fK
PRESENTED
TO
The University of Toronto
BY
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THE JOUBNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Volume X.
EDITED B Y \Y M . T . H A E E I S
ST. LOUIS. MO.
GARDINER S. BOUTOX, PRINTER, 915 NORTH SIXTH STREET.
1876.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S76, by
WILLIAM T. HARRIS,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
/2>0 s- o
CONTEXTS.
Basis of Induction, J. Lachelier (translation) Sarah A. Dorsey. 307,337"
Beneke's Educational Psychology, Karl Schmidt (trans) L. F. Moldan. 361
Darwin's Descent of Man J. H. Pepper. 134
Empiricism and Common Logic John Watson. 17
Faust and Margaret Karl Rosenkranz. 37
Goethe's "Song of the Spirit Over the Water," F. R. Man-in. 215
Hedonism and Utilitarianism John Watson. 271
Herbart's Ideas on Education Hugo Haanel. 166
History of Philosophy in Outline, The The Editor. 225
Idea of Mind, The K. Th. Bayrhoffer. 382
Idea of Matter, The (Tyndall's Problem Solved) K. Th. Bayrhoffer. 69
Idea of the Venus H. K. Jones. 48
Kant's Anthropology (trans) A. E. Kroeger: 319
Kant's Ethics — VI. Ethical Worship James Edmunds. 416
Kant's Reply to Hume John Watson. 113-
Philosophy of Art, The Geo. S. Morrte. 1
Quaternion, A W. E. Charming. 44
Relation of Religion to Art, The '.......The Editor. 204
Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra D. J. Snider. 52
" Troilus and Cressida " 395
" Two Gentlemen of Verona '• 194
Science in Government C Theron Gray. 290
Turner W. E. Charming. 141
Two Kinds of Dialectic, The L. P. Hickok. 158
Notes and Discussions. (1) What is Truth? (2) Exposition of the Hu-
man Form in Three Degrees ; (3) Dr. Hickok's Definition of Tran-
scendental Logic ; (4) An Old Picture ; (5) Spencer's Evolution
and Dissolution— Loss of Heat 89
Book Notices 102
(1) La Filosojia della Scuole Italiane ; (2) Die Zeitschrift fuer Philos-
ophic und Philosophische Kritik ; (3) Yerhandlungen der Philosophis-
chen Gesellschaft zu Berlin; (4) Philosophische Monatshefte; (5)
Mind, a Quarterly Review of Psychology and Philosophy ; (6) Re-
vue Philosophique de la France, &c. ; (7) John Miller's Metaphysics;
(8) Philosophy of Trinitarian Doctrine ; (9) The Influence of Des-
cartes on Metaphysical Speculation in England ; (10) Notice to
Shakespearian Students.
Book Notices 21G
(1) Anderson's Norse Mythology ; (2) The Physical Basis of Immor-
tality ; (3) Shakespeare's " Borneo and Juliet.*' (Von Hartmann) ;
(4) Zur Reform des Hoeheren Schulwese?is. (Von Hartmann) ; (5)
Ueber das Princip des Realismus, (J. H. v. Kirchmann) ; (6) Giornale
del Museo D' Istruzione e di Edueazione.
Books Received 223
Book Notices 324
(1) Brinton's The Religious Sentiment, Its Source and Aim; (2)
Frothingham's Transcendentalism in New England ; (3) La Ftloso-
Ha della Scuole Italiane.
Notes and Discussions 431
(1) Dr. Brinton on " Pleasure and Pain" ; (2) Michael Angelo's
Poem on the Death of his Father and Brother.
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Vol. X. January, 1876. No. 1.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF APT.*
By George S. Morris.
Philosophic der Kunst istnothwendiges Ziel des Philosophen, der in
dieser das innere Wesen seiner Wissemchaft, icie in einem magischen
und symbolisclien Spiegel schaut. — Schelling.
Philosophy is the demonstration of the ideal as the living' truth
of real things, as underlying, determining, constituting what is
figuratively but vaguely termed their blind necessity, as furnish-
ing the origin of their true existence, and the end toward which
they tend.
St. Paul says that we live, move, and have our being in God.
Philosophy holds no ground antagonistic to that of the Apostle,
but rather in strict accordance with it, when it teaches that exist-
ence is bathed throughout in the atmosphere ot thought and of
that which thought, or some other form of the ideal activity of
conscious beings, alone apprehends.
The grand old poet-pbilosopher, Parmenides, sang, before the
classical epoch in the history of Greek philosophy, "Being and
Thought are one." This seems a paradox to the undisciplined or
unreflecting mind, and yet, but for the truth which lies at the bot-
tom of it, human science would not exist. Xot to insist, with the
* A University lecture, before a class ot undergraduates reading Taine's Phi-
losophie de Vart en Italic
X— 1
2 The Philosophy of Art.
literal idealists, like Berkeley, on the fact that what we call reality
is, in the first instance, only a form of human consciousness,*
(whence the Berkeleyan conclusion that the belief in external real-
ity is illusory), yet it is evident, from the ordinary point of view,
that onr knowledge exists and is extended only because so-called
real things admit of being brought under the forms of rational
apprehensiou. The knowing, feeling, willing agent in us is the
purest form of ideal existence directly known to us. It is this
inner, truest reality of our natures which goes on extending the
realm of knowledge, and in increasing measure bringing what is
called matter under the control, and iuto the forms of mind. jSTow
this it could not do, if mind and matter were wholly distinct and
incommensurable entities. A circle could not know a square. The
only way in which it could be imagined to " know " it, would be for
the circle to coincide with the square — and this is eternally impos-
sible. The circle and the square are utterly different from each
other : there is nothing in which the one could be brought within
the comprehension of the other. Xot so in the case of man and
the universe which he cognizes. Man is an ideal, knowing agent ;.
the universe is knowable. There is something akin between them.
Music has been called " speech without words." But not only
music, the world itself, which Schopenhauer terms embodied music
and in which the Pythagoreans long before discovered a universal r
spheral harmony, is speech without words, i. e., it addresses though
inaudibly, the reason of man, it is the expression of reason, of
thought. The very being of the universe and of its parts presents
itself to man under forms which are cognate with the forms of his ide-
al activity. It appears as the expression of number, in its manifold
modifications and relations, of geometrical forms and proportions,
of harmony and symmetry. It exhibits the constant and unvary-
ing sequence of cause and effect, which is but the requirement and
expression of ideal or rational necessity. In short, it is in all its
parts the exhibition of law, which naught but intelligence (i. e., the
* And here let me ask you not to suppose this to be the dictum of mere abstract
theorists. So reputable a scientist as Huxley says : " 'Matter' and 'Force' are,
so far as we can know, mere names for certain forms of consciousness." (Lay
Sermons and Addresses, p. 340, Am. Ed.) So Helmholtz, who terms matter and
force abstractions : Du Bois Reymond, and others. I mention these testimo-
nies, in order that you may see that the dictum in question is not peculiar to
mere so-called speculative dreamers, but is held by men who have lived and
worked in the purest atmosphere of pl^sical science, and have made great con-
tributions to our positive knowledgo of such science.
The Philosophy of Art. 3
ideal) can apprehend, and which can originate in nothing but intel-
ligence.
To return to the figure employed a moment ago. As words,
verbal forms, are nothing, except as factors of speech, i. e., as-
symbols of thought or emotion, so the forms of the universe and
its conteuts, which "speak" to us, are nothing apart from the ideas
they express. And Plato is right in affirming that all these ideas
are summed up in the one grand idea around which they revolve,
the idea of the Good, to which may be added, as inseparable from
the Good, though in rank subordinate to it, the Beautiful, which
is its refulgence. We say, commonly, that what is irrational is
absurd, and what is absurd cannot be. Hence Hegel's saying, that
" whatever is real, is rational, and whatever is rational, is real."
The rational or ideal aspect of things is essential to their being,
and the real (though sometimes unconscious and often unadmitted)
aim and substance of all philosophy and of all science is to show
that this is the constitutive aspect of things, the aspect which is
fundamental, that in view of which all things truly are, and are
what they are. The world were at best a chaos, i.e., nothing in
particular, were it not the expression, the embodiment of complex
(and, we may add in passing, organically interrelated, hence har-
monious and beautiful) ideas, (etymologically, " forms," eldf), that
which in thought is called an " idea," is in the concrete universe
" form").
Such then is the philosophical view of the world ; and such too,
is the common view, when reduced to definite form. For the phi-
losophical view is not one artificially constructed. It is but the
result of reflection upon what all admit. It is but the reduction of
that which is contained in the general consciousness of mankind,
to scientific expression. The leading characteristics of this view
are the two beliefs (1) in the universal presence of the element of
spontaneity as lying at the basis of all things (tkis manifests
itself in man as, among other things, freedom of the will), and
(2) in the tendency of the world to become what it ought — in other
words, the perception of the fact that the forms, the ideal natures
of things are their true being, ever imperfectly realized, owing to
the limitations which surround them, but ever progressing towards
greater and absolute perfection, towards that which Plato terms
the " Good." Even those who are unable to see in the ideal, i. e.,
in spirit, or intelligent mind and goodness, as existing primally and
supremely in God, derivatively in man and all things, the renl
4 The Philosophy of Art.
truth and the true reality and principle of things, bear involuntary
witness to the fact that the conclusion above enunciated is the one
which human reason, when it philosophizes, instinctively and nec-
essarily seeks. Thus, while denying the existence of free, inde-
pendent spirit in man or in the universe, they speak (and I use here
the very words of noted materialists and atheists) of " Necessity,
or the enchainment of causes in the world" as "Keason herself"
(Strauss) they imagine an "Instiuct of Necessity," an "uncon-
scious creative impulse " in nature (Buechner) through whose ope
ration the world and its phenomena are to be explained. In other
words, an intelligence which is not intelligent, an impulse which
knows not what it does, and which is far less easy to comprehend
(being in fact incomprehensible) than a freely and consciously act-
ing force, is assumed to account for a world in which the ideal ele-
ments, as mind, beauty, are the crowning ones.
Such contradictory hypotheses as these, I say, bear indirect
witness to the fact that philosophy must seek the ideal in nature,
and find in it the truth of things. And so too the flutterings and
strivings of artists, who reject the idealistic view, and accept the
mechanical or materialistic one, tend to illustrate the same conclu-
sion. The artist's business, as I shall hope to make you see, is,
if anything, to express the ideal in some concrete, even though
imperfect form. What sort of success then must that artist expect,
who avows his disbelief in the reality and supremacy of the ideal .'
And yet the profession of disbelief can not destroy the fact of the
kinship of all men and all things in the ideal, and so the sceptical
poet still bears involuntary Avitness, by the very language he is
forced to use, by his regrets, by all his intellectual behavior, to the
fact that his native element is in the world of ideal, spiritual forces,
which he denies. His spirit comports itself like the bird which
has lost its nest and seeks in vain to find it. Thus I read in a
"Paris Letter,'* in a recent number of the London Academy [April
24, 1875, pp. 425, 42G], of a new volume of poems by Sully Prud-
homme, who, it is said, has "earned his right to be ranked in the
first order of contemporaneous poets" — a volume entitled " Les
Vaines Tendr esses." The author, we are told, is " not a mystic,
but a philosopher trained in the school of Lucretius," i. e., of mate-
rialism. "His poems," the writer continues, "are all based on the
same idea, namely, the want of harmony existing between man's
aspirations and the weakness, the powerlessness, the narrow limits
to which nature condemns him," forgetting, I would add, the grand
The Philosophy of Art. 5
truth so sententious) j expressed by Emerson, that " limitation is
power that shall be," that "calamities, oppositions, and weights,
are wings and means.'' This poet, in other words, denies all that
which connects man with a world of realities that are not seen
without the aid of the inner eye of reason and intuition, and can
sing only in accents of regret and despair of the futility of man's
higher aspirations, the falseness of his noblest instincts. Each
verse of the poem cited by the correspondent as an illustration of
the manner of this poet, begins with "A quoi bon?" "Of what
use?" and among the subjects of which the question is asked are
" plodding science" and human love. The poet is "alike unable
either to believe or to refuse to believe in " the " reality" of " the
infinite and the eternal." Poems written in such a frame of mind
have the beauty — though it be in this case only a beauty of sad-
ness — which is inseparable from all genuine spiritual emotion, a
beauty* which gives the lie to the author's scepticism ; but they
have not the beauty which inspires, which exalts, which inflames
with the fire of ideal faith and knowledge, which transplants the
soul into a sphere where it feels that it has found its true home,
and is in the near presence of the Origin and End of all being.
Yet they are a powerful evidence of that which the soul, not seeing
or believing, must nevertheless regret with infinite and inconsola-
ble sorrow.
I repeat the statement with which I began : Philosophy is the
demonstration of the ideal as the truth and substance, the source
and end, of real things. True, it is not a complete demonstration:
that is to say, it has not reached that point where nothing can be
added to it. It is not shut up in any one system. It is a great
induction, running through all systems, and to which not only all
great thinkers but the very progress of civilization itself contrib-
ute. It is not excepted, in a sense, from the law so pregnantly
expressed by Lessing in the words: " In den idealen Gebieten
muss man immer mehr suchen.V ("In ideal things man must always
remain simply a seeker"). True it is that when the philosophical
instinct (which is essentially universal) awakens in a youth, and
he sets about the inquiry as to what is the truth of things, what
conception he shall and should hold as to their nature, their mean-
ing, their whence, what, and whither, it is only as the result of a
thorough search, often involving painful endeavor, and repeated
repulses, that he reaches peaceful ground, whence he may at least
espy, even though he may but imperfectly possess, the fair land
6 The Philosaphy of Art.
of truth. And the same experience is repeated in the history of
thought at laige.
> T ow, I hold that what philosophy in its best acceptation thus
seeks to demonstrate, art seeks to embody in concrete form. The
philosopher thinks the true substance, the ideal — the artist feels,
and loves, and is moved by it. The former would exhibit it in
reasoned form, the latter in sensible types and symbols. My desire
is that you should feel the necessary connection between the true
theory and nature of art and such an idea of philosophy or view
of the world and its contents as I have now presented to you, in
distinction from all opposed philosophies, which assume that there
is such a thing as independent brute matter and blind law, and that
free intelligence and spirit are but a product and function of the
former.
As matter of fact, we tind but slight, if any, contributions to the
higher comprehension of art in the history of materialistic and
sceptical thought. Lucretius, the Roman poet and disciple of the
Epicurean and atomic philosophy, a pure materialist and atheist,
adopting the Epicurean theory of art as mere imitation — imitation
in the most material sense — proposes (in his Be Eerum Natura) to
explain the difference between instrumental and vocal music as
arising from the difference of the material sounds which they imi-
tate. While the latter has arisen from the imitation of the song
of birds, the former arose, according to Lucretius, from the attempt
to reproduce the noises of inorganic nature, as of storms, the rush-
ing of water, and the like (Schasler Oesch. d. Aesthetik, p. 210).
Such "philosophizing" as this is childish. In the eighteenth cen-
tury Diderot the French Encyclopaedist, pantheist, and sceptic,
again insisted on art as being imitation of nature, in opposition to
the ideal. But he was unable to carry out the theory without sur-
reptitiously, perhaps unconsciously, substituting for the conception
of the natural — i. e., things as they really are in nature — the con-
ception of natural truth, the truth of nature, or things as they
ought to be, perfect in their kind, which in reality they never are.
Thus the theory ends with a virtual admission of that which it set
out to deny, namely, of the ideal as the true object of art. Diderot
finds that art, like nature, has its inspiring effects, that these are
inexplicable except on the hypothesis of a purely subjective, hence
ideal, and invariable standard of taste, and asks whence, if you
deny this hypothesis, "come those delicious emotions which arise
in the soul with such suddenness and power, whence those tears of
The Philosophy of Art. 7
joy, of pain, of admiration at the sight of some sublime natural
spectacle or of some magnanimous action ? " "Away thou soph-
ist!" he says, "thou shalt never persuade my heart that it has no
right to be thrilled, nor my bowels that they do wrong to be moved
with emotion" — in opposition to what materialism, consistently
applied to the theory of art, would allow. (Schasler, loc. cit., 324,
325). So that, after all, according to Diderot, it is in virtue of the
relation (and, I may add, the relationship or kinship) of natural
and artistic forms to ideal quantities (thoughts, emotions), that the
former have their artistic quality. We shall come to au allied
result if, now, we consider positively the nature of art, both by and
in itself, and in the light of that ideal philosophy above set forth,
which we have reason to regard as the true philosophy of things.
Art is a working, an activity. It is a working with materials.
These may be wood and stone, marble, the drawing-board, canvas,
tones, words. In short, anything, with or upon which man exer-
cises an external activity, may be artistically treated. But both
the stone-cutter and the architect work in stone, and yet both are
not artists. The like may be said of him who paints a madonna
and him who paints a fence, of the man who howls and the one
who sings, of the expounder of a science and of the poet. The
artist is then one who works in a particular way, with his materials,
and for a particular end.
Art manipulates its materials with a view to please or to move;
it addresses the emotions. It does this, in the first place, by the
use of forms, lines, colors which please or charm the eye, and of
rhythmic forms and intonations, and sequences or combinations of
tones, which similarly affect the ear. This is its immediate, sensu-
ous effect, but not its only one. Eating and drinking produce an
even greater degree of vivid, sensual gratification, yet they are not
fine arts. We may, it is true, eat and drink and do all things to
the glory of God, in addition to the satisfaction of our sense-desires
and our bodily needs. And so the artist not only may, but neces-
sarily does, minister to something more than a passing titillation ot
the senses through which his work is apprehended. Were this not
so, the foreigner residing in Italy who told me that he cared less
for any opera than for such immediate sensual gratification as the
country afforded, would have been right. As it is, we all instinct-
ively recognize that that man acknowledged himself more beast
than man.
The pleasure which true art produces is disinterested. It is
8 The Philosophy of Art.
not connected with any thought of gain or advantage to our-
selves individually, whether in our pockets or as increasing the
sum of our exclusively personal happiness. We are the rather
lifted out of ourselves into the element where petty, personal, self-
ish distinctions cease. We recognize the influence exerted as en-
nohling, spiritualizing, and belonging of right to all men. and far
from desiring to withhold it from any, we would, in the spirit
of that charity which is identical with love, communicate it to all.
Again, the artist's work is free. The workman who hews stone
or marble, or follows the painter's trade for his living, is subject to
the law of his employers. The expounder of mathematical science
uses language merely as a means to an end, as a sort of mechanical
instrument of communication. The sculptor, the painter, and the
poet, on the other hand, are free from any such bondage as this.
Their action is, rather, spontaneous, and if subject to law, the law
is given from within, and not from without. The artist, as the
Germans significantly say, does not work, he plays. His play is
the play of fancy — not of caprice, of personal whim, but of fancy,
as the creative handmaid of mind, of the ideal, of God.
For, to complete the present enumeration of the characteristic
qualities of art and of the artist, the artist is a maker, an inventor,
in a secondary sense, a creator. Art is poetic (in the phraseology
of Aristotle). The poet, or maker, is not simply he who makes or
creates with words, but he who does this with any material what-
soever. The germ or foundation of art, as an empirical, historical
development, lies unquestionably in the instinct of imitation, which
is observable in almost all the plays of children. But this is not
all. The photographer, in so far as he merely produces by chem-
ical processes a correct likeness of his subjects, is no artist. The
sculptor, who faithfully reproduces the bust of a living original,
including all the wrinkles which care has worn on the brow, and
all the accidental pimples, or even uglinesses, is no artist. Art not
simply imitates nature, it idealizes. That is, it represents the
natural object, not as it actually is, with its inevitable blemishes
and defects, but as it ought to be, as it would be if the idea of it
were perfectly realized. Or, it takes, in painting, or in scenes bor-
rowed by poetry from common life, (as well as in other arts) definite
types or aspects, and makes them the medium for the suggestive
representation of ideal perfections. It is thus creative, inasmuch
as ii represents, at least symbolically, what does not exist in natu-
ral, physical reality. But it is not absolutely creative, in so far as
The Philosophy of Art. 9
its inspiration, its ideal, is derived from a world of ideal forms,
eternally existent in the mind of the Eternal One, though only
caught by the favored few among mortals.
But I am anticipating my conclusion. Is it not evident, I ask,
that there is more in art than in the forms and sounds of nature
which the physical eye and ear perceive ?
Take for example, music, the purest of the arts. The splendid
harmonies of Beethoven, which inspire the listener with a whole
world of new and thoughtful and most profound emotion, have but
the faintest parallel in the sweetest melodies of birds. So in true
poetry we are transplanted into scenes and familiarized with forms
of thought, feeling, and action, which are not what actual life
shows us, but such as we are sure actual life may become and
tends to become. So in true sculpture and painting, the aim of
which is not the mere reproduction of something seen, but the rep-
resentation of something which we should like to see, which is
akin to our natures, towards which our truest being strives. The
Apollo Belvedere does not interest us as the likeness of any one
who probably ever existed, but as expressing a phase of noble
humanity, a germ of divinity. The Sistine Madonna does not please
us as being a fair representation of the way the Virgin Mary may-
have looked, not as a noble natural form, but as portraying the
possessor or parent of divine qualities.
By virtue of what, then, under the guidance of what faculty or
power, does the artist work ? Psychologists call it imagination,
fancy, and ascribe to it, on the basis of their observation of the
way in which it works, a power of original, free combination.
Others speak of an artistic instinct, which, in so far as it is an
instinct, must work unconsciously. It is also otherwise, and with
justice, termed genius. Whatever it may be called, it must now
be obvious that it addresses the mental and emotional faculties of
man, i. e. those, in virtue of which he is an ideal being: that, in so
far as its products differ from the products of nature, the difference
must be ideally apprehended and weighed.
The ideal philosophy above set forth, the philosophy which sees
in matter nothing but the growing life of spirit, in the concretely
real, nothing but the expression of the ideal as that which alone is
truly real ; which sees, in short, in the whole universe nothing but
the creation, hence the expression of the mind, of a spiritual being,
i. e. of a God of wisdom, and goodness, and love, this philosophy
can alone account for art and the artist. If this philosophy be
10 The Philosophy of Art.
true, the root of the nature not only of man, but of all things, is
in ideal, spiritual being. Such being is conscious, intelligent,
intrinsically and necessarily good, and loving. The original foun-
tain of such being, the fundamental and central personality to
which its universal consciousness belongs, is called by us God.
