good of its own, but by sight or faith beholds its accomplishment, if at all, outside of and beyond its individual existence. Answers to two more questions, and then we have done. The first is, Can there be self-sacrifice for the bad; for the bad, that is, when known as bad? It is perhaps a matter for doubt, but we incline to the negative view. We have seen that the bad is not desired in its quality of bad for the sake of that quality; but the difficulty which remains is that, for the sake of something known to be bad, persons do seem to give up their existence, while aware that they will or may do so. A closer consideration may, however, dispose of these cases. They may be divided into two classes, passionate and deliberate. In the former an element of self-sacrifice is wanting, i. e. the having the consequences in view. Fierce hate and hot lust for a mortal pleasure lead men to death ; as the poet says, Our natures do pursue, Like rats that ravin down their proper bane, But the point here is this, Is the end only before the mind, with blindness to the possible result; or is that result considered? If it is not considered, there is no self-sacrifice proper. The second class is the deliberate pursuit of bad objects, with a readiness to consider and face all consequences, even one's own death; sacrifice of oneself, in short, for a bad cause. Here the important point is this, Is the cause really known as bad: or is the conscience confused, so as to take bad for good, or at least to see good in the bad besides its badness? And on our answer to that question will depend our finding. Self-sacrifice is admitted, but the doubt is, was it not after all for the sake of what seemed good? And, unless we remove that doubt, we can not maintain the possibility of self-sacrifice for evil. The last enquiry is whether all self-sacrifice must be religious; and here we are decided in the negative. It might be urged that the will to suppress the temporal self implies a will made one with what is above all finite things, a will identified with a non-temporal will; and that here (whether it call itself so or not) we have religion. But this, I think, will not hold. Of course, if self sacrifice for the bad be admitted, we can not see in that the assertion of the divine will. And further, if the question be narrowed to self-sacrifice for good, still we must say that it need involve nothing properly to be called religion. The cause, with which the will is identified to the negation of the temporal self, need not therefore be apprehended as non-temporal, or that which is above the finite; but only as a finite realization, which is above and superior to this or that finite. And thus, too, my will may be identified with some bad interest, which, though finite, is still superior to my finite existence. The doubt which remains is whether, in cases where the personal existence is felt as utterly worthless in comparison of the good to be attained, the good is not so qualified by the comparison that we have passed into the religious consciousness, or at least into that which springs from and depends on it. Here, however, on the other side we must take account of the abstract self-consciousness,' which stakes its existence on a trifle, not because it cares for this or that content, but because, in its abstract assertion, it cares for no particular content as such, not even that of its own finite existence. But this, as well as the consideration of the former difficulty, besides others no doubt which we have omitted or failed to throw light on, we will leave to the reader (if such there be) who, in spite of its treatment by the writer, remains yet unwearied by the subject. CONCLUDING REMARKS. THE position we are now in can be put very shortly. Morality is an endless process, and therefore a self-contradiction; and, being such, it does not remain standing in itself, but feels the impulse to transcend its existing reality. It is a self-contradiction in this way: it is a demand for what can not be. Nothing is good but the good will; nothing is to be real but the good; and yet the reality is not wholly good. Neither in me, nor in the world, is what ought to be what is, and what is what ought to be; and the claim remains in the end a mere claim. The reason of the contradiction is the fact that man is a contradiction. But man is more; he feels or knows himself as such, and this makes a vital difference; for to feel a contradiction is ipso facto to be above it. Otherwise, how would it be possible to feel it? A felt contradiction which does not imply, beside its two poles, an unity which includes and is above them, will, the more it is reflected on, the more be seen to be altogether unmeaning. Unless man was and divined himself to be a whole, he could not feel the contradiction, still less feel pain in it, and reject it as foreign to his real nature. So we see that the moral point of view, which leaves man in a sphere with which he is not satisfied, can not be final. This or that human being, this or that passing stage of culture, may remain in this region