{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_21981/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_21981","id":"gutenberg_21981","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21981","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Spiritual life"],"text":"Produced by David B. Alexander\n\n\n\n\nTHE ESSENTIALS OF SPIRITUALITY\n\nby Felix Adler\n\nThe Essentials of Spirituality\n\nThe first essential is an awakening, a sense of the absence of\nspirituality, the realized need of giving to our lives a new and\nhigher quality; first there must be the hunger before there can be\nthe satisfaction.\n\nSimilar effects are often produced by widely differing processes. In\nthe psychical world that quality which we call spirituality may be\nassociated with and evoked by Theism, or the belief in a Divine\nFather; by Pantheism, as in the case of Spinoza, whose face at the\nvery first glance impresses you with its spiritual cast; or even by\nthe Buddhist belief in Nirvana. It may also be attained by following\nthe precepts and striving after the ideals of Ethical Culture. For\nspirituality is not indissolubly associated with any one type of\nreligion or philosophy; it is a quality of soul manifesting itself in a\nvariety of activities and beliefs.\n\nBefore we proceed further, however, we must hazard a definition\nof the word. In the region of mental activity which is called the\nspiritual life vagueness is apt to prevail, the outlines of thought are\napt to be blurred, the feelings aroused are apt to be indistinct and\ntransitory. The word 'spiritual' becomes a synonym of muddy\nthought and misty emotionalism. If there were another word in the\nlanguage to take its place, it would be well to use it. But there is\nnot. We must use the word 'spiritual,' despite its associations and\nits abuse. We shall endeavor, however, to attach a distinct and\ndefinite meaning to the word. Mere definition, however, is too\nabstract and nakedly intellectual. Perhaps a description of some\ntypes of character, combined with definition, will be the better\nway.\n\nSavonarola is surely one of the commanding figures in history. His\nfiery earnestness, his passion for righteousness, the boldness with\nwhich he censured the corruptions of the Roman Court, the\npersonal qualities by which he--a foreigner and a mere monk--made\nhimself for a short period the lawgiver, the prophet, and virtually\nthe dictator of Florence--that Florence which was at the time the\nvery gemmary of the Renaissance--his sudden fall and tragic death;\nall combine to attract toward him our admiration, pity, and love,\nand to leave upon our minds the impression of his extraordinary\nmoral genius. And yet, though a spiritual side was not wanting in\nSavonarola, we should not quote him as an outstanding exemplar\nof spirituality. The spiritual life is unperturbed and serene. His\nnature was too passionate, he was too vehement in his philippics,\ntoo deeply engrossed in the attainment of immediate results,\ntoo stormy a soul to deserve the name of spiritual.\n\nAgain, our own Washington is one of the commanding figures in\nhistory. He achieved the great task which he set himself; he\nsecured the political independence of America. He became the\nmaster builder of a nation; he laid securely the foundations on\nwhich succeeding generations have built. He was calm, too, with\nrare exceptions; an expert in self-control. But there was mingled\nwith his calmness a certain coldness. He was lofty and pure, but\nwe should hardly go to him for instruction in the interior secrets of\nthe spiritual life. His achievements were in another field. His claim\nto our gratitude rests on other grounds. The spiritual life is calm,\nbut serenely calm; irradiated by a fervor and a depth of feeling that\nwere to some extent lacking in our first president. Lincoln,\nperhaps, came nearer to possessing them.\n\nAgain, we have such types of men as John Howard, the prison\nreformer, and George Peabody, who devoted his great fortune to\nbettering the housing of the poor and to multiplying and improving\nschools. These men--especially the latter--were practical and sane,\nand were prompted in their endeavors by an active and tender\nbenevolence. Yet we should scarcely think of them as conspicuous\nexamples of the spiritual quality in human life and conduct.\nBenevolence, be it never so tender and practical, does not reach\nthe high mark of spirituality. Spirituality is more than benevolence\nin the ordinary sense of the term. The spiritual man is benevolent\nto a signal degree, but his benevolence is of a peculiar kind. It is\ncharacterized by a certain serene fervor which we may almost call\nsaintliness.\n\nBut perhaps some one may object that a standard by which\npersonalities like Savonarola, Washington, Howard and Peabody\nfall short is probably set too high, and that in any case the erection\nof such a standard cannot be very helpful to the common run of\nhuman beings. Where these heroic natures fall short, can you and I\nhope to attain? To such an objection the reply is that we cannot be\ntoo fastidious or exacting in respect to our standard, however poor\nour performance may be. Nothing less than a kind of divine\ncompleteness should ever content us. Furthermore, there have\nbeen some men who approached nearer to the spiritual ideal than\nthe patriots and the philanthropists just mentioned--some few men\namong the Greeks, the Hindus, and the Hebrews. And for the\nguidance of conduct, these more excellent spirits avail us more\nthan the examples of a Savonarola, a Washington or a Howard. To\nbe a prophet or the lawgiver of a nation is not within your\nprovince and mine. For such a task hardly one among millions has\nthe opportunity or the gifts. To be liberators of their country has\nbeen accorded in all the ages thus far covered by human history to\nso small a number of men that one might count them on the fingers\nof a single hand. Even to be philanthropists on a large scale is the\nrestricted privilege of a very few. But to lead the spiritual life is\npossible to you and me if we choose to do so. The best is within\nthe reach of all, or it would not be the best. Every one is permitted\nto share life's highest good.\n\nThe spiritual life, then, may be described by its characteristic\nmarks of serenity, a certain inwardness, a measure of saintliness.\nBy the latter we are not to understand merely the aspiration after\nvirtue or after a lofty ideal, still pursued and still eluding, but to a\ncertain extent the embodiment of this ideal in the life--virtue\nbecome a normal experience like the inhalation and exhalation of\nbreath! Moreover, the spiritually-minded seem always to be\npossessed of a great secret. This air of interior knowledge, of the\nperception of that which is hidden from the uninitiated, is a\ncommon mark of all refinement, aesthetic as well as moral. In\nstudying the face of Leonardo da Vinci's 'Mona Lisa,' for instance,\none will find that it is this interior insight that explains the so-called\n\"cryptic smile.\" In the case of aesthetic refinement, the secret\ndiscloses itself as at bottom delicacy, the delicacy which prevents\nintrusion on the personality of others; which abhors a prying\ncuriosity; which finds subtle ways of conveying esteem and\ndelicate modes of rendering service. But the secret of moral\nrefinement is of a far higher order, transcending aesthetic\nrefinement by as much as goodness is superior to mere charm. The\nsecret in this case consists in the insight vouchsafed to the\nspiritually-minded of the true end of human existence.\n\nConstituted as we are, there exist for us lower and higher ends.\nThis distinction is fundamental for ethics. Food is necessary;\nwithout it we cannot live. But the getting of food--however\nnecessary--is a lower end. Knowledge is a necessary end, and a\nhigher one. The practical moral ends, such as the reformation of\nprisons, the improvement of the dwellings of the poor, are yet\nhigher ends. But above all these is the highest end, that of moral\ncompleteness, of perfection, not in one particular but in every\nparticular. Spirituality consists in always keeping in view this\nsupreme end. The spiritually-minded person is one who regards\nwhatever he undertakes from the point of view of its hindering or\nfurthering his attainment of the supreme end. If a river had a\nconsciousness like the human consciousness, we might imagine\nthat it hears the murmur of the distant sea from the very moment\nwhen it leaves its source, and that the murmur grows clearer and\nclearer as the river flows on its way, welcoming every tributary it\nreceives as adding to the volume which it will contribute to the\nsea, rejoicing at every turn and bend in its long course that brings\nit nearer to its goal. Such is the consciousness of a spiritually-minded\nhuman being. Or to take a simile from human experience. There\nare times when we go abroad to travel just for change of scenery\nand the refreshment which change brings with it. When we go in\nthis mood we are likely to be intent on wayside pleasures, and\nat every stage of the journey, at every town where we halt, we\nshall suffer ourselves to be engrossed in the points of interest\nwhich that temporary abiding-place has to offer us, careless of\nwhat may await us farther on. But there are other times when\nwe go abroad on serious business. Some congress of scientists or\nfellow-workers is to meet in which we are to take our part; or there\nis a conflict being waged in which we are to bear our share of\nwounds or death, as in the case of the Japanese, who are now\nsetting out from their homes toward the battlefields of Manchuria;\nor there is some loved one at a distance who needs us, calls us,\nexpects us. Then the stations on the way are unable to captivate\nour attention; we are impatient to pass them by; we welcome each\none as we approach it as bringing us one step nearer to the desired\ngoal.\n\nSome such analogy will help us understand the inner state of a\nspiritually-minded person. He thinks always of the ultimate end.\nIn whatever he does or omits to do he asks himself, Will it advance\nme or divert me from the ultimate goal? Since spirituality consists\nin keeping in mind the ultimate goal, it follows, in accordance with\nwhat was said in the beginning, that there must be various types of\nspirituality, corresponding to the various ways in which the\nultimate goal is conceived. For those to whom the final end of\nhuman life is union with God, the Divine Father, the thought of\nthis Divine Father gives color and complexion to their spiritual life.\nThey think of Him when they lie down at night and when they rise\nup in the morning; his praise is ever on their lips; the desire to win\nhis approbation is with them in all their undertakings. To those\nwho regard the attainment of Nirvana as the supreme end, like the\nBuddhists, the thought of Nirvana is a perpetual admonition. To\nthose who view the supreme end of life as moral perfection, the\nthought of that perfection is the constant inner companion. The\nmoral man, commonly so-called; the man who is honest, pays his\ndebts, performs his duties to his family; the man who works for\nspecific objects, such as political reform; this man, worthy of all\nrespect though he be, is still intent on the stages of his journey.\nThe spiritual man, as we must now define him from the point of\nview of Ethical Culture, is the man who always thinks of the\nultimate goal of his journey, i. e., a moral character complete in\nevery particular, and who is influenced by that thought at all times\nand in all things. Spirituality, in this conception of it, is nothing but\nmorality raised to its highest power.\n\nAnd now, let us ask what are some of the conditions on which the\nattainment of such a life depends. The prime condition is to\nacquire the habit of ever and anon detaching one's self from one's\naccustomed interests and pursuits, becoming, as it were, a\nspectator of one's self and one's doings, escaping from the\nsweeping current and standing on the shore. For this purpose it is\nadvisable to consecrate certain times, preferably a certain time\neach day, to self-recollection; to dedicate an hour--or a half-hour,\nif no more can be spared--to seeing one's life in all its relations;\nthat is, as the poet has put it, to seeing life \"steadily and seeing it\nwhole.