that nothing but an abstract sense of duty remains in the broad region
which should contain all human goods.

[Sidenote: Spinoza and the Life of Reason.]

Such trivial sanctimony in morals is doubtless due to artificial views
about the conditions of welfare; the basis is laid in authority rather
than in human nature, and the goal in salvation rather than in
happiness. One great modern philosopher, however, was free from these
preconceptions, and might have reconstituted the Life of Reason had he
had a sufficient interest in culture. Spinoza brought man back into
nature, and made him the nucleus of all moral values, showing how he may
recognise his environment and how he may master it. But Spinoza's
sympathy with mankind fell short of imagination; any noble political or
poetical ideal eluded him. Everything impassioned seemed to him insane,
everything human necessarily petty. Man was to be a pious tame animal,
with the stars shining above his head. Instead of imagination Spinoza
cultivated mysticism, which is indeed an alternative. A prophet in
speculation, he remained a levite in sentiment. Little or nothing would
need to be changed in his system if the Life of Reason, in its higher
ranges, were to be grafted upon it; but such affiliation is not
necessary, and it is rendered unnatural by the lack of sweep and
generosity in Spinoza's practical ideals.

[Sidenote: Modern and classic sources of inspiration.]

For moral philosophy we are driven back, then, upon the ancients; but
not, of course, for moral inspiration. Industrialism and democracy, the
French Revolution, the Renaissance, and even the Catholic system, which
in the midst of ancient illusions enshrines so much tenderness and