And here I may remark, parenthetically, that it is not only those
who admit the existence of a personal God who adopt a theory of
-art like the one here advocated. The whole army of modern pan-
theists admit more or less explicitly the spiritual or ideal nature
and substance of all things, yet deny that the source of this nature
is a personal, self-conscious being. The nature and being of things,
they say, is God, but God first becomes conscious in man. Others,
perceiving the absurdity of employing the word God to denote an
existence of which personality is denied, and yet convinced of the
truth of idealism as a theory of the nature of things, use instead
the expressions " the idea," " will," " the unconscious," as names
for the ideal and true essence and source of things. These men
are, in my view, inconsistent, in not admitting the existence of a
personal God, as the fountain and first substance of all reality.
To assume the independent existence of an unconscious idea, will,
or other spiritual element, seems like admitting a contradiction in
terms. But notwithstanding all this, it is evident that those who
hold such a view of the ideal nature of things, can and must hold
a theory of art similar to that held by Christian idealism. And
this also they do.
To resume : In the assumed universal consciousness are all true
and perfect ideas which the one Spirit to whom they belong is
seeking to realize, and does approximately and progressively real-
ize, in this world. Indeed, the world is, in its truth, as before inti-
mated, nothing but a complex of ideas, organically united under or
within one controlling idea, or rather a complex of spiritual forces
of which these ideas may be said to be the light and life, all seek-
ing or tending to find their appropriate embodiment in concrete
form. Of course these forces are always to be considered as hav-
ing their origin in God, the Absolute Spirit. The life of God must
be considered as the element in which they have their own true
being, and whatever spontaneity they possess must be regarded as
subordinate to the will and control of God.
Now, man is such a spiritual force, possessing a more or less com-
plete consciousness of itself and of its parentage and kinship.
His daily, transient consciousness excludes largely, in some cases
The Philosophy of Art. 11
almost entirely, from his attention the life of the ideal principle,
which is his true and best life, the life which ought to be. Hence
the assumption of idealistic psychologists — an assumption amply
illustrated in the world's best literature and verified by reason and
observation — of what may be called a double life of the soul, the
one, the lower, involved in all the changing and ephemeral variety
of sensible impressions, the other and higher, the life of the soul
in the pure and immutable element of the eternally true and
good. And just as the whole world, in the language of the apos-
tle, " travaileth and groaneth " in the slowly accomplished endeavor
to bring to the birth — i. e. to adequate realization — the complete
idea which underlies it, which is its true being, which is what it
ought to be, so the higher life of the soul seeks to gain the mastery
over the lower, to raise it as nearly as may be to its own level, to
bring it under its own direction, and not only thus to shape the
thoughts and life according to its own high standard, but also to
bring all which it handles into conformity with the ideally perfect,
in which it has its true life. True art I hold to be the work of this
higher Psyche.
If this opinion be true, we can understand the distinction between
the genius which constitutes the real artist, and talent, which makes
its possessor only a skilful workman. We can understand also
how the fancy of the former, which is popularly said to know no
law, and which is yet so unerring in its results, is simply under the
guidance of a higher law, the law of the true ideal, to which the
natural or lower man rises only with difficulty. Says Schopen-
hauer, in efi'ect : " Talent is like a rifleman, who hits the most distant
mark that is visible to ordinary eyes; Genius is like a rifleman
who hits a mark which is only visible to himself." Genius, the true
artist, that is to say, works under the guidance of the higher life
of the soul, in its true ideal element ; talent works according to the
laws of the lower every day consciousness. We now see how an
â– "artistic instinct" can be spoken of, and how not only, as Schiller
says, in the poetic artist, but in the artist of whatever kind, there
is a union of the (so-called) unconscious (say, rather, the supra-
conscious) and the reflective. The " unconscious " element, namely,
is the true ideal life emerging and taking the life and the ways of
ordinary reflection under its control.*
* Reflective science does not discover the laws of genius until after genius,
proceeding without any formal or scientific consciousness of them, lias already
illustrated them in its works.
12 . The Philosophy of Art.
Upon this theory, too, we see how the genuine artistic product
may be, as it generally is, called a "revelation." It brings to light
something entirely new, for which our experience gives us no
standard of judgment, and which nevertheless we as if instinct-
ively recognize as true. How often do the greatest strokes of
genius in all the arts impress us as being the simplest and most
natural things in the world! Yet we know that we could not by
our ordinary powers have accomplished them. It is that our inner
selves are at home, however unconsciously to us, in an ideal realm
of perfect being, and that when its light is brought down to us
and embodied before us, we cannot but feel at home in it. We can
understand now the intense and exalting emotion produced upon
us by the noblest art. We are elevated by it from the lower to
the higher, from an atmosphere of confusion and error into one of
simplicity and truth, from clouds and darkness into serene and
unchangeable light. We see, too, how the artist may be said to
be "possessed" or "inspired." His true being asserts itself and
has possession of him, to the exclusion of his lower, degenerate
self. We see with what significance he is designated by Plato as
" a light and winged and holy thing," "moved by power divine,"
" divinely released from the ordinary ways of man." On the basis
of the philosophy of this paper you may also perceive how the
artist can copy natural forms to express an ideal substance. For
as before remarked, in connection with the etymology of the word
idea, that which in the realm of spirit or thought is idea, is in the
realm of concrete expression form, and all forms are but servants,
media for the manifestation of ideas in which alone they have their
true existence. And we see that if, as is the fact, the artist does
not literally reproduce nature's forms, but creates something in a
measure different, his work, however idealized, will, if it be truly
artistic work, never seem to us unnatural. We shall the rather,
as in fact we usually do, term it supremely natural. It presents
more or less perfectly the true nature of the object represented —
the true idea of it — what it must concretely become in order to
attain objectively to its true being.
Our conclusion then is that the artist, in so far as he is truly
such, is the representer of true being, in forms which are
addressed to the senses. His works have an independent value,
the intrinsic value of truth. They are created for their own sake,
and not for use, nor, in their truest sense, lor pleasure. They
excite the dec] test emotions, but these emotions are not in them-
The Philosophy of Art. 13
selves the true object or end of art. They are only its necessary
result and concomitant,. arising from the appeal which it makes for
comprehension to what is highest, truest, most real in ourselves.
True works of art are inspired from above, and not from below ;
from the more exalted, true life which man leads (whether always
consciously or unconsciously) in the realm of real spiritual being,
in alliance with the everlasting forms of true being, in direct rela-
tion with the Father of all spirits, and not from the lower life and
consciousness which are forced upon us from our association with
the finite, imperfect scenes of every day life, and which are there-
fore not of our making, and hence not truly ours — not a part of
ourselves. The artist, the man of genius, works spontaneously
and freely, and yet in accordance with the perfect, simple law of
# the idea. There is in his work that mysterious combination of
freedom and necessity, which is observable in all the highest types
of moral perfection. The same element in which he lives and
works, and which lives and works in him, the element which we
term, in the last and highest analysis, the Spirit of God, operates
throughout the universe in the history of men and nations, and no
less in the lower realms of organized and inorganic being, slowly
and surely working out, under forms of unerring law, the purposes
of the Idea. This operation, viewed often from a narrower point
of view, is termed providence. Everywhere there is the sponta-
neous working of derived force, and the inworking, the inspiration,
of true being. By this view we are taught, as Goethe puts it :
"To know our brothers in air, and water, and the silent wood,"
All nature is akin, and art is but the endeavor of man, that part of
nature which is most near to the divine mind, (which mind is the
truth — but also more than the truth — of nature) to help nature to
perfection, to complete the incomplete, to substitute the true and
real for the partly true and imperfectly real.
I have not time to show you in detail how this result is practi-
cally verified, by reference to the lives of the great artists of all
ages. It will be sufficient if you recall the fact that the masters of
Grecian art, of mediaeval Gothic architecture, of Italian art, of
modern music, were all men of deep piety or of a lofty ideal faith.
Listen to the words of the giant-soul Michael Angelo, taken from
one of his translated sonnets. They indicate the source whence he,
at least, sought inspiration :
14 The Philosophy of Art.
"Heaven-born, the soul a heavenward course must hold.
Beyond the visible world she soars to seek
(For what delights the sense is false and weak)
Ideal form, the universal mould."
Listen to the greatest musical composer of all times, a true Pla-
tonist iu spirit, Beethoven, declaring that his art, "music, is a
higher revelation than all wisdom and all philosophy ; " and to
another, of kiudred spirit with the master, saying that wonderful
and unfathomable as are its mysteries, yet it " dwells in the breast
of man himself, and so fills his inner nature with its generous man-
ifestations, that his whole sense is turned towards them, and anew,
transfigured life wrests him, even while he is yet here below, from
the crushing weight and torment of earthly things." It is enough
for my purpose to ask you to look further for yourselves into the
biographies of the greatest artists and into the moral and intel-
lectual history of their times (into which Taine does not enter
deeply enough), and to see how their own faith coincided in sub-
stance with the views which I have placed before you.
It remains for us now only to form our judgment upon Mr.
Taine's philosophy of art, in the light of the convictions here
reached. I would term it rather incomplete, than false. It would
be erroneous to claim that it is a complete theory of that which it
would explain, for a reason precisely similar to that which would
forbid our admitting the entire sufficiency of a philosophy of things
in general, which should proceed only by what is falsely termed
the positive method, (as, for the most part, for example, Mr. Her-
bert Spencer's philosophy does). There are two ways of looking
at things, viz : from without and from within. By the one method
we simply record the impressions which phenomena produce on
the observer, together with the order in which they are seen to
coexist or to follow each other. By the other we seek to enter into
the nature of things, to comprehend the force which causes them,
and which constitutes their true being. Both methods have their
place, and are indispensable instruments of human knowledge.
Neither of them can long exist without the other. But only the
latter is truly philosophical. The former provides just such
results as any animal with fair logical powers, with well devel-
oped faculties of analysis and classification, but without the
rational insight and emotion of man, would arrive at. By this
I do not wish to throw any discredit — to attempt this would be
foolish — upon positive science and the positive method. They
The Philosophy of Art, 15
are grandly useful, and when their philosophical worth is
not unduly estimated, worthy of most grateful praise. I mean
simply to intimate that they are the servants of man, and
not his master, and that they are therefore the servants of philos-
ophy, Avhich is the highest rational function of man, and not its
master. The positive method, dealing only with phenomena, fur-
nishes no knowledge of the real nature of things. Its ablest rep-
resentatives disavow with reason all knowledge of what matter,
force, and cause are. It retains the words as being conditionally
necessary to the existence of science. Sometimes it forgets its own
limitations, and then proceeding to define, gives to the words in
question meanings which it is easy to show are absurd.
Now, Mr. Taine does not belong avowedly to the so-called posi-
tivist school, but he follows a positive method. And he incautiously
defines these fundamental terms, just spoken of, proceeds theoret-
ically on the assumption of the truth of his definitions, and so
passes over or attempts to pass over on to the ground of philoso-
phy, carrying with him his positive method (the method of the
science of phenomena), which is only adapted to serve the purposes
of scientific or accurate observation, and not of philosophy, the
science of principles. Here is his luminous (!) definition of force,
taken from his comparatively recent and extensive work on Intelli-
gence : " Force is simply the property which one event has of
being followed by another of the same series or of another series."
The result of this singular and absurd definition (and yet not any
more absurd than were to be expected from a substitution of the
"positive" method — as above explained — for the philosophical
one) is the frank avowal by the author of his disbelief in the exist-
ence of what is commonly understood by substance and force.
" Nothing exists," these are his words, " but events, their condi-
tions, and dependencies." (What these can be, without substance
or force, I know not. M. Taine treats them, at any rate, from the
mechanical or positive [phenomenal] point of view only.) Again he
says, " the notion of fact or event alone corresponds to real things."
M. Taine's positive analysis here leads him away into the mists of
an abstract, mechanical phenomenalism. Again, in various works
of his he defines cause as equivalent to law, that is, observed law
of succession and co-existence. The shallowness of this I have
not time to point out. It will, I trust, be sufficiently obvious to
you. Now bear these definitions in mind and consider the follow-
ing definition of the masterpiece in art, taken from his " Ideal in
16 The Philosophy of Art.
Art : " " The masterpiece is that in which the greatest force
receives the greatest development." Substitute for the word force
in this sentence the definition of it above given, and the same for
the word cause (which is implied in the word " development "), and
see what sense you can make of it. Philosophy of art, or of any-
thing else, written from the standpoint of a principle so contra-
dictory and meaningless as this, can end only in the absurd. The
cause, says M. Taine, is the law. The law about art is that it cor-
responds to its environment. Does the law then account for the
correspondence ? Does it really cause it % ISTo, it simply states
what is the observable order of phenomena. That there is such
correspondence is what we should expect, from whatever point 01
view we regard the subject. For the philosopher it follows as the
simplest matter of course that in a world where all things are
believed to be akin in the foundation of their being, and where this
foundation is believed to be rational, there should be, so far as the
limitations of finite existence will permit, the strictest harmony
between the conditions and the product. And if, as we are com-
pelled to hold, the high and fundamental ideal nature of things, is
constantly seeking throughout the universe to realize itself more
adequately, we shall of course look for the brightest manifesta-
tions of it where there is the most favorable union of conditions-^
for there it will meet with least resistance. And so we have, in
the history of modern times, three great efflorescences of the ideal
in art — first in architecture, then in painting, and finally in music
— each at the time when circumstances and conditions were most
favorable, i. e., when they offered least resistance to the idea, but
each the manifestation under a form of its own of the same ideal
principle, the same kinship of man with the eternal, the same love
of the soul for the perfect simplicities, harmonies, splendors of
the ideal world of true thought. ,
I must consider M. Taine's contributions to the philosophy of art
as of slight value, as, in fact, false except where, as on pp. 160, 169
of the Art en Italic, he admits causes and motives* which are in
contradiction with his general philosophy. But as a contribution
to what may be called the natural history of art, his works are of
exceeding interest and great value.
* The former spontaneous, the latter ideal.
(17)
EMPIRICISM AND COMMON LOGIC.
By John Watson.
The aim of a philosophy being to give a full and self-consistent
explanation of knowledge, its value may be exactly estimated by
its freedom from the presuppositions and inconsistencies of ordi-
nary thinking. The impulse to know necessarily precedes any
doubt of the attainability of knowledge, or any analysis of the
grounds on which it rests. The unreflecting observer, whose only
speculative notions are those that have nourished his mind as un-
consciously as food and air have helped to build up his body, can
only by an effort comprehend that facts, apparently simple and
self-evident, need for thek ultimate justification to be brought tc»
the test of philosophical criticism. Least of all has he any tend-
ency to suspect the truth of those beliefs, that concern the nature
of the common world of sense, which seems simply to copy itself
in the passive mirror of his own consciousness. That there exists,,
apart in itself, and just as he perceives it, a world of realities, that
was before any mind was there to know it. and would be if every
mind were annihilated, he does not once begin to doubt. The ele-
ments of which this really complex conception is the product were
never consciously distinguished, and are now so completely fused
together as to seem an indissoluble unity. Hence, when philosophy
seeks to resolve knowledge into its primal constituents, the precon-
ceptions of common sense, from which it must needs start, offer a
stubborn resistance to the successful completion of the task. To
a failure to overcome this hindrance to a thorough analysis and
reconstruction of knowledge, the philosophical theory known as
Empiricism owes its origin.
The first and crudest form of Empiricism simply formulates what
is most obviously in every one's consciousness, maintaining that
all real knowledge is of individual things, as manifoldly qualified
and self-existent, i. e. as unrelated either to consciousness or to
each other. These objects are supposed to be passively appre-
hended by sense, in their integrity and isolation, without any exer-
cise of thought. A distinction, indeed, is usually made between
secondary qualities of body, which are only affections of the sen-
sitive organism, and primary qualities, which have an extra-organic
existence; but this in no way affects the fundamental position,
that objects exist as they are known, and are known as they exist.
X— 2
18 Empiricism and Common Logic.
As thing's with the full complement of attributes that make up
their reality, are thus given ready-made to sense, thought is neces-
sarily conceived as purely formal in its activity. Incapable of
originating anything, it can only compare one object with another,
detach resembling qualities and recombine them after a fashion
of its own. In this way general conceptions are formed, which
only differ from the real things they are abstracted from in the
possession of fewer attributes and in the arbitrariness of their
unity. In the language of Locke, " general and universal belong
not to the* real existence of things, but are the inventions and
creatures of the understanding." Hence an abrupt contrast of
sense and thought, things and conceptions. To think is to relate,
and relation destroys the individuality of objects, putting asun-
der what nature has joined together. Knowledge, it would seem,
takes place only when the mind passively reflects the world ; it
is adequate when, undisturbed by the ''inventions" of the under-
standing, it reflects that world fully. It follows that we must
think in a different way from what we know, and that the under-
standing can only produce an illusion of knowledge. If the pres-
51 ervation of reality depends upon the exclusion of relation, the
only thing left for thought to do is to convert reality into fiction.
This theory commends itself to an ordinary way of thinking,
â– and seems to account for knowledge simply and naturally. True
as it seems, however, it is at once superficial and self-contradic-
tory. Its validity depends upon the possibility of keeping intact
the isolation of individual objects, for once bring them into rela-
tion and they will be infected with the taint of thought. Can
the antithesis of things and thoughts, implied in such an isola-
tion, be consistently maintained? If an object, as a complex of
qualities, is given to sense apart from relation, it must be known
in a simple and momentary act of consciousness ; for, were a sep-
arate sensation needed for the knowledge of each of its several
qualities, a series of relations would be required to combine these
qualities into a unity, and the opposition of thing and thought
would be destroyed. On the other hand, what are the properties
of an object but the sum of its relations to other objects? I can
only think of a quality as at once the quality of a thing and as
distinguished from, and therefore related to, other qualities of a
like kind. "Determination by negation" is the condition of any
knowledge whatever of a thing as qualified, and what is so deter-
mined is brought into relation with other things. To think of
Empiricism and Common Logic. 19
" gold " as " yellow," implies a comparison of the sensation by
which the quality is known with other sensations of color to which
it is negatively related, and, more obviously, the quality of duc-
tility or solubility involves a series of relations to other things.
The knowledge of each of the qualities that together make up
the object, implies a relation to other objects as qualified. And
not only is each of the qualities of a thing determined by its rela-
tion to the qualities of other things, but all the qualities that
belong to the same thing are determined, by successive judg-
ments, as related to each other. When one property has been
judged to belong to a thing, it is conceived as attaching naturally
to that thing and forming an integral part of it, and thus a fresh
determination of the partially qualified object becomes possible.
It is again brought into relation with other objects, and a prop-
erty, different in kind from that already known, is added. Thus
I judge that the object called "gold," which I already know to
be " yellow," is also " soluble in aqua regia." In this way, by
being successively brought into relation with other things, a
thing multiplies in attributes exactly as knowledge concerning it
increases. But if so, what becomes of the assumed opposition
between thought and reality ? Either the real existence of the
individual does not depend upon its being completely qualified,
or reality is constituted by relations of thought. To accept the
latter alternative is to abandon the fundamental position of Em-
piricism ; and hence, still grasping at the antithesis of nature and
thought, its advocates try to preserve the reality of knowledge
by. maintaining that, while sensation does not reveal a variously
qualified object, it makes known a quality in its singleness. For
the individual, in other words, is substituted the particular ; for
isolated things, isolated qualities of things. Thought is still
regarded as inadequate to a knowledge of the real, from its incom-
petence to apprehend objects in their unrelated simplicity, but its
domain is vastly enlarged, and its method of procedure reversed.
Whatever complexity may be shown to attach to kuowledge is
referred to the inventive activity of the understanding ; and, as
complexity can only result from the putting together of simple
elements, thinking is now regarded as a gradual process of com- v
plication, and not, as formerly, of abstraction, or at least of the
former as the condition of the latter. Does this revisal of Em-
piricism successfully avoid the introduction of relativity into the
knowledge of real existence \
20 Empiricism and Common Logic.
A negative answer to this question has already been given by
implieation. The knowledge of a single quality involves rela-
tions of thought not less than the knowledge of a multiplicity of
qualities. By identifying a momentary sensation with the qual-
ity of a thing which is not momentary but permanent, something
unaffected by illusion seems to be obtained. This seeming exclu-
sion of illusion, however, is itself illusive. Just because a sen-
sation is in itself simple and individual, and therefore free from
relation, it cannot be identified with the quality of a thing which
is neither simple nor individual. The latter is a registered result
of a series of comparisons between like sensations, and therefore
is overlaid by the invention of the understanding. Only as
arrested in the moment of its disappearance from consciousness-
by something other than itself, and fixed by relation to other sen-
satious, whose mere individuality is likewise converted into uni-
versality, does a sensation become representative of the quality
of a thing. Quality is meaningless except as relative to a sub-
? stance which it qualifies, i. e., to something which remains identical
with itself through a multiplicity of times. Nothing less than
this is involved in the distinction of reality and fiction. But as-
sensation cannot survive the moment of its origination without
distinguishing itself as existing at one moment from itself as ex-
isting at a different moment, and such distinction involves rela-
tion to something that does not pass away. Nor can a sensation
be identical with itself, for successive sensations, while they may
be similar, cannot be the same. Thus the contradiction implicit
in the opposition of thought and reality once more emerges, and
, again forces upon us the alternative of giving up the knowledge
of the real, or of admitting the originative activity of thought.