\" The sane view is to see things in their relation to other\nthings; the non-sane view is to see them isolated, in such a way\nthat they exercise a kind of hypnotic spell over us. And it makes no\ndifference what a man's habitual interests may be, whether they be\nsordid or lofty, he needs ever and anon to get away from them. In\nreality, nothing wherewith a man occupies himself need be sordid.\nThe spiritual attitude does not consist in turning one's back on\nthings mundane and fixing one's gaze on some supernal blaze of\nglory, but rather in seeing things mundane in their relation to\nthings ultimate, perfect.\n\nThe eating of bread is surely a sufficiently commonplace\noperation. Yet Jesus brake bread with his disciples in such way\nthat that simple act has become the symbol of sublimely spiritual\nrelations, the centre of the most august rite of the Christian\nChurch. In like manner the act of sitting down to an ordinary meal\nwith the members of our family may, if seen in its relations, be for\nus a spiritual consecration. The common meal may become for us\nthe type of the common life we share, the common love we bear.\n\nOn the other hand, seemingly much more lofty pursuits may have a\nnarrowing and deadening effect on us if we do not see them in\ntheir ultimate relations, and so divest them of reference to life's\nhighest end. For instance, the pursuit of science may have this\neffect, if the sole object of the scientist be to perform some\nastonishing piece of work for the purpose of attracting attention or\nto secure a well-salaried position, or even if he be so wedded to\nhis specialty as to fail to be sensitive to the relations of it to the\nbody of truth in general. And the same holds good of the\nnarrow-minded reformer, of whom Emerson has said that his\nvirtue so painfully resembles vice; the man who puts a moral idol\nin the place of the moral ideal, who erects into the object toward\nwhich all his enthusiasm goes some particular reform, such as the\nsingle tax, or socialism, or public parks, or a model school; the\nman, in short, who strives for a good instead of striving for\ngoodness. Whatever our pursuits may be, we should often\nmentally detach ourselves from them, and, standing aloof as\nimpartial spectators, consider the direction in which they are taking\nus.\n\nThis counsel is frequently urged on grounds of health, since the\nwear and tear of too intense absorption in any pursuit is apt to\nwreck the nervous system. I urge it on the ground of mental sanity,\nsince a man cannot maintain his mental poise if he follows the\nobject of his devotion singly, without seeing it in relation to other\nobjects. And I urge it also on the ground of spirituality, for a\nsalient characteristic of spirituality is calmness, and without the\nmental repose which comes of detachment we cannot import\ncalmness into our lives. There are some persons, notably among\nthose engaged in philanthropic activities, who glory in being\ncompletely engrossed in their tasks, and who hug a secret sense of\nmartyrdom, when late at night, perhaps worn out in mind and\nbody, they throw themselves upon their couch to snatch a few\nhours of insufficient sleep. Great occasions, of course, do occur\nwhen every thought of self should be effaced in service; but as a\nrule, complete absorption in philanthropic activity is as little sane\nand as little moral as complete absorption in the race for gain. The\ntired and worn-out worker cannot do justice to others, nor can he\ndo justice to that inner self whose demands are not satisfied even\nby philanthropic activity. If, then, self-recollection is essential, let\nus make daily provision for it. Some interest we should have--even\nworldly prudence counsels this much--as far remote as possible\nfrom our leading interest; and beyond that, some book belonging\nto the world's great spiritual literature on which we may daily feed.\nThe Bible used to be in the old days all-sufficient for this purpose,\nand it is still, in part at least, an admirable aid to those who know\nhow to use it. But there are other books, such as the legacy of the\ngreat Stoics, the writings of our latter-day prophets, the essays of\nArnold and Carlyle and Emerson, the wisdom of Goethe. These\nnoble works, even if they do not wholly satisfy us, serve to set\nour thoughts in motion about high concerns, and give to the mind\na spiritual direction.\n\nA second condition of the spiritual life has been expressed in\nthe precept, reiterated in many religions, by many experts in things\nrelating to the life of the soul: \"Live as if this hour were thy last.\"\nYou will recall, as I pronounce these words, the _memento mori_\nof the Ancients, their custom of exhibiting a skeleton at the feast,\nin order to remind the banqueters of the fate that awaited them.\nYou will remember the other-worldliness of Christian monks and\nascetics who decried this pleasant earth as a vale of tears, and\nendeavored to fix the attention of their followers upon the pale\njoys of the Christian heaven, and you will wonder, perhaps, that I\nshould be harking back to these conceptions of the past. I have,\nhowever, no such intention.\n\nThe prevailing attitude toward the thought of death is that of\nstudied neglect. Men wish to face it as little as possible. We know,\nof course, what the fate is that awaits us. We know what are the\nterms of the compact. Now and again we are momentarily struck\nby the pathos of it all; for instance, when we walk through some\ncrowded thoroughfare on a bright day and reflect that before\nmany years this entire multitude will have disappeared. The\nrosy-cheeked girl who has just passed; the gay young fellow at her\nside, full of his hopes, confident of his achievements, acting and\nspeaking as if the lease of eternity were his; that \"grave and\nreverend seigneur,\" clad with dignity and authority--all will have\ngone, and others will have taken their places. Yet, as a rule, we are\nnot much affected by such reflections. When one of our friends has\nmet with a painless death we are apt to solace ourselves with the\nhope that perhaps we shall be as lucky as he; at all events, we\nknow that when our time comes we must take our turn. Even\nthose who look forward with apprehension to the last moment,\nand who when it approaches, cling desperately to life, are prudent\nenough to hold their peace. There is a general understanding that\nthose who go shall not mar the composure of those who stay, and\nthat public decorum shall not be disturbed by outcries.\n\nThis is the baldly secular view of the matter, and this view, though\nbased on low considerations, in some respects is sound enough.\nAnd yet I reiterate the opinion that to live as if this hour were our\nlast--in other words, to frankly face the idea of death--is most\nconducive to the spiritual life. It is for the sake of the reflex action\nupon life that the practice of coming to a right understanding with\ndeath is so valuable. Take the case of a man who calls on his\nphysician, and there unexpectedly discovers that he is afflicted with\na fatal malady, and is told that he may have only a few months\nlonger to live. This visit to the physician has changed the whole\ncomplexion of life for him. What will be the effect upon him? If he\nbe a sane, strong, morally high-bred man, the effect will be\nennobling; it will certainly not darken the face of nature for him.\nMatthew Arnold wished that when he died he might be placed at\nthe open window, that he might see the sun shining on the\nlandscape, and catch at evening the gleam of the rising star.\nEverything that is beautiful in the world will still be beautiful; he\nwill thankfully accept the last draught of the joy which nature has\npoured into his goblet. Everything that is really uplifting in human\nlife will have a more exquisite and tender message for him. The\ngayety of children will thrill him as never before, interpreted as a\nsign of the invincible buoyancy of the human race, of that race\nwhich will go on battling its way after he has ceased to live. If he\nbe a man of large business connections, he will still, and more than\never, be interested in planning how what he has begun may be\nsafely continued. If he be the father of a family, he will provide\nwith a wise solicitude, as far as possible, for every contingency. He\nwill dispose of matters now, as if he could see what will happen\nafter his departure. On the other hand, all that is vain or frivolous,\nevery vile pleasure, gambling, cruelty, harsh language to wife or\nchild, trickery in business, social snobbishness, all the base traits\nthat disfigure human conduct, he will now recoil from with horror,\nas being incongruous with the solemn realization of his condition.\nThe frank facing of death, therefore, has the effect of sifting out\nthe true values of life from the false, the things that are worth\nwhile from the things that are not worth while, the things that\nare related to the highest end from those related to the lower\npartial ends. The precept, \"Live as if this hour were thy last,\" is\nenjoined as a touchstone; not for the purpose of dampening the\nhealthy relish of life, but as a means of enhancing the relish for\nreal living, the kind of living that is devoted to things really worth\nwhile. As such a test it is invaluable. The question, \"Should I care\nto be surprised by death in what I am doing now?\"--put it to the\ndissipated young man in his cups, put it to the respectable\nrogue--nay, put it to each one of us, and it will often bring the\nblush of shame to our cheeks. When, therefore, I commend the\nthought of death, I think of death not as a grim, grisly skeleton, a\nKing of Terrors, but rather as a mighty angel, holding with averted\nface a wondrous lamp. By that lamp--hold it still nearer, O\nDeath--I would read the scripture of my life, and what I read in\nthat searching light, that would I take to heart.\n\nFinally, there is a third condition of the spiritual life which I would\nmention, and which comes nearer to the heart of the matter than\nanything that has yet been said. Learn to look upon any pains and\ninjuries which you may have to endure as you would upon the\nsame pains and injuries endured by someone else. If sick and\nsuffering, remember what you would say to someone else who is\nsick and suffering, remember how you would admonish him that\nhe is not the first or the only one that has been in like case, how\nyou would expect of him fortitude in bearing pain as an evidence\nof human dignity. Exhort yourself in like manner; expect the same\nfortitude of yourself. If any one has done you a wrong, remember\nwhat you would adduce in palliation of the offence if another were\nin the same situation; remember how you would suggest that\nperhaps the one injured had given some provocation to the\nwrongdoer, how you would perhaps have quoted the saying:\n_\"Tout comprendre est tout pardonner\"_--\"to understand is to\npardon,\" how you would in any case have condemned vindictive\nresentment. In the moral world each one counts for one and not\nmore than one. The judgment that you pass on others, pass on\nyourself, and the fact that you are able to do so, that you have the\npower to rise above your subjective self and take the public\nuniversal point of view with respect to yourself, will give you a\nwonderful sense of enfranchisement and poise and spiritual dignity.\nAnd, on the other hand (and this is but the obverse of the same\nrule), look upon everyone else as being from the moral point of\nview just as important as you are; nay, realize that every human\nbeing is but another self, a part of the same spiritual being that is in\nyou, a complement of yourself, a part of your essential being.\nRealize the unity that subsists between you and your fellow-men,\nand then your life will be spiritual indeed. For the highest end with\nwhich we must be ever in touch, toward which we must be ever\nlooking, is to make actual that unity between ourselves and others\nof which our moral nature is the prophecy. The realization of that\nunity is the goal toward which humanity tends.\n\nSpirituality depends upon our tutoring ourselves to regard the\nwelfare of others--moral as well as external--as much our concern\nas our own. What this practically means the following illustration\nwill indicate. A certain bank official, a man of excellent education\nand of high social standing, committed a crime. He allowed himself\nin a moment of lamentable weakness to use certain trust funds\nwhich had been committed to him to cover losses which he had\nsustained. He intended to replace what he had taken, of course,\nbut he could not do so, for he became more and more deeply\ninvolved. One night as he was alone in his office it became plain to\nhim that the day of reckoning could no longer be put off. He was\nat the end of his resources. The morrow would bring exposure and\nruin. Then the temptation seized him to make away with himself.