of weariness, of false self-approval and no less false self-contempt; but for the race, as a whole, this is impossible. It has not done it; and, while man is man, it certainly never will do it. And here we should close these Essays, since here we go beyond morality. But, that we may make the foregoing plainer, we are tempted to say something more; however fragmentary, however much in the form of an appendix.' -- Reflection on morality leads us beyond it. It leads us, in short, to see the necessity of a religious point of view. It certainly does not tell us that morality comes first in the world and then religion: what it tells us is that morality is imperfect, and imperfect in such a way as implies a higher, which is religion. Morality issues in religion: and at this word 'religion' the ordinary reader is upon us with cries and questions, and with all the problems of the day-God, and personal God, immortality of the soul, the conflict of revelation and science, and who knows what beside? He must not expect any answer to these questions here: we are writing a mere appendix; and in that our object is to show that religion, as a matter of fact, does give us what morality does not give; and our method is simply, so far as our purpose requires, to point to the facts of the religious consciousness, without drawing conclusions to the right or left, without trying to go much below the surface, or doing anything beyond what is wanted in this connection with morality. We purpose to say nothing about the ultimate truth of religion : nothing again about its origin in the world, or in the individual. We are to take the religious consciousness as an existing fact, and to take it as we find it now in the modern Christian mind, whether that mind recognizes it or whether it does not. And lastly, space compels us to do no more than dogmatically assert what seems to us to be true in respect of it. That there is some connection between true religion and morality every one we need consider sees. A man who is 'religious' and does not act morally, is an impostor, or his religion is a false one. This does not hold good elsewhere. A philosopher may be a good philosopher, and yet, taking him as a whole, may be immoral; and the same thing is true of an artist, or even of a theologian. They may all be good, and yet not good men; but no one who knew what true religion was would call a man, who on the whole was immoral, a religious man. For religion is not the mere Throughout the sequel I have to acknowledge my indebtedness to Vatke's book, Die Menschliche Freiheit: 1841. knowing or contemplating of any object, however high. It is not mere philosophy nor art,.because it is not mere seeing, no mere theoretic activity, considered as such or merely from its theoretical side. The religious consciousness tells us that a man is not religious, or more religious, because the matter of his theoretic activity is religious; just as the moral consciousness told us that a man was not moral, or more moral, simply because he was a moral philosopher. Religion is essentially a doing, and a doing which is moral. It implies a realizing, and a realizing of the good self. Are we to say then that morality is religion? Most certainly not. In morality the ideal is not: it for ever remains a 'to be.' The reality in us or the world is partial and inadequate; and no one could say that it answers to the ideal, that, morally considered, both we and the world are all we ought to be, and ought to be just what we are. We have at furthest the belief in an ideal which in its pure completeness is never real; which, as an ideal, is a mere 'should be.' And the question is, Will that do for religion? No knower of religion, who was not led away by a theory, would answer Yes. Nor does it help us to say that religion is morality touched by emotion;' for loose phrases of this sort may suggest to the reader what he knows already without their help, but, properly speaking, they say nothing. All morality is, in one sense or another, touched by emotion.' Most emotions, high or low, can go with and 'touch' morality; and the moment we leave our phrase-making, and begin to reflect, we see all that is meant is that morality ‘touched' by religious emotion is religious; and so, as answer to the question What is religion? all that we have said is, ' It is religion when with morality you have -religion.' I do not think we learn a very great deal from this.' 1 Compare (Mill, Dissertations, i. 70-1) the definition of poetry as 'man's thoughts tinged by his feelings;' where the whole matter again is, what feelings? Anything in the way of shallow reflection on the psychological form, anything rather than the effort to grasp the content. Ali that Mill saw wanting in this 'definition' was that it missed 'the poet's utter unconsciousness of a listener.' However, to make sure of hitting the mark, he, so to speak, set it down as hit beforehand, and in his own 'definition' of poetry introduced the poet's mind.' This is much as if we were to say, 'Religion is the sort of thing you have in a religious man.' |