
ia that case be world inchede mot only the present 
could mot be ome of disountent. So the other alter 
mative remains. Oar sapposed being woakd oaly 
hope the desired state to be better thaa what was 
real already for hrm. Bat woald his hape be a tree 
ane? If sa, then it aoald only be trae in case this 
perfectton is already realived im a hicher thoacht. 
For the Infinite then the qnestion, “Is there aay 
thine better than what exists? ~ must be nonsense. 
For him the actual and the possible fall tacether in 
ene truth ; and this one trath canact be el 


446 THK RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


On another side, our conception gives us religious 
support, The imperfestion of the purely moral view 
lay in part in the fact that there was an inner ineum- 
pleteness about the very definition of our ideal, as 
well ase doubt about ite attalnability, This inner 
incompleteness must however be removed in and for 
the Infinite Mind. In dealing with the work of life, 
we cane toe point where wo sald, thus far we oan 
soo our way, but beyond that our ideal romaine in- 
complete, We must have faith, no we iinplied, that 
if wo attained eo much of the ideal soclal condl- 
thon, the way from that polut onward would become 
dloar, But now we seo why the way would of neces 
sity become clear to one whose knowlalge of Ife 
were browl enough and deep enough, For in the 
Infinite that Includes all life, that reste above all 
finites wtrife in the absolute attalnment of the ideal, 
there oan be no Ineompletanons, no torso of an ideal, 
bat a porfost knowlealgs of what is most oxcellent, 
Those filnt foreshudowings of ws parfoot life that art 
and selene and social work show to us, must be for 
the Infinite no falut foreshadowlngs, bit absolute 
certainty and porfoct cloarnew, Hones by our ree 
Hgious doctrine we got not merely the assurance that 
wich Selende am wo have sre resized for the Tnfiatte 
Krista, Dossttesse Cesaga tad, wes geort corse lew fiall sommesrearscses 
that our Inoomplete bowls have an actual completion 
Aw Mdewls, For wo this got our fewt full aaurance 
tara tbneseres Soe btn thes Vnlgchrcrmt mesrames susny clerfleadtos Scleval 
wet. all, — Vesmmbarinen, om wer beaver weseors, branprlbesn esbtdiess 
eshte sbout what thes idleul mtate is, or unavoldable 
Jack of that tate, Armd the Infinite oan be no Pow 
witsint inn olthiar senna, 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 447 


The religious comfort that a man can get from 
contemplating all this truth is indeed very different 
from the consolation of the separate individual as 
such that many peuple want their religion to give 
them. And this very fact furnishes us a good test 
of moral aincerity. The religious comfort that we 
find is no comfort save to the truly religious spirit in 
us. It says to us: “ You that have declared your 
willingness to serve moral ideals because they are 
such, does this help you to know, not of a goodly 
place where you personally and individually shall 
hive without tears forever as a reward for your ser 
vices, but of an eternal Judge that respects in no 
whit your person, before whom and in whom you are 
quite open and perfectly known, who now and for 
all eternity sees your good and your evil, and esti- 
mates you with absolute justive? This blaze of in- 
finite light in which you stand, does it cheer you? 
If it does, then you are glad to learn that above all 
your atrugyles there is the eternal Victory, amid all 
your doubts there is the eternal Insight, and that 
your highest triumph, your highest conception, is 
just an atom of the intinite truth that all the time is 
there. But if all this is true of you, then you do love 
the ideal for its own sake. Then it is not your tn- 
umph that you seek, but the triumph of the Highest. 
And so it is that you rejuice to learn how this that is 
best in the world net only will triumph, but always 
has triumphed, since, as you now learn, for God the 
highest guod is thus a matter of direct experience.” 

The writer remembers well, how some years since, 


while all this doctrine seemed to him shrouded in 


al 
ee 


yw A, 


448 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PITILOMOPHY. 


doubt, ho hoard a very thoughtful and plous friend 
mealntaln that the groutest vomfort to be got from 
bollof in Cod is the sense that however much the | 
world tnay misjudge us, however mugh even our best 
‘and closest friends may misunderstand us, there 4s 
lone porfost all-knowing Thought that comprehends 
hus far Lotter than wo comprehend ourselves, Good 
mann In, in that thorpht, ontimeated at itv full worth, 
Nothing in hidden from the Judge. And what we 
hro, Ho knowoth [It altogether, The present view 
noone to the author to moet the conditions that his 
frlond here had daimdnd, Thoban aaa dovtrine that 
thers In wa big power that fights and beats down 
other powors In the servies of the good, Ia open to all 
the objections before aiggentod, This warrlor, why 
dows ho not win? Thin slayor of evil things, this 
binder of Satan, who boasts that all things will yot 
bo put under his foot, has he not had all eternity 
In which to put all things andor hin fot, and has 
he done It yat? He may be Indend good, but some 
how disaster asomn to puma him, Rellglous eom- 
fort In contemplating hin you oan have If you bee 
linve do him, but alwaye you fool that this comfort ds 
whidowed by the old doubt: In he after all what we 
witnt hin to be, the vietorlous ruler of the world 7 
But if we leave the eternally doubtful contemplation 
of the work asin heap of powers, and come to the 
dlocper trath of the world as Thought, then these 
Howlin nant clinappone, 

Yot to show that this Ie true, wo meat dwell upon 
Howlin Little Dongeer, sued anniant COMPILE OnE prams 
view of the solution of the problem of evil with the 
views condemned in Chap, VIII. 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 449 


Ot. 


So far we have come in joyful contemplation of 
the Divine Truth. But now is there not a serpent 
in this Eden also? We have been talking of the in- 
finite goodness : but after all, what shall we still say 
of that finite “ partial evil” of life? We seem to 
have somehow proved a priori that it must be “ uni- 
versal good.” For, as we have said, in the Infinite 
Life of our ideal there can be no imperfection. This, 
we have said, is the demonstration that we missed 
all through our study of the world of the Powers. 
Since we approached that world from without, and 
never felt the pulse of its heart's blood, we had noth- 
ing but doubt after doubt when we contemplated the 
evil that seemed to be in it. Our efforts t explain 
evil seemed hollow and worthless. There might be 
some deeper truth involved in these efforts: but we 
knew it not. Well, are we right in declaring that we 
have altogether overcome our difficulty now? Ap- 
parently we are as far as ever from seeing dow the 
partial evil can be the universal good: we only 
show, from the conception of the infinite itself, that 
the partial evil must be the universal good. Gad 
must see how; and we know this because we know 
of God. More than this we wem to be unable to 

Bat will this do? Have we not forgotten ane ter 
rible consequence af our doctrine? The partial evil 
is universal good, is it? There is no evil? All 
apparent imperfectian is an illusion of our partial 
view? So then where is the chance to be in a Sree 

2» 