\nHe had a charming wife and two lovely daughters. He was the\nrevered head of the household; in the eyes of his family the\nparagon of honor. He was universally esteemed by his friends, who\nknew not his temptation and his fall. On that night in the lonely\noffice he could not bear to think of meeting the future, of being\nexposed as a criminal in the eyes of his friends, of bringing upon\nhis family the infamy and the agony of his disgrace. Should a man\nin his situation be permitted to commit suicide? If we were at his\nelbow should we allow him to do so? This question was submitted\nto one of my Ethics classes. The students at first impulsively\ndecided in the affirmative, for they argued, as many do, that right\nconduct consists in bestowing happiness on others, and wrong\nconduct in inflicting suffering on others; and now that the man had\ncommitted the crime, they maintained he could at least relieve\nthose whom he loved of his presence by taking himself out of their\nway. True, someone said, the exposure was inevitable in any case,\nand the shock of discovery could not be averted; but we were\nforced to concede that from the point of view of suffering, the pain\ninvolved in the sudden shock could not be compared to the\nlong-drawn-out anguish which would result if he continued to live.\nFor presently he would forfeit his liberty; he would sit as a prisoner\nin the dock. His wife and daughters, loyal to their duties even\ntoward an unworthy husband and father, would be found at his\nside. They would hear the whispers, they would see the significant\nnods, they would endure all the shame. Later on, when the trial\nwas at an end, the prisoner would stand up to hear the verdict.\nThey would still be near him. Still later there would be the\npilgrimage to the prison on the Hudson. They would see their\nbeloved husband and father in striped garb among the scum and\nrefuse of society, and these weary journeys would be repeated\nduring long years until his term was over and he returned a broken\nand outcast man to what was once a home. Could not this\nlamentable issue at least be forestalled? But then there came a\nnew light into our discussion. One of the students suggested that\nhe must face the consequences of his wrongdoing, and that one of\nthe consequences is the very suffering which he inflicts upon the\ninnocent. He must see that day by day. That would be a part of his\nexpiation, the purifying fire that may consume the dross of his\nnature. And, on the other hand, it would be right for the innocent\nto bear, not the guilt, but the consequences of the guilt of the\nwrongdoer whom they have loved, whom they still love. For this is\nthe holy law: that the other whom we love shall be taken into our\nself as a part of our very self, that in his joy we shall rejoice as if\nhis joy were ours, that in his achievements we shall triumph, that in\nhis humiliations we shall be humbled, and that we shall work out\nhis redemption by traveling with him the hard road that leads out\nof the dark depths upward again to the levels of peace and\nreconciliation.\n\nThe spiritual life depends on self-recollection and detachment from\nthe rush of life; it depends on facing frankly the thought of death; it\nis signalized, especially, by the identification of self with others,\neven of the guiltless with the guilty. Spirituality is sometimes\nspoken of as if it were a kind of moral luxury, a work of\nsupererogation, a token of fastidiousness and over-refinement. It is\nnothing of the sort. Spirituality is simply morality carried to its\nfarthest bounds; it is not an airy bauble of the fancy, it is of \"the\ntough fibre of the human heart.\"\n\n\nII. THE SPIRITUAL ATTITUDE TOWARD ONE'S\nNEIGHBOR.\n\nSunday, Nov. 27, 1904.\n\nThose whom we call our neighbors, our fellow-men, may stand to\nus in a threefold relation. Some possess gifts far greater than our\nown, and in point of development are our superiors; some are on\nthe same level; and some are much inferior to us. The spiritual\nattitude toward our neighbor--though always governed by the\nsame principle, expresses itself in different ways, according as\nour neighbor is related to us in one or another of these three ways.\n\nI recently read a biography of Matthew Arnold, the author of\nwhich constantly speaks of himself as Arnold's disciple. It is not\noften nowadays that we hear men proclaim themselves disciples\nand glory in their discipleship. At the present day the tendency is\nfor every one to assert an equality with others; and most persons\nwould resent the imputation of subordination implied in such a\nword as disciple. And yet the writer in question is a self-respecting\nman, he is thoroughly alive to his dignity, and he has keen and\nunsparing words for certain of the faults of the master whom he\nreveres. He is not blind, he is not wax in the hands of the master,\nhe does not look upon him with undiscerning admiration, and yet\nhe takes toward him the reverent attitude--what I should call the\nspiritual attitude--for he recognizes that this master of his is a\ncasket in which nature has deposited a treasure of extraordinary\nvalue, that he possesses a genius much superior to that of others.\nThe loyal disciple is concerned that this genius should appear in its\nfull potency and in undiminished radiance. To this end is the\nupward look, the appreciation and reverence, and to this end also\nthe misgiving and the remonstrance when the great man deviates\nfrom the course which he ought to follow. The same attitude of\nloyalty we sometimes find among the disciples of great artists, and\nthe followers of great religious teachers. Loyalty is a virtue which\nis somewhat underrated at the present day. Loyalty is not\ndebasing, not unworthy of a self-respecting man; it is but another\nname for the spiritual attitude toward those who have a superior\ngenius, to whose height we are lifted by our appreciation of them.\n\nFurthermore, in our spiritual relation toward those who occupy\nabout the same plane of development with ourselves, the same\nprinciple of sympathy with the best possible attainment should be\nthe rule. To rejoice in the failure of others, to accentuate in our\nthinking and in our conversation the faults of others, to triumph at\ntheir expense, is the utterly unspiritual attitude. To desire that\nothers may manifest the excellence that is latent in them--be it like\nto or different from our own, to desire that they shall have credit\nfor every excellence they possess, and to sedulously aid them in\ndeveloping such excellence as they can attain to, that is the\nspiritual attitude.\n\nI have spoken of superiors and equals, of our attitude toward\nthose who are more developed than we are, and toward those who\nare about equally developed; but my address to-day will be mainly\noccupied with our duty toward those who are or seem to be\nwholly undeveloped. The fundamental principle of Ethics is that\nevery human being possesses indefeasible worth. It is comparatively\neasy to apply the principle of anticipating our neighbor's latent\ntalents to the highly gifted, to the great authors, scientists,\nstatesmen, artists, and even to the moderately gifted, for\ntheir worth is, in part, already manifested in their lives. But it is not\nso easy to apply or justify the principle in the case of the obscure\nmasses, whose lives are uneventful, unilluminated by talent, charm,\nor conspicuous service, and who, as individuals at least, it might\nappear, could well be spared without impairing the progress of the\nhuman race. And yet this doctrine of the worth of all is the\ncornerstone of our democracy. Upon it rests the principle of the\nequal rights of even the humblest before the law, the equal right of\nall to participate in the government. It is also the cornerstone of all\nprivate morality; for unless we accept it, we cannot take the\nspiritual attitude toward those who are undeveloped.\n\nThe doctrine, then, that every man possesses indefeasible worth is\nthe basis of public morality, and at the same time the moral\nprinciple by which our private relations to our fellow-men are\nregulated. What does it mean to ascribe indefeasible worth to\nevery man? It means, for instance, that human beings may not be\nhunted and killed in sport as hunters kill birds or other game; that\nhuman beings may not be devoured for food as they have been by\ncannibals or sometimes by men in starvation camps when hard\npressed by hunger; that human beings may not be forced to work\nwithout pay, or in any way treated as mere tools or instruments for\nthe satisfaction of the desires of others. This, and more to the same\npurpose, is implied in the ascription of indefeasible worth to every\nman. Moreover, on the same principle, it follows that it is morally\nwrong to deprive another of the property which he needs for his\nlivelihood or for the expression of his personality, and to blast the\nreputation of another--thereby destroying what may be called his\nsocial existence. And it also follows that a society is morally most\nimperfect, the conditions of which are such that many lives are\nindirectly sacrificed because of the lack of sufficient food, and that\nmany persons are deprived of their property through cunning and\nfraud. The life of animals we do take, and whatever secret\ncompunction we may have in the matter, the most confirmed\nvegetarian will not regard himself in the light of a cannibal when he\npartakes of animal food. The liberty of animals we do abridge\nwithout scruple; we harness horses to our carriages, regardless of\nwhat may be their inclinations, and we do not regard ourselves as\nslaveholders when we thus use them. Why is there this enormous\ndistinction between animals and men? Are the Hottentots so\ngreatly elevated above the animal level; are the lowest classes of\nnegroes so much superior in intelligence to animals? Have the\nblack race and the brown race any claim to be treated as the equals\nof the white? Among white men themselves is there not a similar\ndifference between inferiors and superiors? Such questions\nnaturally suggest themselves; and they have been asked at all\ntimes. It seems obvious that value should be ascribed to those who\npossess genius or even talent, or at least average intelligence; but\nwhy should value be ascribed to every human being just because\nhe wears the human form?\n\nThe positive belief in human worth on which is based the belief in\nhuman equality, so far as it has rooted itself in the world at all, we\nowe to religion, and more particularly to the Hebrew and Christian\nreligions. The Hebrew Bible says: \"In the image of God did He\ncreate man\"--it is this God-likeness that to the Hebrew mind\nattests the worth of man. As some of the great masters on\ncompleting a painting have placed a miniature portrait of\nthemselves by way of signature below their work, so the great\nWorld-Artist when He had created the human soul stamped it with\nthe likeness of Himself to attest its divine origin. And the greatest\nof the Hebrew thinkers conceived of this dignity as belonging to all\nhuman beings alike, irrespective of race or creed. In practice,\nhowever, the idea of equal human worth was more or less limited\nto the Chosen People. At least, to keep within the bounds of the\nartistic simile, the members of the Hebrew people were regarded\nas first-proof copies, and other men as somewhat dim and less\nperfect duplicates.\n\nIn the Christian religion a new idea was introduced. The belief in\nthe worth of man was founded on the doctrine of redemption. The\nsacrifice of atonement had been offered up for the benefit of all\npersons who chose to avail themselves of it. Christ had come to\nsave the Gentile as well as the Jew, the bond as well as the free,\nmen, women and children of every race, living under every sky, of\nevery color of skin and degree of intelligence. The sacred respect\nwhich we owe to every human being is due from this point of view\nto the circumstance that every human being is a possible\nbeneficiary of the Atonement. For him too--as the theological\nphrase is--Christ died upon the cross. But in Christianity too we\nfind that the idea of brotherhood, of equal worth, universal as\nit is in theory, in practice came to be considerably restricted. It did\nnot really extend to all human beings as such; it did not extend to\nthose who refused to be the beneficiaries of the act of atonement.