The attempt to exclude thought from the construction of reality
has already compelled the Empiricist to attenuate real know-
ledge to the reception of single qualities in their isolation ; and
now, still refusing to adopt the only way of escape that will at
once break down the false antithesis of thought and knowledge
and at the same time account for real existence, he clings to the
reality of mere sensation rather than sunender his belief in the
passivity of the mind. It may be impossible, as it is, to appre-
hend a complex of qualities, or even a single quality, in a mo-
mentary act of consciousness; as it may, and must be admitted
that there is no external object, independent of consciousness;
but at least the reality of sensation, which cannot be infected
Empiricism and Common Logic. 21
y/
â– with relations of thought, is indubitable. This is the attitude of
the Empiricist, as at last brought to bay. The realm of illusion
Las now encroached so far upon the world of reality as to
threaten completely to submerge it, and the only defence against
the advancing tide of scepticism is the thin barrier of individual
sensation. That gone, the only way in which the domain of real
knowledge can be retained must be by a complete change of
method. Meantime, what has to be explained is not the know-
ledge of a real world, existing apart in itself, but the fiction by
which we come to imagine that there is such a world.
The two forms of the Empirical hypothesis now considered,
which are not only diverse but contradictory — the one maintain-
ing that knowledge begins where, according to the other, it ends
— are not to be found anywhere stated with that explicitness
which at once manifests their inherent opposition. But, by strip-
ping off the disguise of ambiguous language and misleading asso-
ciations, they may be discerned, lying side by side in contrasting
juxtaposition, in the pages of Locke, of the Scottish Realists,
and, generally, of all Empiricists. This, indeed, is inevitable ;
for the dialectic which transforms the uncritical assumption of a^
self-dependent world into its opposite, is continually repeated in
the arena of ordinary consciousness itself. The one position to
which common sense remains true is that the mind is passively
receptive of reality, and that objects are given in an instantane-
ous act of consciousness. But while, in the main, what is appre-
hended seems to be the manifoldly qualified individual, there are
oases in which fjualities are apparently given singly, as when an
odor or taste is felt for the first time, a sound newly heard, or a
sudden change of color perceived. Formulated, the seeming dif-
ference of complexity in the content of sensation comes forth as
the two theories of knowledge, whose incompatibility has just
been shown. Moreover, common sense, in holding, as it certainly
does in an unconscious way, that the test of reality is the imme-
diateuess of sensation, virtually surrenders the test of reality as
determined by the independence of a material object — the stage
at which we have now arrived in our criticism of Empiricism.
This new simplification of Empiricism has been already refuted
by anticipation. Nothing of the original theory remains except
the antithesis of sensation as real, and thought as fictitious, but
even this modest claim to reality cannot be consistently main-
tamed. The workmanship of the mind will manifest itself in the
22 Empiricism and Common Logic.
very rudiments of knowledge, and force the admission of the
constructive activity of thought. Xot even the mere individu-
ality of sensation can substantiate its plea for exemption from
the inventions of the understanding. An isolated sensation can-
not be real, because, as indeterminate, it is mere zero. To be in
* consciousness at all, it must be related to other sensations, to
which it is at once like and unlike. Mere sensation cannot ae-
couut for the appearance of knowledge, not to speak of reality,
for in itself it is nothing. This objection cannot be met, it can
only be disguised. The individual sensation must be complicated
with the constructions of thought, under shelter of ambiguous
phraseology, in order that its seeming independence of thought
may be plausibly preserved. This is the cue of Berkeley and.
Hume, as of all their followers. The sleight of hand by which
the mystification is effected is a dexterous use of such expres-
sions as " natural relations," and "association of ideas," which
cover, but do not dispense with, the creative activity of thought.
? It is by surreptitiously investing sensation with relations of
thought, while seeming to extract them from it in its simplicity,
that Mr. Mill gives plausibility to his " psychological theory of
the belief in an external world." He "postulates" the "laws
of association," which, as sensations do associate themselves, is
tacitly to assume at the outset the manifold relations which only
thought can constitute. Following Hume, he starts with the
"law" that " similar phenomena tend to be thought of together,"
i. e., with association in the way of resemblance. Assuming that
" phenomena " here means feelings, as it should in a theory which
feigns to derive the conception of matter from sensation, as orig-
inally given or as reproduced, the law must be interpreted to sig-
nify that those sensations which have a natural affinity for each
other tend to coalesce and form groups. This clearly implies
that one sensation compares itself with another, and, observing
the likeness and unlikeness that subsists between them, attaches
itself to the other in virtue of their mutual likeness. This, how-
ever, is not to derive knowledge from simple sensations, but to
destroy their simplicity by investing them with the faculty of
comparison, distinction, and identification. If a sensation is
competent to perform this act of relation, it is competent to per-
form any act of relation, however complex. Grant that the sen-
sation "white" may distinguish itself from, and relate itself to,
the seusatiou "red," and we cannot deny that it may equally
Empiricism and Common Logic. 23
retain and compare itself successively with any indefinite number
of sensations, until it has compassed a knowledge of the whole
universe. In assuming that a sensation carries with it relations
to other sensations, we assume what is true not of sensation in
itself, but only of the mind as conscious of sensation. Associa-
tion by resemblance involves the presence of a permanent factor
to serve as a bond of connection between fleeting impressions,
taking them out of their isolation and relating them to each other,
and such a permanent factor can be found in thought alone. It
is true that thought does not separately apprehend sensations,
and afterward compare and relate them. The relation is given
in the consciousness of each, but not the less is the active pres-
ence of thought implied ; for were there no unifying activity,
even the meagre amount of relation required for the conscious-
ness of two sensations in one act would be impossible. To be
consistent in excluding the constitutive action of thought, even
the seemingly trifling admission that an individual sensation may
in itself resemble another sensation cannot be allowed. The ad-
mission, however, is not trifling; for, once allow that sensation
may perform any act of relation whatever, and no limit can bei/
set to its relating activity. AVe have but to take association by
resemblance to cover association in the way of succession and
co-existence, and the belief in an external world follows as a
matter of course. The permanence and self-dependence of things,
which is what mainly distinguishes them from our subjective
states, is tacitly assumed when, under the disguise of association
by resemblance, a self in permanent relation to sensation is
quickly substituted for sensation in its mere individuality. By
its power of universalizing the particular, thought, if granted
sensations to begin with, will rear the whole fabric of knowledge.
This is the secret of the plausibility of Mr. Mill's reduction of
the belief in matter to mere feeling. The laws of association that
he postulates at the start, implicitly contain the manifold rela-
tions by which knowledge, as it is to a rational being, is consti-
tuted. Any one of a group of resembling sens3tious (in the
wide meaning of resemblance above mentioned) instantaneously
suggests all the others that, by frequent repetition, have become
inseparably associated with it; and, uniformity of association
being inevitably confounded with objective connection, perma-
nent possibilities of sensation come at length to appear self-iden-
tical and independent of the sensations from which thev were
24 Empiricism and C<,mmon Logic.
generated. Now, if for "permanent possibilities of sensation' 1
we substitute "permanent relations of thought to sensation,"
this account of the origin of real knowledge will be fairly aecu-
rate, although to do so is not to correct but completely to change
the theory. It is, roughly speaking, by a comparison of resem-
bling sensations, i. e., sensations that are at once like and unlike,
that that " determination by negation " which is the condition of
knowledge, is carried on. But thus to compare and distinguish
is not passively to apprehend impressions, but to substantiate
them by relations that only thought can constitute. Thus the
so-called " laws " of association are seen to be the bringing of
the particular under categories. The minimum of knowledge is
the judgment "something is here," and "something'' is implicitly a
â– " permanent possibility of sensations," because, being the reflex
of a permanent self, it is a completely qualified thing in po-
tentiality. Unlike a sensation, it does not pass away with the
moment of its appearance, but remains identical with itself. At
each fresh stage in the development of thought a more concrete
category comes into play, and the goal of perfected knowledge is
the thing in the fullness of its relations. But if this is a true
account of knowledge, the only thing that can, with absolute
truth, be called a "permanent possibility of sensations" is
thought itself. Things are so named only in the secondary sense
of deriving their permanence from the unifying action of thought.
^As permanent they are the universalizatious of the individual
through the particular, as thought is the individualization of the
particular through its own universality. Thus substances lose
that aspect of hard and rigid isolation which they present to the
eye of sense, and become instinct with the life of thought. They
are seen to be constituted by a universe of relations, of which
self-consciousness is at once the centre and the circumference,
the beginning and the end, and to manifest the self-development
of an eternal and immortal spirit. The relative positions of
thought and nature thus change places. Starting with the famil-
iar opposition of sense aud thought, things and conceptions, we
have found that, by simply forcing Empiricism to account for
itself, one portion of the domain of nature after another has to
be given up, until at last there is none that has not come under
the sway of thought. When even the individuality of sensation
has been wrested from the grasp of the Empiricist, his last hold
upon reality is loosened, and with it the possibility of accounting
Empiricism and Common Logic. 25
for even the appearance of knowledge; from all of which we
learn the lesson that there is no sure halting-place short of an
absolute idealism that recognizes the rationality of the real and
the reality of the rational.
The impotence of Empiricism to account for knowledge, or
even the illusion of knowledge, having been proved, there can be
no great difficulty in showing the futility of common logic, as-
an explanation of the powers of thought. Formulating the pre-
conceptions of common sense, Empiricism gives two mutually
contradictory theories of knowledge : maintaining, on the one
hand, that the individual thing, as a complex of attributes, is -
given ready-made to consciousness, and on the other hand that
the real as presented is the mere individual. From these oppo-
site views have grown up the two forms of the logic of common
sense — syllogistic or deductive logic, corresponding to the form,
and applied or inductive logic, based upon the latter — which are
really contradictory of each other, with whatever plausibility
they may be reconciled.
Syllogistic logic, as its origin necessitates, is nominalism. The
concrete thing being assumed to be given, as concrete, to start
-with, apart from any activity of thought, the only thing left for
thought to do is to recombine in an arbitrary manner the attri-
butes it has stripped off. At each stage in the process, thought
is going farther away from reality, and when it has reached the
goal of its efforts it has succeeded so well that all determination
has been removed, and nothing remains but a contentless abstrac-
tion. This is the theory of generalization upon which the syllo-
gism is based, and hence reasoning is supposed to be the inverse
process of gradually adding on the attributes that have been
taken away, until the concrete object, with which thought is sup-
posed to begin, is again reached.
A general conception, according to this account, must be relat-
ed to reality as its negation. Thus an uncompromising opposi-
tion is set up between the world of things and the world of
thought. Conceptions, indeed, are said to coincide with things,
but only in the sense that their content, being partially identical
with the attributes of objects — it can never be completely identi-
cal — is not positively contradictory of them. The only reality,
therefore, that can be predicated of conceptions, as conceptions,
is the meaning of the names by which they are expressed. If
this is a correct accouut of the powers of thought, it follows that
26 Empiricism and Common Logic.
thinking consists, not in the knowledge of reality, but in gradu-
ally receding from reality, and that thought will be most perfect
when knowledge has been reduced to the unthinkable abstraction
of "pure being." This result is simply the logical complement
of that reduction of knowledge to the mere individuality of sen-
sation, which is the outcome of Empiricism as a psychological
theory; for an individual sensation, as indeterminate, is simply
the abstraction of relation to consciousness, and therefore identi-
cal with the category of "being." Nor, again, is it possible to
add the smallest item to the knowledge we are assumed to start
with, for to think is to abstract, and thus to take from the store
of knowledge we already possess, not to increase it. Thought is
therefore tied down to the analysis of the meaning of names, and
the explicit declaration of that meaning in propositions or syllo-
gisms. There is no way of escape from this conclusion, so long
as real objects are assumed to be given to consciousness without
any exercise of thought. What is called conceptualism is but
a less consistent nominalism. To say, as the eonceptualists do r
that conceptions are as real as the things of which they are more
or less meagre outlines, is as contradictory as to maintain that
the reflection of an object is real in the same sense as the object
itself. As the only reality that can be ascribed to an image as
such is borrowed from what it represents. So the only reality of
a conception is its relation to things, i. e., the signification of its
name. At the most, a conception can only be a greater or less
approximation to reality. It is not pretended that the processes
of abstraction and generalization in any way affect the real exis-
tence of objects, and hence thought must be nearest to real
knowledge when it is least exercised. Even the minimum of ab-
straction, the elimination of the particular place and time in
which the individual is presented in perception, must falsify real
existence to that extent, as the maximum must completely destroy
it. A general conception is admittedly thinkable only through
its relations to individuals, which just means that to have real
knowledge we must go back to the completely qualified object
from which we set out; and this is nominalism.
Refusing, as we must, to accept the concept ualistic correct ion
of nominalism, it follows that no general proposition is adequate
to the expression of reality. In every such proposition the sub-
ject is a general conception, and therefore the recorded result of
a greater or less remove from reality. All conceptions being
Empiricism and Common Logic. 27"
formed by a process of abstraction, their connotation is neces-
sarily less than that of the concrete thing from which they are
abstracted; and, as thought can originate nothing of itself, judg-
ment can only consist in stating explicitly the attributes which
are implicit in conception, i. e., in evolving the meaning of a name.
Hence all general propositions at least must be merely verbal. A
judgment is simply the analysis of the meaning of a conception
already known, and the form of predication an index that such
an analysis has been made. In a general proposition there is
less expressed in the predicate than is implied in the subject, it
being merely affirmed that a given conception contains a certain
attribute or attributes among others. Thus, in the proposition
"gold is a metal," it is asserted that of the totality of attributes
signified by the name " gold," those attributes connoted by the
term "metal" form a part. A judgment, on this theory, is not
a way of attaining to real knowledge, but a way of getting away
from it. It indicates a further advance than conception in that
process of abstraction which only ends with the disappearance
of the last vestige of reality. One result of this falsification of
the process of thought is the impossibility of the science of na-
ture. No aggregation of singular propositions is competent to-
the expression of a law of nature ; for this only a general propo-"
sition will serve, and such a proposition, as it seems, is inade-
quate to express real knowledge. Do we, then, reach a more sat-
isfactory result by limiting ourselves to singular propositions'?
No, for any predication whatever implies an act of abstraction,,
and therefore destroys reality. If, in the proposition, " this rose
is red," we suppose the subject to refer to a concrete object exist-
ing here and now, the predicate expresses the abstraction of the
attribute " red " from the complex of attributes given, and there-
fore converts reality into illusion. The only way, it would ap-
pear, in which the reality of things may be preserved is not to
judge of them at all; which just means that, thought being ini-^
possible without relation, nothing real can be thought. It is
hardly necessary to point out that, as the individual cannot be
judged of without losing its reality, so neither can it be known,
since knowledge implies judgment. But if so, not even the pre-
carious footing that science may seem to have in the singular
proposition can be maintained, since a singular is no more com-
petent than a general proposition to express anything real. These-
results cannot be avoided by changing our point of view from
28 Empiricism and Common Logic.
the connotation to the denotation of terms. This alteration
simply makes the futility of syllogistic logic as an account of the
process of knowing, more obvious. If the relation expressed by
a proposition is that of a part to a whole of extension, the predi-
cate merely states that of a certain number of individuals indi-
cated by a class, the fewer number of individuals expressed by
the subject are a part. If the proposition "gold is a metal,"
means, as is implied in the theory of conversion, that the indi-
viduals named "gold' 1 are some of the aggregate of individuals
called "metals," evidently we are simply repeating what we are
already supposed to know, without advancing a single step. And
if we accept the doctrine of " the qualification of the predicate "
and its consequences, it is not less evident that, as the individu-
als composing the class " metals," to which the predicate refers,
can only be those which are indicated by the subject, viz : those
composing the species " gold," the proposition is but the identical
one, " gold is gold," and an identical proposition is merely verbal.
This is what is implied in setting up the " law of identity " as
the supreme canon of affirmative propositions ; for the formula A
is A, is, like the category of "being," the mere abstraction of re-
lation to consciousness, and only affirms that what is in con-
sciousness is in consciousness.
After what has been said as to the relation of conceptions and
propositions, few words are needed to dispose of the syllogism.
As the proposition is a more decided departure from reality than
the conception, so the syllogism carries the process of abstrac-
tion still further. Having reduced the number of attributes of
a conception by predication, the syllogism reduces the attributes
thus obtained by a new predication. Thus, to retain our former
example, the totality of attributes signified by the name "gold"
being limited to those connoted by the term " metal," a further
limitation is effected by predicating "substance" of "metal,"
which gives a syllogism in the fourth figure :
Gold is a metal.
A metal is a substance.
Therefore gold is a substance,
in which the conclusion expresses a more advanced stage of re-
trogression from reality than either of the premises, being in fact
simply the subject of the major premise after abstraction has
been made from all attributes except those connoted by the term
-"substance." There is here no real inference, no advance from
Empiricism and Common Logic. 29
the "known to the unknown," but a mere change of name in
conformity with a changed point of view. Hence there is no
adequate reason for restricting formal reasoning to three terms
and three propositions ; an indefinite number of terms and pro-
positions may be linked together by simply carrying on the pro-
cess of abstraction until, by successive acts, we have entirely
eliminated detemniation. This is the rationale of the " Sorites,"
which shows that any number of propositions may be strung
together by taking the predicate of one proposition as the subject
of the next. The ordinary syllogism is simply the union of two
purely verbal propositions, and may be thus stated : a thing
which, under one aspect, is called by a certain name, may also,
under another aspect, be called by another name, and under a
different aspect by a still different name ; as, in the example given
above, " gold," which is so called from connoting certain attri-
butes, may also be called, when regarded as having fewer attri-
butes, by the name "metal," and, as possessed of still fewer
attributes, by the name "substance." Syllogistic logic, when
thus reduced to its bare formalism, may well be regarded as
admitting only of "trifling propositions." A like result is of
course reached by an examination of the syllogism of extension.
If the qualified predicates of the premises are really identical
with their respective subjects, the quantified predicate of the
conclusion will be identical with its own subject. Thus, stated
tersely, our former example of the syllogism becomes,
Gold = the metal named gold = the substance named gold."
Syllogistic logic is thus based upon a radical misconception of*
the relation of thought and knowledge. To assume that we
already know is not to account for knowledge, and this is what
the restricting of thought to an analysis of the meaniug of names
implies. The actual process of thinking is exactly the reverse
of vphat formal logic supposes it to be. The completely qualified
individual is the goal and not the starting-point of knowledge.
Thinking is a gradual progress from the abstract to the concrete, *-
and not the reverse, as Empiricism and common logic assume.
It is true that of the absolutely abstract nothing can be said, as
the absolutely concrete is the ideal mark toward which the indi-
vidual thinker is continually pressing forward, but to which he
never completely attains. The beginning of intelligent con-
-:;:- Note. — The validity of formal lo^ic is ably discussed, Irom a different
point of view, by Prof. Vera. Jour. Spec. Phil., Vol. VII., No. 3, p. GO it'.
30 Empiricism and Common Logic.
seiousness is the opposition of an object to self, as expressed in
the formula: " something is present to me which I did not make
for myself." Xothing less is involved in any theory which is to
account for knowledge at all, and what it implies is that the mere
individual, as out of relation to thought, is unknowable. From
this minimum of relation, intelligence advances to new and wider
relations, so that the most complete knowledge is also the most
complex. Hence the substitution of a true conception of the
universal for the false conception which identifies it with a class
name. The universal is the sum of relations by which a thing is
determined as real, the absolute universal the totality of rela-
tions of all things to each other. And, as things owe their rela-
tions to self-consciousness, from self-consciousness all reality
proceeds and to it all must return. The conception of logic, as
the science of thought, is thus thoroughly altered and simplified.
The false antithesis of nature and thought, experience and rea-
/ eoning, disappears when it is seen that nature or experience is
â– constituted by relations to universal thought or reason. So, too,
the hard opposition of "matter" and "form," "concrete" and
*' abstract," " conuotative " and " non-counotative," breaks down
iil)on a perception of their strict corelativity. Finally, to give
•one other instance, analysis and synthesis, deduction and induc-
tion, are transcended by a process, which at once differentiates
and integrates, individualizes and universalizes.
And this leads us to consider the logical system that has grown
•out of the second form of Empiricism — the so-called Inductive
Logic. A more thorough attempt to exclude relations of thought,
leads the Empiricist, as we have seen, to maintain that know-
ledge begins with individual sensations, as representatives of
single qualities of objects, and that thought consists in putting
together the " simple ideas " thus given to it. Reality is now
assumed to lie, not in the complex of qualities constituting a
thing, but in these qualities taken separately. As, however, con-
sciousness of the quality of a thing implies relation as much as
consciousness of a number of qualities, Empiricism, striving to
be consistent in excluding the activity of thought, finally seeks
to derive knowledge from simple sensations or copies of sensa-
tion. But as no progress can be made from pure sensation to
something other than itself, the reality or even the appearance of
knowledge can be accounted for only by the reiutroduction of that
relation to self-consciousness which is ostensibly excluded ; and
Empiricism coid Common Logic. 31
hence permaueut, identical and uintually related things are qui-
etly substituted for momentary aud isolated sensations, under
cover of habitual associations. Upon this compromise between
a pure sensationalism and a thorough idealism the common the-
ory of induction is founded. Were the Empiricist consistent in
admitting nothiug but feeling as it is to the individual, a science
of nature, or even the fiction of such a science, would be inex-
plicable. Hence, while pretending to deny the originative activ-
ity of thought, he tacitly assumes that objects are independent
of feeling, and thus brings back the relations he seems to ex-
clude. As was to be expected from its genesis, the ordinary •
inductive logic is a mixture of truth and error. Unlike syllo-
gistic logic, it correctly represents knowledge as gradually pro-
ceeding from the abstract to the concrete, the past to the future,
the known to the unknown; but of the ultimate grounds upon
which the validity of this process rests it can give no consistent
account. That the canons of inductive logic are valid within the -
sphere of physical science, we have no wish to deny ; the point
at issue is whether the method which they formalize is justifi-
able, upon the assumption that all knowledge originates in feel-
ing.