450 ‘THK KELIGIOUS ASPELOT OF PHILONOFHY, 


wy aul of cur non choles better thin we otherwtes 
dn truth slurs be? %n not the arm that in raised 
ty atrike diwn wickednem paralyzed by the very 
theonight that wan to give it divine strength? ‘This 
ovil that I fight here in thin finite world in « dela 
won, Ho then, why fight 7 If 1 do good works, 
the world in infinitely good and perfect, If I seem 
ty do evil works, the world ia in truth no worne, 
Soering gent in tut better than seoming evil, for if 
Ht were, then the sesming evil werd te 0 rend defect 
inn Chonl, inn whine life in everything, If 1 have never 
loved aught bet Gol, oven no 1 have never hated 
staple beet Chol, It in all alike, Cod doen not need 
juat me. Or rather | inny my, in wy far nn he needs 
ms tr connplete hin infinite truth, he already has ine 
frenn all eternity, | have nothing to do with the 
brisitienn, wave to emtomplate in dinay indolence the 
whirling minty manmen of necting evil, aml to sey 
with t srrt of animes reverence that they look very 
{11 srl expneqties ter ane, bret that of conse God neem 
threngh them clearly enerigh srnehew, The tint is 
in trath crystalline water, atl he hae wo qnigk 
westines 8 fy Nek beyond the drops an ennily an if they 
i wesres ins thes calin unity of « surnmtain lake, And 
mr, ny religion in simply & cmtermnplation of God's 
winelernes, brat crthese wine srr idles srrntinetrent, 

Hey wey thes tenn wher neem only thin miportiesal 
view of ne dostrings, In ne far an, standing one 
tne initaides of mane evil thing, we mys “ That 
thrinnge yernulese Ione bead, brit Chord tetint noes it to be 
gen,” wes her itlesead rectrister itnlelont, andl ontr rolig- 
iim sitnply moans & surt of stertoal indifferense tu the 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 451 


apparent distinction of good and evil. This is in 
fact the proper practical attitude of even the most 
earnest man in the presence of evil that he cannot 
understand and cannot affect. In such matters we 
must indeed be content with the passive knowledge. 
Death and the unaruklable pains of life, the down- 
fall of cherished plans, all the cruelty of fate, we 
must learn to look at as things to us opaque, but to 
God, who knows them fully, somehow clear and ra- 
tional. So regarding them, we must aim to get to 
the stage of staical indifference about them. They. _ 
are to us the accidents of existence. We have no, _ 
business to murmur about them, since we see that +. >: 
God, experiencing them, sumehow must experience =<: 
them as elements in an absolutely perfect life. For|. . 
God we regard not as the mysterious power who! | 
made them, and who then may have been limited to} - 
the use of imperfect means, but as the absolute 
thought that knows them: so that, however inexpli- . 
cable they must now be to us, they are in themselves | 
nothing that Gud vainly wishes to have otherwise, 
bat they are organically joined with the rest of the 
glorious Whole. 

Such is indeed the only present word for us finite 
minds about many of the shadows of seeming evil 
that we have to behold in the work of the appar 
ently external facts. Such however is aod the last 
word for us about the only evil that has any imme- 
diate moral siyniticance, namely, the evil that we see, 
mot as an external, shadowy mist, but as a present 
fact, experienced in ux Here it is that the objeetor 
just mentioned seems really formbable to ux But 


452 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


just here it is that we find the answer to him. For 
in the world of our own acts we have a wondrous ex- 
perience. We realize evil, we fight it, and, at the — 
same time, we realize our fragment of the perfect 
divine lifo in the moment itself of struggling with 
the evil. And in this wondrous experience lies the 
whole solution of the ancient problem of the existence 
of moral evil. For instance, I find in myself a self- 
ish impulse, trying to destroy the moral insight. 
i Now of this evil impulse I do not say, looking at it 
‘objectively : “It is somehow a part of the universal 
good;” but, in the moment of moral action I make 
‘it, even in the very moment of its sinfulness, a part 
\of my good consciousness, in overcoming it. The 
‘moral insight condemns the evil that it experiences ; 
and in condemning and conquering this evil it forms 
land is, together with the evil, the organic total that 
constitutes the good will. Only through this inner 
victory over the evil that is experienced as a con- 
quered tendency does the good will have its being. 
Now since the perfect life of God must have the ab- 
solutely good will, therefore it also must be conscious 
of such a victory. Thus the solution of our diffi- 
culty begins to appear. And thus wo reap a new 
religious fruit from our ethical doctrine, to whose 
main principles we must once more here refer the 
realer, 

When I experience the victory of the moral in- 
sight over the bad will, I experience in one indivis- 
ible moment both the partial evil of the selfish im- 
pulse (which in itself as a separate fact would be 
wholly bad) and the universal good of the moral 


THE RELIGIOUS INSTORT. 453 


vietory, which has its existence only in the over 
whelming of the evil. So, in the good act, I experi- 
ence the good as my evil lost in goodness, as a rebel- 
lion against the good conquered in the moment of its 
birth, as a peace that arises in the midst of this tri- 
umphant conflict, as a satisfaction that lives in this 
restless activity of inner warfare. This child of inner 
strife is the good, and the only moral good, we know. 

What I here have present in me when I do a good 
act is an element of Grd’s life. J here directly en 
pertence haw the partial moral evil ts universal 
good ; for so it is a relatively universal good in me 
when, overcoming myself, I choose the universal 
will, The bad impulse is still in me, but is defeated, 
In the choice against evil is the very life of goodness, 
which would be a pale, stupid abstraction otherwise, 
Even oo, to take another view, in the overcoming of 
our separateness as individuals hes, as we saw in the 
previous book, our sense of the worth of the univer 
sal life. And what we here experience in the single 
moment of time, and in the narrowness of our finite 
lives, God must experience, and eternally. In our 
Single good acts we have thus the specimen of the 
eternal realisation of goodness. 

Bat now how simple becomes the answer to that 
terrible suggestion of a moment since! How simple 
also the solution of the problem of evil! +“ If T want 
to do evil, I cannot.” said the objector: “ for God 
the perfect one includes me with the rest. and so 
cannot in his perfection be hurt by me. Let me do 
what I will, my act can only seem bad, and cannot 
be bad. All evil is illusion, hence there is no moral 
difference in action possible.” 


454 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


“ Right indeed,” we answer, “but also wrong, be- 
cause half the truth. The half kills, the whole gives 
life. Why canst thou not do any absolute evil? Be- 
cause thy evil intent, which, in ite separateness, 
would be unmixed evil, thy selfish will, thy struggle 
against the moral insight, this evil will of thine is no 
lonesome fact in the world, but is an element in the 
organic life of God. Jn him thy evil impulse forms 
part of a total good will, us the evil impulse of the 
good man forms un element in his realization of 
goodness. In (tod thy separateness is destroyed, 
and with it thy sin as evil. For good will in the in- 
finite is what the good man finds the good will to be 
in himself, namely, the organic total whose truth is 
the discovery of the evil, Therefore is God's life 
perfect, because it includes not only the knowledge 
of thy finite wicked will, but the insight into its truth 
as a moment in the real universal will. 

If then thou wert good, thou wouldst be good by 
including the evil impulse in a realization of its 
| evil, and in an acceptance of the higher insight. If 
| thou art evil, then in thyself, as separate being, thou 
| art condemned, and just because thy separate evil 
| is condemned, therefore is the total life of God, that 
| includes thee with thy condemnation and with the 
| triumph over thee, good. 

