is good for him, and draws the line between society
that is a benefit and society that is a nuisance.
To subordinate the soul fundamentally to society or
the individual to the state is sheer barbarism:
the Greeks, sometimes invoked to support this form
of idolatry, were never guilty of it; on the contrary,
their lawgivers were always reforming and planning
the state so that the soul might be perfect in it.
Discipline is a help to the spirit: but even
social relations, when like love, friendship, or sport
they are spontaneous and good in themselves, retire
as far as possible from the pressure of the world,
and build their paradise apart, simple, and hidden
in the wilderness; while all the ultimate hopes and
assurances of the spirit escape altogether into the
silent society of nature, of truth, of essence, far
from those fatuous worldly conventions which hardly
make up for their tyranny by their instability:
for the prevalent moral fashion is always growing
old, and human nature is always becoming young again.
World-worship is the expedient of those who, having
lost the soul that is in them, look for it in things
external, where there is no soul: and by a curious
recoil, it is also the expedient of those who seek
their lost soul in actual consciousness, where it
also is not: for sensations and ideas are not
the soul but only passing and partial products of its
profound animal life. Moral consciousness in
particular would never have arisen and would be gratuitous,
save for the ferocious bias of a natural living creature,
defending itself against its thousand enemies.
Nor would knowledge in its turn be knowledge if it
were merely intuition of essence, such as the sensualist,
the poet, or the dialectician may rest in. If
the imagery of logic or passion ever comes to convey
knowledge, it does so by virtue of a concomitant
physical adjustment to external things; for the nerve
of real or transcendent knowledge is the notice which
one part of the world may take of another part; and
it is this momentous cognisance, no matter what intangible
feelings may supply terms for its prosody, that enlarges
the mind to some practical purpose and informs it
about the world. Consciousness then ceases to
be passive sense or idle ideation and becomes belief
and intelligence. Then the essences which form
the “content of consciousness” may be vivified
and trippingly run over, like the syllables of a familiar
word, in the active recognition of things and people
and of all the ominous or pliable forces of nature.
For essences, being eternal and non-existent in themselves,
cannot come to consciousness by their own initiative,
but only as occasion and the subtle movements of the
soul may evoke their forms; so that the fact that they
are given to consciousness has a natural status and
setting in the material world, and is part of the
same natural event as the movement of the soul and
body which supports that consciousness.