The foundation of induction are those uniformities or laws of
nature which, on the Empirical " hypothesis" of their origin, we
must suppose to be passively apprehended by experience. If
there were no such laws, no general propositions in regard to
nature would be possible. These uniformities are mainly reduc-
ible to the law of causation, which, upon the supposition that
thought has no constructive power, is explained to be an observed
uniformity of succession, not between things, but between feel-
ings. There is uo necessary connection of events, although there
is a fixed order in their succession. Finding that such an order
obtaiias in an indefinite number of observed instances, we gener-
alize our experience, and conclude universally that nature as a
whole is uniform. Expressed in terms of feeling, this theory
must be interpreted to mean that certain sensations, from being
habitually associated in the way of resemblance and of order in
time and place, become inseparably associated in consciousness,
and assume the appearance of self-identical objects, permanent
aud independent of consciousness ; and that, certain groups of
*' permanent possibilities" being frequently associated in one defi-
nite order of succession, a new form of inseparable association is
.32 Empirieism and Common Logic.
created, winch is naturally and inevitably confounded with a
necessary connection in the sequence of things. The law of
causation is thus a uniform, but by no means a necessary con-
nection of associated feelings.
The most obvious reflection upon this theory is that it is a
scepticism in disguise, as its parentage in Hume would lead us
to expect. It is not, as it pretends to be, an account of the
origin of real knowledge, but a disproof of the possibility of
such knowledge. jSTature is a " fortuitous concourse" of feelings
that happen to follow in a fixed order, but which might have
followed in any other order, or in no order at all. If knowledge
is to be more than a name, the real world must be something
that, in virtue ot universal relations to thought, may be known
by all intelligences ; whereas the net result of this theory is
that nothing can be known save the order of feelings as they are
for the individual consciousness. But how can we call that
knowledge, which is merely a succession of feelings as they
happen to suggest each other to the individual .' As there is no
reason why they should not have come in a totally different
order, any combination of feelings is equally entitled to the name.
The Empiricist is of course ready with the reply that whether
observed uniformities of feeling are entitled to be called know-
ledge, is merely a dispute about words, since to such uniformi-
ties the law of causation, upon which induction is based, is dem-
onstrably reducible. Upon the possibility of reconciling this
theory of causation with the procedure of the physical sciences.
we are willing to rest the whole question.
Such expressions as "uniformity in the succession of phe-
nomena," " fixed order in our sensations," "a constancy of ante-
cedence and sequence," and the like, imply that it is by repeated
associations of feelings in a definite order of succession that
belief in the uniformity of nature is generated. Xor are these
expressions merely an adaptation to the usages of popular lan-
guage; they are essential to the plausible characterization of the
law of causation, upon the denial of necessary connection be-
tween objects. But if repeated acts of association between
feelings — we are not told how many — are required to create a
uniformity among phenomena, it must be impossible to make a
valid induction from a single instance. And yet one of the
canons of inductive logic — the canon which admittedly forma-
lizes the most perfect method of the sciences, the "method of
Empiricism and Common Logic. 33
difference v — is based upon the principle that one properly con-
ducted experiment is sufficient to give absolute certainty of a
law of nature. "When a chemist," says Mr. Mill, "announces
the existence and properties of a newly discovered substance, if
we confide in his accuracy, we feel assured that the conclusion he
has arrived at will hold universally, although the induction be
founded on but a single instance." Here is a general law of
nature, inferred without hesitation from a single instance. No
words could more flatly contradict the account of causation as '
the product of an " order of succession " gradually generated by
repeated associations of feelings. According to the one view,
the belief in a uniformity of natural phenomena should be of
various degrees of intensity, varying from the faintest possibility
to absolute certainty ; according to the other, it is as strong on
the first instance as any number of instances could make it. It
may be replied that, while frequent acts of association are needed
to generate the conception of uniformity, that conception, once
acquired, may be directly applied to any new instance. " Only
the scientific man," it may be said," to whom nature is already a
system of unvarying laws, could apply the 'method of difference;'
the law of causation is itself an induction, being nothing more
than a generalized statement of the observed fact that, so far as
our knowledge has gone, there is no exception to uniformity of
sequence in events." Now, that the principle of the uniformity
ot nature is not given to man in the form of a general proposi-
tion, but gradually discovered, is of course a mere truism. The
question is, whether a regular succession of feelings, as they are
to the individual, is sufficient to account for those special uniform
mities that are inferred from a single instance. Does not the
very assertion that causality, as a general law, is but a summing
np of special cases of causation, overthrow the derivation of
these cases from an invariable order of succession between feel-
ings ? If a given instance of succession is not of itself sufficient
to establish a causal relation, no reference to the general law of
causation can be of any avail. The general law can only warn .
us that we may expect to find a fixed order of association be-
tween every group of possibilities of sensation, it cannot tell
ns between what groups the uniformity obtains. On the con-
trary it is claimed, and rightly claimed by Mr. Mill, that the
general uniformity of nature, being related to particular uniform-
ities, as the major proposition of a syllogism to the minor,
X— 3
34 Empiricism and Common Logic.
depends upon do exception being' found in the case of special
uniformities. Each instance of the law of causation must there-
fore be determined upon its own merits. Suppose, then, that " a
chemist announces the existence and properties of a newly dis-
covered substance," i. e., the association for the first time of cer-
tain possibilities of sensation hitherto unassociated ; have we
any right to " feel assured that the conclusion he has arrived at
will hold universally, although the induction be founded on but a
single instance?" Assuredly not, if we are to be consistent in
deriving every case of causation from a uniform association of
feelings. There is no possible meaning in calling that order of
succession "uniform," which has occurred only once. But if the
connection of feelings is not uniform, it is indistinguishable from
associations of feelings, that are notoriously but the play of
fancy or the sport of arbitrary suggestion. Once again Ave hud
that, by persistently following out Empiricism to its logical con-
sequences, not merely all actual, but even all apparent, distinc-
tion between reality and fiction is obliterated. The force of this
criticism cannot be destroyed by any change in the form of the
theory, so long as the passivity of thought, and the consequent
reduction of facts to feelings, is maintained. If thought has
^ nothing to do with the constitution of experience, the relation of
cause and effect can only be explained as a sequence of feelings
as they are felt by the individual ; and if the legitimacy of sci-
entific method is to be even plausibly established, that sequence
must be declared to be a uniform one. Only one of two alter-
natives remains : either to preserve the possibility of science by
giving up the derivation of nature from associated feelings, or to
hold by the Empirical explanation of knowledge at the expense
of denying the validity of scientific procedure. The necessity of
> accepting the former alternative will be made more apparent by
pointing out the relations of thought that are covertly introduced
when the law of causation is ostensibly reduced to a uniform
succession of feelings.
Our criticism has hitherto proceeded upon the assumption
that invariability in the sequence of feelings does not involve
more than can be correctly referred to the origin of feeling. We
have now to enquire whether even the fiction of a necessary
connection between phenomena, which is not denied to exist, can
he accounted for upon the principles of Empiricism. In our
translation of the law of causation into terms of sensation, it
Empiricism and Common Logic. 35
appeared that belief in the uniform sequence of phenomena in-
volves the presupposition that individual feelings have, by fre-
quent association, assumed the appearance of permanent objects;
which, however, can only be correctly defined as "permanent
possibilities of sensation." To this it is added that, upon the
occasion of an actual sensation being- felt, a " countless variety
of possibilities of sensation" are instantaneously and uncon-
sciously suggested ; which manifestly assumes that the feelings
thus suggested are recognized as identical with those formerly
experienced, for otherwise they would want the characteristic
which distinguishes them from the contingent sensation accom-
panying them. Xo doubt the theory does not contemplate an
identity such as is implied in the continuous existence of an ob-
jective thing, but only the repetition of feelings, identical in de-
termination, although not numerically the same, with feelings
formerly felt, either under the same or under similar conditions ;
but at least the belief in " something which," in Mr. Mill's lan-
guage, "is fixed and the same, while our impressions vary," has
to be accounted for. Xow, no two feelings can be exactly iden-f
tioal ; the sensation I felt a moment ago is different from the
sensation I now feel, if for no other reason than that it exists in
a different instant of time. And what is true of my actual im-
pressions is equally true of my impressions as reproduced,
which, as Hume has shown once for all, only differ in vivacity ;
no feeling can be repeated, and therefore no feeling can be iden-
tical with itself. But " permanent possibilities of sensation" are
simply suggested feelings, and therefore cannot be self-identical.
The group of sensations, " that I might possibly feel under cer-
tain conditions," and Avhich an impression calls up by associa-
tion, may resemble feelings I have formerly experienced, but
they are not identical with them. Uniformity of sequence be-
tween feelings, therefore, does not meau, as at first seemed to be-
the case, a fixed order of succession between the same feelings,
but only a regular consecution of similar feelings ; and by the
law of causation must be understood a uniformity of association
between feelings that are like, but not identical. It is assumed,
however, that, while no two feelings can be identical, the order
of succession between them is unvarying; otherwise the law of
causation, as a fixed order in the connection of antecedent and
consequent, would vanish entirely, and with it the possibility of
a science of nature. But such a uniformity involves the concep-
3(3 Empiricism and Common Logic.
tion of identity as much as the belief in the permanent existence
of things, which it is brought forward to explain. The feelings
vary, the relation between them remains the same. Undoubt-
edly: but this is just to reinstate that originative activity of
thought which Empiricism exists to deny. The identity of ob-
jects, which was to be explained away, is secretly brought back
under the disguise of a uniform succession of feelings. No
sooner do we oppose uniformity to change than we reintroduce
the whole sum of relations by which the world is constituted.
There is no difficulty in plausibly resolving the laws of nature
into a uniformity in the succession of feeling, because such a
uniformity involves identity; identity implies the permanence of
objects ; and permanent objects are necessarily related, in so far
as they succeed each other as cause and effect. A. uniform se-
quence of feelings implies the relation of feelings to a conscious-
ness that not only feels but thinks — i. e., which prevents sensa-
tions from vanishing by bringing them into permanent relations
with each other — and therefore that "necessary connection" in
the way of causality which is synonymous with the exercise of
thought. An attempt will hardly be made to obviate this con-
clusion by saying that the uniformity spoken of does not imply
identity, but only similarity, of succession. Without laboring
to extract meaning from the meaningless statement that the law
of causation is a similar succession of similar feelings, it is suffi-
cient to say that a similar, not less than an absolute uniformity,
involves the conception of identity. Things are only similar in
so far as they are both like and unlike, and to judge of their
likeness involves an act of comparison and identification, which
we have already seen to be beyond the reach of mere sensation.
Thus we have successively seen that the Empiricist cannot
account for the belief in a necessary connection of events or in
the permanence and identity of objects ; nor for his assumption
of a uniform order of identical feelings or of similar feelings;
nor for similarity in the sequence of similar feelings : nor, we
may add, for a sequence of feelings, neither similar nor iden-
tical, i. e., f>r succession in time. In its attempt to explain away
the necessary connection or permanent relations <>f things. Em-
piricism only succeeds in explaining itself away, and thus in
unwittingly establishing the originative activity of self-con-
sciousness.
(37)
FAUST AND MAKGAEET.
Translated from the German of Karl Rosenkranz, by Anna C. Brackett.
The first part of the tragedy may be said in general to lead us
over from the unity of heaven into the disruption of the world.
The angels, lost in the view of the universe, sing the praise of
the Lord:
" The sun-orb sings in emulation
Mid brother spheres his ancient round :
His path predestined through creation
He ends with step of thunder sound.
The angels from his vision splendid
Draw power whose measure none can say ;
The lofty works, uncomprehended.
Are bright as on the earliest day."
The world of finite relations comes to Faust, with Mephistoph-
eles. lie ridicules the longings which drive Faust into distance,
like a fool half conscious of his follv, who seeks the most beau-
tiful star out of the heavens, and at the same time the greatest
pleasure on the earth. The Lord takes him, in spite of this accu-
sation, into his protection, because the good man in his dim im-
pulse is conscious of the right way. He guarantees success to
Faust, while he bids Mephistopheles to try to draw him away
from the Source of his being.
After this scene in heaven, we see Faust in his Gothic study,
where he has spent so many sleepless nights over his books and
papers. He breaks out in wild despair over the empty results of
his efforts in the sciences. He has gone through them all. He
is called Master and Doctor, but he has the consciousness that
he is only making fools of his pupils. He is convinced that we
can know nothing of the Truth, and this conviction well nigh
consumes his heart. Philosophy is no fit subject for poetry,
because it deals with pure thinking, which can admit of no sen-
suous images. The poet has therefore done rightly in painting
this speculative pathos as a mere mood. Thus can philosophy
appear as poetry, for the struggle of mankind after the certainty
of truth is poetic. The majority of men pass their lives care-
lessly. They allow themselves to be couteut with everything in
38 Faust and Margaret.
the world, without troubling themselves to think at all about it.
It exists, and they also. Day and night, the seasons, war and
peace succeed each other. Man is born, eats, drinks, sleeps, dies,
etc. But the philosopher is sick at the estrangement which
thinking has created between itself and the world. The very
same world with which the simple, average, e very-day, believing
man feels himself in such harmony, it is, which is torment for
him. He does not hesitate to question the existence of the whole
world ; nay, more, his own. He will no longer deal in words, but
he will look at all the active forces and germs in their truth.
Since science has failed to satisfy Faust, he will try magic, which
can however offer him only a theatrical spectacle. Knowledge,
like our theoretical freedom, must be worked out by our own
efforts. A knowledge which is conferred upon us contradicts the
very idea of knowledge. The sign of the macrocosm shows to
Faust the harmony of the universe, how the golden buckets rise
and sink, how the divine forces sound forth their harmony
through the All, how they press towards the earth laden with
blessings. But alas! for him this is only a theatrical display.
He knows not how to reach the sources of all this life. While
they well forth and give drink to all, he languishes in vain. The
sign of the microcosm produces another effect upon him. He feels
himself lifted up in spirit, and glows as with new wine, but yet
he cannot endure the flaming figure of the Earth Spirit whom he
has conjured. A shudder seizes him who fancies himself super-
human, and the busy spirit who works
" In the titles of life, in action's storm,"
between heaven and earth, tells him, imperiously, that he is
like the spirit whom he comprehends — but not like him. The
individual man feels himself powerless before the colossal forms
of nature. Faust, who restlessly pressing onward, has become
filled with despair over the emptiness of all knowledge, cannot
but feel himself unequal to this restless, eternal change, always
identical with itself in birth and death. Because he has not yet
comprehended nature, does she strike him with awe, not, as many
interpreters of the Earth Spirit would have it, because she is in
and for herself higher than he.
Just here in the midst of the narrative the " Dryasdust " Wag-
ner slinks in. He represents Empiricism, which is necessary to
speculation, as the condition which the reality of appearance im-
Faust and Margaret. 39
poses upon thinking. Faust gives him good instruction for the
pursuit of scientific investigation, and as soon as he has gone out
prepares with serenity to commit suicide. A new day beckons
him to new shores ! He prepares for this, not because of any
petty vexation, not from any sad consciousness of guilt, but be-
cause he can no longer endure his life, which is so barren of
results. Death is for him an experimentum cruris. But it is too
cheap from this theoretical standpoint. Passivity in the chang-
ing of surrounding circumstances does not correspond to the
nature of the soul, which is to make of itself whatever it will,
Of his own free will, as out of his own grave, must he rise to
renewed life and effort if he would remain true to his own convic-
tion. The memory of the faith of his childhood, of Christian
faith, the faith in a possible regeneration, the true faith of the
world stirs within him. Xow he hears the words of the Easter
chorus without having faith in it, but the remembrance of the
childlike rest which once made him happy has still great power
over him. The tears start, and the earth has again possession
of him.
But here closes the sphere of heaven, and that of worldly
things makes its appearance. Faust accompanies Wagner on a
walk to the Easter festivities. He meets the crowd of people
who have come out from miserable houses and the wretched cor-
ners of the narrow alleys to celebrate the resurrection of the
Lord. But however finely he may comment upon the different
groups, he is alone among them. The faith of the common peo-
ple is foreign to his hypercritical mind. The unconstrained
pleasure found in the dancing group around the linden, is entirely
out of his life. He carries in his soul the wound of doubt, and
of the boundless longiag which transcends all. He would gladly
fiy away with the eagle who soars high over pine-clad heights
and seas, or hasten on with the sun as he circles from land to
land, from ocean to ocean, in everlasting glow of rosy dawn and
setting. Then he notices a poodle which runs hither and thither,
and takes it with him into his dwelling, whose retired quiet makes
him once more feel an inclination for study.
u Behind me field and meadow sleeping
I leave in deep, prophetic night,
Within whose dread and holy keeping
The better soul awakes to light.
The wild desires no longer win us,
40 Faust and Margaret.
The deeds of passion cease to chain ;
The love of man revives within us,
The love of God revives again.
Ah, when within our narrow chamber
The lamp with friendly lustre glows,
Flames in the breast each faded ember
And in the heart, itself that knows.
Then Hope again lends sweet assistance,
And Reason then resumes her speech ;
One yearns, the rivers of existence,
The very founts of Life to reach."
This he seeks in an examination of the ]STew Testament, in
which, as he expresses it, burns the most beautiful and most
worthy revelation. i3e will translate the opening sentences of
St. John's Gospel, and he must translate, "In the beginning was
the Word," that is the eternal Logos as which God reveals him-
self in himself, and as which he in human speech reveals himself
to the human soul. But this does not suit him. He can make
nothing out of it, and after meditating he concludes that it should
be Power. This however satisfies him no better, and he reflects
till he finally makes up his mind and w r rites as the most reason-
able : " In the beginning was the Deed." Thus is always made
the dangerous exegesis [Schluepfrige Exegese]. It turns and
twists the text till it suits the preconceived meaning. Faust, in
whose veins glows the longing for life, translates by Deed what
he should have translated Word, because he himself inclines to-
ward life, toward a joyous activity. The poodle snarls at the
holy words which occupy the whole soul of Faust. Faust ad-
jures him, whereupon he swells to the size of an elephant, and
the traveling scholar steps forth from the figure as its kernel.
" The result makes me laugh," exclaims Faust to him, and
he is at once on familiar terms with him, for he is like to this
spirit. The Earth Spirit had made him tremble, but the Spirit
of Evil, or evil-mindeduess, is well known to him as his like, and
with him he at once strikes a bargain to belong to him wholly as
soon as he shall ever once be coutent with a moment of inactiv-
ity. When Mephistopheles completes this bargain, he expects
to be able to cheat Faust by means of some trifling thing of little
significance, but here he makes his mistake. The Lord, who
decreed the confusion of Mephistopheles, knows man better. To
begin with, the devil lulls Faust into an undefined and dim expec-
tation of great pleasures. The choir of his spirits sing :
Faust and Margaret. 41
" Vanish ye darkling
Arches above him I
Loveliest weather,
Born of blue ether,
Break from the sky !
O that the darkling
Clouds had departed !
Starlight is sparkling,
Tranquiller-hearted
Suns are on high," &c.
The covenant with Faust has made the whole world of spirits
resound with sad discords. He has, like a demigod, shattered
the whole world. It trembles, it falls. He must begin a new life
and build it up anew in his own breast. But the prescribed be-
ginning does not please Faust. Mephistopheles leads him to
Auerbach's cellar, to a riotous drinking debauch, so that he shall
see how easy life is. But this beastly coarseness, which can be
pleased with obscenity, poor jokes and drinking, does not touch
Faust. Then Mephistopheles has him drink of the elixir of
youth, in the witches' kitchen, so that he shall see in every
woman a Helen. Thus comes the transition to Margaret, whom
Faust first looks at in the light of sensual pleasures, but the
longer he looks the more he goes over into genuine love, and
thus disappoints the devil's expectation, who designed that he
should feel in his passion only what was sensual and selfish.
If Faust is to represent man in general, woman must come to
him tl at he may be complete. As a man alone, he may be
scholar, philosopher, partaker in the world's work, even a hero,
but he can rise to complete manhood only through love. Xo man
is fully man except in his relation to woman, for whatever is
beautiful in him so first becomes revealed. In the old story the
merchant's daughter refuses to give herself up to Faust. She
insists upon marriage, which is expressly forbidden to Faust
through an article in the devil's compact. From this, Goethe's
Idealism has created the beautiful figure of Margaret.
Her story is what constitutes the dramatic action of the first
part. But what is her story but the simple tragedy of woman,
consisting in the loss of maidenly honor through love, for with-
out love one could have no tragic demerit. Betrayed innocence
and the consequences of her guilt, how they desolate and shatter
her life ! We must say with Heine :
1- Faust and Margaret.
" It is the olden story.
Yet ever new again ;
And whensoe'er it happens
Then breaks a heart in twain."
Margaret is the crown jewel of all the womanly creations of
Goethe. Iphigenia, Leonora, Dorothea, must all yield to her,
however perfect they are in themselves, for they fail in her depth
and simplicity. Margaret, this lovely child, this soul so full of
faith, this shy maiden, longing for love, this sweet, enthusiastic,
laughing rose-bud, whose peace is lied, whose heart is heavy
after she has seen him, who has after that but one thought —
Heinrich — to catch a glimpse of whom she gazes out of the win-
dow, who only to be near him goes out of the house — this Mar-
garet is the genuine German maiden in all her peculiarities, even
to that charming little snappish way in which she sends the im-
portunate Faust from her side as she comes from church :
"I'm neither lady, neither fair,
And home I can go without your care."
This is to Faust entirely charming. By means of ornaments
and the artful sophistry of her neighbor, she lets herself be led
away, and her fall leads on the whole series of evil. The mother
dies from the sleeping draught, and the brother, who stigmatizes
her as a wanton, perishes on the threshold of the house, where
Faust would have tamed the clown with his sword-thrusts.
We have here entered into the sphere of hell, for Guilt has
made its appearance, and the consciousness of it, however much
it may seek to suppress itself, must and will be recognized. Mar-
garet, who feels the newly developing life at her heart, can no
more gossip at the well with the other maidens. She casts her-
self down before the all-pitying Mother, Mary, but in the church
even, the contradiction of her life overwhelms her. The spirit
of the church takes up all into itself, rich and poor, young and
old, good and bad. But the guilty one trembles before the ter-
rible earnestness of the spirit, of whom the choir sing:
Judex ergo cum sedebit
Quidquid latet, apparebit.
Nil inultum remanebit.
It is as if fury seizes Margaret. She hears the trumpet sound,
the graves yawn, and she falls in a swoon.