This is the ground for the solution of the problem. 
To go more into detail: Evil is for us of two classes: 
the external seeming evil, such as death, pain, or 
weakness of charactor; and internal evil, namely the 
bad will itself. Because we know so little, there 
fore we can never tell whether those externally seen 





THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 455 
seeming evils are blessings in disguise, or expressions 
of some wicked diabolical will-power at work about. 
us. Somehow then, we never know exactly how, 
these seeming great evils must be in God universal 
good. But with regard to the only evil that we know 
as an inward experience, and so as a certain reality, 
namely, the Evil Will, we know both the existence of 
that, and its true relation to universal goodness, be- 
cause and only because we experience both of them 
first through the moral insight, and then in the good 
act. Goodness having its very life in the insight 
and in its exercise, has as its elements the evil im- 
pulse and its correction. The evil will as such may 
either be conquered in our personal experience, and 
then we are ourselves good; or it may be conquered 
not in our thought considered as a separate thought, 
bat in the total thought to which ours is 80 related, 
as our single evil and good thoughts are related to 
the whole of us. The wicked man is no example of 
God's delight in wickedness, just as the evil impulse 
that is an element in the good man’s goodness, and 
a very real element too, is no proof that the good 
man delights in evil. As the evil impulse is to the 
good man, so is the evil will of the wicked man to 
the life of God, in which he is an element. And 
just because the evil will is the only evil that we are 
sure of, this explanation is enough. 

Thus the distinction between good and evil re- 
mains as clear as ever. Our difficulty about the 
matter is removed, not by any barren external the- 
odicy, such as were the forms of guess-work that we 
eriticised in a previous chapter, but by a plain refleo- 


456 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


tion on the moral experience itself. Goodness asa 
moral experience is for us the overcoming of experi- 
enced evil; and in the eternal life of God the reali- 
zation of goodness must have the same sort of or- 
ganic relation to evil as it has in us. Goodness is 
not mere innocence, but realized insight. To the 
wicked man we say: God is good because in think- 
ing thee he damns thy evil impulse and overwhelms 
it in a higher thought of which thou art apart. And 
in so far as thy will is truly evil, thou art in God 
just as the evil is in the good man; thou art known 
only to be condemned and overcome. That is thy 
blessed mission; and this mission of evil such as 
thine is indeed an eternal one. So that both things 
are true. The world is wholly good, and thou, such 
as thou individually art, mayest be damnably evil if 
so thou desirest. 

We do not say then that evil must exist to set the 
good off by way of external contrast. That view we 
long since justly rejected. We say only that the 
jevil will is a conquered element in the good will, and 
is aa such necessary to goodness. Our conception of 
the absolute unity of God’s life, and that conception 
alone, enables us to apply this thought here. No 
form of dualistic Theism has any chance to apply 
this, the only satisfactory theodicy. If God were 
conceived as external to his creatures, as a power 
that made them beyond himself, the hopeless prob- 
lems and the unworthy subterfuges of the older the- 
odicies would come back to torment us. As it is, 
the solution of the problem of evil is given us in the 
directest and yet in the most unexpected way. 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 457 


Let us compare this solution with others. Evil, 
said one thought, before expounded, is an illusion of 
the partial view, as the shapelessness of the frag- 
ment of a statue is no disproof of the real beauty of 
the whole. We replied in a previous chapter to this 
notion, by saying that evil seems 90 positive an ele- 
ment in the world as to make very hard this concep- 
tion of the partial evil as good universally in the 
zsthetic sense in which shapelessness of parts may 
coexist with a total beauty of the statue. For the 
fragment of the statue is merely an indifferent bit of 
stone without character. But the evil in the world 
seems in positive crying opposition to all goodness. 
ret now, in the moral experience, we have found a 
wholly different relation of evil part to guod whole. 
My guod act is good just because af the evil that 
exists in it as conquered element. Without the evil 
moment actual in it, the total act could be at best 
innocent, not good. It is good by reasan of its 
structure. That structure includes the evil will, but 
80 includes it that the whale act is good. Even so, 
as we declare, God's life includes, in the organic 
total of ane conscious eternal instant. all life, and 


so all goodness and evil. To say that God is never. 


theless perfectly good is to say, not that God is 
innocent, knowing of no evil whatever, and includ- 
ing none; but that he so includes the evil will in 
the structure af his good will, as the goad man, in 
one indivisible moment, includes his evil will in his 
good will; and that God is guod only because he 
does so. 


Again, to pass to another explanation, it has been 


458 TH RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


said that evil exists in the world as # means to good- 
ness. We objected to this that it puts the evil and 
the good first in separate beings, in separate acte or 
moments, and then makes the attainment of the good 
result dependent on the prior attainment of the sep- 
arate and independently present evil. Now all that 
explanation could only explain and justify the acts 
of a finite Power, which, not yet possessing # given 
good thing, seeks it through the mediation of some 
evil. In no wise can this explanation apply to God 
as infinite. Ie is no finite Power, nor does he make 
or get things external to himself. Hence he cannot 
be said to use means for the attainment of ends. 
But our explanation does not make evil a means to 
get the separate ond, goodness. We say that the con- 
nection is one of organic part with organic whole; 
that goodness has its life only in the instant of the 
discovery and inner overcoming of the evil will; and 
| that thorsfore any life is good in which the evil will 
‘is present only as overcome, and so as lost in the 
| good will, We appeal to the moral experience to il 
lustrate how, when we do good, the evil will is pres 
ent as a real fact in us, which yet does not make us 
asa whole bad, but just because it is present as an 
overcome element, is, even for that very reason, nec- 
emary to make us good, And we go on to say that 
even so in God the evil will of all who sin is pres- 
ent, @ real fact in the Divine Life, no illusion in so 
far as one neon that it exists in God and nowhere 
else, but for that very reason an clement, and @ nec- 
essary clement, in the total goodness of the Univer. 
sal Will, which, realized in God, is related to the 


TRE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 459 


wills of the sinners as the wills of the good men are 
related to their evil impulses. 

The explanation that evil is needed to contrast 
With goodness has already been mentioned. . 

Rvil thereforg as a supposed real fact, separate 
from goodness, and a totally independent entity, is 
and must be an illusion. The objections to this | 
View that we previously ugged in Chapter VITT. were 
all applicable to the world of powers, which we 
Viewed and had t view externally, Curd!'s Life, 
Viewed internally, as philosophy must view it, is not 
subject to these critiviams, And the noral experi 
ence has tanght us how we are to explain the exist 
ence of the only partial evil that we clearly know to 
be even a partial evil, namely, the evil will, The ex: 
planation is that the gved act has ite existence and 
life tn the transcending of expertenced present evil. 
This evil must not be an external evil, bevond the 
geood will, but must be experienced in the eume indb 
visible moment in which it is tranwended. That 
this wondrous anion is possible, we simply find as 
fact in the moral experience. No genuine moral good- 
ness is possible save in the midst of such inner war 
farn The absence of the evil impulse leaves naught 
but innocence or instinet, morally insipid: and calor 
less, Goodness is this onganian of straggling ele 
ments, Now, as we declare, in the infinite and united 
thought of Gad this unity of goodness is eternally 
Present. God's life is this intinite rest, sof apart 
From dud in the endless strife, as in substance Here 
olitus so well and originally taught. 


460  #$THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


IV. 


