The kingdom of righteousness on earth became a kingdom of heaven because of the hopeless dualism between the newer ideals of the inner life and the older primal instincts as organized and expressed in the Roman Empire. The imagination of the primitive Christian community anticipated an immediate outlet of its suppressed ideals in the approaching realization of the kingdom of heaven. As the kingdom was delayed, the dualism between the traditional mental patterns and the newer Christian conscience became more accentuated. Instead of a repression brought about by a deferred realization, instead of a conflict between the existing social order and the more ideal community of Hebrew prophecy, there began to form in the Christian consciousness a dualism of a static ultimate type.

The heavenly kingdom came to mean not an ideal as yet unrealized in human society, but an ideal by its very nature incompatible with the natural pagan foundations of the human mind itself. The ideal kingdom was no longer to be a further moralization of the instinctive and emotional equipment of human nature; it was no longer to be a fulfillment and transformation of man's life. Repression had created such an abnormal sense of the value of man's interior life that this interior life became an end in itself. Man's interior life as reflected in the new ideal had actually become independent of the old pagan impulses of sex, possession, gregariousness, etc. The old instinctive outgo of the mind into the natural objective interests of woman, child, property, state-building, had become taboo. Moral control which had once been a means of linking

the mind and the world of objective interests, became an end in itself. Moral control became renunciation. The intellectual and moral organization of the instinctive and emotional life gave way to an introverted consciousness of pure spirit. This inner mind lived in attitudes, in feelings, in faith, in love, in hope. Such an inner world was absolute, just because it was internal, subjective; it was beyond the control of the old world order. This world of attitude was at first projected into a coming kingdom, but prolonged repression resulted in making this inner world absolute in itself.

The newer conscience, unable to reorganize the bases of the old order, is driven unconsciously to disassociate itself from the old order in order to preserve itself. The conflict brought the inner attitudes to the focus of consciousness and made them the central thing in life. A will which is out of harmony with the ruling social program of the world is a suppressed and thwarted will. Since the objects of the newer conscience were beyond its control, there resulted a brooding introversion which was new in the history of the western mind. Such a condition is the necessary result of a loss of control over the fundamental interests in life. The institution of the Christian Church was the device which this introverted mind evolved in order that the newer ideal might be housed and perpetuated.

The mediæval mind gave form to a broken world. It was all that was left of Rome, Greece, and the Old Testament. Its law, its universal language, its architecture, its formal philosophy, gave unity and order

to civilization for a thousand years. The monastery was a laboratory in which a profound inner life was generated. The world literally acquired a soul in the Middle Ages. This internalizing of the mind signified a new epoch. This inner soul was greater than father or citizen or worker or soldier. It survived Cæsar. There was evolved in the Middle Ages a dominant consciousness of form, or soul, which did not exist before. In pre-reflective ethics there was a tendency for a certain ritual, for the act itself, to become synonymous with right; but after knowing Dante, an act without a motive seems to us like a corpse without a soul.

The throwing of the mind back upon itself gives depth and profundity. Isaiah is more objective and social than Jeremiah, but Jeremiah is deeper; Job is deeper than Amos. In the strain and suffering and introspection of the mediæval development there was achieved a terrible and majestic consciousness of the value of an interior life which to this very day towers above all the older institutions of society. It was the majesty of an over-towering interior life which created the great cathedrals. And this lofty sense of inner moral values will continue to be the ultimate condemnation of all forms of social organization unleavened by its own transforming idealism.

CHAPTER XIX

THE DISASSOCIATION OF THE INNER LIFE FROM THE STATE, THE FAMILY, PROPERTY AND THE BODY

The Inner Life and the State

The Cynic and Cyrenaic schools of philosophy, both springing from the immediate disciples of Socrates, were negative in their relations toward society. The Cynic philosophy, founded by Antisthenes, regarded intellectual possessions as the only good. Everyone is familiar with the example of Diogenes. The family, property, the state, the wise man could do without; for the wise have as few wants as possible. According to Aristippus, who founded the Cyrenaic school, pleasure was the end of life; this the reason of the Cyrenaic school declared to be the only object of conduct. About one hundred years after Socrates' death, these two schools or tendencies were developed into definite systems, for Stoicism, founded by Zeno, was an outgrowth of the Cynic teaching; and the philosophy of Epicurus had its source in Aristippus. In the Epicurean view of life, pleasure, through rational selfcontrol, was the object of all endeavor. The only necessary form of social life was friendship; family ties and political offices were affairs that threatened the individual's pleasure. The Stoic, finding in reason the

standard of life, was not so much an individualist; he at least tried to remain a citizen. But the Cynic teaching was strong within him; his real conscience was not in the state but in the universal kingdom of reason, of which the state at its best was but a very partial expression. The great schools of Greek philosophy were expressions of a newer type of individuality which had outgrown its old organic relation to the social order in which it existed.

The unity of moral tradition underwent a profound change in western civilization about the time of Socrates. With the passing of the Hebrew state in the Babylonian Exile and of the Greek city-states in the Alexandrian empire, the moral and social ideal no longer included the world of the state in its scope. With the development of the Christian Church a divorce took place between the newer moral conscience and the traditional world of the state. The scope of the moral ideal was definitely differentiated from "secular" affairs.

There arose a dualism between man as the representative of the newer inner life and the citizen or man as he was adjusted to the old order. All the higher, newer, more advanced systems of religion and morality after Socrates dealt with man as a member of a rational or spiritual order which was regarded as universal. Membership in this newer spiritual world made the old life of citizenship seem insignificant. The instinct of gregariousness had in the past lifted the individual out of himself; it had flooded his will with the invigorating energies of tribal and community life. But the breath of eternity, the conscious