All progress in the social Self is the substitution of higher tribunals
for lower; this ideal tribunal is the highest; and most men, either
continually or occasionally, carry a reference to it in their breast.
The humblest outcast on this earth can feel himself to be real and valid
by means of this higher recognition. And, on the other hand, for most of
us, a world with no such inner refuge when the outer social self failed
and dropped from us would be the abyss of horror. I say 'for most of
us,' because it is probable that individuals differ a good deal in the
degree in which they are haunted by this sense of an ideal spectator. It
is a much more essential part of the consciousness of some men than of
others. Those who have the most of it are possibly the most _religious_
men. But I am sure that even those who say they are altogether without
it deceive themselves, and really have it in some degree. Only a
non-gregarious animal could be completely without it. Probably no one
can make sacrifices for 'right,' without to some degree personifying the
principle of right for which the sacrifice is made, and expecting thanks
from it. _Complete_ social unselfishness, in other words, can hardly
exist; _complete_ social suicide hardly occur to a man's mind. Even such
texts as Job's, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him," or Marcus
Aurelius's, "If gods hate me and my children, there is a reason for it,"
can least of all be cited to prove the contrary. For beyond all doubt
Job revelled in the thought of Jehovah's recognition of the worship
after the slaying should have been done; and the Roman emperor felt sure
the Absolute Reason would not be all indifferent to his acquiescence in
the gods' dislike. The old test of piety, "Are you willing to be damned
for the glory of God?" was probably never answered in the affirmative
except by those who felt sure in their heart of hearts that God would
'credit' them with their willingness, and set more store by them thus
than if in His unfathomable scheme He had not damned them at all.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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