\nIn reality, it applied only to Christians or to those who were not\naverse to receiving the Christian faith. The theological formulation\nof the fundamental idea which we are discussing, therefore, is\nbeset by two difficulties: it is limited in application, and it is based\non theological conceptions. As soon as these theological\nconceptions are relinquished, the doctrine of equality is in danger\nof being abandoned.\n\nIn 1776, the founders of the American Republic undertook to\nsupply a new and a secular foundation for this doctrine. In the\nDeclaration of Independence, Jefferson wrote: \"We hold these\ntruths to be self-evident, that all men are created free and equal.\"\nIn other words, he put forth the astonishing proposition that\nhuman equality is self-evident. Many of us would incline to the\nopinion that the opposite is self-evident, that the inequalities which\nsubsist between men are so palpable that we cannot overlook\nthem. If, however, we inquire what led Jefferson to this statement,\nwe shall find that, at the time when the Declaration of\nIndependence was written, there existed a basis of fact that gave\ncolor to his assumption. The population of the United Colonies\nwas small--only about three millions--and on the whole\nhomogeneous. The great majority of the people were\nagriculturists, pursuing the same occupations and on the whole\nexhibiting the same traits. They were all, or almost all, of vigorous\nstock, capable of self-government, jealous of their rights,\nindependent in spirit. At that particular time, the points of\nsimilarity and equality among the members of the American\nColonies far outweighed the points of dissimilarity. It was, then, to\na certain extent on facts of experience, and not entirely on the\nhypothesis of the eighteenth century philosophy, that Jefferson's\nfamous proclamation rested.\n\nSince Jefferson's day the facts have markedly changed. We have\npassed beyond the agricultural stage, and have entered the stage of\nindustrial development. The occupations of our citizens have\nbecome greatly diversified. Large bodies of foreign immigrants\nhave come to us. If we survey the conditions of American life at\npresent, we are strongly impressed with the differences that exist\nbetween the various strata of our population: differences in mental\nability, differences in vital energy, differences in the point of\nculture attained, differences in capacity to rise. As a consequence,\nthe Declaration of Independence is treated by many as an obsolete\ndocument, and its assertions as mere bombast and rhetoric;\nunjustly so, because the truth which it attempts to convey is valid,\nthough the form in which the truth is expressed and the grounds on\nwhich it is put are no longer adequate.\n\nWe have arrived, then, at this pass: the theological foundation\nfor the doctrine of human equality has failed or is failing us; the\nfacts to which the Declaration of Independence appealed have\naltered. Are we, then, to give up the belief in human equality--that\npriceless postulate of the moral law, the basis alike of democracy\nand of private morality? At times it seems to us that the world is\nalmost ready to do so. Nietzsche in Germany puts it forth as a\nphilosophic principle that humanity exists not for the democratic\npurpose of securing the highest development of all, but for the\naristocratic purpose of producing a race of supermen, an elite of\nstrong, forceful, \"leonine\" beings. And in his doctrine that the\nmany exist as a kind of pedestal for the grandeur of the few, he\nfinds support the world over. Men are but too ready in this age,\nwhen the energies of the strong have been unfettered and moral\nrestraints have become weakened, to put Nietzche's doctrine into\npractice too. From the Congo we hear appalling accounts of the\ncruelty of civilized men in their dealings with the uncivilized.\nRubber and ivory, it appears, must be obtained in large quantities\nto secure a handsome profit on investments that have been made in\nthose regions. Railroads must be built to make the supply of\nrubber and of ivory accessible. In consequence, a system of forced\nlabor, of virtual slavery, has been imposed on the miserable natives\nin order to make the building of these railroads possible. Human\nlife has not been spared, for human life in the Congo is as dust in\nthe balance when weighed against the profits from rubber. Punitive\nexpeditions have been organized (in other words, wholesale\nslaughter has been resorted to), in order to coerce the reluctant\nnatives to bring in their supplies more punctually. The wives and\ndaughters of the natives have been seized, brutally chained, and\ndetained as hostages in order to influence their husbands and\nfathers to a more ready obedience. The story of the Congo reads\nlike an incredible nightmare; the civilized world is aghast at the\npartial revelations of it which have been published. From Armenia\nwe hear similar stories of ruthless contempt for human life and\nmerciless outrage. With Kishineff and Siberia in mind, we need not\ncomment on the conditions that exist in Russia. In the United\nStates, the heartrending circumstances that accompany negro\nlynchings, the conditions in the sweated industries, and the\nwidespread evil of child labor show us clearly enough how little\nthe doctrine of the intrinsic and indefeasible worth of man has\nas yet become the property of even the most advanced nations. In\nthe face of all these odds on the other side, in the face of these\nconfederate forces working the world over for the abasement of\nman, how urgent is the appeal to rescue and fortify the doctrine, to\nmake it effectual, first in our own conduct and then in that of\nothers! And on what tenable foundations can we rest it, that it may\nbecome operative?\n\nFirst, as to its meaning. It does not mean equality of gifts, or\nequality of mental energy, or equality in any of the traits that lead\nto successful careers. It means equality in the sense that each is the\nvehicle of some talent, however small, the bearer of some gift,\nhowever seemingly inconsiderable, which in the sum total of\nhumanity's development is needed; that each one in his place and\nwith his gift, however insignificant in appearance, is in fact\nindispensable.\n\nAnd what is the reason for ascribing such worth to human beings?\nThe sole reason is, that the moral law enjoins us to do so. Before\never we have discovered whether a man has worth in him or not,\nthe moral law enjoins us to ascribe it to him, to treat him as if he\nhad it, to see in him the light of the possibilities which he has never\nmade good and which he never wholly will make good: and thus,\nand thus only, shall we bring to light, in part at least, the precious\nthings in his nature, the existence of which we can only divine. The\nmoral law is wholly misunderstood if it be founded on the actual\nworth or value of men, for none of us has great worth or value.\nThe moral law is a law for the eliciting of possibilities. Briefly put,\nit enjoins that we shall invest others with a garment of light, that\nwe shall ascribe worth to others and to ourselves, in order that\nthey and we may become worthy. This is the spiritual basis of the\ndoctrine of equality; this is the spiritual conception which should\nregulate our attitude toward our neighbors.\n\nAnd yet if there were no evidence at all to support our faith in\nhuman goodness, our faith, however vigorous at first, would soon\ndecline, and hope and courage might utterly desert us. If men on\nnearer acquaintance turned out to be, as some pessimists have\nrepresented them to be, hard egotists, ingrates, slanderers,\nbackbiters, envious, incapable of generous admirations, sodden in\nsensuality, knaves devoid of scruple; if experience indeed bore out\nthis sweeping impeachment, if especially the so-called masses of\nmankind were hopelessly delivered over to the sway of brutal\ninstincts, of superstition and folly; the faith of which I speak might\njustly be termed mere fatuousness, and the rule of acting on the\nassumption that men are better than they appear would turn out a\nblind delusion. But the striking fact is, that as soon as we act on\nthe principle of looking for the latent good in others, we are\nrewarded by finding far more than we had any reason to expect.\n\nTake as an instance the masses of the poor and ignorant, upon\nwhom we are so apt to pass sweeping judgments, as Carlyle did\nwhen he said that the population of England was forty millions--\nmostly fools. The experience of those who have had to do with\npopular education does not corroborate this rash condemnation.\nThere is hardly a child in our public schools that is not found to\npossess mental power of some sort, if only we possess the right\nmethod of calling it out. The new education is new and significant\njust because it has succeeded in devising methods for gaining\naccess to the latent mental power, and thus reaching what had\nbeen supposed to be non-existent. Every so-called educational\ncampaign in the field of politics brings out the same truth. The\ncapacity for hard thinking and sound judgment which resides in the\nworking class is surprising to us, only because in our preposterous\npride we had supposed them to be baked of different clay than we\nare. In the matter of artistic endowment, too, what wonderful\ndiscoveries do we constantly make among poor children, even\namong children that come from the lowest dregs of society! What\nfine fancy, what prompt response to the appeal of the beautiful, in\nspite of all the debasing inheritance!\n\nBut it is, in the last analysis, the moral qualities upon which\nour respect for human nature rests, and in this respect how often\nare we astonished, yes and abashed, when we observe the extent to\nwhich the moral virtues express themselves in the life of those\nwho, in point of so-called culture, are infinitely our inferiors! What\npower of self-sacrifice is displayed by these poor people, whom\nsometimes in our wicked moods we are disposed to despise; what\nreadiness to share the last crust with those who are, I will not say\nhungry, but hungrier! Who of us would take into his own house,\nhis own bedchamber, a dying consumptive, a mere acquaintance, in\norder that the last days of the sufferer might be soothed by friendly\nnursing? Who of us would make provision in our will to share our\ngrave with a worthy stranger, in order to avert from him the\ndreaded fate of being buried in the Potter's Field? Which of our\nyoung men would be willing to refuse the proffered opportunity of\nan education in one of the foremost colleges in the land, in order\nto stay with the old folks at home and work at a menial occupation\nfor their support? Who of us would give up the joys of youth to\ndevote his whole life to the care of a bed-ridden, half-demented\nparent? Yet all of these things and many others like them I have\nknown to be done by people who live in the tenement houses of\nthis great city. It sometimes seems as if the angelic aspect of\nhuman nature displayed itself by preference in the house of\npoverty, as if those who possessed no other treasure, no other\njewels with which to adorn themselves, were compensated for\ntheir penury in other ways by these priceless gems of the most\nunselfish virtue. Such conduct, of course, is not universal. There\nare abundant instances of the opposite. But the truth remains that\nit is the worth which those who seem to lead the least desirable\nlives display toward others that assures us of their own worth.\nThis, too, is the lesson of the oft-quoted and oft-misunderstood\nparable of the Good Samaritan, upon which here, for the moment,\nI should like to dwell.\n\nThe Jewish State in the time of Jesus was substantially an\necclesiastical aristocracy. The highest rank was occupied by the\npriests and their assessors, the Levites; after them, sometimes\ndisputing the first place, came the doctors learned in the sacred\nlaw; below them the commonalty; and still lower in the social scale\nwere the people of Samaria, who accepted the current Jewish\nreligion only in part, and who were regarded by the blue-blood\necclesiastical aristocrats with contempt, indeed almost as outcasts.