Tho problem of tho oxistenoe of evil thus treated 
as our limits allow, wo must return to a study of the 
visible world. That wo formerly refused to find re- 
ligious comfort in that world, depended upon our 
previous manner of approaching it. It was, so 
approached, the world of doubt; but now it may 
prove no longer disheartening, so that we may be 
ablo to got in it a concrete hold of useful truth. We 
must briefly skotch the process of return. Our Infi- 
nite, once known, is known not as an abstraction, 
but as an immediately actual object of knowledge. 
His thon is this visible world ; and, knowing the 
fact, we return cheerfully and courageously among 
the facts that before scemed dead externalities, to 
find his truth inthom. For our genoral belief in the 
inflnite rationality of things is uscloss to supersede 
any jot or tittle of oaroful sciontific study of the com- 
mon world of experionce, Bo this aspect of the mat- 
tor well understood. Some older forms of idealism 
have looked coldly on experience, Ours does not. 
To us, if you want to realize your ideal you must 
know the moans, you must study applied othios as 
woll as the ideal itself; and only from acionce, from 
hard, dry, careful collection and collaboration of 
facts, from cautious genoralizations, from endless exe 
periments, observations, calculations, oan mankind 
hope to learn the moans of realizing their ideals, 
Yet more, only from exact science can you get the 
best concreto examples of that unity of conception, 


that mastery of complex details, that exhaustive per 


v 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 461 


fection of insight, that we must attribute in an infi- 
nitely complete form to our all-embracing Ideal 
Thought, now that we have got it before us as our 
Ideal. That all facts and relations of facts should 
appear in one moment of insight to the all-knowing 
thought is our postulate, and, as we have shown, it is 
no mere postulate, but a necessary and absolute prin- 
ciple of philosophy. We must go tv exact science to 
find illustrations of how all this can be in particular 
eases realized. As the equation of a curve expresses 
in one thought al] the properties of the curve, as the 
law of a physical process inclodes all the cases of 
that process under any of the supposed conditions, 
as a function of a variable may be the sum of a long 
series of quantities, each one of which is a derived 
function of the first multiplied by a particular coeffi- 
cient, so that the one function is the united expres 
mon of the numerous separate functions: even in 
such wise must the Infinite thought comprebend in 
some supreme highest unity all the facts and rela- 
tions of facts that are in the world of truth. For 
us then the hizhest achievements of science are the 
dim shadow of the perfection of the infinite thought. 
And to science, accordingly, we must gu, net for the 
invention, but for the intellectual illustration of our 
ideal. And science we must treat as absolute mis- 
tress of her own domain. Of the world as a whole, 
of the eternal as such, of intinite past time, of the 
inner truth of things, science pretends to tell and 
ean tell nothing. Nor dves science invent, nor yet 
ean she prove, her own postulates, as we previoasly 
defined them. Bat in the application of her posto- 


462 THK WELIQIOUS ABPROT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


lates to the facta, in the dimurvery of partionlar laws, 
sciences ia almighty. To donht her capacity as high- 
est, jrelge in this field is Magrant center of cont, 
Science is just the Infinite Thought as far ae it ie 
et bry us realized in the facts of natare, A priorl 
we can realize nothing short finite facta, save that 
they mast be capihle of eational comprehenson, 
We knerw that the Infinite thinks them, and this ie 
all that we know shout them, What they are, ox 
perience mest tell cs. 

Hach then are some of the restrictions itnposed 
apen one theonght. We must now comsiler more 
carefully how we mnet treat the scientific postulates 
that were one only comfort in stelying reality before 
we reached cnr present insight. 

When we postulated that the world mest in the 
host senne satisfy one fundamental intellectual needs, 
we sas what is necesssry for sectence, brit whee 
science iHaelf does not satistactrrily explain, Have 
we now reached any foundation for this theoretical 
postulate” We have in fact reached one, The pow 
tilate of seienes amenints to this, that the res! con 
nections ameng facts mst be sich as would he re 
tionally connprehensible if they were known, Pret 
we have found in fact that all fasts not only mest 
he rationally comprehensible, tnt are rationally conn 
prohendel, in and by the one Divine Mind. The 
postulates of science expresans therefore in pert ard 
#9 A nere assHnption, what we now knew ae & whole, 
and as a resilt of demonstration. The unity of the 
Divine Thought implies that all facts, if we knew 
them well enirugh, would appear rationally interde- 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGRT. 463 


pendent, reducible to unity, a total of realities ox- 
pressible as one truth, Just as in the ane concept af 
the nature of number is implied all the intinite series 
of properties that a complete Theory af Numbers 
would develop, so in the one concept af the universe, 
Which constitutes the Divine Mind, all the facts of 
all possible experience are comprehended and are ree 
duced to perfect unity, There must be then in fact a 
waiversal formula, What this formula is we de not 
ave, and just because we do uot see it, we have to 
ook here and there in experience for any traces af 
the unity and rational connection af facts. Near can 
we ever be sure that a connection sunmised by us is 
the really rational convection af things A law dis 
eovered by us is only our attempt to imitate the Db 
vine Thought. Our attempt may in a given case 
fail: our induction may be mistaken. Rat the 
foundation of our inductive processes is the thought 
that, since the real world is a perfectly rational and 
waited body of truth, that hypothesis which reduces 
to relatively rational unity the greatest number af 
facts is more apt to represent the truth af things 
than any hypothesis of less scope, and of less rational 
signifivancs, Just beeause this natural dualian with 
which we set out is a blunder, just because in fact 
the world is not rent in twain by eur arbitrary dis. 
tinetion af object and subject, but is in deepest truth 
one wnited world, a single thought; therefore it is 
that when we consider those facts which we have 
from moment to moment to regand as external, we 
ean be assured that there is a certain and not an 


arbitrary basis for our views about them. The vis 


464 TH RELIGIOUA ABPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY, 


ible world hesomes ayaln hard reality, which wa ox. 
perianve and try to comprehend, just beanuse wa 
know that in itwalf thin world in ones for all compre. 
henclecl, 

Prastloally then, io cdowllag with tha world of oun 
orate fasta, wo sunt be rendintie, Tb bn our duty, for 
humanity's wake, to whiudy and to ballove bn thin ax. 
ternal world, to have faith In the grout postulates of 
Goro manne, bo ume all the things of the world, 
But the base of thin faith eommon sea oan never 
find. And wa have found it in the Absolute, 


V, 


ave we than dincovercd that something of intl 
nite religious worth of which we went fo quemt? Or 
anny wer meey tliat cme Dife bm ben verdon bon oncels a weordel ? 
Truly our religious Jonglay has met with a genuine 
renponae, Dut it wie nok much a renponne He Wwe AG 
Newt axpeetl, nor such aa mont wyatens mppene to 
dewiya, Personal nemls and hopes apart, mont sean 
wlio tials: mymtenin to watdefy ther boapermonal religlors 
longing, seck to prove that the world aa a whole 
progromen towards yoolnem, so that, in the pranat 
conmmmation of this prayrens, ovil shall certalaly 
sanred Mansel ly cUbowsngogoecer, Deruvdoagy ter were sum fevsveacsent, 
wd Jnadpld as dn the days of Mien, Now wa have 
found wa thought that makes this concept of progres 
not only wholly Janpplieable to the world of the tne 
Havbtes Lifes, boat whreably essoprecrtbevconns, Df, sus wes Pavesdetened 
‘ahove, mori yoodness Is not the absence, but the ore 
‘yuna wtabocreehbaseatderns, cof three covdl whl, btw cvewthercow be 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 465 
the good will, in which it is still actually present 
as subdued, then, whenever the world contains any 
moral goodness, it alsa, and for that very reason, 
contains, in its organic unity, moral evil. The 
world is morally good in spite of the evil will, and 
yet because of the evil will, since, as every moral ex- 
perience shows us, the good will is just this trium- 
phant rest in strife above the evil will. Therefore 
we have no sympathy with those who expect the fu- 
tare “salvation ” of the world as a whole in time 
through any all-pervading process. The only de-; 
struction of moral evil that ever takes place or can. 
take place is the transendence af the evil will by. 
the good will in the very moment of the life of the’ 
evil will, If moral evil were to be, as the older 
systems aften expect, absolutely destroyed, and the 
world 90 freed therefrom that the evil will was totally 
forgotten, then what remained would be no moral 
good any more, anly the laziness of an infinitely ver 
cant life. Not indeed to set off the good by any ex- 
ternal contrast, but to constitute a moment in the ar 
ganie unity of the good act. is this evil in the world. 
And the whole vast trouble about understanding its 
Presence arises because we usually separate it from 
the very unity with goodness in which we find it 
whenever we cansciously do right ourselves. Then 
When so separated, as we separated it in a former 
chapter, moral evil, viewed as an external opaque 
fact. is inexplicable, disheartening. horrible. Only 
when we do right ourselves do we practically get the 
solution of the problem, Only the moral man knows 
how and why evil exists. For in him the evil will 

x 


466 THE RELIGIOUS ASPHOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


is an esxontial element of his goodness. Tho conflicts 
of morality are and must be eternal. 

