ng, with their accompanying
laws of conduct, and value judgments. They are the humanistic
or classic; the naturalistic or primitive; and the religious or
transcendent interpretation of the world and life. One sets up a
social, one an individual, and one a universal standard. Under the
movements which these headings represent we can most easily and
clearly order and appraise the chief influences of the Protestant
centuries. The first two are largely preempting between them, at this
moment, the field of human thought and conduct and a brief analysis
of them, contrasting their general attitudes, may serve as a fit
introduction to the ensuing chapter.

We begin, then, with the humanist. He is the man who ignores, as
unnecessary, any direct reference to, or connection with, ultimate or
supernatural values. He lives in a high but self-contained world. His
is man's universe. His law is the law of reasonable self-discipline,
founded on observation of nature and a respect for social values,
and buttressed by high human pride. He accepts the authority of the
collective experience of his generation or his race. He believes,
centrally, in the trustworthiness of human nature, in its group
capacity. Men, as a race, have intelligently observed and experimented
with both themselves and the world about them. Out of centuries of
critical reflection and sad and wise endeavor, they have evolved
certain criteria of experience. These summations could hardly be
called eternal laws but they are standards; they are the permits and
prohibitions for human life. Some of them affect personal conduct
and are moral standards; some of them affect civil government and are
political axioms; some of them affect production and distribution and
are economic laws; some of them affect social relationships. But in
every case the humanist has what is, in a sense, an objective because
a formal standard; he looks without himself as an individual, yet to
himself as a part of the composite experience and wisdom of his race,
for understanding and for guides. Thus the individual conforms to the
needs and wisdom of the group. Humanism, at its best, has something
heroic, unselfish, noble about it. Its votaries do not eat to their
liking nor drink to their thirst. They learn deep lessons almost
unconsciously; to conquer their desires, to make light of toil and
pain and discomfort; the true humanist is well aware that Spartan
discipline is incomparably superior to Gree