Fa uat and Margaret. 43
This picture is wrought by the artist with the most iuteuse,
fearful, and yet exquisite, tragical colors. Iu a few words, touches
and scenes, he has painted innocence, beauty, fascination, love,
passion, guilt, and the torment of conscience. Faust seeks to
fly from the surrouudings of his guilt. He tries to forget him-
self in the solitary brooding of sophistry, in the tempest of
inane debauch, in giving himself over to insipid dissipation. But
in the midst of the distorted figures on the Blocksberg he sees a
beautiful, pale child, her feet bound, aud with a red mark round
her neck, urged slowly onward. It is Margaret, whatever the
devil may say. His consciousness of sin breaks forth. He over
whelms Mephistopheles with curses, that he has concealed from
him Margaret's misery. Here Goethe has introduced prose, but
with uncommon power, and Mephistopheles, in this dilemma,
endeavors, not for the iirst time, and much in the fashion of ty-
rants, to overwhelm him with thunder.
Margaret, to escape public shame, motherless, brotherless, has
murdered her child— this little Margaret! This gentle, dear, good
maiden! Yes, this sweet, this lovely girl, has thrown the child,
bom in the peril of death, into the pond! The judgment for
such a deed of despairing shame has overtaken her. She awaits
iu prison her execution. But, unable to endure the contradiction
of her loving heart, and the actual, terrible deed, she has become
insane. She did not desire the deaths of her mother, her brother,
her child, and yet they are dead and testify against her. She is,
through her love, the source of all this evil. Faust endeavors
to lead her away. She loves him although she might curse him,
but she always loves him, remaining in the midst of her distrac-
tion of soul, always true to the holy voice which promises her
reconciliation through the punishment of her sin. Mephisto-
pheles, after his fashion, speaks only of the execution. But even
while she is judged she is saved.
Note. — The translations here given from the Faust are those of Bayard
Taylor. A. C. B.
(44)
A QUATERXIOX.
By William Ellery Chaxmng.
I. THE DULL HEARER.
"And a part of the seed fell on stony ground. '"'
I never enter there,
I do not love the air,
The preacher I mistrust,
Tedious and dry as dust.
To hear the Scripture read
I feel a prudent dread :
Give me some lively book.
That has a modern look.
And worst of all, I rate
The parson's fallen state,
"Who being no longer clerk,
Is paid, and does not work.
How great and strong he looks.
It never came of books.
And wasting midnight oil,
Holy with learning's toil.
And if in church he says
Those same things all his days,.
Must I sleep nodding there,
And blame his sinful prayer ?
Are those my mates who sit,
And hear his Hebrew wit ;
Are their loud, homely hymns,.
The song of seraphims I
Give me a frosty sky,
With stars set up on high :
A Quaternion. 45
Give ine the godless air
That bloweth anywhere :
Give me the burning wood,
Where God and Moses stood,
As some old fable tells,
And where He fabled — dwells.
And shut the church so tine
And feeble, in decline,
And lock me out of it,
And hide the bible-wit !
II. THE BIRTHDAY PIECE.
If the winter skies be o'er us,
And the winter months before us,
When the tempest boreal falling
Hurls his icy bolts appalling,
Let us yet thy soul inherit,
Equable and nice in spirit,
Who, in turbulent December,
With still peace, we can remember.
Muses should thy birthday reckon,
As to one, their foretastes beckon,
Who in thought and action never,
Could the right from self dissever;
Taken with no serpent charming,
By no tyranny's alarming ;
From thy sure conviction better
Than from blurred tradition's fetter,
Would the State such deeds might cherish,
And her liberties ne'er perish.
Age must dart no frost to harm thee,
Fell reversals ne'er alarm thee,
Having that within thy being,
Yet the good in evil seeing; —
40 A Quaternion.
Faithful heart, and faithful doing,
Bring life's forces humbly suing.
Now, we bid the dear Penates,
Inward guardians with whom Fate is r
And the Lar whose altar flaming,
From thy household, merits naming :
And Yertumuus we solicit,
Whose return brings no deficit,
Bacchus with his ivy-thyrses,
And Pomona's friendly verses,
(Or what other joys may be
Pouring from antiquity) ; —
Let them o'er thy roof displaying
Happiest stars, stand brightly raying ;
In thy thought poetic splendor,
This late age spontaneous render, —
Fit for thee and fit for thine,
Shed o'er acts of love divine.
III. A DIRGE FOR THE DEAD.
Called from this trance of life — the dream of pain,
Thy soul, no more this thirsting day, shall see,
The lonely hour, the chill and sobbing rain, —
Nor hear that trace of far-off' melody,
That sometime taught there was another shore,
Where softly breaks a wave darkling no more.
I saw from out that life, which was not life,
A shadow from thy soul — reversed on time;
I would improve that thought, and cease this strife.
With inconclusive fictions past their prime, —
And life, and hope, and joy, once my despair,
How still your fading sunshine touched the air.
Forsaken, on the plain the warrior sinks,
Swells past the ruddy tide that bore him on ;
Afar, in distant vales the home he thinks,
A Quaternion. 4T
Xe'er knows him more, magnificently gone,
His love, her pallid hope assenting sees,
Shiver with anguish, in the cruel breeze.
IV. SPRING ON THE ISLAND.
Come to ray heart, thon first and spring sunshine,
Warm a chilled frame where wintry winds o'erlay
Some clusters of an old and famous vine,
Whose dancing tendrils frost had pruned away.
Here as I sit, and hear the withered grass,
While waves the thorn-bush to the swift March-wind,
Oh how I wish my weary life could pass
With this fresh air, nor leave its trace behind !
And how I prayed that I could die like thee,
Thou first spring sunshine on a loved one's heart.
Hear the dark breeze hiss bv von stricken tree.
Where every leaf is dead, and every part, —
Fixed by transfusion of a killing frost,
Icy and cold must now forsaken stand,
Wrecked like my past, upon a rock-bound coast,
Snapt by the finger of the death-king's hand.
Come to this weary breast, thou sunshine dear,
For thou and I are now the same to all,
And have for the indifferent a cheer,
And o'er the beaches lone unwelcomed fall.
In yon far hills that line the water blue,
In those few pines that dot the neighbor strand,.
And in that proud and overarching view,
That lifts our souls above the lovely land :
In withered grasses, on the wide-spread moor,
Whereon the prickly furze, and tall reeds grew,
And where the sluggish creek pervades the floor
With slow pulsation, old yet ever new :
48 The Idea of the Venus.
And in those fitful pauses of the blast,
Aud iu the tall dark spars that touch the sky,
What find I there ? — that joy has speedier past,
Than all those winds, to lifelong misery.
O God, why wertthou God — to thus o'ergo
My soul in torture, like this sunshine sere ! —
Away, I feel the cold March breezes blow,
And little waves are sparkling bright and clear.
THE IDEA OF THE VENUS.
By H. K. Jones.
Venus is beauty, and her offspring is love. And there has
T>een given beneath the sun no age in human history in which
this goddess has not been adored. All generations have erected
statues and temples in this worship, and she has been cele-
brated in their music, aud poesy, aud sculpture and painting —
and by the praise and adoration of all human hearts.
This subject has therefore been the preferred and most fertile
theme of art from the most ancient times.
Venus is beauty, and beauty has two most general orders —
immortal and mortal, or spiritual aud natural — or celestial and
terrestrial — and accordingly in ancient mythologic science and
art, of which we may assume the Greek wisdom to afford the
purest type: there are two Venusee, the celestial aud the ter-
restrial.
These are both the daughters of Jove. All beauty is of divine
paternity. In the poetic myth, these are respectively the daugh-
ters of Jupiter aud Harmonia, and of Jupiter and Dione. The
one of supermundane, the other of mundane maternity. But
universally and in philosophic myth, the Venus, in the soul's
participation — love, is born of the foam or spray of the sea.
The idea of this philosophic myth is the key to the whole sub-
ject in its unity and universality. The sea is the symbol and
representative of life, in that it is the deep that moveth from
The Idea of the Venus. 49
within itself. It is inspired and quickened into movement by a
visible goddess in the natural heavens, whose effigy and efful-
gence it bears in its bosom — the beautiful " Selene," — unto whom
it perpetually aspires and lifts itself up in universal tides of res-
piration, and pulses of waves, and it followeth her whithersoever
she goeth.- And out of these soul-motions, these respiring tides
and pulsing waves, fanned by the breath of the heavens, issues
forth the beautiful spray, a creature white and pure, and as
beheld upon the expanses, a creature the very top and spirit of
the aspiration of the waters — light, translucent, graceful, gay —
skipping, hopping, dancing, joyful and instinct with life and the
spirit of beauty. And this is the philosophic image of the
Venus.
Let us now look for its Idea. And first, as nearest in order,
the terrestrial Venus. The soul, in natural generation, is an
abyss that moves from within itself. It also is inspired and
quickened and determined by some vision of the beautiful — its
heavenly — whose image in its own bosom and whose effulgence
there, is the secret of the potency and rhythm of its respirations
and pulses. This beautiful object, like the moon to the sea, is
however but the reflection of the splendor of the true, and is not
the absolute beauty. It, too, is a sublunary image. Yet unto
this as its final good, in yearning and aspiration the soul ever
lifteth itself, and followeth whithersoever this goddess leadeth-
And out of this aspiration — the spray of the waters of the soul
— ever springeth a spirit bright as the light, beautiful according*
to the image, joyful, graceful, leaping, skipping and dancing
upon the waters of the soul — the queen, the crowned promiser,
and bringer of all earthly bliss. She is Venus, with her ever
attendant train of daughteis — Thalia, Aglaia, and Euphrosune,
youthful, ardent Desire, vivacious, bewitching Imagination,, and
exuberent, joyful Hope. All mortals tender their votive offer-
ings at the shrine of this goddess — the terrestrial Venus, the
effigy of the True. And of these votaries are they that " Have
such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
more than cool reason ever comprehends," "That behold Helen's
beauty in a l>row of Egypt."
"A celebrated, royal fount I sing,
From foam begotten and of loves the spring ;
Those winged, deathless powers, whose general sway,
In different modes, all mortal tribes obey."
X— 4
50 The Idea of the Venus.
Even mortal love is of divine paternity and plenitude, the
daughters of Jove and Dione,
And yet the moon and all beneath her sway,
Are but reflections of the Fount of day.
Let us next distinguish between the reflection and the subject
reflected, between the image and the subject imaged. And as in
nature, so in spirit and mind, must we cognize other forms than
those of mere terrestrial corporeality. Says St. Paul, " There
are bodies celestial and there are bodies terrestrial," " and the
glory of the celestial is one, and the glory of the terrestrial is
another."
Terrestrial objects are not in themselves luminous, their lumen
is a participation and reflection of a celestial body. And so the
beautifuluess of sensible forms is not of themselves, but partici-
pations and reflections of the celestial form, and the soul liber-
ated from sense, possessed consciously of the vision of this ce-
lestial beauty, will of this contemplation experience that of
which nature and sense are but symbols and prophesies. As the
sea, the universal symbol, is lifted up in motion and aspiration
unto its sensible image of beauty, so now, most eminently, is the
soul that is quickened and alive in the true light of life, aspirant
and enamored of the essential beauty. And the movement and
the aspiration inspired and begotten of this beholding is love
divine, love immortal. This fountain is the celestial Venus.
She giveth her votaries " beauty for ashes," and nourisheth
the life with the ambrosia and the nectar, and her attendants, the
graces, are youth, and beauty, and joy immortal.
Said Diotima, "To go, or be led by another correctly in the
affairs of love is this: Beginning from the beautiful things, to
keep ascending for the sake of the beautiful itself, by making
use as it were of steps, from one beautiful object to many, and
from the beauty of bodies to the beauty of souls, and from the
beauty of souls to that of arts, and from the beauty of arts to
that of disciplines, until at length from the disciplines he arrives
at that single discipline which is the discipline of no other thing
than of that supreme beauty, and thus finally attain to know what
is the absolute beauty itself. Here is to be found, dear Socrates,
if anywhere, the blessed life, the ultimate object of desire to
man; it is to live in the contemplation of this consummate beauty.
The Idea of the Venus. 51
" Whoever then has been instructed thus far in the mysteries
of love, and has beheld in due order and correctly the things of
beauty, he will when he arrives at the consummation, suddenly
discover, bursting into view a beauty astonishing in its nature,
that very beauty to the gaining a sight of which, all his previous
labors have been undertaken. " What think you then," said
she, " would take place, if it were in the power of any
person to behold beauty itself, clear as the light, pure and
unmixed, not polluted with human flesh and color, and much of
other kinds of mortal trash, but be able to view the God-like
beauty in its singleness of form ? Think you," said she, " that
the life of that man would be of little account who looks thither
aud beholds it with what devotion he ought, and is in company
with it?"
" Perceive you not," said she, " that then alone will it be in
the power of him who looks upon beauty itself with the eye by
which it can be seen, to generate not the shadowy semblance of
virtue, as not coming in contact with semblances, but true virtue
as coming in contact with the substantial and the true? and to a
person begetting true virtue aud bringing her up, it will happen
for him to become God-beloved, and, if ever man was, immortal."
" Thus, friend Phaedrus, and ye the rest here," spoke Diotima,
"and I am myself convinced, and being convinced, I am endeavor-
ing to convince the rest, that no one would readily find a better
assistant to human nature for the attainment of such a posses-
sion than love, and hence I assert that every man ought to hold
love iu honor, and I do myself pay all honor to the things of
love, and cultivate them particularly, and exhort others likewise,
and both now and ever I celebrate as far as I can, the power and
the excellence of love."
Beauty generates love — terrestrial beauty, mortal love ; spirit-
ual beauty, celestial love; and this is the celestial Venus, the
ideal Venus, the fabled goddess Venus, and yet not formed of
gold, nor ivory, nor marble, but of the ideas aud thoughts in-
spired by the muses ; that divine form, which is the ultimate
end and purpose of pure art, the typical form existing in the
comprehension of the artist; in its terrestrial effigy represent
ing the idea of the fairest earthly loveliness and beautifulness,
and in its celestial type containing the idea of the celestial
beauty and loveliness in its absolute sublimity. And thence does
art endeavor to express the realization, at once, of the most beau-
52 Antony and Cleopatra.
tiful soul by means of the most beautiful body. She is a World-
spirit, a divinity that shapes our ends.
" Celestial Queen !
Expel base passions from the wandering soul,
And once more raise her to true beauty's light,
Averting far the irritation dire,
And rage insane, of earth-begotten love."
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.
By D. J. Snider.
Rome had conquered the world. The stern spirit of the Re-
public could sutler no limitations ; it was impelled by an irresist-
ible impulse to reduce to its sway all the nations of the globe.
Whatever was not Roman had no right to be ; existence could
only be purchased by submission to the Roman principle and by
adoption of Roman institutions. The national spirit which grad-
ually arose in the small hamlet along the banks of the Tiber was
simply illimitable ; hence it sought to sweep away the bounda-
ries of nations, and could only be satisfied by the absorption of
all other peoples. Assimilation was its strongest and most abid-
ing principle, the world must become Roman. It is this colossal
strength and intensity of nationality which gives to Rome her
eternal charm and inspiration. But just here, too, we must look
for the one-sidedness and imperfection of her deeds and charac-
ter. Though the Romans, of all peoples that have ever existed,
were the most intensely national, their whole career is, on the
other hand, but one continued assault upon nationality ; in the
conquest of other countries they were logically destroying their
own principle.
Hence when the world was subdued, republican Rome was no
more; when she had obliterated the bounds of nationality, she
had obliterated herself. The process is manifest; the conquered
peoples which were incorporated into her life changed her char-
acter ; the world absorbed Rome quite as much as Rome absorbed
the world. Not captive Greece alone captured her conqueror, as
Antony and Cleopatra. 53
a Roman poet sings, but all other conquered States assisted.
Heuee she was changed, was no longer Rome, could not extend
her conquests, her republican vitality was gone. Thus we pass
to the Empire, whose chief destiny will be not to conquer but to
hold together, not to bring about an external addition of terri-
tory, but an internal organization of the manifold nations, and
their consolidation through laws and institutions.
Now it is just this transition from republican to imperial
Rome which Shakspeare has made the subject of his two
greatest historical dramas. The theme is not merely na-
tional but world-historical, in it the whole world participates,
for it was then under the sway of Rome, except an outlying cir-
cle of uuhistorical peoples. On the plains of Pharsalia the old
system of things was permanently overthrown, the Empire was
essentially established in the complete supremacy of one man.
This first phase of the conflict which ends in the triumph of Ju-
lius Cresar is not given by the poet, though it would almost seem
as if he had entertained some such design. The struggle with
Pompey is always hovering in the historical foreground, and the
party of Pompey is one of the colliding elements in both these
later Roman plays. The character of Julius Cresar, which is so in-
adequately portrayed in the drama of that name, would thus be
exhibited in its full development and amid the greatest exploits
â– of the hero. Other slight indications might be pointed out which
lead to the same inference ; still it would be rashness to assert
positively that Shakspeare ever intended to complete the missing
link. As it is, the Roman Trilogy is a matter of conjecture, and
we should gladly accept the two dramas which have come down
to us upon this subject.
The play which goes by the name of Julius Ccesar presupposes
the hero as having attained the summit of his power and glory ;
he is really the sole supreme authority in the State, though a
formal recoguition to this effect has not yet been embodied in the
laws and institutions of the country. The crown is offered to
him, but he hesitates. Now the embers of the old republican
spirit of Rome begin to glow anew, the supporters of Caesar's
old antagonist are not idle. The result is, a conflict between im-
perialism and republicanism, between the new and the old. Bru-
tus, and pre-eminently Cassius, stand as the representatives of
the ancient Roman constitution ; they succeed in assassinating
the autocrat, and seem for a moment almost to have won. But
54 Antony and Cleopatra.
they in their turn fall before the reaction, the principle of Caesar
even without his personal guidance and prestige is far stronger
than the old Roman principle. The Triumvirs, his friends and
supporters, avenge his death, republican Koine is defeated by her
own citizens, the Cesarean movement is restored, and will now
pass on to its complete realization.
Such in general is the collision in Shakspeare's Julius Caesar.
It is clear that the play does not give the full solution of this
great world-historical problem ; the Triumvirate was but a brief
phase of the transition to imperialism. The three must be re-
duced to one, such is the tendency of the world; it is logically
impossible that this neutral order of things should endure. Hence
another drama becomes necessary in order to portray the comple-
tion of the movement. That drama is Antony and Cleopatra,
whose theme is therefore the reduction of the Triumvirate to the
Empire. The principle of Eome was stated to be assimilation of
nations, hence it cannot suffer itself to be divided into three or
even two nations. The intimate connection not only of thought
but also of treatment between Julius Cwsar and Antony and Cleo-
patra has often been observed ; incidents, motives, characters are
often merely touched upon in the former play, in order to prepare
for their full development in the latter play.
The material is very large and almost unwieldy, and it will aid
us in obtaining a complete survey of the whole subject, if the
various collisions both of State and Family are pointed out sepa-
rately. These constitute the basis of all dramatic action, and
are always the pivotal points of interest and development. In
the play of Antony and Cleopatra they are in general the follow-
ing : First, is the collision between Eome and the still uncon-
quered portion of the world. It is still the glimmer of that spirit
of conquest which shone with such intensity throughout the life
of the old republic. But now it has become feeble and unimpor-
tant, though by no means extinct; the poet has given to it only
one short scene besides several allusions scattered through the
drama. Indeed, the Eoman generals dare not conquer too much,
on account of the envy of their superiors, the zeal of the sol-
diers is quenched in the fear of degradation. Thus Ventidius is
afraid of winning too great military glory by his defeat of the
Parthians. The second collision is within the Eoman Empire,
between the Triumvirate and the younger Pompey. Here we
behold another renewal of the struggle which was temporarily
Antony and Cleopatra. 55
ended on the plains of Pharsalia, which was rekindled by Brutus
and Cassius to be again extinguished on the plaint of Philippi —
it is the struggle between republicanism and imperialism. But
the old Roman consciousness has passed away forever, again the
star of the republic sinks beneath the horizon, and will rise no
more. The second Poinpey is destroyed by the second Csesar,
the representative and heir of the Empire. The third collision
is with the Triumvirate, and is the essential one of the play. Le-
pidus, the peace-maker, where no peace is possible, is speedily
eliminated ; then the struggle between Antony and Octavius
breaks forth in its full intensity. The former seems satisfied
with the threefold division of the world, and above all desires to
be let alone in his Oriental enjoyment. But Octavius has the
thought of unity as his deepest principle and as his strongest
ambition; he thus is the representative of the world-historical
spirit and conquers, must conquer. Such are the three political
collisions of this drama, each one of which becomes more intense
as it becomes more narrow : the external collision of Borne
against the rest of the world, the internal conflict of the old Bo-
man principle against the Triumvirate, finally the disruption of
the Triumvirate and the triumph of the imperial principle.
Amid these purely political elements are mingled the domestic
collision of Antony, his -violations of the ties of the family. He
has abandoned his first Boman wife for the unethical relation to
Cleopatra; after a time however he leaves the latter and returns
to the Boman Family with new resolutions ; but his second Bo-
man wife he also deserts and returns to Cleopatra. Thus he
abandons both the Boman State and the Boman Family for an
Oriental country and an Oriental mistress; it is clear that he
can make no claim to being the champion of the destiny of his
country which he has thus forsaken. Borne has already subor-
dinated the Oriental world, but Antony goes back to it, hence
his fate is clearly written in its fate.
This enumeration gives the principal factors of the play,
though by no means in their true dramatic order. But the mate-
rial of the work is so multifarious and complicated that the mind
must have some guide to which it can turn when it gets lost in
the labyrinth of detail. The universal complaint is that Antony
and Cleopatra is wanting in dramatic simplicity, and the com-
plaint is certainly well-founded. To the less careful reader or
spectator its movement seems confused, at times chaotic, and
50 • Antony and Cleopatra.
there is hardly a doubt but that the poet has undertaken to com-
pass too much in the limits of one drama. Still it has his lan-
guage, his thought and his characterization in their highest
potence. We shall now pass to consider the organization of the
play as a whole, and attempt to unfold its various parts, stating
their meaning and relation.