Our present explanation of evil in the world is, 
wo have seen, the only one that can both give us 
the absolute religious comfort, and save us from the 
terrible moral paralysis involved in destroying, for 
the Infinite, the distinction between good and evil. 
The moral experience itself contains tho miracle of 
this solution in the simplest and clearest shape. 
And it rolieves us of any need to long for an abso- 
lute penco, For in it the distinction of good and 
ovil is tho sharpest, the significance of the strife is 
tho most vivid, at the very instant when, in the strife, 
tho ovil will, present and real still, is yet conquered 
by the good will, and so lost in the universal good- 
ness of the total good act. Tho distinction of good 
will and evil will becomes thus the greatest possible ; 
and yet only through the reality of this distinction in 

ithe unity of the moral life is goodness present and 
Itriumphant. Progross in this world as a wholo is 
i therefore simply not necded. The good is eternally 
‘gained even in and through the ovil. How far the 
‘actual process of evolution may in our part of the 
universe oxtend is a mattor for ompirical science. 

But our own ideal of human life as a “ progres 
sive realization of the good,” — what of that? The 
answer i4 obvious, The good will that is in us as a 
temporal fact, not being yot fully realized or trium- 
phant in us aa we are in ourselves aa mere finite bee 
ings, must aim at complete expression of itself in 
time and in’ us, and through us in those whom wo 
seom to influence. For only in so seeking to per- 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 467 


fect us in whom it exteta, fa this wood will in us good 
at all, In eo far as we, viewed abstractly, in our 
eeparatenens from God, are good, we then do indeed 
try to realise that Ife of God in which we are all 
the time an clement. For us thia te progres. This 
progress ia the form taken temporarily in ua by the 
gow will, But for God thin te no real progres, 
Therefore ta it indeed true that the moral insight in 
ve mitet lead ua to ai aé progrens in guodness, just 
wa, on the other aide, the rational clement di ua leads 
uatoain at progres in knowledge. But, meanwhile, 
our moral progres and our radenal progress, mere 
minor facta happening at a moment of time, are but 
inaignitvant elomenta in the infinite life in which, as 
w whole, there is and can be neo progress, but only 
wn tufinite variety of the fornia of the good will and 
of the higher knowledge. 

And ao conaciousnem haa given ua in concrete 
form solutions of our two deepext philosophic prob 
loma The possibility of error. necesaitating an ine 
cluaive thowrht, ia illuatrated for ua by our own con. 
actous thought, which can include true and falae ele 
neonta in the unity of one clear and true thouzht at 
any moneont, And the posability and neveuity of 
moral evil, demanding a real diatinetion between 
god and evil, a hateful opposition that econ at tent 
right fatal to our religious need for the aupremacy 
of goodnera in the united world, fa illustrated for us 
in a way that eolven this whole trouble, namely, in 
the unity of the conscious moral act. There at the 
one moment are goad and evil, warring, dinplacable, | 


yet united in the present momentary triumph of the 


468 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


good will. A world in which this strife, this vic. 

tory, this absolute rest above the real strife and in 
' the midst of the real strife, is the supreme fact, is 
_ the perfect world that religion needs. It is a world 
| of the true Life of God. 


VI. 


And our insight appeals not only to our general 
religious needs. It comes with its truth home to the 
individual man. It demands that we consider what 
our individual life is really worth when it is lived in 
the presence of this Infinite Judge. O man, what 
is this thy daily life! Thou livest for the applause 
or in fear of the blame of thy neighbors. An unkind 
word cuts thee to the quick. A little public favor, 
or the approving word of a friend, is worth half thy 
soul to thee. And all the while thou knowest not 
that One infinitely greater than multitudes of neigh- 
bors is here, not above thee only, nor afar in the 
heavens, but pervading thy every thought. And that 
all-pervading Thought judges thee as these neigh- 
bors never can. Myriads of their blunders about 
thee are as nothing to an atom of this infinite Truth. 
That rain-drop yonder in the sunshine is not more 
filled with the light, than are all the most hidden re- 
ceases of thy heart filled with that Infinite Presence. 
No one of us is more famous than his neighbor; for 
no one is known save by God, and to him all alike 
are known. To be sure, to know this is the same 
as understanding rightly, that thou art in truth what 
thou art. All truth is truth because it is known by 


THE RELIGIOUS INSIGHT. 469 


a conscious Thought: therefore whatsoever thou art, 
whether it is consviously or unoonavioualy existent in 
thee, is known to the all-seeing Universal Conscious- 
ness, But commonplace as this avema to the philos- 
opher, is it not more than a mere commonplace to 
thee, if thou lovest genuine righteousness? For is it 
not something to feel that thy life ia, all of it, in 
God and fur God? No one else knows thee, Alone 
thou wandereat in a dead world, save for thia Pres- 
ence. These other men, how can they know thee? 
They love thee or acorn thee or hate thee, but nane 
of them love or scorn or hate thee for what thou art. 
Whatever they hold of thee, it is an acvident. If 
they knew more of thee, doubtlesa they would think 
otherwise of thee. Do they love thee? Then they 
know thee not well enough, nor do they ave thy 
meanness and thy vileness, thy seltishneas and thy 
Jealousy and thy malive. If they saw thease, aurely 
they would hate thee. But do they hate thee? 
Then thou callest them unjust. Doubdtlesa they are 
ao. Same chance word af thine, a careless look or 
geature, an acvident of fortune, a trifling faut, these 
they have remembered ; and therefore do they hate 
thee. If they know better things of thee, perhaps 
they would love thee. 

Thus contradictory ia thy life with them. And yet 
thon must labor that the wood may triumph near 
thee by thy effort. Now in all this work who ahall 
be thy true friend?) Whose approval shall encour 
age theo? Thy neighbor's? Nay, but it is thy duty 
always to anapect thy neighbor's opinion af thee 
Heo ia a corrupt judge, or at best an ignorant judge. 


