Part 12

We find the case to be no different as regards the system of Immanent Idealism. It is open to considerable doubt whether the world as it lies before us can be looked upon as a pure unfolding of the spiritual life, as this Idealism asserts. In any case, for the spiritual life to comprehend the world within itself it must itself be established as a universal power, and clearly distinguished from mere man. Otherwise the way of Immanent Idealism leads to an anthropomorphism of a more refined kind; and there is a danger that the whole world which this system champions may be criticised hostilely and rejected as simply human. Immanent Idealism, therefore, also points to the problem of substantial spiritual life.

The naturalistic systems do the same thing in a different way, and this, indeed, in contradiction to their main contention. For, when they attempted to produce a system from themselves, they could achieve their object only in that they were implicitly based upon the spiritual life, and introduced again indirectly that which they had previously rejected. They are developments of the spiritual life in particular directions and under particular circumstances: they think that they are able to accomplish out of their own resources something which they accomplish only with the help of a fundamental spiritual life; and so the more consistent they are in their denial of an independent spirituality the more inevitably they lose all internal coherence.

Thus from whatever point we start we come to the question of an independent spirituality; an answer to this question is involved in every system of life. But as its implications are not distinctly recognised, it does not receive its proper due. If we consider the question adequately, it will be found that a universal life must precede all differentiation and division; and that from this life each movement must receive a new elucidation. A multiplicity within the whole is quite intelligible, because it is a development of the spiritual life, not absolutely, that is in question, but in relation to the position of man and under the conditions to which he is subject. The desire to give greater stability to our life in opposition to the never-ceasing flow of appearances that constitutes our immediate existence, also compels us strongly to emphasise the importance of the relation to the spiritual life, which is acknowledged as independent. Without an elevation above this constant change all spiritual work must inevitably become disintegrated, and no truth of any kind would be possible to us. In the Modern Age especially there is a keen desire for a firm basis, as a secure support of life as a whole. But it is useless to seek this basis in life as we immediately experience it, whether in thought, in activity, or in anything else; for in the whole life of immediate experience there is nothing that is free from change. To seek this basis in a particular point is also to no purpose, even if one could be raised to a position above change; for it could not operate beyond itself in such a way as to support the rest of life. If, therefore, we would not submit to a dissolution of life, we must seek a basis for it beyond its immediate state and in a whole of life. Such a whole of life is offered only by the spiritual life, which, transcending man, is also immanent in him. Of course this cannot be taken possession of immediately at the beginning of the journey of life; but it is held up to us as an aim, and we can only gradually approach it. But how could it operate within us thus, if our life had not some kind of participation in it from the beginning; if our life were not in some way based in the spiritual life, and in progressive activity only developed the spiritual that is in it? For unless we are based in the spiritual life we should drift helplessly to and fro in uncertainty, and our endeavour would never be intelligible. From this point of view also, our relation to the spiritual life is seen to be the fundamental problem that must precede all others.

If there can be no doubt that the problem of life is comprehended most universally when we view it in relation to the spiritual life, there may be all the more uncertainty whether all characteristic form and, with it, all deep-reaching effect are not lost by reason of this universality. If the conception of the spiritual life involved its usual vagueness, this would in reality be the case, for recourse to it would not effect any fundamental transformation of the immediate condition of life; and we should not rise above the mere combination of its various movements. The case is quite otherwise if the spiritual life is distinguished clearly from the human and is acknowledged to be an independent world. So understood, it must show a particular content, a new structure of life, and must give a distinct form to everything that it takes up into itself. It is necessary to consider, also, its relation to the world of sense, and we may expect to be faced in this matter with complications and problems that will agitate our life in its whole extent, and set it in a new light.