\nThis fact it is necessary to remember in order to understand the\nparable. The designation Good Samaritan has become so associated\nwith the idea of mercifulness, that I doubt not there are\nmany persons who have the impression that Samaritans in the\nancient Hebrew days were people specially noted for their\nbenevolent disposition. Nothing of the kind, of course, is true. The\nSamaritans were a despised lower stratum of the population of\nPalestine. Read the parable in this light, and you will perceive that\nthe moral of it is not as commonly stated--every one who has need\nof me is my neighbor; but that there is a far deeper meaning in it.\n\nThere came to Jesus one day a man versed in the sacred law, and\nasked him what he must do to inherit eternal life. And Jesus\nreplied: The substance of right conduct is plain enough. Why do\nyou ask as if it were a thing very recondite and difficult? Love thy\nGod and thy neighbor. But the doctor of the sacred law, wishing\nto justify himself (wishing to show that the way of the upright life\nis not so plain, that it may be difficult to decide whom one should\nregard as one's equal, to whom one should ascribe worth), asked:\nWho is my neighbor? And Jesus replied in the words of the\nwell-known parable concerning a certain man who had fallen among\nthieves, and these stripped him of his raiment and left him for dead\non the public road that runs between Jerusalem and Jericho.\nPresently a member of the high aristocracy, a priest, passed by, but\npaid no attention to the sufferer; then another, a Levite, came that\nway, looked at the man who was lying there helpless, and turned\nand went on his journey. Then there came one of those low-caste\ndespised Samaritans; and he acted like a tender human brother,\nbound up the man's wounds, poured oil and wine into them, etc.\nAnd Jesus said: Which one of these three showed himself to be a\nneighbor to the man that had fallen among thieves? In which of the\nsocial classes did there appear to be the truest understanding of the\nconduct which moral duty requires of us toward our fellow-men--in\nthe upper classes or in the lowest? And the answer evidently is--in\nthe lowest. The point of the parable is that the Samaritan himself,\nwhom priest and Levite and doctor of the law refused to regard\nas a neighbor, was worthy to be treated as a neighbor, because\nhe understood, as they did not, how to treat others as neighbors.\nThe lesson of the parable is a twofold one: not only that the\nwounded man lying untended on the road was a neighbor because\nof his need, but more especially that the Samaritan was a neighbor\nbecause he responded to the need, and set an example of truly\nhuman behavior to those who had doubted whether, because of\nhis extreme social degradation, he was himself to be regarded as human.\n\nThe moral qualities in men, then, constitute their most universal\ntitle to respect, and these qualities we find in all social grades and\namong all races and nationalities. We find them among the\nChinese, as their devoted family life, the honesty of their\nmerchants, and the ethics of Confucius indicate. We find them\namong the negroes, not only in the case of exceptional persons\nlike Booker Washington or Dubois or Atkinson, but also in the\nundistinguished life of many an obscure man and woman, whom to\nknow more intimately is to learn to respect as a neighbor and a\nmoral equal. What we need to build up our faith in human\ngoodness is the clairvoyance that discerns the hidden treasures of\ncharacter in others. And one other quality is indispensable for the\nmoral appreciation of our neighbors, namely, the quality of\nhumility. Strange as it may seem, the less we plume ourselves on\nour own goodness, the more we shall be ready to believe in the\ngoodness of other people; the more we realize the infinite nature\nof the moral ideal and our own distance from it, the more we shall\nesteem as of relatively small importance the distance that separates\nus from others, the slight extent to which we may morally surpass\nthem. The more we are aware of our own frequent and serious\nshortcomings, the more, when we perceive the moral delinquencies\nof others, shall we recognize in their nature the same recuperative\nagency which we believe to be in ourselves, namely, the power of\ndivine regeneration that can make all things new. If we regard\nourselves as morally little and yet as never lost, we shall regard no\none else as lost, however morally little he may seem to be.\n\nRespect, then, for the indefeasible worth of every human being\nmust be based not on theological systems which are fast decaying,\nnor on the fancied self-evidence of Jefferson's Declaration, but\nsolely on the moral law which commands us to ascribe such worth\nto others whether we perceive it or not, nay, to create it in others\nby ascribing it to them.\n\nSuch is the spiritual attitude toward our fellow-men. And though\nour confidence may not always be demonstrably justified by the\nresult, though we not always succeed in uplifting others, yet by\npursuing this line of conduct we ourselves at all events shall be\nuplifted, our own life will be touched to finer issues.\n\n\nIII. THE SPIRITUAL ATTITUDE TOWARD OPPRESSORS.\n\nSunday, Dec. 4, 1904.\n\nThe problem of our spiritual attitude toward positive badness,\nsocial and individual wrongdoing, cruelty and oppression, is far\nmore difficult of solution than the problem of our attitude toward\nworth really existent but concealed. The thorny question, how we\nare to deal with wicked persons, whether we are to observe the\nspiritual attitude toward them, and in what that attitude consists,\nrequires the most sincere and straightforward treatment.\n\nShould we cultivate an attitude of indifference in such cases? A\nruffian cruelly beats his horse, the poor beast that has rendered him\nfaithful service for many a day, but is feeble now and sinks beneath\nits load. With curses and the sharp persuasion of the lash, the\nmerciless driver seeks to force the animal to efforts of which it is\nplainly incapable. Can we stand by and witness such a scene in\nphilosophic calm? Shall we say that the wretch is the product of\ncircumstances, and cannot be expected to act otherwise than he\ndoes? Shall we liken evildoers generally, as at present is customary\nin certain quarters, to the sick? Shall we say that such men are the\noutcome of their heredity, their education, their environment? I\nhave known of a husband who in a state of intoxication brutally\nstruck and injured his wife, while she was holding in her arms a\nbabe not eight days old. Shall we say that that man was morally\nsick, that he could not help becoming intoxicated, and therefore\nwas not responsible for the havoc he wrought when the demon of\ndrink had gained possession of him? Shall we say of the syndicate\nof traders who hunt the natives on the Congo like rabbits,\nmassacre and mutilate them, that they are sick? A bad deed done\nwith intention argues badness in the doer. We impute to the man\nthe act and its consequences. We cannot separate the sin from the\nsinner, and merely condemn sin in the abstract. There is no such\nthing as sin in the abstract. Sin is sin only when it is incorporated\nin the will of a human individual. We condemn the sinner because\nhe has wedded himself to the sin. If this were not the case, we\nmight as well close our courts of justice. We hold men accountable,\nthen, for their misdeeds, whatever speculative philosophy may urge\nto the contrary. How could we revere virtue if we did not stigmatize its\nopposite; how could we believe in human worth if we did not condemn\nunworth where it appears?\n\nBut the ordinary judgment stops short right here. It recognizes\nthe particular badness of a particular act, and desires that the agent\nbe made to suffer for it. It says, this act is the expression of an evil\ndisposition, and it identifies the whole man with the particular act\nof which he was guilty. The spiritual attitude is characterized by\ndiscriminating between the particular act and the whole of the\nman's nature. It recognizes that there is an evil strand; but it also\nsees or divines the good that exists along with the evil, even in the\nmost seemingly hopeless cases. It trusts to the good, and builds\nupon it with a view to making it paramount over evil. Upon the\nbasis of this spiritual attitude, what should be our mode of dealing\nwith the bad? There are a number of steps to be taken in order,\nand much depends on our following the right order.\n\nThe first step is to arrest the course of evil, to prevent its channel\nfrom being deepened, its area from being enlarged. Pluck the whip\nfrom the hand of the ruffian who is lashing his beast; stay the arm\nthat is uplifted to strike the cowardly murderous blow. Much has\nbeen said of the need of considering the good of society, of\nprotecting the community at large from the depredations  of the\nviolent and fraudulent; and of subjecting the latter to exemplary\npunishment, in order to deter others from following their example.\nBut the welfare of society and the welfare of the criminal are\nalways identical. Nothing should be done to the worst criminal, not\na hair of his head should be touched merely for the sake of\nsecuring the public good, if the thing done be not also for his\nprivate good. And on the other hand, nothing can be done to the\ncriminal which is for his own lasting good that will not also\nprofoundly react for the good of society, assuring its security, and\ndeterring others from a like career of crime. The very first claim\nwhich the criminal has upon the services of his fellow-men is that\nthey stop him in his headlong course of wickedness. Arrest,\nwhether by the agents of the law or in some other way, is the first\nstep. The most spiritual concern for a degraded and demoralized\nfellow-being does not exclude the sharp intervention implied in\narrest, for the spiritual attitude is not mawkish or incompatible\nwith the infliction of pain.\n\nThis, I think, will be readily granted. But the second step, a step\nfar more important than the arrest of the evildoer in order to arrest\nthe evildoing, is more likely to be contested and misunderstood.\nThe second step consists in fixing the mark of shame upon the\noffender and publicly humiliating him by means of the solemn\nsentence of the judge. It may be asked, What human being is fit to\nexercise this awful office of acting as judge of another? Remember\nthe words of Shakespeare in King Lear: \". . . .See how yond\njustice rails upon yond simple thief. Hark in thine ear: change\nplaces; and . . . . which is the justice, which the thief?\" Or recall\nwhat the Puritan preacher said when he saw from his window a\nculprit being led to the gallows: \"There, but for the grace of God,\ngo I.\" In other words, had I been born as this man was, had I been\nplayed upon by the influences to which he was subject, had I been\ntempted as he was, how dare I say that I should not have fallen as\nhe did? Had it not been for some grace extended to me through no\ndesert of mine, I might be traveling the road on which he travels\nnow.\n\nFurthermore, can we say that the sentence of the judge is\nproportioned to the heinousness of the deed? Is the murderer who\nin a fit of uncontrolled passion has taken a human life--it may have\nbeen his first and only crime--necessarily more depraved than the\nthief; or is the thief in jail who has indeed broken the law,\nnecessarily more depraved than numbers of others who have\ndexterously circumvented the law, violating the spirit though\nkeeping within the letter of it? Is even the abject creature who\nstrikes his wife more abandoned than a man of the type of\nGrandcourt in _Daniel Deronda_, whose insults are dealt with a\nmarble politeness, and who crushes his wife's sensibilities, not with\na vulgar blow but with the cold and calculating cruelty of a cynic?\nWhen it comes to passing moral judgments and fixing blame, and\nespecially to measuring the degree of another's guilt, who of us is\ngood enough, who of us is pure enough, who of us is himself free\nenough from wrong to exercise so terrible an office? Is not Lear\nright, after all: \". . . .change places; and. . . .which is the justice,\nwhich is the thief?