Ji 


470 THE RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


Ho xeon not thy heart. Ho in a rexpecter of persona 
Ilo in too often a bundle of whims, [f he also pro- 
fonnon to bo trying to sorve rightoousnons, it in thy 
duty to have reuly faith in his good intent, if. thas 
bo posible for thee; but by all moans doubt his 
wisdom about thee, and thine about him. If he 
prrinen thoo for thy righteousness, Histon not willingly 
to hin praino, It will dowsive thee. Ho will most 
praine theo when thow inwardly art not righteous. 
If he blames theo for evil, let it warn thee; for if 
he is not right now, he doubtless soon will be. But 
take it not too much to heart. Ho in ignorant of 
theo, Hoe talks of thoo as ho might talk of the othor 
aide of the moon, unlowm indeed he talks of theo just 
taiman in gonoral, and not as to thy particular acta, 
Trust him not in all those things, Realize his needs 
ta thou canst, strive to aid himiin boing righteous, 
Wwe him as an instrument for the extension of good. 
nean; but trust not his judgment of thee. Who 
thon ix, aa the true judge of thy worth, thy only por. 
fot. friend ? 

Tho Divino Thought.  Thoro is the opinion of 
theo to whieh thon canst look up. To be sure it is 
rovonlod to thee only in thy consciousness of what 
rightoousnoens ia and of what truth is, Nowhere cla 
hast thou a guide that can do more for thee than to 
holp to quicken thy insight. But, then, thy relig- 
fous comfort in to be, not that the moral law ia thin. 
dered down from mountain. tops an if some vant 
townewrior wore talking, but that when thou seokont 
to do right, the Inflnite all-seoing One knows and 
approves thes, Lf thou lovest rightoousnoss for its 


Aaa | . , ty _ fa v6 


fer { 


THE RELIGIOCS INSIGHT. 471 


own sake, then this will comfort thee. If not, if 
thou seekest sugar-plums, seek them not in the home 
of the Infinite. Go among thy fellow-men and be a 
successful hypocrite and charlatan, and thou shalt 
have gaping and wonderment and sagar- plums 


Herein then hes the invitation of the Infinite to 
us, that it is, and that it knows us. No deeper sance- 
tion is there for true nghteousness than this Imowl- 
edge that one is serving the Ewrnal. Yet when wo 
say all this. are we simply doing that which we spoke 
of in the opening chapter of this work? Are wo 
bat offermg snow to appease the relimious hunger? 
Is this doctrine too cold. too abstract. too faroff? 
Cold and abstract and far-off is indeed the proof of 
it. But that was philawphy. That was not the re. 
hgious aspect of our doctrine, but anly the prepara- 
tion for showing the rehgious aspect of philoaphy. 
Is the doctrine itelf. however, ance gained, sw re- 
mote from the natural religiwus emotion? What 
does a man want when he looks to the world for re 
ligious support? Does he want such applause as 
blind crowds give men, such flattery as designing 
people shower upon them, such svmpathy as even the 
cherished bat prejudiced Jove of ane’s nearest frends 
pours out for him? Nay, if he seeks merely this, 
is he quite unseltishly righteous? Can he not get 
all that if he wants it. wholly apart from rehgien? 
And if he looks for rewanl, can he not get that also 
otherwise? But what his true devotion to the moral 
law ardently desires is rot to be alone. Approval 
for what really deserves approval he needs, approval 


472 THE RELIGIOUS ASPKOT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


from one who truly knows him. Well, our doctrine 
says that he gots it. Just as deep, as full, as rich, 
as truo approval as expresses the full worth of his 
act, —this ho has for all oternity from the Infinite. 
To feed upon that truth is to eat something better 
than snow, but as pure as the driven snow. To love 
that truth is to love God. 

Wo spoke in the former book of the boundless 
magnitude of human life as it impresses itself upon 
one who first gains tho moral insight. To many 
this first devotion to human life soems itself enough 
for a religion. But then ono goos beyond this point, 
and says that human life has, after all, very much 
that is baso and petty in it. Hero in not the ideal. 
* Would that there were a higher life! To that we 
would devote ourselves, We will serve humanity, 
but how can wo worship it?” Such is the thought 
of many an ardent soul that seeks no personal re- 
wards in serving tho good, but that doos seok some 
great Roality that shall surely be worthy of service. 
To such, our religious insight points out this highor 
rowlity. You that have been willing to devote your 
nolvos to humanity, hero is a Life gronter in infinite 
degree than humanity. And now is it not a help to 
know that truly to sorve humanity is just tho same 
ax to serve this Inflnito? For whatover had seemed 
dishoartoning in the basoness and weakness of man 
loses ite discouraging darknoss now that all is trans 
figured in this Infinite light. 

Let us thon be encouraged in our work by this 
grout Truth, But lot us not spend too much time 
in merely contemplating this Truth. We, whose 


TEE REWINIOS Nee. 3 


Eres are te he lived tm teal, — it is met gaad Ghat we 
shemla broad ewor even an inate Theat. Ror ta 
er finite niinds ¥t willl seen Iheceme peti wnless we 
wealiae it ohietiiy thremgh ear acts. Let ws then yea 
wbowt ome besimess. For ever man has besimess 
wind desire, tach as they aire. 

As we tora away then for the time froma eat een 
templation. we lave owe bast word vet as te these 
practical comeageemcss of ear view. TT the reader 
follows ws at all ie eur argument. we want hiva ale 
te fellow us ate the practical appheavin of 1 te 


is, we eave said, the chief prosent dhaty of waa Base ve 


wety. All else & preparation for this work, or eke 
tS ab anticipation of Ube higher stave wheat we 
ever grow wp to that bevel. we shall have oar farther 
work ta do im the hight of the nayht ieelf, But 
this chief present workt of ours this extension of the 
moral insight. is best furthered bi dewettion te ear 
individual vocations coupled with strict lexalite te 
the relations upom which societt is forded, ‘The 
work thus set before us demands the sacrifice of 
many Aleal emotional expertences to the sercice of 
the Highest, Our comfort however tm tt alll ment be 
that the Highest & there above ws forget It as we 
war. If the reader accepts all thik, then with ws 
he has the assurance that, whatever becomes off the 
whd creeds in the present religious orton, the founda 
trons af genuitrely religtows Bath are sure. 
Wherever we must parse again in oar werk for 
reRgtos support, and whenever we are wer oat 


with the Jargon of the schools we can rest once 


Wr 


ay] 


AT4 TH MMLAGIOUN ANPROT OF PHILONOPHY. 


more for a (ine In this contemplation of the Mtornal 
Truth, Je breve plangltur, Vat not wo in it in 
Chal's life, Our probleme may be hard, but there 
ll in melvewl, Ota Uvew may bes poe snd contempt 
Abolesy Vonnt tbacvrres cll fn weseltde cand fallow of worth. 
Our offorts may often prove valu, but there nanghe 
oxinta that in vanity, Mor the fiperfestion of the 
Herhtes In boat thes fesggnent of the Infinite Whale 
Whore there Inne tries finporfoction, Init not a Hee 
Higghoons tar fool thin? And we shall then tur from 
auGh a contemplation once agiin as we do now, to 
escake withy Frrecsbocsee cseotarsagces tut Clade ocranac berm, teomdrnge 
won of human Vfe aboutus Thin in not itwelf the 
Diving, bat over It all God's whide aro blowing, 
And to our eyes it in bounllem, Lat us go down 
Hratan thud geresnts ene conned tall, fonrlag no storin, but 
meserba Sage tan fionel thacrrren Cressemsarens that shell bees cscoplom, 
however fubat, of that whilelt ian Metsrnal, 


EPILOGUE. 


