work of others to produce the best effect; for in such co-operation it produces effects which reach far beyond his own individual capacity. Hence his life appears to receive value from the social relations, and the social ideal is conceived. The development of the individual no longer becomes the aim but rather the development of the community. In setting out the development of society as his aim, the individual makes considerable sacrifices. All that is distinctly individual must go, in character, in work, in science, and art, and that which is concerned with the common need of society must receive attention. This means undoubtedly a limitation of the life of the individual, and often entails a considerable sacrifice; but the sacrifice is made because of the underlying belief that in the sum of individual judgments there is reason, and that in the opinion of the majority there is truth. This socialistic culture finds in the present condition of society, plenty of problems to hand, and in its treatment of these problems a vigorous socialistic type of life is developed. The most pressing problem is concerned with the distribution of material and spiritual goods. Material goods and the opportunity for spiritual culture that go with them have been largely a monopoly of the aristocracy. Now arises a demand for a more equal distribution, and this is felt to be a right demand, not only from the point of view of justice, but also for the sake of spiritual culture itself. So it is that the movement for the social amelioration of the masses starts. The welfare of humanity is its aim, and all things, religion, science, and art, must work towards this end, and are only of value in so far as they contribute towards it.

Now it is a fundamental principle of a logical socialistic system that truth must be found in the opinions of the masses, and the average opinion of mankind must be the final arbiter of good and evil. The tendency of the masses as such is to consider material advancement the most cherished good. Hence, inevitably, a thorough-going socialism must become materialistic, even though at an earlier stage it was actuated by the desire for opportunities of spiritual culture.

A genuinely socialistic culture, too, makes the individual of value only as a member of society. This, Eucken affirms, is only true in the most primitive societies. As civilisation progresses, man becomes conscious of himself, and an inner life, which in its interests is independent of, and often opposed to society, develops. His own thought becomes important to man, and as his life deepens, religion, science, art, work &c., become more and more a personal matter.

All such deepening of culture, and of creative spiritual activity, is a personal matter. From this deepening and enriching of the inner life of the individual proceeds creative spiritual activity, which attempts spiritual tasks as an end in themselves, and which gradually builds up a kingdom of truth and spiritual interest which immeasurably transcends mere human standards. All these are historical facts of experience; the socialistic system finds no place and no explanation for them, and consequently it cannot be regarded as a sufficiently comprehensive explanation of the problem. To a man who has once realised these individual experiences, the merely human, socialistic system becomes intolerable.

Again, if considerations of social utility limit creative activity, the creations of such activity must be meagre in nature. Spiritual creativeness is most fruitful when it is concerned with tasks that are attempted for their intrinsic value, and is not fettered by the thought of their usefulness to society.

It is, too, a dangerous thing to look for truth in the opinion of the majority, for this is such a changing phenomenon that only a part, at most, can be permanent truth. The course of history has taught us, too, that great ideas have come to individuals and have been rejected by the masses for long periods of time.

The immediate effect of the failure of socialism is the encouragement of individualism, for indeed some of the arguments against the former are arguments in favour of the latter. Individualism opens up a new life, a life which is free, joyous, and unconventional.

But can individualism give a meaning and value to life as a whole? Man cannot from his own resources produce a high ideal which compels him to fight for higher development, and it is not possible for him from an individualistic standpoint to regard himself as a manifestation of a larger life. His whole life must be spent in the improvement of his own condition. Even in the case of strongly marked personalities, they can never get beyond themselves and their own subjective states, for they must always live upon themselves, and eternally reflect upon their own doings.

But such a view of life cannot satisfy man; he is a contemplative being, and he must find some all-inclusive whole, of which he is a part. If he fails to find it, life for him must become a blank, and he must fall a prey to boredom and satiety. Man's life is not to be confined to his own particular sphere, his life must extend far beyond that—he must concern himself with the infinite in the universe; "He must view life—nay, more, he must live it—in the light of this larger whole." A life based upon individualism then, will seem, even in the case of strong personalities, to be extremely narrow. How much more so will this be true of the ordinary man, who takes little interest in his own individuality, or pleasure in its development?

Thus it is that both forms of humanistic culture—socialism and individualism—fail to give a real meaning to life. "Socialistic culture directs itself chiefly to the outward conditions of life, but in care for these it neglects life itself." Individualistic culture, on the other hand, endeavours to deal with life itself, but fails to see life as a whole, or as possessing any real inwardness.

Both types of culture are apt to deceive themselves in regard to their own emptiness, because, unconsciously, they make more out of man than is consistent with their assumptions. "They presuppose a spiritual atmosphere as a setting for our human life and effort. In the one case, this cementing of a union between individuals appears to set free the springs of love and truth; in the other, each single unit seems to have behind it the background of a spiritual world whose development is fostered by means of its individual labour." In this way life acquires in both cases a meaning, but it does so only by departing from both positions, and taking up what is, at least partly, an idealistic position.

The theories, too, can only be made really plausible by idealising man to an unwarrantable extent. The socialist assumes that a change of material surroundings will be immediately followed by a change in the character of man, and that men will work happily together for the sake of the community. The individualist asks us to believe that man is naturally noble and highminded, and cares only for the higher and better things. But experience, says Eucken, does not justify us in placing so much faith in humanity. "Do we not see the great masses of our population possessed by a passion that sweeps all before it, a reckless spirit of aggressiveness, a disposition to lower all culture to the level of their interests and comprehension—evincing the while a defiant self-assertion? And on the side of individualism, what do we see? Paltry meanness in abundance, embroidered selfishness, idle self-absorption, the craving to be conspicuous at all costs, repulsive hypocrisy, lack of courage despite all boastful talk, a lukewarm attitude towards all spiritual tasks, but the busiest industry when personal advantage is concerned."

The theories of socialism and individualism can never be adequate explanations of the great problem of life, for life cannot have a real meaning if man cannot strive towards some lofty aim far