There are manifestly two grand movements, though other divis-
ions are possible, according to the stand-point of the critic. The
first division exhibits the various conflicting elements of the Ro-
man world, and ends in their apparent reconciliation. It has
three distinct threads or groups of characters, each of which has
a locality of its own. The central figures of these groups are re-
spectively Antony and Cleopatra, Octavius, Pompey. The second
movement shows the disruption of the truce and the struggle of
the hostile principles and individuals, till their final and complete
subordination to one man, Octavius. Here there are essentially
two threads, that of Antony and Cleopatra on the one hand and
that of Octavius on the other ; the minor groups are more or
less intimately connected with these leading personages. The
elaboration of this scheme will show all the elements of the work
in their proper order and signification.
The first thread of the first movement may be called the Egyp-
tian thread, and is the fullest in its portraiture as well as the
most interesting. The first speaker is an old Eoman soldier who
strikes at once the key-note of the drama. He complains in bit-
ter scorn that the illustrious warrior, the " triple pillar of the
world " has sacrificed his grand historical destiny to sensuality.
But here come the pair, what is their conversation ? They are
talking of love, whose power Antony expresses in the strongest
language, it is illimitable, subdues all, it demands " a new heaven
and a new earth." Kote must be taken that this is not the ethi-
cal aii'ection of the Family, but sensual love. Here is indicated
the strongest principle of Antony's nature; he will often fluctu-
ate between his contradictory impulses, but in the end will always
return to the " Egyptian dish." Just now he is feeling some sa-
tiety and shame, which he seeks to disguise carefully from Cleo-
patra.
She however, with a true instinct of the situation, suspects
him, and we shall now behold the successive waves of jealousy,
anger, affection, despair, which heave and surge through her na-
ture. The fundamental trait of Cleopatra is passion, passion in
Antony and Cleopatra. 57
all its forms and in its fullest intensity. As love, as hate, as iras-
cibility, as jealousy, it has the same colossal manifestation.
There is absolutely no ethical subordination in the woman. She
recognizes no duty, submits to no institution. She seems to have
admiration for the heroic element of Antonyms character, and with
the true instinct of her sex she adores his courage; but her love
for him springs mainly from his boundless capacity for revelry
and sensual indulgence, in which she participates along with him.
Corresponding quite to the degree and intensity of her passion,
the poet has portrayed her power of fascination, indeed the one
arises from the other. It is curious to note how the greatest per-
sonages of Eoman history have in turn submitted to her spell :
Pompey the Great, Julius Caesar, and now Antony. The contrast
is apparent; it would seem as if the adamantine Eoman charac-
ter must always sink before this gorgeous Oriental enchantress.
But she is destined to meet with her master; the cool and wary
Octavius sees her, she tries her sorcery upon him without suc-
cess, and then — dies. It is her destiny that if her charm be once
withstood, she, like the Sirens of old, will destroy herself. Her
attractiveness therefore does not consist in youth, in grace, in
figure, in personal beauty; it lies in the sensual intensity of her
whole being, which appears to set on fire all who dare look upon
her. Such is the central principle of her character.
At first she torments Antony with her suspicions, because she
sees the conflicting principles in his bosom. Her sarcasms are
directed against the " married woman," Fulvia, wife of Antony,
and also against Octavius, who, a "scarce bearded" youth, un-
dertakes to dictate to the old warrior. Her purpose is manifest;
she wishes to sever Antony from all Eoman connections. Hence
she tries to engender a conflict which may lead to a separation of
the Orient from the Eoman P^mpire ; at least she is seeking to
detain Antony by every means in the East. But also she sneers
at his domestic relation, and above all desires to detach him from
the Eoman Family. The purpose which runs through all her
conversation is, to break oft' the two main ethical relations which
still have some power over him, namely, those of family and
country.
But Antony is resolved to go, the death of Fulvia causes him
even to long for a Eoman wife, and the political occurrences de-
maud his immediate presence in Borne. Now comes the separa-
tion ; it is what might be expected; to follow her through the
58 Antony and Cleopatra.
careenings of her passions is unnecessary ; as the cynical Eno-
barbus intimated, she dies instantly, dies twenty times and more.
But Antony holds fast to his purpose with a Roman firmness,
amid all her extravagant ado ; which for a time leads us to hope
well for his future. Again we behold her during the absence of
her lover ; imagination excited and intensified by the deepest trait
of her nature, by her passion, now controls her; his image is
always present to her mind, it surpasses all the memories of the
other Roman heroes who yielded in times past to her enchanting
wiles. Xext we behold her under the iufiuence of bad news,
word has come that Antony is married, again has allied himself
to the Roman Family. Her passion now reaches its climax in the
form of anger, she becomes simply irrational in her rage, she
heats the innocent messenger, and even prepares to kill him. Her
seeming justification is that she is subject to moral self-control
no more than the elements :
"Some innocents 'scape not the thunderbolt !"
But she bethinks herself; she knows the power of her sensu-
ous attractions, she too knows their deep hold upon Antony.
What then are the years, the beauty, the disposition of Antony's
new wife; "let him (the messenger) not lfcave out the color of
her hair ! " • By patient questioning she discovers that the per-
sonal graces of Octavia must be far inferior to her own, and
above all, is wholly wanting in fervid intensity of passion :
"She shows a body rather than life,
A statue than a breather.' 1 '
Cleopatra is so well satisfied, indeed delighted with the result
of the examination, that she now rewards the messenger with
gold. She has the most unerring instinct which tells her the
deepest principle of Antony's nature; she knows that Antony
must in course of time turn away from the cold and unattractive
Octavia, and go back to the enjoyment of sensual love which he
can find in the highest manifestation only in her. This inference
is not and can not be falsified by the event. Antony returns be-
cause he must obey that which is strongest within him. Such is
Cleopatra, the embodiment of all that which is most fascinating
to the senses of man, and at the same time the victim of her own
powers of fascination. For she is tortured with her own passion
Antony and Cleopatra. 59
even more than she tortures, her gift so painful and fatal to oth-
ers is equally painful and fatal to herself. Her world is a carni-
val of enjoyment, no ray of duty or of ethical devotion enters
there, physical agony is the sole retribution which comes home
to sensual indulgence.
We can now go back and take up the second thread of the first
movement. The two colleagues of Antony are at Rome, the true
centre of the nations at that time; their conversation turns upon
the man who has sacrificed his Roman destiny to Oriental indul-
gence. We catch a glimpse of the Triumvirate, with the relation
and character of its three members. Octavius is the man of cold
understanding, who has grasped his ultimate end with clearness,,
and who pursues it in politic disguise but with inflexible deter-
mination. Already we can see his grand purpose looming up in
the future ; we also see that he plainly comprehends the conflict
which he must pass through in order to attain his object. His
great obstacle is Antony, who surpasses him in every quality ex-
cept the greatest, namely, the mind to grasp and the will to
accomplish the world-historical destiny of Rome. This is for
Octavius the highest end, to it everything else is subordinate.
For this reason his character has often excited moral aversion.
He sacrifices his colleague, his sister whom he seems really to
have loved is thrust by him into a short and unhappy marriage
to further his policy, he disregards the most sacred promises, in
fine all the emotions of man and all the scruples of conscience
he subordinates to his grand purpose, the union of the nations in
one empire. He himself says in one place that he is seeking uni-
versal peace, the harmony of the whole world in a single govern-
ment. He is one of those world-historical characters whose fate
it is to be always condemned for trampling upon moral consider-
ations when they collided not merely with his own subjective
purpose but with the absolute movement of humanity which he
represented. Xow Antony in this fundamental trait is the con-
trast to Octavius. He is one of the triumvirs, he is a great sol-
dier with heroic elements of character, he was the victor at Phi-
lippi, he was the friend and supporter of Julius Csesar. His op-
portunity is really greater than that of Octavius. But he has
not the clear ultimate end, he is not at one with himself, his
deepest controlling principle is enjoyment, gratification of the
senses, though he is capable of enduring the most terrible hard-
ships of war. Hence he falls into the lap of Orientalism, yet
450 Antony and Cleopatra.
struggles to return to his Eoraan life and destiny, but finally re-
lapses completely and thus loses the great opportunity. Between
these two men, Antony and Oetavius, the struggle must arise;
the question is, which one will unify the Triumvirate ? From the
very beginning the poet has elaborated the dramatic motives so
forcibly that the result is plainly foreseen.
But there remains the third triumvir, Lepidus. He is the
peace-maker though peace is impossible ; he tries to compromise
two contradictory principles which are on the point of embracing
in a death-struggle. Conciliation is possible between individuals
but not between principles. If one principle be truer, that is,
more universal than another, the former must subordinate the
latter, for otherwise it is not more universal. The higher truth
must realize itself, must make its superiority valid in the world ;
this means always the subsumptiou of what is lower. Lepidus
therefore has no perception of what is going on around him, he
placed himself between the two jaws of the world, aud is speed-
ily ground to death. His basis is the peaceful continuance of the
present condition of affairs, of the Triumvirate, which is in re-
ality a fleeting phase of the great transition to imperialism. A
man with good intentions but with a weak head amid a revolu-
tion, what is in store for him but annihilation?
The first utterance of Oetavius is a complaint against Antony,
he is disgracing his office and his country by his conduct in
Egypt, he has insulted his colleagues, but above all he has per-
mitted through his inactivity the enemies of the Triumvirate
again to muster their forces and threaten Italy. In other words
he is faithless to his high calling and to the destiny of Borne,
which is the most serious thought of Oetavius. Here is seen
plainly the difference of their characters and their ends. But
Antony has shaken off' the Egyptian enchantress, has come to
Borne ; the two rivals are brought face to face in order to settle
their quarrel. Antony answers the complaints of Oetavius with
such success that they are seen to be mere pretexts for the most
part ; still the old veteran asks pardon of his youthful confeder-
ate, and thus tacitly points out the superior to whom he acknow-
ledges responsibility and submission ; in this act the destinies of
the two men are truthfully foreshadowed. But Oetavius is not
yet ready to strike the final blow, he must first unify all the rest
of the Roman world against his antagonist. He therefore con-
sents to conciliation; and to tie the hands of Antony for a time,
Antony and Cleopatra. 61
his sister he gives in marriage to the latter, as suggested by his.
wily counsellor, Agrippa. The tether works well, it holds An-
tony till both Lepidus and Pompey are absorbed by Octavius.
But now they are reconciled, and hasten to unite their powers
against the common foe of the Triumvirate.
Such are the transactions of Antony at Borne, their nature and
consequences are now foreshadowed in two very different ways-
through two very different characters — through Enobarbus and
the Soothsayer. Enobarbus is a most wonderful delineation ; he
is the mirror which reflects the results of the deeds which are-
enacted by the high personages of the drama ; in particular he
adumbrates the conduct of Antony, his friend and companion.
His chief trait is therefore intellectual sagacity, he foresees with
the clearest vision and foretells with the most logical precision.
But he possesses at the same time the reverse side of human na-
ture in colossal magnitude ; glutton, debauchee, sensualist, he
seems immersed in the very dregs of Egyptian license, and when
he is absent, his memory is filled with Egyptian orgies. The
two extremes meet in him, the keenest intelligence and the gross-
est sensuality; the mediating principle between them, namely,
moral subordination, seems not to exist. He is the peculiar pro-
duct of an age of corruption in which even mental cultivation
aids in blasting the character. He appears to have anticipated
the main consequences from the beginning; he tried to keep An-
tony in Egypt, then he sought to prevent the reconciliation with
Octavius ; he also intimates that the marriage will in the end inten-
sify the enmity which it was intended to forestall. For he knows
that Antony will return to the Egyptian queen; his highly-col-
ored account of her appearance when " she pursed up his heart
upon the river Cydnus " indicates the power of her fascination
over the senses, and the deep hold which she rnust.consequently
retain upon Antony. Enobarbus manifestly thinks that his mas-
ter ought to go back at once to Egypt, though his appetite seems
to favor such a decision quite as strongly as his judgment.
Such is the intellectual reflection of Antony's conduct and des-
tiny; now follows a second reflection of the same through a
wholly different medium, namely, through the prophetic emotion.
Its bearer is the Soothsayer. This man, too, urges very
strongly the return to Egypt; the reason whereof he says
he has not in his tongue but in his feeling, in his in-
stinctive perception of the future. Antony is warned that
<32 Antony and Cleopatra.
the daemon, "thy spirit that keeps thee," cannot resist the might
of C.esar, becomes afraid in the presence of the latter. Antony
feels the truth of the declaration, resolves to go back to Egypt,
and gives the true ground, " in the East my pleasure lies." The
Soothsayer thus utters in his peculiar form that which has
already been told ; the principle of Antony is subordinate to the
principle of Octavius, the higher end must vindicate its superior
power. This is not only known but is now felt; the poet has in-
dicated the same result both through intelligence and through
feeling. The Triumvirate is however reconciled within itself, and
must turn its attention to its external foe.
This is Pompey, who is the central figure of the third thread
of the first movement, which thread may now be taken up and
traced. Pompey from the first exhibits no great strength of pur-
pose, no firm reliance on his principle. He stands as the repre-
sentation of the old republican constitution of Eome, in opposi-
tion to the tendency to imperialism ; he cites as examples of ad-
miration those " courtiers of beauteous freedom," pale Cassius
.and honest Brutus, who drenched the capitol,
" That they would
Have one man but a man. And that is it
Hath made me rig my navy," — etc.
He also has a personal ground, to avenge the fate of his father.
But he is clearly not the man to be at the head of a great politi-
cal movement. He has moreover a scrupulosity which makes
him sacrifice his cause to a moral punctilio. Such a man ought
never to begin a rebellion whose success is not his highest prin-
ciple. His main hope is that Antony will remain in the East ;
but when the latter returns and is reconciled with Octavius,
Pompey becomes frightened at their hostile preparation and com-
promises for a certain territory. That is, he really joins the Tri-
umvirate in the division of the world, and thus utterly abandons
the principle which he represented. Logically he is now absorb-
ed in the new idea by his own action, he disappears as a factor of
the drama.
His position is wholly due to the fact that he was the son of
the great Pompey; birth, the most external of grounds, makes
him leader. But by the side of him is seen the genuine old Roman
republican, to whom the cause means everything, though he is
Antony and Cleopatra. 63
called a pirate by his enemies. This is Menas, who sees and con-
demns the folly of the new treaty, who reflects the weakness of
Pompey as Enobarbns reflects the weakness of Antony. Xow
comes the supreme moment of Pompey's career. All three of
the triumvirs are on board of his galley, holding- high festival in
honor of the peace; the rulers of the world, the enemies of his
principle are as it were bagged and placed at his disposition.
Menas urges upon him immediate action with the greatest vehe-
mence ; but no, his "'honor" will not let him, the nature of which
honor is seen in his declaration that he cannot advise the doing
of the deed, but he would applaud it if it were done. Menas now
deserts, for he to whom the good old cause is the highest princi-
ple of existence, cannot endure to see the destiny of Koine and
of the world sacrificed to a moral scruple. However great may
be our admiration of Pompey's motive, it destroys his world-
historical character; both he and Antony are therefore alike in
surrendering their grand opportunity, though the one yields it to
sensual love and the other to conscience. Pompey hence keeps his
agreement, but Octavius who subordinates both emotion and
morality to his great political purpose, breaks that same agree-
ment when his plan is ripe, and slays his confederate in return
for the latter's fidelity and conscientiousness. The character of
Brutus in Julius Ca'sar is in this respect repeated in him.
Xow if the moral test be the sole and absolute test of the deed
under all circumstances, it is manifest that Pompey is the hero of
this play as Brutus is by the same criterion the hero of Julius
Ccesar. But if there be a national, indeed a world-historical duty
as well as a moral duty, and if these duties come into irreconcila-
ble conflict in which one side must be subordinated to the other,
the question can by no means be so easily dismissed. The solu-
tion of Shakspeare is plain, and it is the same as that of history.
The national or the world-historical principle always subsumes
the moral, because it is the truer, the more universal. This very
drama is condemned by certain critics because it is said to have
no noble, that is, moral characters, and because it represents the
political principle as triumphant. The complaint is frivolous, the
poet has written from the complete reality and not from a one-
sided abstraction, which however valid in its sphere has limita-
tions which it ought not to transcend. The ultimate criterion of
these critics is the moral one, which is certainly not that of the
poet.
64 Antony and Cleopatra.
Indeed there is just this struggle between the moral and polit-
ical elements going- on at all times in all countries. The purely
moral man is in a condition of chronic disgust at public life and
public men, he generally judges by altogether too narrow a stand-
ard, and is hence unjust. But the public man is also too apt to
sacrifice moral considerations to some supposed expediency when
in reality there is no conflict of duties. The relations of the in-
dividual in society must ordinarily be controlled by morality;
this is just its function. But in revolutions, in periods of politi-
cal disintegration, the collision between principles arises in its
fullest intensity. One side must be chosen, still the choice is a
violation which calls forth a retribution. In our own recent
struggle we all thought it our duty to sacrifice every moral tie to
the imperilled nationality, if the two conflicted. In that pro-
longed and intense effort, the moral consciousness of private and
public life disappeared, for it was immolated: though the nation
was saved, the Xemesis of violated morality still scourges us ;
this is the real price, the spiritual price, and not the blood or the
treasure spent, which we paid, are now paying, and shall continue
to pay for our national existence.
In the final scene of this thread, when the banquet is portrayed,
we behold the fate of all the leading characters foreshadowed in
the most subtle manner. Here are collected the representatives
of the main conflicting principles of the drama, Antony, Pompey,
Lepidus, Octavius, with their chief subordinates. They indnlge
in a drunken carousal, symbolical of the mad confusion of the
period. Who will keep his head clear and retain his senses amid
the wild revel ? Lepidus first yields to the wine, and is carried
out; the others sink into an Egyptian debauch: but the cool-
headed Octavius never for a moment loses his self-control, and
when he finds himself touched with the wine, he hastens away
from the company. No sensual pleasure can conquer his under-
standing, he will remain master.
Such is the first general movement of the playing, ending in
the reconciliation of all the colliding characters. The Triumvi-
rate is restored to internal harmony, Pompey is admitted to a
share of its authority, Antony is restored to the Roman Family
and State. Even external conquest breathes for a moment. No-
thing is settled however, principles have been compromised, but
they are as antagonistic as before. Suddenly comes the disrup-
tion. The poet does not portray it in fall, he merely indicates
Antony and Cleopatra. 65
the result. Caesar and Lepidus united to destroy Poinpey, then
Osesar turued upon Lepidus; which important events are all an-
nounced iu one short scene. Antony leaves Octavia, next we find
him with Cleopatra. Such is this rapid separation which intro-
duces the second general movement of the drama. There are
now essentially but two threads, namely, the two antagonists
with their respective adherents. Of this last movement there
are three distinct phases, the first defeat of Antony, his second
defeat and death, the death of Cleopatra.
Antony, when he fully comprehends the inexorable purpose of
Octavius to subordinate him also, takes his departure from Oc-
tavia. She is the true Soman wife, who is by no means devoid
of deep emotion, but it is the quiet, pure emotion of the Family;
her feeling is confined to the bounds of an ethical relation, and
herein she is the direct contrast to Cleopatra, whose passion is
hampered by no limitations. She tried to perform her duty to
both husband and brother; but that husband had as his deepest
impulse sensual instead of conjugal love, and that brother had as
his strongest principle political supremacy instead of fraternal
affection, even if he possessed the latter also. Octavia with the
most beautiful devotion tried to conciliate the conflicting individ-
uals, but was sacrificed by both. Thus the Family sank before
the thirst of passion and before the thirst for power.
The poet having elaborated the motives of all that is to follow,
passes at once to the scene of the struggle which is to decide the
fate of the two colliding personages. The infatuation of Antony
is brought out in the strongest colors, he fights a naval battle
against the advice of all his soldiers from the commanding officer
down to the common private in the ranks. The ground of his
conduct is the control exercised over him by Cleopatra. Then
during the crisis of the fight she flies, Antony follows ; the result
is utter defeat by sea, universal desertion by land. His oriental
connection has thus brought to ruin his world-historical oppor-
tunity, he has sacrificed everything Soman, even his Soman
courage. The internal struggle now begins, he feels the deep
degradation of his behavior, the memories of his Soman life
again awake in him, he seems ready to reproach the cause of his
fatuity; but the weeping enchantress by her presence subdues
him more completely than Octavius had done in the battle just
fought, and again his deepest trait asserts itself:
X— 5
6G Antony and Cleopatra.
" Fall not a tear, I say : one of them rates
All that is won and lost: give me a kiss ;
Even this repays me."
But even a stronger evidence of his love is given. He sud-
denly comes upon Thyreus, the messenger of Cresar, toying with
the hand of Cleopatra; there ensues a tit of jealousy so violent
that he totally forgets his generous nature and orders the man to
be whipped. The thought of her infidelity crazes him, he has
loved her more than the whole world in the literal sense of the
expression, since he has sacrificed the world for her sake. What
if another shares with him the possession ? The strongest ele-
ment of his nature revolts. But a declaration of Cleopatra lulls
his wrath, again harmony prevails. Now however their union is
threatened from without by the approach of the victorious Octa-
vius, a conflict which must arouse all his dormant energy.
Octavius is true to his aim throughout these scenes, his cool
calculation is never disturbed by a whiff of passion, his politic
cunning is everywhere paramount. His enemy is surrounded by
a net- work of espionage, while his own movements are artfully
concealed. He acts with a celerity and secrecy which are incom-
prehensible to Antony; his insight into the real situation is never
clouded for a moment, he orders the battle to be fought at sea
with every advantage in his favor. His imperturbable under-
standing which grasps clearly the end in view and the means to
reach the same, shines through all his actions. He will after the
victory grant no terms to Antony, who must be entirely elimi-
nated from the world in order to produce unity. But Cleopatra
he attempts to detach by specious promises, he has no faith in
her fidelity and but little trust in women under the most favora-
ble circumstances. She seems to listen to his proposals, hercon-
(lucl is at least ambiguous, two opposite impulses divide her pur-
pose.