In the spiritual life we recognised a new world, a realm of inwardness, which has become independent. Within this realm life cannot be directed to something alien, but can be occupied only with itself, with its own development. Its experiences cannot be related to externals; they must lie in itself. Now, have we any knowledge of a movement that reaches back in this manner to the elements of life? We perceive a movement of this kind clearly enough. In the first place, all development of the spiritual life shows, even within the individual, the attribute that a universal mode of thought, conviction, disposition, sets itself in the single function and continues present within it. The tendencies and manifestations of the spiritual are not all at the same level of development, but since a universal activity, a comprehensive and persistent deed, is present in the particular manifestation, the process acquires a depth, and a single act is able to give expression to a tendency of the whole as well as to react upon it.

But this movement extends beyond the immediate state of the soul of the individual to spiritual work, and gives it a particular form. Life as a whole, as reality's consciousness of itself, may be regarded as throughout capable of a multiplicity, as containing within itself different sides and possibilities. Since its evolution produces this multiplicity, life as a whole can express itself in the individual aspects and tendencies; expand them till they become different departments; experience itself in particular ways in these departments, and in so doing achieve a development of its own; it is able also to bring these departments and their developments into their relation to one another. Since thus, within the world as a whole, life concentrates in different ways, and the particular tendencies which thus arise meet and enter into conflict with one another, and since their conflict is in particular a contest to determine the form of the whole, there is revealed the prospect of a wealth of experiences which come not from without but out of the movement of life itself, and spring from its occupation with itself. The conflict between the different movements of life must bring the whole into a state of tension and lead it to further development. In the progressive formation of itself, in the development of a reality conscious of itself, life through its movement finds itself and develops a content. This movement will summon all the psychical powers of man to activity; it cannot possibly proceed from them. If we are to take part in the building up of that inner world, a spiritual creative activity from the basis of our being must be operative through these psychical functions, uniting them, and applying them as means and instruments.

If, for us men, life becomes conscious of its content only through movement and conflict, nevertheless this content may not be regarded as ultimately proceeding from them. If, as a whole, life did not transcend movement and conflict, if the latter were not included within a self-conscious and self-determining life, then they could yield no inner result, and could not lead to the further development of the whole. The attempts to derive this self-conscious and self-determining life from ontological conceptions such as "being," "whole," "movement," and so on, as the older metaphysics often undertook to do; or the tendency to treat it only as a supplement to them, are to be dismissed most decisively. The fundamental qualities that the spiritual life evolves always presuppose a self-conscious life and become intelligible only in relation to it. Without it, the conceptions of the true and the good remain in complete obscurity, as will be shown later in more detail.

If our human reflection often advances from the indefinite to the definite, from the abstract to the concrete, this does not involve that the latter is originated from the former: the advance could not be achieved unless that which comes at the end was operative from the beginning as its basis and presupposition.

If a self-conscious life unfolds itself with an increasing content through all departments and activities of life, then these departments will have their meaning and their value primarily in that which they accomplish for the further development of that life, and in the particular tendencies that they add to it: this yields a treatment and a standard of value different from those which we are led to if we make the psychical states of the individual our starting-point. The treatment of religion, for example, as a mere occurrence of an unrestrained psychical life may understand by religion a particular agitation of this or that psychical function; but with this we do not obtain a spiritual content. Again, it is not evident how a world of thought formed from such an individual psychical life could acquire an independence of man, and lift him above the position in which it finds him. The problem of religion attains quite a different basis if the spiritual movements and contents which emerge with it are emphasised; with this it develops and discloses the reality of the spiritual life more deeply. Then through it we may discover and win something that alters the condition of life, transcends the immediate life of the soul, and is able to exert an elevating influence upon man. The value and the truth of a particular religion will be judged in the first place by the nature of the spiritual substance that it offers, and the degree in which, in its advance, it is able to join itself to the movement of life as a whole and to guide it further. A great divergence is possible between this spiritual substance and the movement and passion that call forth a religion on the basis of humanity: the real is, in human relations, by no means without further consideration to be regarded as rational.