Yer some reader, 9 whom, as to the author, phil 
oxophi¢ questions are directly matters of vooation, 
may possibly Hnger, To him are due one ar two 
Statements mar, bo set at rest certain af his doubts 
about our meaning, Perhaps he will ask the very 
natural, yes, after all not very fruitfal, question, 
“ }s the foregoing theory af things Thetsm or Pan- 
theism? Has it been your parpos to defend the 
essential portions of the older Theistic doctrines, or 
to alter them in favor of some newer faith?” This 
question expresacs a difficulty that some plain peaple 
must feel when they read, not merely this book, bat 
also many recent discussions. There are writers who 
have undertaken to defend Theism, and who have ac 
tually in all sincerity argued for the newessity af the 
Universal Thoncht. The plain people have reason 
to aaspect anch af trving to substitute for the * Ged 
ef our Fathers ~ something claa to be called by the 
same name. and ao to he pasacd aff for the same 
thing. We therefor answer very plainly that we 
desire to do nothing af the sort. If in the foregaing 
we have on oqasion used the word God, no reader 
is obhiced to suppose that onr idaa acres with bn 
idea, for we have fully explained what our idea 
moans. We mpoat: As my thought at any time, 
and however engaged, combines several fragmentary 


476 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


thoughts into the unity of one conscious moment, so, 
we affirm, does the Universal Thought combine the 
thoughts of all of us into an absolute unity of 
thought, together with all the objects and all the 
thoughts about these objects that are, or have been, 
or will be, or can be, in the Universe. This Uni- 
versal Thought is what we have ventured, for the 
sake of convenience, to call God. It is not the God 
of very much of the traditional theology. It is the 
God of the idealistic tradition from Plato down- 
wards. Our proof for it is wholly different from 
| those baseless figments of the apologetic books, the 
design -argument, and the general argument from 
causality. Since Kant, those arguments must be 
abandoned by all critical philosophers, and we have 
‘indicated something of their weakness. They have 
_ been aptly compared to medieval artillery on a 
.modern battle-field. We accept the comparison. 
‘Kant gave to modern philosophy new instruments, 
and these it is our duty to apply as we can to the 
old questions that the whole history of thought has 
been trying to understand. Our special proof for 
the existence of an Universal Thought has been 
based, in the foregoing, upon an analysis of the na- 
ture of truth and error as necessary conceptions. We 
;do not regard the Universal Thought as in any com- 
‘monly recognized sense a Creator. A creator would 
‘be finite, and his existence would have to be learned 
from experience. The Universal Thought is infinite, 
and its existence is proved independently of experi- 
ence. For the rest, we have insisted that experience 
furnishes no evidence of single creative powers that 


| 


EPILOGUE. 407 


are at once unlimited and geod. We have however 
shown how all the Powers that be exist as necessary 
facts in the Infinite Thoaght, and how. apart from 
this thought, nothing is that is. Such is oar coacep- 
ton. It is no new one in philowphy. We have tried 
With no small labor, and after tedioas doubting, to 
uake it our own, We have independently given 
our own reasons for it. And we bave asserted that 
here is an object of infinite religious worth. 

And now we must add that we are quite indiffer 
ent whether anybody calls all this Theism or Pan- 
theism. It differs from the commoner traditivnal 
forms of both Both usually consider Ged as a 
Power, and either eave him off on one side to push 
things occasionally, or to set them guing at the out- 
set, or else Mentify him with his products. The for 
mer way of conceiving God is never more than half- 
philesophic. The hatter way is apt to degenerate 
inte wholly poetical rhapsodies. We take neither 
of these wars. For us Causation is a very subord 
nate idea in philosophy. It expresses only one form 
of the rational unity of things. and that an imper 
fect form. The workd of the Powers is not yet an 
universe, Thought mast be truer than Power, com- 
prehending all the Powers. and much more besides, 
in its infinite unity, Ged as Power weukl be neth- 
ing, oF finite. Cod as Theaght can be and is all in 
all. And if this is philosophy, traditional Theism 
can do what it wishes to de about the maliter. 

In short, the present doctrine is the doctrine that 
in the beginning was the Word. and the Word was 
with God, and the Word was God. So far, said St. 


478 THE RELIGIOUS ASPECT OF PHILOSOPHY. 


Augustine, Plato had gone. So far we have gone. 
Beyond that, said St. Augustine, the truth was not 
revealed to human wisdom, but only to humble faith. 
Beyond that, with the rational consequences that we 
have been able to draw from it in the foregoing, we 
are frankly agnostic. If any man knows more about 
the Powers in the world than science has found out 
by patient examination of the facts, let him rejoice 
in his knowledge. We are not in possession of such 
knowledge. We believe in the Conservation of the 
physical forces, in the Law of Evolution as it is at 
present and for a limited past time found to express 
the facts of nature, and in the fact of the Dissipation 
of Energy. All this we believe as the scientifically 
probable view, and we do so on the authority of cer- 
tain students of physical science, who, having exam- 
ined the facts, seem to agree upon so much as capa- 
ble of popular exposition. We believe in such other 
results of science as are known to us. But beyond 
this nothing as to the Powers in the world is clear to 
us. We know nothing about individual immortal- 
ity, nothing about any endless future progress of our 
species, nothing about the certainty that what men 
call from without goodness must empirically triumph 
just here in this little world about us. All that is 
dark. We know only that the highest Truth is al- 
ready attained from all eternity in the Infinite 
Thought, and that in and for that Thought the vic- 
tory that overcometh the world is once for all won. 
‘Whatever happens to our poor selves, we know that 
.the Whole is perfect. And this knowledge gives 
‘us peace. We know that our moral Vindicator liv- 


EMLOGUE. 479 


eth, and that in his sight all the good that we do is 
not Labor lost 

Yet the purpose of these chapters is not to give 
at any point a mere negation, even when we speak 
of the tradigonal theokagr. We do not want to ex 
agyerate our quarrel with anybody. If thinkers whe 
accept some traditional form of theology fad truth 


or help in our doctring we shall be ghad. After’ >. 
all. the religious interest wants, not so much this of... . 
that view about some nian's special creed, but a... 


foundation for the faith that somehow righteowaress 
is in deepest truth triumphant in the work, If there | 
is to proof, then, as we cai in Chapter EX. we must 
resort te the Postulates. If we can get proof, vo 
much the better. 

Thus, however, we have suggested to ourselves am 
other question, These Postulates af Chapter ING 
what has become of them now? Are they wholly 
lest in our insight? No indeed. They remain just 
what they were, rational forms of our activity, not 
perfect in their rationality, but constantly vahable 
to us in our work. «The scientific postulates are not 
superseded, bat rather only strengthened. by the 
insight into the ultimate rationality of things, They 
become now the assurance that there must be a re 
tional solution to every scientific problem, and that 
the simplest salution, being the nost rational, is dhe 
mast probable in case it is actually adequate to all 
the fact. Just as before, it remains tre af uw 
finite beings that our finite external work is at each 
instant the product of our activity, working with the 
postulates, upon the material of our sensations, And 


