ancient Israel; they made for social order in minds that needed training and discipline. Ritual and sacrament gave unity to the will. The rigid dogmas that were often laid down by a majority vote performed a social function similar to that performed by myth in earlier society. These dogmas provided universality and order in the minds of those who had not been disciplined to think for themselves; they provided universal forms of thought for a world whose unity was rendered difficult by migrating groups. Dogmas and creeds and abstract scholastic universals guaranteed mental unity in what would otherwise have been an age of chaos. The chants and oratorios gave order and harmony to the emotions and feelings. The cloister gave depth to experience. The architecture of the cathedrals gave an unconscious sense of graded perspective. Painting and sacred statuary gave order and meaning to the world of sight. But the Middle Ages with its monasteries, its cathedrals, its schools, its atmosphere of meditation, so thoroughly disciplined the will and the heart and the intellect that the mind began to dream of becoming independent of an authoritatively imposed discipline. A millennium of moral culture and tradition had brought the will to the stage of individual self-consciousness. The inner mind of Protestantism broke with the organization of the Church because the Church was no longer regarded by the Protestant mind as the embodiment of the pure intellectual forms of reason. These forms upon which religion had rested for a millennium and a half, were transferred by Protestant ism from the Church to the Bible, and their interpretation was transferred from the Church to the reason of individual minds. The scholasticism of the Church was superseded by the various forms of Protestant rationalism. Calvinism was the most conspicuous of these systems. Centuries of scholastic tradition had crystallized into the unconscious assumption that the Bible was a textbook of formal reasoning. Conscience meant to the Protestant what it meant to the mediævalist, an intuition of absolute truth in the individual mind. But this absolute truth was incarnated in the Bible and not in the Church and it was interpreted by the conscience and reason of the individual. The new inner world of mind and heart had proved itself real in its conflict with the old order; it was now coming to self-consciousness in the reason and the will of the individual. Socrates had described himself as a mental midwife; it was his mission to help individuals to a mental as well as a physical birth. And here, two thousand years later, the conscience, the heart, the will of the Church, were coming to self-consciousness in the mind of the individual. The development of an inner life which could set itself free from the old order resting on aristocratic ancestry and slavery and military power constituted a new epoch in civilization. And now this inner mind, disciplined for centuries in language, in philosophy, in ritual and sacrament, in music and art, was flowering out in a voluntary, individual will and reason. The individual was achieving a creed, a ritual, a tradition, in music and art, which was an interpretation of his own experience. The centuries of mental brooding, the long tradition which imposed on the mind the almost unbroken habit of gazing in a trancelike way into the mirror of its own projected imagery, brought the mind to such a level of disciplined self-control that the intellectual forms and ritual of the past came to be experienced not as an aid to the will and the intellect, but as a restraint. What had for centuries been a necessary support of an undisciplined and unstable will came to be experienced as a mechanical incumbrance when the will had become disciplined and independent. The break between Protestantism and mediævalism was not due to a change of belief in the reality of the inner world of the mind; it was due to a difference in the method of organizing the world of the inner life. The medieval inner world had come into human experience because the newer conscience had been driven in on itself by the powerful opposition of the old pagan régime. But this inner mind, schooled to a higher level of independent thought, no longer centered in a universal Church; it had come to center in the consciousness of individual minds. The absolute inner life which had meant the life of the Church came in the Reformation to mean the inner life of the individual. As regards his philosophy of the inner life, Luther's views are on the whole those of Paul and Augustine. To Luther there is "a true and almighty dominion, a spiritual empire" which is independent of the traditional external world. When one becomes a Christian he ceases to be the old, outward, fleshly man and becomes a new inward, spiritual man. According to Luther, "absolutely none among outward things. has any weight in producing a state of . . . Christian liberty." Whether the body is in health, whether we eat and drink and live in a pleasurable way, are outward, external matters which have nothing to do with the world of the inner life. No outward deeds have any relation to the inward man. We must lay aside all reliance on works. Whatever works can be done through the body are of no profit. "No work can . . . be in the soul." Good works from the soles of our feet to the crown of our head cannot make us Christians. "The more of a Christian a man is, to so many the more evils, sufferings, and deaths is he subject." But none of these things can do him any hurt. The reason we perform works is because we are not now "thoroughly and completely inner and spiritual persons. . . . As long as we live in the flesh we are but beginning and making advances in that which shall be completed in a future life." While we are in the flesh the body should through discipline be conformed to the inner man. The Old Testament, says Luther, is concerned with works, with the human and social virtues, with the law. These are pagan matters and do not concern the inward man of the Gospel. Luther's distinction between works and faith corresponds to the distinction, with which we are so familiar, between the Old Testament world of objective social interests and the Hellenistic world of the inner life. For "those who pretend to be justified by works are looking . . to the works themselves; thinking that, if they can accomplish as many great works and as great ones as possible, all is well with them." People are made Christian and spiritual by baptism, by the Gospel, and by faith, and by these alone. Quoting Romans vi, Luther insists that baptism is not the death of sin and the life of grace; it is a real death and resurrection. "When we begin to believe, we begin at the same time to die to this world, and to live to God in a future life; so that faith is truly a death and a resurrection." Baptism is not a washing but a dying. It corresponds to the death and resurrection of Christ. The Church was at her best in the days of the martyrs, when Christians were given up to baptism, to death, and resurrection. Now we have quite lost sight of this because of "the multitude of human works." The Christian or spiritual man can do all things, has all things, and is in want of nothing. The whole Gospel, says Luther, is the remission of sins, and in this work plays no part but the Gospel through its sacraments as a free gift does. A spiritual man needs no works for his salvation. He is saved by faith, by grace. He cannot lose his salvation by any wrongdoing, however great; he can lose it only through unbelief. Luther's doctrine of the inner spiritual man is reflected in his theory of education. "Doctors of Arts, of Medicine, of Law, of the Sentences, may be made by Popes, Emperors, and the Universities; but a Doctor of the Holy Scriptures can be made by no one but the Holy Ghost." In Aristotle soul and body, form and content, God and the world, idea and fact, are distinguishable but inseparable aspects of our world. This was the philosophy which was reflected in the world of Pericles, in its statuary, in its architecture, in its politics, in its theory of nature. Luther was right in regarding Aristotle as his enemy. The univer |