We pass on to the second phase of the second movement, em-
braced in the Fourth Act. Antony now has a new motive for
action, his union with Cleopatra is in jeopardy. His heroic char-
acter returns in its fullest intensity, he fights not to save an em-
pire, but to preserve his relation to the Egyptian queen. It will
be noticed that the deepest principle of his nature is assailed : he
might dally away the world, but he cannot surrender the tie to
Cleopatra. Again we behold a 1 ! the noble elements of his nature
Antony and Cleopatra. 67
in full play, bis generosity, his warm-heartedness even to serv-
ants, his activity, his heroism. Nor is the other side of his char-
acter omitted, there must be a final debauch before departure for
the battle-field. Still there is the dark reflection of the future,
music in the air is heard by the common soldiers, who express
their feelings in ominous words ; their belief is that the god Her-
cules, tutular deity of Antony, is now leaving him; his cause is
lost beyond hope.
A second battle is fought, a temporary advantage is gained on
laud, but the Egyptian fleet yields to the foe, traitorously as An-
tony supposes and as we also may suppose. The internal con-
flict now arises more fiercely than ever, she to whom he has sac-
rificed a world has betrayed him. What agony could be more
intense ? She appears before him, but neither her presence nor
her language can assuage his revengeful anger this time, she has
to leave him. But is his love entirely gone, that which was the
strongest principle of his nature ? She will put the matter to
proof, the test being death — absolute separation. Accordingly
word is sent to him that she is no more, that she died with his
name on her lips. He answers the test in the fullest degree, sep-
aration from her means death, which he at once proceeds to inflict
upon himself. Other motives too influence his resolution, as the
sense of shame, the fear of dishonor, the loss of his opportunity ;
but the main impelling power which drove the last blow was the
thought of being forever disjoined from Cleopatra. Thus his
deepest principle asserts itself with an absolute supremacy ; he
had already sacrificed au empire, and a world-historical destiny
for his love; it is easy and consistent now to give his life in addi-
tion. His career is made up of a series of external conflicts on
account of his passion, and internal conflicts with his passion.
The third phase of the second movement is embraced in the last
act. Cleopatra is now the central figure. The difference between
her and Antony is seen in the fact that she is willing to survive
him, but he was not willing to survive her; separation does not
mean death in her case. There is however no doubt about her
h>ve for Antony, but there is as little doubt about her readiness
to transfer it to another person. She has been making provision
for the future, she has been laying plans to catch Octavius in her
toils. He comes into her presence but he is not charmed, his
cool head cannot be turned by sensuous enchantment. This seals
her fate, she has met her master, she has found the man who is
68 Antony and Cleopatra.
able to resist her spell. The proof is manifest, she learns that
Octavius intends to take her to Borne to grace his triumph. This
secret is confided to her by Dolabella, Mho seems to be the last
victim of her magical power. That power is now broken, noth-
ing remains except to die. Still she shows signs of a better na-
ture in this latter part, misfortune has ennobled her character :
" My desolation begins to make a better life."
The heroic qualities of Antony, now that he is gone and she
-can captivate no new hero, fill her imagination; she will go and
join him in the world beyond. Her sensual life seems purified
and exalted as she gives expression to her "immortal longings."
Her deepest trait is however conquest through sensual love; she
will live as long as she can conquer ; wheu her spell is ouce over-
come she will die, dwelling in imagination upon the greatest vic-
tory of her principle and upon its most illustrious victim.
The fate of the immediate personal dependents of Antony and
Cleopatra is connected with that of their master and mistress;
the relation is so intimate that they die together, the devotion of
the servants will not permit them to survive. But Enobarbus is
the most interesting of all these subordinate personages; his
character too undergoes a change in this second part. His sharp
intellect has foreseen and tried to avert the consequences of An-
tony's folly, but without avail. Now begins his internal conflict.
Should he follow interest and desert a fool, or preserve fidelity
and cling to his fallen master? It does not surprise us that he
goes over to Csesar, that he was led by his sagacity and not by
his moral feeling. He saw the rising star of Octavius, and fol-
lowed, but bitter is his disappointment. The conqueror will not
trust a traitor. Enobarbus finds out that he has "done ill," his
intelligence has failed utterly. But this is not all. The gener-
ous Antony sends his treasure after him with kindly greetings;
now he calls himself not fool but villain, the moral elements, as
honor, gratitude, fidelity, conscience, burst up in his soul with
terrific force. This mediating principle, which was previously so
inert, is now supreme, asserting itself over both pleasure and in-
tellect. He repents of his conduct but is not reconciled ; he slays
himself, an irrational act, but one which shows that remorse was
stronger than existence. So intense is his anguish, that he will
.not retain a life without moral devotion.
The Idea of Matter. (}<»
Octavius has passed his final and supreme conflict, which the
poet seems to make the most difficult as well as the most glori-
ous of all the conflicts in the drama. This victory is greater
than the victory over Antony, who had already been subdued by
Cleopatra ; now the mighty conqueress is herself conquered.
The man who can resist the fascination of the Orient is the true
Roman, is the ruler capable of maintaining and perpetuating the
Roman principle and the Roman empire. Alexander even was
absorbed by the East, and his realm passed away like a cloud.
Octavius can spend a tear of pity over his illustrious foes, but
his emotions never clouded his judgment or hindered the clear,
definite pursuit of his political end. When the play terminates^
we feel that a great epoch with its external and internal throes,,
with its weak men and mighty heroes, has passed a way. All the
struggles are overcome not by temporary compromises but by
the subordination of the lower to the higher principle; the world
flnds unity, peace, and law, in the empire. This epoch is there-
fore the true date of Imperialism.
THE IDEA OF M ATTER AS THE GROUND OF ALL PHE-
NOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE.
(An attempt to solve Tyndall's Problem).
By K. Th. Bayrhoffer.
[Translated from the author's manuscript by Mrs. Ella S. Mokgas] .
Tyndall, in his well-known Belfast address, as well as in severa.
passages in his '' Fragments of Science," declares that in matter
he discerns the promise and potency of life and spirit, but that
the idea of matter, in order to justify this, must be more profound
and comprehensive than it has hitherto been apprehended to be.
He says that until now the idea of matter as the basis of nature,,
had been considered only from its external and mechanical sides.
Rut then Tyndall confesses that he cannot give the truer idea be-
70 The Idea of Mutter.
cause the connection between spiritual life and mechanics or
organism, the movements of the Universe, is still obscure. If
we now ask "What is the conception of matter in the general
consciousness and in natural science?" we receive the universal
answer, " Matter is the substance extending through and filling
parts of space, considered as independent existence in and for itself,
whose universal predicates are this extension and divisibility, re-
sistance or the impenetrability of all its parts, and perhaps weight,
the gravitation of all its parts towards each other." Matter is some-
times defined as that which is impenetrable and movable in space.
If we now take these phenomena as the manifestation of internal
essence (innerer gruende) then we may consider matter as filled
with forces or principles of inter-action, especially the power of
attraction and repulsion. From the standpoint of such a theory
it is therefore presupposed that the particles of matter them-
selves, being separate members and bodies, can never re-
ciprocally penetrate each other, and that all apparent pen-
etrability is only a nearer approach of the particles and a pen-
etration of matter into the hitherto empty spaces lying be-
tween. It is also now universally presupposed that the so-
called forces are wholly bound up with matter, are in fact only its
qualities inseparable from it. In the same way it has often been
supposed that matter was originally in motion, which (motion) is
consequently an absolute fact just as incapable of derivation as
matter itself. And now since in order to explain phenomena,
scientific investigation of nature conceives visible matter as itself
made up of invisible, minute, material particles or bodies (the so-
called atoms or molecules) it is claimed that from the forces and
motions of these atoms and molecules we are to comprehend all
nature as a mechanism; and logically consistent scientists declare
that even the spiritual life of man must also originate in this
mechanism, because the nervous system, more especially the
brain, is evidently the material ground out of which spirit is
born, and of which we know nothing without this base — for im-
material spirits are only fantastic images or chimeras. Matter
bein<;, according to this, the root of-all phenomena of the uni-
verse, materialism is esteemed as the only true system of know-
ledge (based upon one principle) in contrast both to an original
dualism of matter and spirit, and to a spiritualistic unitary basis,
as is claimed by Christian theology, or in another way by the
philosophy of Berkeley.
The Idea of Matter. 71
We cannot deny that empirical, reflective science has always
held fast to the materialistic basis of all phenomena of the uni-
verse, and taught that an immaterial spirit is out of the question,
i. e., any spirit not bound to matter or not conditioned by mat-
ter — unless we wish to put poetical fancy in the place of science.
If therefore to the real empirical conception matter is the only
basis of the universe, out of which arise all phenomena — revela-
tions of nature and spirit — to the reflective mind still remains
the question, "What is the essence or idea of matter itself?"
For speculative analysis cannot rest until it has become an abso-
lute analysis, until it has reached the point where no further pre-
supposition is possible, until it has reached the ultimate hypoth-
esis. And as empirical, inductive investigation stops either with
the mere conception of one infinitely extended and divisible matter,
or with the atom as the ultimate element of matter, having exten-
sion but still being indivisible : the first theory asserts a simple
logical contradiction; the second asserts the construction of
matter en masse out of minute particles of matter, which them-
selves involve the contradiction of being both indivisible and
extended. The problem of philosophy or speculative thinking
is precisely to And an idea of matter that does not involve con-
tradiction, the final solution of this fantastic knot of ideas. The
solution of the problem of matter is the solution of all problems.
It may indeed be said — from the standpoint of modern empiri-
cal science — that the real essence of things, matter, is still hid
den, is an insoluble problem, is " unknowable absolute force,"
(Herbert Spencer), or is the unknown and in itself unknowable
(Kant, Herbart). It might be said that it is sufficient for us to
know that all phenomena, of nature as of mind, inhere in the
eternal, material substratum. And on the other hand we might
say with Herbert Spencer that since all knowledge consists in a
relation of the subject to the object, the absolute being, the
unity, or at all events the unifying root, of both sides, it would
therefore be one-sided to set up a mere materialism, and true
philosophy may as rightly be called spiritualism if we give the
chief weight to the subjective side of knowledge. For all con-
ceptions of matter being but mental images of it, spiritual phe-
nomena and not the thing itself, it is after all more credible that
matter is but the expression of spirit than vice versa. Still the
absolute being is in truth only the unknown unity of both sides,
neither materialism nor spiritualism is the true expression of
72 The Idea of Matter.
philosophy. In the same way, but in another form, Spencer ad-
vocates Shelling's "absolute indifference" and Hegel's "abso-
lute idea."
But as regards the unknowableness of being, we ask on what
grounds is the mind of man justified in denying knowledge of
being f Being, matter with its metamorphoses and phenomena
lies before us. Phenomena being its (matter's) revelations, posi-
ted by it, necessarily contain the essence, the kernel, and are
utterly inseparable from it. Hence while the thinking mind ana-
lyzes the phenomenon it must posit its being as the plainly exist-
ing unity which lies at the foundation. And that would be con-
ceded by all, if in this attempt at absolute comprehension thought
did not involve itself in logical contradictions which seem insur-
mountable (cf. Kant's Antinomies and the contradictious shown
by Hegel and Herbart in all notions of experience.) But think-
ing is not a fixed something, it is a process, a development in the
thinking subject. Thought itself generates all the inconsisten-
cies, and drives on to their solution — on account of its own cer-
tainty of its real existence — unhindered by contradictious, it can-
not rest until it has developed a system of thought which is en-
tirely consistent with itself, that is, one which has solved the
contradictious, the inner illusion, the confusion of the subject.
All proceeds from the belief that the subject has objectivity
within as well as without itself; that every real, concrete, sensi-
ble being is the union of subjectivity and objectivity (hence the
dualism of subject and object is disposed of, once and forever),,
and this belief is confirmed by all experimental science. In re-
gard to the other theory of Herbert Spencer, viz : that the uni-
tary system can be called spiritualism as well as materialism, we
are not to forget that spirit is essentially mediated as through
nature, the material system; while matter is conceived as the
substance, the mother of things and phenomena, and so under
all circumstances life and spirit exhibit themselves as the phe-
nomenology of matter. But of course we recognize that in a
certain sense matter itself is phenomenology, is the eternal chain
of egos, of real souls, and that even the notion of matter is incon-
ceivable without including the potentiality of spirit, and con-
versely, the idea of spirit presupposes matter. Hence we may
call the true system the unitary system of the material-spiritual,
the external-internal, and also the unitary system of living sub-
stance, which as we shall «ee is the eternal chain of being; abso-
The Idea of Matter. 73
lute synthesis. Speculative analysis will advance this to cer-
tainty. We now pass to this analysis.
The real phenomenal world, which we perceive through the
senses (not excepting the animal organism as the only bearer of
spiritual life, in the strictest sense)— this world lies before us ex-
tended in space, consisting of parts and members near, but apart
and separable from each other. This appearance in space, con-
ceived as the positive, the self-existing, essence, or self, is called
matter, which, in order to make form and content identical, is-
defined as extended being. Conceive the phenomenon to
have the form of space, or of continuous external being,
without the essence, the substance, then we have the mental im-
age of pure or empty space. It is well known that the old At-
omic philosophy conceived the universe as made up of the atom
and the void, being and nothing. The actual which lies before
us as a visible, material, is the entire heavenly and earthly world r
which latter of course, according to the true scientific theory
of the universe, is only a member of the cosmic whole, of the
starry host with its illimitable spaces and varied forms.
Now while empirical science continues by the induction of ex-
perience, to verify the forms and laws of this material universe
by a relative analysis referring to relatively simple elements (viz..
atoms and forces) speculative thinking carries the inquiry up to-
the notion, or to the perfect analysis of material existence, which
is after all only an empirical conception. Thought tries to estab-
lish the absolute analysis of this being, while recognizing that
matter (defined as an extended, resisting, somewhat capable of
rest and motion) in order to be comprehended, involves pre-
suppositions which for the sake of scientific knowledge must
be posited and comprehended in thought, and in so far as mat-
ter is the sole basis of all phenomena (as the unitary system of
materialism supposes) must be recognized as the principles of all
phenomena of the universe, the physical as well as spiritual, or
else the whole theory would fall asunder as a one-sided and there-
fore false hypothesis.
From the standpoint of Tyndall, Huxley, and other great sci-
entific investigators, we are confronted with the remarkable phe-
nomenon, that matter is presupposed as the absolute essence, but
that nevertheless its spiritual side is put down as from its very
nature incomprehensible, or at least uncomprehended, whence
Tyndall (as we have already seen) rightly demands a truer con-
74 The Idea of Malta:
ceptiou of the idea of matter than men of science Lave hitherto
had.
If matter is conceived, as it is universally, that each of its
parts or components is essentially extended and divisible, then
according to this idea, matter would be composite, ad infinitum.
Of course it makes no difference whether we speak of ideal or
actual divisibility, siuce infinite divisibility involves a state of
being infinitely divided, i. e., the so-called separation only rep-
resents the original separation as made visible. If we deny this,
we are met by Spinoza's illogical notion of the divisibility of the
form without the divisibility of the essence or substance, as if
form could stand in opposition to essence, or as if there
could be form without essence. Spinoza's absolute, indi-
visible, extended substance would not be able to exist as extend-
ed, because all of its parts and components are from the begin-
ning absorbed and dissolved in the unity of the substance. The
infinite, extended, but indivisible substance of Spinoza contains
an internal logical contradiction, just as the simple extended sub-
stance, divisible but not in and for itself discrete, is a similar
contradiction.
It is therefore agreed that if matter is extended and divisible
then it must be composite in itself or limited, and it therefore
passes continuously through these limits, and this internal limi-
tation must of course be infinite, i. e., must continue to the simple
ultimate element, for the analysis of thought can be satisfied
with nothing short of that. Hence matter must be resolvable
into pure simple elements, and would without these become a
chimera of so-called absolute empty space, of a merely negative
identity, devoid of essence, and of a pure logical contradiction.
This is the truth in the Atomistic Philosophy, only that in spec-
ulative analysis the atom necessarily becomes a monad. Hence
Leibnitz was justified in setting up the system of monads against
Spinoza's one extended and thinking substance, and had therein
seized the actually true principle of the unity of nature and
spirit, extension and subjectivity. Herbart also recognized the
principle of the universe in the community of souls. And Hegel
without more ado, posits matter as the continuity of the discrete,
the unity of independent somewhats which have sunk together
into the unity of space and time, i. e., motion, in which
differences have vanished, unity of repulsion and attraction
of the for itself existent ; although lie lias not adequately
The Idea of Matter 75
developed this true principle, and in his inverted method
derives the concrete from the abstract, instead of tirst com-
prehending the perfectly concrete principle by a speculative
analysis of the content of experience, and then developing
science from this concrete principle. Had Hegel but con-
tinued on this true road upon which he entered with his Phe-
nomenology of Spirit, from this phenomenology of the real spirit
he would have developed the universal metaphysical principle of
the universe, and from the latter would have followed the real
genesis of the same as a complete system of nature, in which
self-conscious spirit is nothing more than the final blossom of
nature. Philosophy from its very nature must (since scientific
knowledge is only the final reflection of being) begin with a re-
gressive movement, in which experience elevates itself to specu-
lative thought, and in which are shown the unity and commeusu-
rability of subject and object, ego and non-ego, science and na-
ture. Then philosophy must pass over to a progressive move-
ment, to a construction of the universe from one principle, upon
whose summit the mind returns to itself. The real principle, the
real ground of nature is not space and time and motion, abstrac-
tions which as such areeinpty nothings; and this Hegel well knew,
but he offered this discipline to the mind in order to lead it,
through these nothings, to the real. The true principle of nature
is the eternal unity or synthesis of real monads, as we shall see,
and not until this principle is postulated can we understand
space and time and motion, matter and its forces, life and mind,
which without this presupposition all vanish into nothingness.
We saw that the speculative analysis of matter leads to the imma-
terial and non-extended, as the elements of which matter is com-
posed. Matter is only a combination of simple beings, the chain
of souls or egos, as it were. Infinite divisibility is only the ever
unsuccessful attempt on the part of sense-perception to ex-
plain composite being as derivative from simple being. The con-
ception of matter as the conception of being is only the unsolved
and confused notion of a series of monads. The infinite sought
by the sensuous conception is reached in thought, and with it is
reached the eternally abiding existence in the changes of phe-
nomena in the mutable synthesis of the monads. The universe
is the ceaseless process of the S5*stem of monads. All matters,
forms, laws, forces, conscious and unconscious powers are the
offspring of this system. We have reached the point in which,
70 The Idea of Matter.
atoms and molecules of the scientists (into which the abstract
chimera of continuous extended entitiy has been resolved)
find their explanation in the absolute analysis of reason, in the
interaction of the centres of life.
Our problem is now (a) to show that the idea of the simple
essence, though not really perceivable by the senses, nor capable
of being pictured in the mind, still contains no contradiction,
and carries the element of visibility in it. (b) That the idea of
an original aggregate, and of interaction of simple entities, can
be conceived without contradiction, (c) That the universe with
all its material-spiritual phenomena, forms, laws, forces, is to be
comprehended or explained through this interaction. (1) Simple
being is the opposite of composite being, and all composite be-
ings can be reduced finally to simple beings. We will not here
dispute as to whether we may call a composite being " a being.""
We probably may so call it if the compositeness is understood
as an absolute composition — taking place through mutual inter-
action — being therefore an essential one, for here all beiugs re-
ciprocally assume their predicates of phenomena — the external
and internal phenomena are interlinked with each other from
within out, and so form a real whole. In the same way a row of
marbles, books, stones, etc., would not be called one being; but
we should speak of one stone, one plant, one animal, because
each exists only as a chain of parts and members, each through
the other, not as a mere external juxtaposition; and we shall see
that the universe is an eternal and internal chain of simple ele-
ments, an original manifold, an original form of unity, and so far
as the One infinite (i. e., a being limited only through itself) can
be defined, is self-articulated, i. e., is made up of simple element-
ary causal factors. Instead of composition the word interposit-
ing (fuer-einandersetzung) could be used if we wished to keep in
mind that this interpositing is imagined only as a reflex of beings
in antithetic relation to each other, in order to preserve their
mutual independence of each other. Interaction is an appro-
priate and correct expression.
Leibnitz places at the beginning of his Monadology the propo-
sition, "There are composite beings, hence there must be simple
beings." Much as this fundamental idea has been criticised (e. g.,
lately by Stallo) it still remains unrefuted, and the negative of
this proposition would be a simple logical contradiction, unless
those critics intend by it to posit an extended, divisible being.
The Idea of Matter. 77
without composition, without articulation. But that again is a
pure logical contradiction. Therefore the so-called continuity of
substance can in truth be only a middle term between unity and
separateness of substances, an internal-external chain or interac-
tion of simple elements, from which eternal chain the universe
proceeds.
Simple substance is that indivisible (because not composite)
being which is identical with itself. It cannot therefore be con-
ceived as extended, disparate, that is as consisting of parts in
juxtaposition, and so far cannot be really perceived by the senses
because sense-perception is a function of a composite somewhat
directed towards a composite somewhat. But should it be posi-
ted for thinking intuition, then the indivisible point must be con-
ceived as interactive, as centre of action. This indivisible one,
this simple ultimate is in itself free from logical contradiction,
because it is conceived as consisting of pure identity, of that
which is like itself, and this is what it is in its simple unity. Its
further quantitative and qualitative predicates are gained in the
interaction in ich^ch it defines itself. In any case as this simple
unity it is not perceivable by the sense, not susceptible of analy-
sis, indivisible, imperishable; it is the invisible root of the phe-
nomenal world, which it is true can be conceived only as a total-
ity of such roots in a state of interaction.