480 TH RELIGIOUS ASPROT OF PHILOMOFHY, 


that activity remains as before the proper object of a 
pracorea] jesslgereversst.  Cnaly secrw wer meres thieat theer bebyhieomt 
ferrin oof cour mcstivitiy tn Libecsdy ter bees Cheer conser sracant escrta- 
forming to the truth, What retaion tras of the 
weclenititioo prmtilaten, renin tries of thes ralighous 
postulates, ‘They are net waperneded, Kor what they 
ean willl do for us te to inaiet that our iden of the In- 
finite shall not remain cold, barren alternation, 
but, that we whall mppesal te ce experiences for avi 
dene of what in truly highent and Int, and that we 
whall thet ways ° The highent ceneaptionn that I pat 
from exporlenae of what goolnonn and beauty are, 
thes srerbolermt, Wifes that Fo ccsans Sasveegebines, thie csconeaplestont 
Loberrsacrel assem thieat FP ocstasy think of, all thane things are 
best fader msagepcemnteotn cof so truth that in infinitely ra. 
alisend in the Diving, that knows all truth Whate 
covers pusefeseetlsons thesres fw mragepcemtenl inv thame things, 
that, Vhes aerssmt frably berscow sasael esxgoesebessisns,”” — “Thesrete 
ervey thes resdiglerten promtislaten cnet eacennpany Us Overy. 
Wheeseres, ressebebeage tall conse esx prserlestasces sepoprene tar Un AA ED 
esveser-Lirevule Desmncote csertoccesenabinge thes snbiel of CGied, 

‘W'hoss yocrmtaateatorn, tbecrrs, wes restestos, wits thes Srrnhgehe, 
Wee saboarslerns, lasswesverr, thes tamer cof thuesnes promtiilatens 
tes lessrscormterates Fisrtluse npusedal article of faith as 
to supernatural power ar aventa of any sort We 
Desseow cof sser tasbesacsles msnves thes Desttesites Idinnelf, And 
wen wes esaves sieo Sestestesmt See seusssy cof thes fornim of progr 
saben Selecta inses, Wer porcoves tlasat thie wearlel fo tees becoreses 
cf so Syrbedtoacal Uaifes, senmeny peeved prevergoles baseves boeseses sane 
pares csearsevereronctel tao poveoves Clesat esssertandon gobsestscatnvestin whieh 
wes wecces alacrtal vam seres San sassel cof theesteamest ver direct evil 


Heston of the aplritual nature of things, To such 


EPILOGUE. 481 


persons a Spint that is pot constantly produciag 
noteworthy effects, and 2:0 geting himself into the 
newspapers, would seem unreal. Therefore, to such 
persons Religious Idealism depends for its life and 
warmth upon the vividness and the impressiveness 
of these phenomenal indications of ,the action of the 
great Spirit. Sach persons, if they have given up 
traditional superstitions, stl] find ther delight in 
dwelling on the mystery of “ vital force,” on the oo- 
carrence of all sorts of wonderfal things, on the the- 
ares of occult powers, or of ethereal essences. To 
them one of the best evidences of the spintaal na- 
tare of things ts the inability of the bologtt to 
tell us under what conditions life could be prodaced 
from dead matter. The mysterious natare of ner 
vous action, the inflwence of the mind upon the 
body, and, above all, the occurrence of certain 
strange emotional expertences In us, sach as the vis- 
fons af mystics, these are to them the main prvof 
that the work is divine and is full of spirimaal life. 
We do not sympathize with this method of idealism. | 
We respect its good intentions, bat we are unwilling 
te look upon it as ranonally signifmant. For us it 
makes absolutely no difference in oar faith aboat 
the ulamate spiritaal nature of things, whether the 
workd that we see makes our hair stand on end or 
not, or whether the bialagists ever come to succeed 
in making living matter or not. That we can make 
a fire, does not prove the world less divine, Nor 
woald the trath of things be less spiritual, if we 
could also manufacture not oaly protophaan, bat 


whole whales or Shakespeares in oar bboratories. 
31 


462 THK RELIGIOUN ABPROT OF PIILOMOMTY, 


If we would do so, waterlalion as a philosophical 
dostelne would remain just as abeird as it now be, 
Chevrntabsnes Meleseeionis, Vikees thre foreggolig, Im utterly entre 
lows whether this or that particular murpelnliag thing 
eegnpoessers ttn thee gohrersnnnenial world, wines it ones for 
all knows that the Whole in diving, an eternal stare 
prime, Th moka no confirmation from the laborabe- 
tens but only for Wusteatlons of ratlonality 4 net 
for its own pare dows it venture to diotate to the 
wprevsdal woorlecrm fin meen whit they whall find. 16 
in nent forreenl tar bey Nati to contain some ooctilt 
AygHay, Kone VaiE ethereal GNM, OF None tyne 
rhevtan ened wootselecotan vied doles Veesdiige, whicmes grremennnee 
whaeal) Noes su prassuneanty tay ther geragodange cotbenalece this 
thaesser con inten tote Veleusl, ADL thin snenllsant ddenlinnn 
our view rejecte as unworthy of any clear: headed 
thirker, Ih meayn,  Davok at the facts an they are, 
Pitas y tdeesare sam erm precedernnces pelvew then,  Mnew thei 
Hoa tresber sucabecsel cvcotsnersconagobiees verity, Tat benncow tale 
thrvt thier Valeval Goivienes Dates clwestly fav tlrests sannel 
thareosagelacoset, Cheesder wheeodes Voeotarsel Devan restaden.” 

Fin V¥beatan’n § Veanransesnadelen,” thes young Sonraten 
conform that he sametimes hevdtate ta way that 
theses in sar Pilon for everythitiag, even for anad, ie 
bes sresdonelecsel oor (dade fester that men sony angel at hii, 
Des fs taobel thot tool ala in rational, Wve so we 
niint fear nobody's hanghter do sieh a matin, We 
ritent, wees Ces Divine everywhere, And therefore we 
sesnivnt ancot, Veer greadonge salocrtats feabtdabessaly Dercbedinge Fore martes 
Aledo tliat whiall Ins wondrous onough to forse un to 
way" Pfere in Chad” 


EPILOGUE. 488 


And now, last of all, as the writer bids farewell 
to this single lingering fellow-student, he cannot re 
frain from suggesting to so patient a friend one lit- 
tle thought more concerning the proof that has been 
given for the doctrine of theese later pages of our 
discussion, “ Possibly it is all false,” the fellow- 
student may say. “ This fair picture of a Truth that 
is also Croudnessa, may be but another illusion.” Be 
it so, dear friend, if we have said nothing to con- 
vince thee. Perchance all this our later angument 
is illusion, Only remember: If it is Error, then, 
as we have shown thee, it is Error because and only 
because the Infinite knows it to be auch, Apart 
from that knowledge, our thought would be no error. 
At least, then, the Infinite knows what we have at- 
tributed to it. If it rejects our ideal, then doubtless 
there ix something imperfect, not about the Infinite, 


but about our Ideal. And w at woret we are like | 


achild who has come to the palace of the King on 
the day of his wedding, bearing ruses as a gift to 
Krave the feast For the child, waiting innocently 
to ave whether the King will uot appear and praise 
the welcome flowers, grows at last weary with watch- 
ing all day and with Listening to harsh words outaide 
the palace gate, amid the jostling crowd. And se 
in the evening it falls fast asleep beneath the great 
dark walls, unsen and forgotten; and the wither 
ing roses by and by fall from ite lap, and are acat- 
tered by the wind into the dusty highway, there to 
be trodden under foot and destroyed. Yet all that 
happens only because there are infinitely fairer 


464 THE NKLIGIOUN ARPROT OF PHILONOPIY, 


tremmiuren withit the palace than the Ugnorant obille 
could bring, The King knows of this, yeu, and of 
ten thousand other proffered glfte of loyal mtubjente, 
Hut he needs them not. Rather are all things from 
vternity his own,