\"\n\nIt may be said in reply to these objections: First, that the judge\ndoes not speak in his private capacity, but that he delivers the\njudgment of mankind on the doer and the deed, serving as the\nmouthpiece of the moral law, so far as it is incorporated in the\nhuman law. We should select the highest characters available for\nso exalted a duty, but freedom from even great human infirmity we\ncannot expect to find. Again, it is not the judge's business to fix the\ndegree of moral guilt; that not even the best and wisest of men can\ndo. The inscrutable fact of the degree of moral guilt eludes all\nhuman insight. Only omniscience could decide who is more guilty\nrelatively to opportunities, advantages, circumstances; who has\nmade the braver effort to escape wrongdoing; whether the admired\npreacher, or the culprit on his way to the gallows; whether the\nPresident in the White House or the wretch behind the bars. The\noffice of the judge is to pronounce that crime has been committed,\nirrespective of the subtle question of the degree of guilt. Murder\nhas been done, property has been stolen, the sin and the sinner\nwedded together. The office of the judge is to declare the fact of\nthat infelicitous union, and to pronounce the penalty according to\nthe law. And this, in particular. The object of the punishment\nwhich the law pronounces is not vindictive chastisement of the\nculprit. The object of punishment is purely reformatory. Only it\nmust not be forgotten that there can be no reformation without\npenitence, and no penitence without self-abasement. And this\nconsists in confessing one's self guilty, admitting that the guilt has\nbecome a part of one's being, and humbling one's pride to the\nground. The public sentence pronounced by the judge, the shame\nwhich he fixes upon the culprit, has, then, for its object to pave the\nway toward reformation, to break down the defenses which the\nsophistry of wickedness sets up, to compel the man to see himself\nas others see him, to force him to realize to the full the evil of his\npresent state. Not to blast him utterly, not to exclude him forever\nfrom the kindly society of men, but to lead him into the way along\nwhich--if he travel it--he may eventually return, though perhaps\nonly after many years, to human fellowship. If the verdict is\npronounced in any other spirit, it is false and inhuman. The\nmethods to be employed to bring about reformation must often be\nsevere and painful, and one of these methods is shock, shock sharp\nand sudden enough to loosen the incrustations of evil habit,\nand to shake a wicked nature down to its foundations. The\npurpose of the trial of a criminal in a court of justice, and of the\nverdict in which the trial culminates, is to supply such a shock, a\nsearching and terrible experience, yet salutary and indispensable in\norder that better things may ensue.\n\nFrom what has been said, it follows that the death penalty as a\npunishment even for the worst crimes is morally untenable; for\neither the culprit is really irredeemable, that is to say, he is an\nirresponsible moral idiot, in which case an asylum for the insane is\nthe proper place for him; or he is not irredeemable, in\nwhich case the chance of reformation should not be taken from\nhim by cutting off his life. The death penalty is the last lingering\nvestige of the _Lex Talionis_, of the law which attempts to\nequalize the penalty with the crime, a conception of justice which\nin all other respects we have happily outgrown. It does not\nnecessarily follow that the immediate abolition of capital\npunishment is expedient. It is not expedient in fact, because of the\ncondition of our prisons, and because of the abuses to which the\npardoning power of the State is subjected; because security is\nlacking that the worst offenders, before ever they can be\nreclaimed, may not be returned unrepentant into the bosom of\nsociety, to prey upon it anew with impunity. But, then, we must\nnot defend the death penalty as such, but rather deplore and do our\nutmost to change our political conditions, which make it still\nunwise to abolish a form of punishment so barbarous and so\nrepugnant to the moral sense.\n\nThe step which follows the arrest and condemnation of the\nevildoer is isolation, with a view to the formation of new habits. A\nchange of heart is the necessary pre-requisite of any permanent\nchange in conduct; but the change of heart, and the resolution to\nturn over a new leaf to which it gives birth, must be gradually and\nslowly worked out into a corresponding practice. The old body of\nsin cannot be stripped off in a moment; the old encumbrance of\nbad habits cannot be sloughed off like a serpent's coil. The new\nspirit must incorporate itself slowly in new habits; and to this end\nthe delinquent must be aided in his efforts by a more or less\nprolonged absence from the scene of his former temptations.\nHe must be placed in an entirely new and suitable environment,\nand encouraging pressure must be exerted upon him to acquire\nnew habits of order, diligent application to work, obedience,\nself-control. It is upon this idea that the moral propriety of\nimprisonment and of prison discipline is based, whether the actual\ntreatment of prisoners be in accord with it or not.\n\nAnd so we may pass on at once to the last and chief element in\nthe process of the reclamation of the evildoer, namely, forgiveness.\nAn angel's tongue, the wisdom and insight of the loftiest of the\nsages, would be required to describe all the wealth of meaning\ncontained in the sublime spiritual process which we designate by\nthe word pardon. It is a process which affects equally both parties\nto the act, the one who forgives and the one who is forgiven. It\nexalts both, transfigures both, indeed establishes a new tie of\nwonderful tenderness and sublimity between them. The person\nwho forgives is a benefactor.\n\nIs it a little thing, when a man is sunk in the slough of poverty,\ndenuded of all the decencies of life, harassed day and night by\ngrinding cares, knows not whither to turn to find shelter and food,\nfor some fellow human being, moved by pure human kindness, or\nlet us rather say moved by respect for the worth which he sees in\nhis perishing fellow-man, to come to the aid of the latter, to lift\nhim out of his distress, to place him on sun-lit levels, to put him on\nhis feet and give him a new chance, to open for him a new career\nin which effort may meet with its reward? Such an act of human\nhelpfulness is not a little thing; the man who does it is rightly\nesteemed a great benefactor. Or is it a little thing to save the\nimperiled sick, to bring back from the brink of the grave a precious\nlife, already despaired of? This, too, surely is not a little thing,\nand the good physician who accomplishes such a miracle is rightly\nesteemed a benefactor to whom lifelong gratitude is due.\n\nBut there is a yet greater thing, a benefit, by the side of which even\nthese--great as they are--appear almost insignificant. To take a\nman who is sinking in the moral slough and has no courage left to\nrise out of it; to give him back his lost self-esteem, that jewel\nwithout which health and wealth are of little avail; to put him in a\nposition once more to look his fellow-men straight in the eye; to\nplace him morally on the sun-lit levels; to put him morally on his\nfeet--this assuredly is the supreme benefit, and the man who\naccomplishes this for another is the supreme benefactor. And a\nnote of exquisite moral beauty is added if the benefactor be the\nsame person whom the guilty man had injured. This is what is\nmeant by forgiveness. This is why forgiveness is so divine a thing.\nThis is the reason why, when an act of genuine forgiveness occurs,\n\"the music of the spheres\" seems to become audible in our nether\nworld. And this is also the reason why we often see such a strange\nkind of tie springing up between a person who has been chastised\nand the one who has chastised him in the right spirit and then\nforgiven him--a tie into which there enters shame for the wrong\ndone, gratitude for the unmerited good received, and a reverence\nakin to idolatry toward the one upon whose faith in him the sinner\nrebuilt his faith in himself.\n\nThere should be some organ of the State to exercise this office of\nforgiveness toward criminals, this pardoning power in the finer\nsense of the term. The prison warden, if he be a man of the right\nstamp, sometimes exercises it. The Society for the Befriending of\nReleased Prisoners has here an appropriate function open to it;\nalso the employer who after due inquiry has the courage to dismiss\nsuspicion and to give work to the released prisoner.\n\nThe methods and principles which I have described in the case of\nthe criminal are used for illustration, not that I am interested today\nin discussing the special problem of the criminal, but because\nprinciples can best be exemplified in extreme cases. The same\nmethods, the same maxims should control punishment in general;\nour dealings, for instance, with the misdeeds of which our own\nchildren are guilty. Here, too, there should be by no means\nunvarying gentleness and pleading, but when need arises the sharp\ncheck, that evil may be instantaneously stopped. Here, too, there\nshould be the temporary disgrace, the clear presentation of the\nmagnitude of the fault, if it have magnitude, the humiliation that\ncalls forth penitence and good resolutions. Here, too, there should\nbe sedulous care, to work out the better habits. And all these steps\nshould be taken with a view to ultimate reconciliation, forgiveness,\nand the holier bond between parent and child.\n\nBut now can we take one step further? Can we dispose our minds\nand our hearts in the same fashion toward oppressors? I have in\nmind, for instance, the hard proprietors of houses who pitilessly\nwring the last penny from their tenants; the cruel taskmasters who\ndrive the workers, sometimes only children not yet full-grown,\ntwelve and fifteen hours a day; the unscrupulous exploiters on a\nlarge scale, who raise the price of the people's food, and in their\neagerness for fabulous gain conspire by every corrupt means to\ncrush their less crafty or less shameless competitors. As we hate\nwrong, must we not hate them? Shall we assail greed and\nexploitation merely in the abstract? What effect will that have?\nWhich one of the oppressors will not hypocritically assent to such\nabstract denunciation? If we seek to produce a change, must we\nnot proceed to more specific allegations and point the finger of\nscorn at the offenders, saying as the Prophet Nathan said to King\nDavid: \"Thou art the man\"? Is it not necessary to arouse the\npopular anger against the oppressors and to encourage hatred\nagainst the hateful?\n\nClearly the case is not the same as that of the criminal in the dock.\nHe stands there dishonored; the evil he has done has been brought\nhome to him; he is covered with the garment of shame. But those\nothers are invested--despite the evil they have done and are still\ndoing--with every outward symbol of success; they triumph\ndefiantly over the better moral sense of the community; they\ninhabit, as it were, impregnable citadels; they have harvested\nunholy gains which no one seems strong enough to take from\nthem; and the influence they wield in consequence of their power\nto benefit or harm is immense. Is it a wonder, then, that such\noppressors are branded as monsters, and that the hoarse note of\nsome of the Hebrew psalms is sometimes to be heard re-echoing in\nthe cry of the social radicals of our time--Let vengeance be visited\nupon the wicked; let the oppressors be destroyed from the face of\nthe earth!\n\nBut the logical and inevitable conclusion of the thought I have\ndeveloped to-day is, that we are bound to recognize the\nindefeasible worth latent even in the cruel exploiter and the\nmerciless expropriator. I have already sufficiently indicated that the\nspiritual view is consistent with severe and stringent treatment.\nChecks there should be by the heavy hand of legislation laid upon\nthe arrogant evildoers. They should be stopped if possible in\nmid-career. The oppressed, also, should oppose those who oppress\nthem. No one is worth his salt who is not willing to defend his\nrights against those who would trample on them. So far from\nruling out conflict, I regard conflict as a weapon of progress--an\nethical weapon, if it be waged with the right intentions.\nFurthermore, when speaking of oppression, I have in mind not\nmerely the cupidity of the few as it operates mercilessly upon the\nmany, but also the banded arrogance of the many as it sometimes\ndisplays  itself in contempt for the rights of the few. From\nwhichever side oppression proceeds, there should be resistance to\nit; the check imposed by resistance is one of the means of\neducating to new habits those who find themselves checked.