The case of the other departments of life is the same as that of religion: the character and the value of all achievement depend entirely upon the range and the kind of substantial spirituality that they evolve. The same is valid of whole epochs and cultures, of peoples and individuals. The exertion of the greatest energy upon externals and the most revolutionary transformation of human conditions cannot protect us from becoming inwardly destitute, or lead us beyond mere appearance to genuine reality. On the contrary, the experience of history shows often enough that spiritual revivals have been accompanied in their origin and growth by manifestations externally insignificant; and that something which struggles against the broad stream of human life fundamentally changes the standards and values of our existence.

Our whole spiritual life, therefore, constitutes a problem; it is an indefatigable seeking and pressing forward. In self-consciousness the framework is given which has to be filled; in it we have acquired only the basis upon which the superstructure has to be raised. We have to find experiences in life itself, to reveal something new, to develop life, to increase its range and its depth. The endeavour to advance in spirituality, to win itself through struggle, is the soul of the life of the individual and of the work of universal history: where there is no endeavour of this kind, there is no true life and no genuine history; our activity in relation to the world as a whole assumes a different form, and the world is represented differently and presents to us different problems according to that which is attained here in the basal structure of life. Life's struggle for itself, for its own content, its own truth, is the greatest and most intense of all struggles.

The passion which animates all the endeavour after a revelation of life and to win life itself is no other than the desire for a genuine reality: for a being within the activity, for a full as opposed to an empty life. If the formation of reality from within once begins, and the desire for a substantial inwardness gains the day over the merely subjective, then the intolerable inadequacy of all that is usually called life is bound to be strongly felt. The growth of intelligence has led man beyond the life of nature and its blind actuality. In intelligence, the inner life already proves far too independent to be satisfied with being a mere appearance accompanying nature. With this evolution the psychical powers win a greater freedom, and man is able to face his environment more boldly: indeed, in his thought he can grasp an infinity; and in arousing and using all his powers he may hope from his own position, in the interaction of subject and environment, to give to life a content, and thus to make it a genuine life. But here the limitation of man and the contradictory character of life as it is immediately experienced soon come to be felt. All the rousing of forces, all the passing backwards and forwards between subject and object that we experience in the immediate condition of life, does not lead beyond interaction, and yields no content: it does not raise life to a self-conscious and self-determining life; so that, in spite of all its activity, our life in this condition remains inwardly alien. There is thus an enormous disparity between the means that are offered and the aims that are reached; an inward unrest; an incessant conflict, without any prospect of victory, against the ever-recurring tendency to become spiritually destitute; a state of dissatisfaction in the midst of all results of an external kind. Only the revelation of a self-conscious life, a life which itself evolves as a reality, can be the source of progress, and lead from appearances and shadows to a genuine life.

It is apparent that with such an aim a task is presented that dominates and comprehends the whole extent of our existence. We have to take up everything into that self-conscious and self-determining life and to transform the condition of life as it lies immediately before us. A demand of this kind is not limited to a change of this or that; it implies a complete transformation and renewal. It not only involves the whole multiplicity of life, but it must also itself tend to bring about an increase in the multiplicity; indeed, this task first gives the multiplicity a firm foundation and an inner value. For the development and the formation of self-conscious life, it is essential, as we saw, that life concentrate in particular tendencies and departments; that the whole place itself in them, and return to itself from them; and that by this they develop a life of their own and give rise to their own experiences. To act thus, to advance the whole in its own development, the individual concentrations of life must possess an inner spiritual unity which comprehends and dominates all multiplicity. This is seen in the case of individuals, peoples, epochs, and whole civilisations: only by overcoming the state of confusion and division in which they at first find themselves do they come to wrestle with the spiritual life as a whole and win a spiritual character. These unities of life, however, will enter into the most diverse relations with the whole and with one another; and since in so doing they further self-conscious and self-determining life, they develop reality without limit. From all the facts we have considered we see that, with the attainment of independence by the spiritual life, there emerges a distinctive kind of being which everywhere exerts its activity, holds up a new aim, and desires a transformation: life is for the first time placed on a firm foundation, and taken possession of in the deepest source of its movement.