\nIndividuals, and social classes, too, as history proves, learn to\nrespect the rights which they find in practice they cannot traverse.\nFirst come the limits set to the aggression, and then the opening of\nthe eyes to perceive the justice of the limitation. But conflict is an\nethical weapon only if it is wielded like the knife in the surgeon's\nhands. The knife wounds and hurts; the method is apparently cruel;\nbut the purpose is benevolent. So should the battle of social reform\nbe animated by concern not only for the oppressed, but also for the\noppressor. And such a motive does not exceed the capacity of\nhuman nature, but, on the contrary, is the only motive which will\npermanently satisfy human nature. Certain of the Socialists have\nmade it their deliberate policy for years to stir up hatred between\nthe poor and the rich, on the ground that hatred alone can\novercome the lethargy of the masses and arouse in them the\nintensity of feeling necessary for conflict. On the contrary, hatred\nengenders hatred on the opposite side, action provokes reaction.\nAs the individual can be uplifted in his life only by accepting the\nspiritual motive, by trying to act always so as to recognize in\nothers and to make manifest the indefeasible worth of the human\nsoul, so the social classes can be uplifted only by acting on the\nsame spiritual motive. Despite the efforts of a hundred years, the\nreal progress that has been achieved in ameliorating the relations\nbetween the social classes at the present day is slight, and\nsometimes one is impelled to doubt whether there has been any\nprogress at all. The egotism of one side is met by the egotism of\nthe other side. But appeals to mass egotism will no more elevate\nmankind, than appeals to individual egotism. Appeals to\nsympathy also will not permanently help. Only the highest motive\nof all can furnish the power needed to accomplish the miracle of\nsocial transformation; only that conflict which is waged for the\npurpose not of striking down the oppressor and rescuing his\nvictim, but for the rescue of both the victim and the oppressor, will\nattain its end.\n\nThe oppressor may be regarded as a man who has consented so to\ndegrade himself as to become for the time being a heartless\nautomaton, ruthlessly working for gain, a being like one of those\nterrible ogres of the popular mythology who feed on human flesh.\nBut he is not a mere automaton or ogre. There is a better side to\nhis nature, as we often discover, to our amazement, when we learn\nabout the facts of his private life. These private virtues do not\nindeed condone his social sins--far from it--but they indicate that\nthere exists a better side. If that side could be made victorious, if\nconditions could be shaped so as to starve out the worse nature\nand bring to the fore the better nature in the oppressor as well as in\nthe oppressed, the problem would be advanced toward a solution.\n\nThere is a story told of two brothers, sons of the same father, who\ngrew up in the same home and were deeply attached to each other.\nIt happened that the older wandered away and fell into the power\nof an evil magician, who changed him into a ravening wolf. The\nyounger mourned his loss, and treasured in his heart the image of\nthe brother as he had been in the days before the wicked spell fell\nupon him. Impelled by his longing, he at last went out into the\nworld to find his brother, and if possible to redeem him. One day\nas he passed through a lonely forest, a hungry wolf set upon him.\nThe horrid, brutal face was near to his, the hot breath breathed\nupon him, and the fierce eyes flamed into his own. But by the\nmight of his love, the younger brother was able to detect beneath\nthe wolfish disguise the faint outlines of the brother whom he had\nlong ago lost, and by the strength of his gaze, which saw only the\nbrother and refused to see the wolf, he was able to give shape and\nsubstance to that faint outline. The outer frame of brutishness\ngradually melted away, and the human brother was restored to his\nsenses and to his home. This is a parable of the spiritual attitude\ntoward oppressors, toward those who oppress the people in\npublic, as well as toward those who oppress us in our private lives.\nWe must liberate them from the brutal frame in which they are\ninclosed; we must give them back their human shape!\n\n\nIV. THE TWO SOULS IN THE HUMAN BREAST.\n\nSunday, Dec. 11, 1904.\n\nPainful and revolting associations are called up by the\nphrase--\"leading the double life.\" To the aversion provoked by the\nevil itself, is added in such cases the disgust excited by the hypocrisy\nwith which it is cloaked. He who leads a double life offends not\nonly by the wrong he does, but by borrowing the plumes of virtue.\nHe lives a perpetual lie; he is \"a whited sepulchre, clean on the\noutside, full of filth and corruption within.\" The Beecher trial at\nthe time so profoundly agitated the whole country, because the\naccusations brought forward associated the name of one of the\nmost prominent characters of the nation, a man of brilliant talent\nand meritorious service, with secret impurity. The more\nmeritorious such a man's services, the more damning the charges if\nthey be established. Nor do we admit in such cases the sophistical\nargument, that the interests of public morality require the facts to\nbe hushed up in order to avoid a scandal. Nothing is so imperative\nwhere guilt really exists as that it be confessed and expiated. The\npublic conscience requires the truth. Let the sinner make a clean\nbreast of it; let the atmosphere be cleared by an act of public\nhumiliation. No injury to the cause of public morality is so great as\nthe lurking suspicion that men who stand forth as exponents of\nmorality are themselves corrupt. Lurking suspicion, distrust of all\nthe moral values, is worse than recognition of human weakness,\nhowever deplorable.\n\nThere are other examples of the double life, with which all who\nhave knowledge of the world's ways are familiar. That of the\nmerchant, for instance, who, though he has long been virtually a\nbankrupt, conceals his position behind a screen of opulence,\nemulating the sumptuous expenditure of the rich, living a life of\nglittering show; tortured inwardly by the fear of exposure, yet not\ncourageous enough to be honest; sinking deeper himself and, what\nis worse, dragging others down with him. A young man at college\nsometimes leads a double life, his letters home being filled with\naccounts of his legitimate employments, while at the same time he\nis leading the life of the prodigal, the spendthrift, the dissipated\nsot.\n\nThe dual life has been depicted in powerful colors by poets and\nwriters of fiction; as, for instance, by Hawthorne in his \"Scarlet\nLetter,\" by Robert Louis Stevenson in his \"Doctor Jekyll and Mr.\nHyde.\" I suppose if there be such a thing as hell on earth, the\ndouble life is another name for it. Yet I know of no writer of\nfiction whose plummet has sounded the depths of this hell. In\nStevenson's story one gets the impression of a too mechanical\nseparation between the two sides. The man is at one moment the\nbenevolent doctor, and at another the malignant fiend. The device\nof the drug is introduced to explain the transition; but the\ntransformation is too sudden, too abrupt. Jekyll and Hyde dwell\nside by side in the same body, and the relations between them have\nnot been wrought out with sufficient subtlety. It is rather a broad\nmoral parable than a subtle study of man's dual nature.\n\nThe initial point I desire to make is, that in certain cases the inner\ntorture and anguish of the dual life can only be ended by publishing\nthe secret, so long and jealously hidden. Just as the criminal must\nstand judgment in a court of law, so must the double-minded man\nstand judgment in the court of public opinion. It is not possible to\ndetermine by a hard and fast line, when such exposure is\nobligatory; but in general it may be said that it is required in those\ncases where publicity is necessary to set things right and to repair\nthe wrong that has been done to others.\n\nThere are, however, cases in which others are not affected, or only\nindirectly so; in which the evil relates to the personal life and its\nconsequences are private to the man himself. The situation is such\nas is described by Goethe, when he speaks of the two souls\ndwelling within the human breast; the soul itself in its own sphere\nbeing divided against itself. The man is conscious of rectitude in\none part of his conduct, of magnanimous impulses, of high and\nnoble aspirations. He feels himself allied on one side to what is\nbest and purest, and at the same time is aware of another side\nwhich in his saner moments fills him with loathing, and poisons for\nhim life's cup of satisfaction. It is of this class of cases that I\npropose to speak. And here the terrible fact stares us in the face,\nthat if the dual life be interpreted in this sense, there is hardly a\nman who is not leading it. Even the best of men have been aware\nof an abhorrent side of their nature. What else can St. Paul mean\nwhen he speaks of the continual warfare between the two\nlaws--\"the law of the flesh that is in his members, and the law\nof God that is in his spirit\"? What else do the confessions of St.\nAugustine reveal but the continual oscillations of a finely poised\nnature between the two extremes? What else can we gather from\ncertain passages in Tennyson's writings, but hints of a miserable\nand grievous struggle of the same sort? And what an intolerable\nburden to any  person of integrity, to any one who would at least\nbe honest, to think that he passes for better than he is, to think that\nif men only could see his heart as he sees it, they would pass him\nby with scorn instead of admiration! Yet as a rule, in such cases\nself-revelation is not only not demanded, but not even allowable.\nThe opening of the secret chambers of one's life to the public,\nconfessions like those of Rousseau, are, if anything, indecent and\nnauseating. The case of a man in such situations is bad enough, but\nthe remedy for it is perforce committed to his own hands. Let him\nput his hand to the plough and not turn back, let him grapple with\nthe evil in his nature and subdue and transform it, let him\naccomplish his inner redemption, let him make himself what he\nought to be--what others perhaps think he is. What aid can the\nspiritual view of life extend to him in this stupendous business?\n\nThe cardinal thought I have in mind, which I believe will provide\nan escape from such intolerable moral dilemmas, can best be set\nforth by contrasting it with its diametrical opposite. This opposite\nis contained in the Buddhistic doctrine of the Karma. The doctrine\nof Karma implies that we are what we are to-day, good or bad, or\ngood and bad, in consequence of good or bad deeds which we\nperformed in previous states of existence. Our present life,\naccording to this view, is but a link added to the chain of the\ninnumerable lives which we have left behind us. It is true, we do\nnot remember those past existences; but all the same, they have left\ntheir indelible mark upon us. Our fortunes, too, in this present\nexistence, are determined by our meritorious or unmeritorious\nbehavior in the past. If, for example, a man acts as your enemy\nto-day, it is because in a previous state you wantonly injured him\nor some one like him. Bear your disappointments, then, and the\nharm you receive from others without complaint; you are but\nsuffering the penalty you deserve. Not only our fortune but our\ncharacter, as has been said, is thus predetermined; we are what\nwe are, in virtue of what we have been. If a man is a mean miser, it\nis because in a previous existence he was already unduly covetous\nof wealth. 'Tis but the seed he sowed in the past, that blossoms out\nin the present. If a man commit murder, it is because he was\nalready guilty of unchecked violence in previous lives. The\nbeginnings which he made in the past culminate in the awful\npresent.