(d) Human Existence

For the construction of a new system of life, this independent nature of the spiritual life is primary and most essential. Such construction is dependent in the second place upon the relation in which the development of the self-conscious and self-determining life of reality stands to the position and to the activity of man; in particular whether it wins this position and activity for itself with ease or meets with definite opposition. Now, there cannot be any doubt that the recognition of the fact of the development of the spiritual life to independence of man, as we traced it, must make us feel that the state of things at the usual level of human life is most unsatisfactory. It is not that one or another aspect is inadequate, but that as a whole it is definitely opposed to the requirements of an independent spiritual life. For the spirituality that is evolved here is treated for the most part as a mere means in the pursuit of human welfare. Civilisation, at the level at which we are most accustomed to it, lifts man above mere nature, but at the same time it forces him into rivalry and conflict with his equals, and leads him to expect happiness from victory. This is the case not only among individuals but also among nations. Since the desire and the conflict for more generate an indescribable amount of excitement and passion, life seems to be full, whereas in reality it is entirely lacking in content, and behind the tumult is felt to be empty. But man has no intention of giving up all claim to a share in genuine spirituality: and so he gives a better outward appearance to his endeavour and his conduct, and practises deceit upon himself as well as upon others. Genuine spiritual life cannot possibly proceed from circumstances so contradictory and so confused. Neither can such circumstances produce the concentration of life that is necessary for the strengthening and advancement of the spiritual life. It is not the abuse of some one thing that provokes attack: it is not a particular failing, but the ordinary daily course which, unresistingly, man is accustomed to accept as his world, that shows in its successes no less than in its failures the greatest divergence from genuine spirituality. It is just at the point where man becomes proud of his own doings and makes much ostentatious display that he can least of all conceal the spiritual poverty and the foolishness of his way of thinking.

Attempts to attribute the responsibility of all limitation to man and his will, to find the root of all evil in the moral failings of humanity, have not been wanting. Universal religions have given these attempts an embodiment. It has seemed as though the harmony of reality is only disturbed by man, and as though his moral restoration were the only thing necessary to lead to all good. To be sure, such a way of thinking manifests a disposition of great seriousness, and it may appeal to the fact that the perplexity of our existence is nowhere more real than in reference to the ethical problem. Still, there is no possibility of doubt for the man of the Modern Age that this conception is too narrow; that it not only contradicts indisputable impressions and experiences, but also takes the question much too subjectively and too anthropomorphically, and thus falls into the danger of doing harm to the cause that it wishes to serve. It is not simply our disposition, it is our being as a whole and the circumstances that we are in, which obstinately oppose the emergence and the development of an independent spiritual world. It is the most elementary forms of life themselves that prevent the elevation of our existence to the level of a genuine spiritual life. We cannot blind ourselves to the fact that the greater part of our life is bound up with a form of existence in which it is not able to embrace the spiritual life. Any kind of appropriation of the spiritual--if it is at all possible--can be effected therefore only in opposition to that form of existence. In genuine spiritual life all movement should proceed from the whole and should be sustained by the whole, even when it is concentrated in the individual departments and tendencies. Human existence presents the spectacle of individuals ranged side by side; and if a movement to overcome the original inertia is to begin at all, their impulses, their desire for happiness, and their conflicts are necessary. The spiritual life knows no limits; it works and creates from the infinite whole: the individual is narrowly limited, and with all his activity and work constitutes but a tiny point in the infinite whole. The spiritual life presents its content as transcending time; even if for us it is only gradually revealed, time is in this a mere means to the presentation of an eternal and immutable truth: man, however, drifts with time; is dependent upon the momentary situation, and experiences himself in an incessant change: how can he comprehend the eternal? Spiritual creation is effected in the transcending of the antithesis of subject and object: human endeavour is conditioned by this antithesis. The former with its self-determining activity overcomes from within the attachment to sense: man even in the highest flight of his endeavour cannot withdraw himself from it. From the altitudes occupied by the spiritual life submission to the impulses and the goods of sense seems to be something mean and base: and yet without these man cannot possibly preserve his life; he has not conferred sensuous needs and desires upon himself by an act of will, but finds himself endowed with them from the beginning. Spiritual life with its formation from within banishes from itself all mechanism; all compulsion of blind actuality: without a mechanism in thought and in conduct, without habits and methods determined by custom, human life cannot attain to an enduring stability either in the case of the individual or in that of society. Thus, through the ever-present necessity of self-preservation and self-renewal, human life is compulsorily related to something, bound to something, that not only is not adequate to fulfil the tasks of an independent spiritual life, but is directly opposed to them. There is something in our life which we cannot dispense with, yet which, from the spiritual point of view, it is an imperative duty to shake off.

We see clearly enough that it is not merely our will that is in play, but that two worlds conflict within us, and that the world to which we primarily belong, according to the testimony of experience, holds us fixed with superior power, and draws back to itself all movement which strives upward. If, in particular, the dimness and the weakness of the spiritual life in man; its severance from its source; its disintegration into isolated powers; and, finally, the moral perversity which human existence exhibits, and the debasement of spiritual power to a mere means for natural or social self-preservation, become clear to us, then it is evident that a compromise between such a pitiable and shallow confusion and a genuine spiritual life is absolutely impossible. The acknowledgment of an independent spiritual world tends only to increase the contradiction and make us more clearly conscious of it.

A clear consciousness of the inadequacy of the human is especially important and necessary in contrast to the utter confusion which reigns with regard to the spiritual life and vitiates the whole of the endeavour of the present. The increasing transference of life to the world of sense has led the present age to abandon all inner bonds of mankind. The endeavour of Antiquity to lift our life above the insignificantly human by giving it a share in the greatness and magnificence of the whole, and the attempt of Christianity to give a new nature to life from the relation to God, appear to the present age to be Utopian. Since the faith of modern Idealism in the immanent universal reason has become more and more dim, man is thrown back more and more exclusively upon himself, upon man as he is, upon empirical society. There has grown up a strong belief that this empirical existence is quite sufficient in itself, and is able to satisfy our spiritual needs from itself. The ennobling of man, the improvement of his condition within this existence, becomes the aim of aims. Now, this presupposes that within the province of man, the good, even if it does not entirely preponderate, is still confident of a triumphant advance. It presupposes, further, that the establishment of a certain state of life will bring complete happiness with it. At the same time, all that is disagreeable in human experience--the power of selfishness and pride; the weakness of love; the feebleness of all spiritual impulse; the incessant increase of the struggle for existence, with the consequent degeneration of the inwardness of the whole--appears with dazzling clearness to the more refined perception of the modern man. After even a little consideration he cannot doubt that, if, in spite of all limitations, an unclouded state of human well-being could be established; if all pain could be banished from our life, life would fall into the power of the other and worse enemy--emptiness and monotony. As a refuge from such perplexities there is a tendency to flee to society and history. From the point of view of humanity as a whole and with the thought of a better future, all defects and losses of individuals seem to vanish; the hope of an unceasing progressive development rises above the feeling of the unsatisfactoriness of the condition of the moment. But what are these relations of empirical humanity other than those of a mere collection of individuals who never become an inner community, and what is empirical history other than a mere succession which never produces an inner unity of movement? In the appeal to the former, as in that to the latter, it is only surreptitiously that something essential can appear to be acquired. In reality, conceptions are here made use of which in other relations have a meaning, but which here signify nothing more than empty abstractions, simply subjective constructions of thought. However, notwithstanding all the glossing over, the real state of things must ultimately assert itself: pessimism must then be the last word, and the belief in a rationality in human existence must finally be given up. The faith in the greatness of the empirical man is, indeed, of all faiths the boldest. For, if the other faiths proclaim a new reality in contrast with the world of sense, they have the possibility of one in an invisible world. In the case that we are considering, however, experience itself must offer more than mere experience; we must not only be certain of a thing that we do not see, but that which we do not see must coincide with that which exists immediately before us. Such a position is no longer a faith, but a gross contradiction, a complete absurdity.