\n\nThis is indeed a plausible theory, and it would help us to read some\ndark riddles if it were true, but there is not the slightest reason for\nsupposing that it is. If ever there was a theory in the air, this is\none. We not only have no recollections of any past incarnations,\nbut we have no ground for inferring that there were any. I have\nmentioned the theory merely in order to exhibit its opposite. And\nthe opposite is this: that a man is not responsible for the attractive\nor repulsive qualities with which he is born; that these are not to be\naccounted as his, in the sense that he is accountable for them. The\nson of the dipsomaniac, for instance, is not responsible for the\nmorbid craving that stirs in him. He begins life, so far as\nresponsibility is concerned, so far as merit or demerit is concerned,\nwith a fresh start. He is not responsible for the craving; he is\nresponsible only for assenting to it. True, the pull in his case is\nincomparably stronger than in others; still he can resist. He is\nresponsible, not for the hideous thing itself, but for the degree in\nwhich he yields to it. He is meritorious to the extent of the effort\nhe puts forth not to yield to it. The reason why this point is often\nobscured is that from the first awakening of consciousness, from\nthe time when first we have been capable of deliberate choice, we\nhave more or less often assented to these evil propulsions and have\nthus made them our own. It has therefore become impossible to\nseparate clearly between that element in our acts which is imposed\nupon us from without, and that deliberate element in the act which\nis our own. Nevertheless, no fair-minded person will dispute that\nthere are qualities or predispositions, for which--hideous as they\nmay be--we are no more responsible than we are for being born\nwith an unprepossessing face. Men are born with certain attractive\nqualities and certain atrocious qualities, but moral goodness and\nbadness consists not in having these predispositions, but rather in\nconsenting to them and adopting them into our will.\n\nNow this, it seems to me, throws an entirely new light upon the\nduality of our inner life. The fact that we discover that there is\nbaseness within us from which we recoil as we should from a\nvenomous snake, need not shake our throne of reason or overthrow\nour balance. These base things are not we; our true self\ndoes not reside in them, until, indeed, we unite with them by\nassenting to them. A man's natural propensities are motley, but his\nsoul is white. One hears much nowadays of the \"white man's\nburden.\" There is such a thing as the white soul's burden. These\ndipsomaniac cravings with which some men are handicapped,\nthese explosive irascibilities with which some are accursed, these\ntendencies to impurity with which others are defiled--these are the\nwhite soul's burden. Some men are more heavily burdened than\nothers. But it is not the nature of the burden that makes men good\nor bad; it is the way they bear it, or rather it is the extent to which\nthey transform this initial nature of theirs into a better nature.\nThere is a distinction between the natural character and the moral\ncharacter; the moral character results from the changes produced\nin the natural character, by the power of the moral will, or by the\nenergy of the soul striving to imprint its nobler pattern on this\ndifficult, oft intractable material.\n\n\nBut if we are not blameworthy for the repellant propensities,\nneither are we praiseworthy on account of the attractive and\ngracious qualities we may possess. The state of mind of one who is\nconscious of a divided inner life is torture. Nothing but an heroic\ntreatment, nothing but a radical cure will free him from that\ntorture; the cure is to realize that our seeming virtues are often not\nvirtues at all. We must sacrifice our fancied virtues, if we would\nescape from the horrid sense of utter depravity that arises from our\nvices. A man puts to himself the question: How is it possible that\nat one moment I should be sympathetic and kind, should strive to\ncompass the happiness of my fellow-beings, should take a\ngenerous interest in public causes, and try to act justly; and that at\nanother moment I am so selfish and base? How can there be this\noscillation from one pole to the other of human character? It is the\ncontradiction that makes the tragedy. Am I, too, not \"truly one but\ntruly two\"; am I, too, a Jekyll and a Hyde, both dwelling under the\nsame skin? The answer is: You are neither the Hyde nor the Jekyll\nunless you elect to be. The true self is a principle in you superior\nto both these natural characters, a kind of oversoul, as Emerson\nputs it.\n\nSympathy and kindness lend themselves to the building up of a\nvirtuous character, they are the psychological bases of virtue, but\nthey must not be confounded with virtue itself. Taken by\nthemselves, they represent merely a felicitous mixture of the\nelements of which we are compounded, no more praiseworthy\nthan their opposites are blameworthy. Sympathy and kindness\nmust be governed and regulated by principle, if they are to be rated\nas moral qualities. Left uncultivated, they often produce positively\nimmoral results. Likewise, what is called justice is often no more\nthan a hard adherence to rules, a love of order in our relations to\nothers, which must be tempered and softened by the quality of\nmercy, before it can be accounted a moral virtue. Again, a\nwillingness to advance the interests of a class or of a people is\noften no more than an enlarged egotism, with most of the defects\nof the narrower egotism, and must be regulated by a moral\nprinciple, if it is to attain to the dignity of a moral attribute. It is\nonly by the conformity of our thoughts, our feelings, and our acts\nto principle, that morality is achieved. It is only by such means that\nthe genial and attractive tendencies of our nature are converted\ninto genuine virtues, and the way of escape from the double life is\nalong the line of the moral transformation of our seeming virtues.\n_Mend your virtues, and your vices will take care of themselves._\n\nBut if the illusion is dispelled that the goodness or badness of\nan action as it appears to the eye is the measure of the virtuousness\nor viciousness of the agent; if the principle that governs the act and\nthe effort put forth to conform to the principle be recognized as\nthe true standard by which we are to judge, then two consequences\nwill follow with respect to the conduct of life. The first\nis that the seemingly petty occasions of life are to be treated\nas grand occasions in so far as a moral principle is involved. For\ninstance, a petty falsehood spoken for the purpose of securing\nbusiness advantage or of avoiding business loss may seem to the\naverage man a trivial affair; and it is so, so far as the results are\nconcerned. And yet a morally high-bred man could no more\ncondescend to such a falsehood than a man of cleanly habits would\nwillingly steep himself in the mire. It is not the consequences, one\nway or the other, that matter. It is the eternal issue between the\nmoral realities, truth and untruth, that is at stake. And in the light\nof this issue, in the light of the principle involved, petty as the\ncircumstances may be, the occasion is not to be considered trivial.\nThe eternal forces that have been at war since mankind first\nexisted are at war on this occasion also; he must cast in his lot on\nthe side of the good.\n\nAnother instance of action seemingly trivial is that of simulating a\npersonal interest in others, of pretending agreement in the foibles\nof others or of affecting a personal homage which one does not\nfeel, in order to use others as instruments for the achievement of\none's ends, whether those ends be selfish pecuniary advantage or\npolitical preferment, or even financial aid and support for some\nimportant philanthropic enterprise. As if philanthropy--which\nis based on respect for the worth of man--did not defeat its own\nends, the moment it seeks to accomplish them by methods which\ndegrade both him who gives and him who receives. The occasion\nis small, but the principle involved as to the choice of means is\ngreat. Another instance relates to the degree to which we may\ntrench upon the personality of others, or seek to enter into that\npart of their life which they keep secret from us. We may suspect,\nfor instance, that a friend is oppressed by some secret trouble, and\nwe may believe that we could help him if only he would consent to\nreveal himself; but the act of self-revelation must come from his\nside, and the permission to help him must first be granted. We may\ngive him the opportunity to declare himself, but we may not invade\nthe sanctuary of his silence. The principle involved is great; it is\nthat of respect for the precincts within which every soul has the\nright to live its own life.\n\nAnd there are other illustrations in abundance that might be\nquoted. For instance, custom prescribes rules of behavior in\nrespect to many things which are really indifferent; in regard to the\ncut of the clothes we wear, in regard to the accepted form of\nsalutation, in regard to the language of polite speech, and much\nmore of the same sort. Now, the ethically-minded man is not a\npedantic micrologist who wastes his time on the minutiae of\nconduct. But where custom relates to things not indifferent, where\na principle is involved, there is no detail of conduct so minute as\nnot to challenge the most vigorous protest, the utmost assertion of\nindependence. The ethically-minded man is one who endeavors to\nshake off the yoke of custom, wherever it interferes with the\naffirmation of the great principles of life; who disdains to follow\nthe multitude in doing not only what is palpably wrong, but what is\nmorally unfine. He seeks to be a free man, an independent being,\nand to assert without acrimony or invidious criticism of others, yet\nfirmly and unflinchingly, a strong and self-poised manhood. This,\nthen, is one consequence that flows from our point of view:\nnamely, that in the moral sphere the small occasions are to be\ntreated as if they were grand occasions. As the poet puts it,\n\"Rightly to be great is not to stir without great argument, but\ngreatly to find quarrel in a straw when honor is at stake,\" or, as we\nshould put it, greatly to find quarrel in the straws of life when\nprinciple is at stake.\n\nAnd the second consequence is the obverse of this: To treat what\nseem to be great occasions because of their outward results, as if\nthey were small. Is it a fortune that smiles upon you, that you can\nwin by suppressing a moral scruple, by transgressing the eternal\nlaw? Put it aside as a thing not worth a second glance, if the price\nexacted be the loss of self-respect, if the bargain to which you\nmust subscribe be the betrayal of principle. Is it life itself that is at\nstake; the dear life to which we cling so fondly? Yes, life is\nprecious in its nobler uses; but life itself shall not be esteemed as\ngreat in the hour in which we must choose between it and fidelity\nto principle. And that it is really possible to take this high attitude\nthe example of the world's great martyrs shows.\n\n********************************\n\nThe leading thoughts I have endeavored to state in these addresses\nare the following: Spirituality is morality carried out to the finish.\nIt depends on always keeping the ultimate end of existence in\nview, and on not resting in the partial ends. Intervals set aside for\nself-recollection and the facing of the thought of death are useful\naids. The ultimate end itself is to elicit worth in others, and, by\nso doing, in one's self. The indispensable condition of this attitude\nis to ascribe worth to every human being before even we observe\nit, to cast as it were a mantle of glory over him, to take toward\nevery fellow human being the expectant attitude, to seek the worth\nin him until we find it. Even toward oppressors we should take the\nsame attitude. Furthermore, our true self resides neither in our\npoorer nor in our better natural endowments, but in the will that\nsuppresses the one and alone gives moral significance to the other.\nFinally, we must testify to our respect for principle by treating the\nsmall occasions of life as great if they involve a moral issue, and\nthe great prizes of life as small if they are offered at the price of\nmoral integrity. These are thoughts which I have found helpful in\nmy own experience; I submit them to you, in the hope that they\nmay be of use to you also.","title":"The Essentials of Spirituality","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":17435}