(e) Results and Prospects

The immediate experience of man may by no means be rejected as a whole on this account; if it were, spiritual work itself would degenerate and lack content. However, we only need to take up into a whole the impressions and experiences which each in his sphere acknowledges to be indisputable, and it will be clear that a movement toward spiritual independence can never proceed from such a pitiable state of confusion as that which is thereby seen to exist. It is essential that the movement toward spiritual independence have an independent starting point, and proceed on its own course. Only then is it able to select and appropriate the spirituality that exists in those confused experiences, and at the same time purify and strengthen it. We may most decisively reject all presumption to sovereignty on the part of the human realm; nevertheless, for the construction of a spiritual world that realm cannot be dispensed with. For this construction is not peacefully and securely accomplished through the self-development of a spiritual power placed in us, as was supposed by those who attempted to represent reality as a whole as a cosmic process of thought. If through the joyfulness of its faith and the definiteness of its undertaking this attempt captivated the minds of men for a time, at last it was frustrated by the fact that we men do not find ourselves immediately in the atmosphere of reason, but have first through toil to raise ourselves into it; that we have to do not with absolute spiritual life, but with spiritual life under the conditions and limitations of human existence. Thus, in the first place an independent spiritual life, a universal self-consciousness, must work in us and be changed in our activity; and this can be accomplished only by a revolutionary transformation of life as we immediately experience it; only by the attainment of a new point of view. But if at this point of view certain fundamentals of a new world become evident, they are as yet only fundamentals, and, without the help of a world of immediate existence, without recourse to the movements and experiences of human life, they cannot be completely developed and embodied. The complete development of a self-conscious reality is by no means made possible by combining an original spiritual movement with the world of sense brought to meet it. For the spiritual life can be furthered by coming into contact with that world only so far as the spiritual life takes it up and transforms it; the situation is rather that the spiritual movement wrests a content from sense experience and at the same time is raised in itself; it is a realisation of self through the other. The further the movement advances the more one may win one's own in what is apparently alien; the more that which is really alien may be separated and opposed. Thus we have a characteristic picture of the spiritual life in man; only the more detailed treatment can confirm it.

The matter of greatest importance to the whole, and the one upon which all hope of success rests, is that the movement towards an independent spirituality, to the building up of a new world, should, in spite of the opposition of immediate circumstances, become manifest also in the human sphere in characteristic operation, and that it should establish stable bases in this sphere and rise upon them to the highest by means of work. We have now to investigate more closely, to demonstrate more exactly, and as far as possible to show that at all the chief points of life such movements begin; that one such movement advances another; and that all are associated in a community of striving, and that from here the spiritual movement that we see in history is lit up, strengthened, and for the first time rendered practicable.

2. The Transformation and the Elevation of Human Life

(a) Aims and Ways

The question before us is whether any kind of transcendence of the gulf between the spiritual world and man is effected; whether that world, in spite of its antithesis to the world of sense, manifests itself also with a characteristic effect in our sphere, and thereby inaugurates a movement which takes possession of our whole life and advances it. Only on the result of such an inquiry can we judge whether man is able again to establish his position, which has been so shaken in the course of modern culture; and to save the courage and faith of life from violent changes and convulsions. At the same time we must ascertain whether the representation of the spiritual life that we have sketched is true in reference to things as they are found in the human sphere.

To be sure, proof or verification through experience is, in the case of this problem, in the highest degree peculiar. No definite reality spreads itself before us by which we must test the validity of our representations of thought. Representation and object cannot be simply brought into coincidence, but as life, which we wish to comprehend, is found in movement, and as, further, in immediate experience genuine fact and the form assumed by it in the idea of man are confused, so the revelation of the spiritual life does not come to us immediately, but has first to be extricated and wrested from the most diverse errors and half-truths. Every attempt to obtain proof from experience rests on the conviction that a movement of the kind, the recognition of which is being fought for by us, is already in some way in process everywhere where human life goes beyond mere nature; and that only the clear comprehension of the aim and the taking it up with complete self-conscious and self-determining activity are lacking. If now the aim which is presented is the right one, that is, that which is implied in the spiritual movement of life itself, then its acknowledgment and appropriation must tend to the elucidation, the unification, and the strengthening of all endeavour tending in the direction of this movement; it must lead to a development and an elevation of life above the condition in which it is immediately experienced. In the first place, it must be shown that the connections, preparations, directions in life in its general condition, tend towards the new according to its chief demands; and, further, it must be shown that the existing condition is raised essentially through becoming comprehended by the revealed universal movement, and is led to its own perfection. Again, it has to be shown that thus life wins a more precise content and a greater power in its every aspect: that which is present in all human endeavour as a necessary requirement must now become more intelligible, and at the same time from something impossible of fulfilment to something possible, and reveal new aspects and new tasks. Further, those elements which at first sight exist unconnected side by side and tend to limit one another must unite, and must strengthen one another. On the other hand, divisions must arise: it is as necessary energetically to reject that which follows wrong aims as to come to a peaceful settlement with that which errs only in the means. The antitheses which the work of humanity contains must also become intelligible, and at the same time a way must be prepared by which these antitheses may be overcome, not one by which merely a compromise between them may be arrived at. The breaking forth of the new must tend always toward the self-elevation of life; with arousing and strengthening power, it must take up the whole of life into its movement: it must demonstrate a transcendence of all the reflection and subjectivity of man, and this can be accomplished only through the disclosure of new forms and contents of life. Accordingly attention must in the first place be centred upon the pointing out of such new forms and contents.

The union of the spiritual life with man, its being firmly rooted in him, is seen to be at the same time something old and something new--something old in so far as it must have been existent and in some way effective from the beginning, something new in so far as its distinct emergence and its transition to a state of self-determining activity must alter the condition of things essentially; in fact, must turn life as a whole into a problem. Where the reality of man is reduced, as by Hegel, solely to an unfolding of thought and cognition, the present may find its most important task in the complete clarification and appropriation of the past; life comes to complete satisfaction in the drawing of historical achievement to itself. Where it is a question of the building up of a reality based on self-conscious and self-determining activity, when we ourselves share in such activity, we must find ourselves in an essentially different relation to things; and with all the connection with the past, life will press forward, changing and elevating in contrast with the whole past.

* * * * *

A contact, indeed a union, must therefore be established between the independent spiritual world--which in some way must be operative in us--and the activity of our own which struggles upward; and, through the gain of such a contact, that world must be led to more complete organisation, and that which strives upward made secure, unified, and advanced. In this it is essential that the movements and the demands which the fundamental idea of the spiritual life contains be present to our minds. The spiritual life appears, so we saw reason to believe, in the first place, to be something essentially new in contrast to the life of nature. The spiritual life is not the product of a gradual development from the life of nature, but has an independent origin, and evolves new powers and standards: new beginnings must, therefore, be recognisable in us if the spiritual life is to become our life. The new, however, manifested a development of the inner life to independence in opposition to its state of subjection at the level of nature, and so thus in man also the inner life must in some way come to itself and attain to freedom. We saw, further, that this development to independence cannot be brought about through new achievements in a given world, but that it needs the building up of a new world--a new basis for life: it extends even to the final basal forms; not any kind of activity could suffice, but a being within the activity, or, rather, a division of activity into something sustaining and comprehending on the one hand, and something demonstrating and producing on the other, is necessary. It is only thus that life becomes turned toward itself and elevated to a self-conscious life; activity to self-determining activity; experience to self-conscious experience. Man could not participate in such a self-conscious and self-determining life, if in him also a new life, a spiritual self, had not begun to be in some way. It is impossible for this self to be merely individual in nature: it can change the form of things and convey a new world only if it encompasses the multiplicity and experiences it as its own. An infinite self-conscious and self-determining life must not only include man within itself; it must become his own life, his true self.