So far as these simple beings or constituent parts of being
(according to whether we have in view the particulars or the
whole, synthesis or analysis) offer themselves as the limits or as
the original points of all real sense-perception, of all quality and
quantity, we may perhaps say that they are inconceivable, mere
abstractions, nothings ; i. e., they are negatives of phenomenal
reality just as the point is the limit, the negative, the nothing of
the line and of space. And this consciousness of the negative,
this rejection of simple elements from the standpoint of a reality
picturable for the senses, would be perfectly justifiable, and the
existences would be resolved into nothing if we could hud in
them no bridge as it were, to sense-perception, that is if they
were not combined in everlasting unity as a totality, through
whose interaction they are able to represent the sensible world,
whereby each element is a necessary collection, a centre of life,
without losing its simple identity. So they appear as dynamic
central spheres, as we shall see, and not as separable into material
particles, not as atoms. So, conceived as central spheres of life
78 The Lien of Matter.
and motion, as centres of relatively minute spaces which they
create, they arc in the element of sense-perceptibility, and can
develop the phenomenal world in time and space. Xo other hy-
pothesis (neither that of continuous matter, nor the atomic the-
ory,) can overcome logical contradiction. Both inevitably crum-
ble into nothing. Only in the interaction of the monadic factors-
can we obtain a fixed point of rest for the flowing current of the
phenomenal world. Hence thought must posit it. It must posit
the absolute, infinite discreteness in the continuity of the whole,,
unless it allows the manifestation of the discrete in the continu-
ous, and vice versa, in a contradictory manner.
Our standpoint is nothing more than the infinite analysis (i. e. r
in thought) of the world as perceived through the senses. It is
the unity of the totality, the ultimate synthetic-analytic unity, in
which absolute posit ivity includes all affirmations and negations.
Only as the combination of primal elements, monads, can a so-
called primal matter, primal substance occupying space, be com-
prehended as a thinkable reality in which all phenomena rise and
set. While with the taking away of this .r, this simple self-sub-
sistent, the universe would vanish into mere relations without
subjects, into a dreamy line-drawing in an empty space. So we
must now recognize as valid the doctrine of monads, and if we
find in it the grounds of all material and spiritual phenomena of
experience, then Ave shall recognize in primal matter the univer-
sal and ultimate root of the universe. And this doctrine annuls
the fancies or anthropomorphisms of the various religions, and
transforms Hegel's entire speculative logic (as well as religion)
into the phenomenology of the universe as reflected in the human
mind, into a subjective abstraction from human experience. The
self-emancipation of the so-called "Absolute Idea" into Nature is a
pure chimera or farce, a juggler's trick of thinking, like the notion
of a divine creation of the world out of nothing. That essential
whole (of monads) present in the universe, is all in all, and there
exuts nothing behind the universe, and over and above the uni-
verse — no absolute idea, no God, no immortal human spirit. In
this sense is Hegel the last of the scholastics through whose new-
departure science is first completely freed from the dogmas of
phantasy, and the only possibility is given for a reconciliation of
philosophy and natural science. This analysis is now in full
progress, this consciousness is increasing more widely, and
The Idea of Matter. 79
therein is the great importance of Tyndall's address, the inde-
pendent scientific value of which is a mere cipher.
2. Absolute Combination and Interaction of Elementary Es-
sences. — We posit a totality of simple nltimates, of unities of
being and action. We posit them eimply together, that is recip-
rocally present in one infinite centre, for nothing is presupposed
but them, there is therefore nothing which could separate or
keep them apart but their own activity. We presuppose no space,
no time, in short absolutely nothing but the monads. For all
such presuppositions would be mere logical contradictions, exist-
ing nothings. There is therefore nothing between the monads,
or that which is between is only their product. They are there-
fore necessarily combined, undivided, the positive, infinite whole.
The basis of the universe is not the monad, but the unity of
monads. Apart from this the monad would sink back into inef-
fable being, devoid of quality or quantity or power of manifesta-
tion ; it would be the uucognizable " real " of Herbart. Herbart's
fundamental error is that he assumes that the "reals" could in
the beginning be combined or not combined, as a matter of acci-
dent. Their not being combined leads to a logical contradiction,
because it must presuppose an independent, sundering nothing.
All real space vanishes if the system of monads is taken away.
The monad gets its real attributes (outside of its simple identity)
only in combination, in relation. This is the truth in the theories
of such men as Moleschott, Stallo, Lewes, and the relativists in
general. The mistake is that they posit the whole relative phe-
nomenal world without independent existent things, without real
centres. The relation without the terms between which the rela-
tion exists, is a form without essence. They eliminate the ,r, and
so make the universe a relativity, a phenomenon of nothing. For
all continuous primal matter, primal forces which may be presup-
posed in addition, are of no assistance, for they themselves are
resolved into relativity. The logical contradiction consists iu a
relation without the terms of the relation.
The thought of the monad can be repudiated only at the ex-
pense of reducing the world to a desert waste. Without the
monad all existence becomes an illusion. In every element, in
every point of the universe, must be posited the independently
existing into-thcmselves-refiected monads, the ultimate, or else
all relations vanish.
What is now the notion of the monad-totalitv t The monads
80 The Idea of Matter.
arc not simply in and through each other, for then they would
collapse into one centre, one existence, their being' would he pos-
ited as nothing - , we should have no extended world, nor the sense-
perception of a world. So Leibnitz degrades the monads to a
mere illusion by the contradictory fancy of an emanation ("efful-
guration ") of monads from the primal monad; he makes their
origin and disappearance a miracle, as he himself expressly
acknowledges; in other words he also remains captive in the re-
ligions stage of phantasy. Xor are the monads simply external
to each other or in juxtaposition. For then they would represent
a rigid, dead mass, like Herbart's rigid line, and could not even
be conceived in this totality, because the contact of simple beings
(real points) would necessarily be the coalescence of the same,
consequently their annihilation ; pure externality would return
into pure internality, or rather it would never have proceeded
from it. Of course the agglomeration of monads can be only an
eternal process of the same, in order to continually transform
their positive unity (penetration, attraction) into negative unity
(externality, repulsion) and vice versa, the negative into posi-
tive unity ; in other words the monads are permanent impul-
ses and activities against each other. Tins is their perpetual con-
tact, which can be conceived in no other manner. They are thus
because their absolute combination, their self-preservation in
negation or limitation is reciprocally possible only in this way,
but the annihilation of existence, being impossible, is a logical con-
tradiction, because that which is posited would appear as not
posited, or objectively expressed, the existing somewhat would
appear as nothing. Only through this eternal conflict, this eter-
nalplay of monads, can the phenomenal world of time and space
be founded. Hence the universe is combined from infinitely mi-
nute, simple, active elements, which as in eternal contact (combi-
nation) become impulses for each other and centres of spheres of
motion, thus creating the spaces between them, the attractive
and repulsive forces ; and as this chain they establish the phe-
nomenon of matter, which consequently is formed everywhere
and always, and ever exhibits in specific forms the various mat-
ters or bodies. Therefore all matter as interaction of its real
centres, occupies space, is impenetrable and heavy.
But does there not lie an internal contradiction in the develop-
ment of simple beings that are in contact, into central spheres ot
action ? Is there not here a centre of action in a surrounding
The Idea of Matter. 81
sphere of space, consequently a centre that acts where it really
is not 1 ? Is it not therefore really resolved into an externality*
To be sure we posit being or the substanceof the central sphere,
as point, as centre, and the spatial sphere of activity (the dy-
namic atmosphere, so to speak, or the combining, ideal
pether, posited in the reflexion from one centre against other
centres, in other words, objective space) cannot be being or sub-
stance, existing in and for itself, nor can it be merely nothing ; it
must therefore be a shining, a reflex of being, the positive
negation of being, originating from being by contact or combina-
tion. And this is no logical contradiction, because the positive
identity of being itself is not negated, is rather posited, but as-
mutual interdependence of beings, whereby is given with logical
necessity, a reflex in every being, a shining of being, in and
from itself, against other beings. The beings — if they are to exist
over against each other — as they must, because they are simply
accepted from negation — must preserve themselves in com-
bination and in their reciprocal limitation ; also must discrim-
inate themselves in unity, returning from the others into them-
selves. And this discrimination and returning is notour thought
of them, but their own process, their own life, and must be their
self-activity for each other, hence their positing of an appear-
ance, of a continuous externality between them, an oscillation
and a tension between them. This is the process which we are
obliged to substitute for Herbart's contradictory notion of an in-
complete interpenetratiou of the " reals." We must convert
Herbart's spheres into central spheres. At any rate it is clear
that through self-activity of monads, without which the idea of
the contact or the combination of real points cannot be realized,
an externality (space and time) would be constructed, a jux-
taposition and consecutiveness. Thus the centre creates a pe-
riphery out of itself, forced by the negation posited in it through
the other, it (the centre) is an internality in an externality, an in-
ternality which posits an externality, in which it exists. All real
space, time and motion, follow from this, that the active elements
in their unity limit themselves for each other, really discriminate
themselves. In this manner the ultimates draw elementary lines
for each other, hence space-lines, a form to the essence, which
form is posited out of the essence and is reabsorbed into the es-
sence, in repulsive and attractive activity, in oscillation, in the
X— 6
82 The Idea of Matter.
electric play. Matter, the phenomenon of this internal construc-
tion is therefore absolutely elastic, although in the most different
forms and grades.
In this way we must consider the lines between real points
(the so-called empty space, whose central points are the monads)
as a posited appearance, as a direction of force, a perspective of
action in the monad, whereby it positively and negatively coheres
with the other monads, so that the forces, the impulses of mo-
tion change into motion itself. At a relative minimum of dis-
tance the positive becomes negative, at a relative maximum dis-
tance the negative becomes positive, and so a continual oscillation
of motion is posited, whereby maxima and minima of distance
are relative according to the different standpoints of single mem-
bers in the system of the ichole. The immediate and mediate
chains of monads extending in all directions, the impulse to activ-
ity and the spaces and times are universally evolved and brought
into relation and become specific. So phenomenal matter with all
its forms and forces is the interaction of monads, always having a
certain but mutable form. The universe is the eternal positing,
analysis, and transmutation of all matters in infinite revolution,
whilst the eternal self-included totality has primally the differen-
tiations of activity within itself, which, continually comprehended
in the impulse to equilibrium, let one condition proceed from an-
other, thereby showing the necessity of the causal chain. This
process is eternally one with the essence of the totality, because
in it the primal difference and the impulse toward equilibrium
are eternal.
Finally the question arises: Is not space as an ex istinq, empty
externality between the monads, in contradiction with the concep-
tion of space as an appearance — a direction aud line of being?
As existing it (space) must be a being, aud consequently, as it
seems, must coalesce with continuous matter. We should thus
be led around in a circle, to the contradiction of a pure continu-
ous matter, which would be identical with continuous space. But
space as an existing being, is only an abstraction of the fancy.
In truth it is only the relativity of existences posited and can-
celled by them. It is the negation posited by beings, their dis-
tance from each other, in which coherence is preserved only
through the perspective of beings, as the differing intensity of
the impulse of the same for each other. It is therefore the ob-
jective appearance of being, a product of motion. The separa-
The Idea of Matter. 83
tion of beings is effected by their negative motion, and space is no-
thing but this separation, which is continuous and indivisible. It
therefore varies as the motion which creates it varies, thus mak-
ing a larger or smaller space. Hence objective space vanishes
with the coalescence of the monads, is proved to be a posited no-
thing, an appearance. The space of the universe is the perpetual
product of the universal chain of monads in its movements and
articulation, and in this space exist and move all members which at
the same time originate it. If all the members were to combine per-
fectly into one, which is impossible, then space would disappear as
an illusory appearance; nothing would remain but the subjective
conception (assuming it were possible) of an infinite void, an infi-
nite nothing, in truth only the idea of a universal possibility of a
here and there. This empty space would not be perceived through
the senses, because it could exercise no effect upon the ego, on
account of its emptiness. The apparent perception of space
through the senses would be only a fancy in the life of the brain,
an internal subjective movement (assuming a brain were possible
without the presupposition of a universe).
A logical contradiction consists in abolishing a determination
at the same time within which it is posited, in predicating of a
thing that which is irreconcilable with its idea, e. g., a quadrilat-
eral circle or wooden iron. If we now posit beings or egos in
contact or in relation to each other, then determinations will be
developed from them which could not be those of isolated beings.
Logical contradiction cannot forbid our positing interdependent
beings ; for one is not posited as the other but with the other,
they are self-identical in the negation which strikes them, and
must be posited as this self-identity mediated by negation in
order to avoid contradiction. So each must be posited as self-
preservation, but self-preservation is something other than
mere self-existence, it is mediated by the attempted negation, it is
negation of negation. The universe is therefore the eternal ne-
gation of negation, appertaining to all egos in their relation to
each other, so all are self-limitations, are beings which posit the
limits in themselves, in other words self-preservation. The impulse,
motion, space and time are only these negations of negation, these
activities and manifestations of the egos for each other. The eter-
nal egos could not exist reciprocally combined if they did not eter-
nally originate the objective appearance of the universe. The
universe can be only the eternal process of self-preservation of
84 The Idea of Matter.
the monads in reciprocal conflict and reflex. It is an objective
appearance, as is evident from the fact that all its forms are tran-
sitory, although necessarily trausmntable into others. Only the
monads, their combination and their primal impulses in combina-
tion are eternal ; the form of the combination changes while the
relativity of the monads varies. In this sense the immortal al-
ways-identical somewhat, is matter icith its primal instincts with-
out which it cannot exist a moment. The final question is, "How
then is developed perpetually the manifolduess of forms (of mat-
ter with its forces) in the primal essence, the monad totality " .'
3. The Universe as the Necessary Consequence of the Totality
of Monads, or of Primal Matter. — Of course we shall not
here attempt to give a theory of the construction of the
universe, which iu any case would probably be premature.
But we will show in brief that a world of motion, articulation
(organization) and metamorphoses necessarily follows from
the principle, that in particular the forms and laws of nature
follow from it, and the forms of intelligence in animals and man
result from it.
(a) We see that sensible matter has for its presupposition the
interaction and motion of the elementary unities. We call the
monads central spheres in so far as they appear as central 2>oints
of spatial spheres, by means of which they cohere and oscillate re-
ciprocally. These lines iu the immediate interdependence of the
centres of activity, we may call the smallest elements or real dif-
ferentials of spatial, sensible reality, which elements are in every
respect relative, discriminated according to the differentiation of
matter in the whole. At the same time that all elements are uni-
ted, in part immediately, in part mediately, by intervening mem-
bers, and hence form a chain, the so-called actio in distans, and
entire spheres of space are developed in which we find the uni-
versal polarity of the series [of monads] in attractions and repul-
sions, contractions and expansions, elasticity, motion of mole-
cules and of masses, vibrations and wave lines ; in light, heat,.
electricity, magnetism, crystallization, chemic force and organic
force. If we now posit the whole — which as existing reality can
not be sought in the infinite but must be a totality complete and
entire in itself — as the positive maximum (as vice versa divisibil-
ity in the monad terminates as the infinitesimal) — if then we
presuppose the positive totality as an original irregular whole
(not as the one possible case among an infinite number of abso-
The Idea of Matter. 85
lutely perfect spheres) which presupposition being absolute ad-
mits no cause, but is only made in order to explain the real uni-
verse : then we immediately have in this whole, with the univer-
sal internal molecular motion (so to describe in brief the motion
of the smallest parts of the monads and their smallest constella-
tions of atoms and molecules) an original motion of the mass, by
virtue of the universal gravitation or attraction within the series,
which in the unspherical whole seeks to create the absolute
sphere, and so establishes in the eternally existing being an eter-
nal goal for its strivings, a universal motion toward the creation
of universal equilibrium.
The particular motions in general must unite in a common
rotation, and create the universe as a rotating spheroid, in which
spheres separate themselves from spheres (rings) and finally be-
come separate bodies, and the system of the starry universe is
formed. At the same time the molecular determinations must
arise, and there must be special forms of combination, i. e., mole-
cules, (whose most primitive members are the so-called atoms) thus
forming the so-called elementary matter or material elements, which
then by new and closer unions originate concrete matters and
bodies, all in mathematical necessity conformable to law. And
as the primal atoms (monads) are all of equal value for the
phenomenal world, since no difference of essence can be conceiv-
ed in the simple, then the identically combined primal forms (ele-
mentary atoms) must be identical, must be capable of reciprocal
substitution; the differently combined on the contrary must be
different in quality and quantity and in their neutral combination,
their respective unions and separations must exhibit the chemical
processes, the synthetic and analytic processes. So primal mat-
ter, (the totality of monads) is comprehended in an eternal process
of progressive and regressive specification. And this process of
molecular and mass motion, of articulation, dissolution and re-artic-
ulation, can never cease, because the difference is originally in
the absolute and hence must appear to all infinity. The universe
is the never-dying life, an eternal circular motion. It needs nei-
ther the chimera of Spencer's infinite nor YVinchell's God in order
to be resurrected from its death.
(b) The forms of primal matter as articulated we call the ichole
of nature, which is therefore all in all. For what in contrast to
it we call mind, sensation, consciousness, thought, will, is as re-
ality only an internal appearance in a form of nature, in the ani-
80 The Idea of Matter.
rnal organism, and at its highest potency in man. But since feel-
ings, thought and will inhere in the same matter (although loca-
ted in special organs) which (matter) also forms the crystal and
the plant by other forms of combination, then the principle or
the potency of spirit must lie in all nature, therefore in the mo-
nad itself, and every other conception of the monad and of mat-
ter is simply unthinkable, would take from the monad its ego, its
internality, and thereby annihilate it. The essence of mind is
self-manifestation of being, it is the objectivity become inter-
nality or self-determining. Now this internality is inseparable
from the monad in its interaction : it is its ego, its self-preserva-
tion in limitation. Without this it would have to vanish as one
empty point of space vanishes in another. Consequently, with
Leibnitz, Herbart, Schopenhauer and Hartmann, we must posit
in the whole of nature, (hence simply and altogether in matter)
idea and will as the quintessence of every force and motion; so
that this ego is as manifold as the monad, and in such combina-
tions appears like the monad and so is more or less a universal,
combined ego in the special members of the universe, and a most
universal and most abstract world-ego. But the ego is raised to
consciousness only in the animal organism. Cognition and will
in the strictest sense, inhere only in a certain highest concrete
and organized reflex form of matter, and act first of all even here
as unconscious formative instinct to the further organization of
matter, always emerging from unconsciousness to consciousness
and vice versa returning from consciousness to unconscious force
of nature, in a continual metamorphosis of forces. Leibnitz thus
rightly says, " The monads are in the so-called lifeless nature in
the state of sleep, in the animal in the state of dreaming, in man
in the state of awakening." The forces of nature are therefore
nothing but the exhibitions of the necessity of the sleeping ego,
of every monad in the conflict of monads, the continual evolu-
tion of the centre in the periphery, in motion. The spiritual
forces in the narrower sense, are the taking back of motions into
centrality, that is the self-perception of the same, or the contin-
ual metamorphosis of motion into sensation and will-instinct,
which then resolve themselves into motions again. In this idea
alone arc solved the contradictions ot Tyndall, Huxley, and
Spencer; in it is reached the true notion of matter which Tyn-
dall seeks. Na1 are is every where merely sleeping spirit, no more
and no less. And in the animal and in man it awakes, matter
The Idea of Matter. 87
itself awakes, and herein is solved once and forever the dualism
of matter and mind, object and subject, thing in itself and cog-
nition, non-ego and ego — absolute cognition is established, natural
science and philosophy reconciled.
(c) And because nature in itself is mind, then the mind in na-
ture can awake by a higher reflexion of natural force. It is awa-
kened in the animal organism whose highest form is man, created
by development, by an ever fuller reflexion of the animal, by its
own perfect self-production in the course of millions of years.
The highest result of this process is the human brain, to which
finally the simple nerve-ganglion has developed, and so is en-
throned above all lower forms. Were nature only a system of
dead atoms then mind would never awake. Such chimeras as
are set up by Challis and others, believers in soulless mechanics,
with their impossible, self-contradictory fundamental notions of
the material universe, demand for compensation separate souls
and gods. The true, universal essence of the universe, is indi-
vidualized, living, primal matter, everywhere in which life and
mind in a special sense can appear. The life of the mind as
brain-life demands on the one side the foundation of the same in
the construction of the brain and nervous system, on the other side
the comprehension of the same as a development in its own ele-
ment, the development of consciousness, thought and will,
which are as incomprehensible from the exterior mechanical
brain form as the articulation of organism is from unorganized
chemic force. Organism is the continual reaction upon chemical
forces, and consciousness is the continual reaction upon the brain
or upon organism. Higher concrete reflex points are formed
from lower ones, upon which they react. Such a reflex point is
life, appearing out of the unorganized synthesis, such a higher
reflex point is sensation, appearing in life. And every such point
surrounds itself with its own organization, forming its own pre-
supposed basis from itself, reaching out in order to transform the
lower into its form of growth so far as the nature of the lower
will allow. Mature is a system of reflex-stages, on the summit
of which stands man and spirit, all based in the living chain of
monads.
CONCLUSION.
Matter, then, is the chain and interaction of living unities.
Therefore matter is extended, divisible, moving and equilibrating,
resistent and elastic, articulated and organized, perceptive and
88 The Idea of Matter.
impulsive, and the promise and potency and actuality of life and
mind.
Tyndall, a very thoughtful experimentalist and a man of the
noblest character, has the true image of Matter and Nature. To
him Nature is a living organized whole, an interaction, oscilla-
tion, equilibration of moving atoms, and a power or potency of
sensibility and will. In his preface to the last edition of the
"Fragments of Science," ("Popular Science Monthly," Dec,
1875, p. 129-148) he has gone farthest in his ideal intuition of
matter as universal vitality and sensibility, which he does not deny
â– even to the elemental and mineral world. That is the most which
we can ask from the standpoint of mere empirical induction. That
standpoint lacks only the cognition that no matter at all, not even
the smallest atom can really be thought as existing without con-
tinuous subjectivity or reflection into itself, that is without vital
points ; that no predicates, relations, forces, and therefore no
movement and mechanism are at all possible without subjects,
that is, simple beings reflected into themselves as well as into
others. All attraction, repulsion, impenetrability, movement,
translation of movement, resistance to movement, consequently
all mechanism presupposes monads becoming vital by their posi-
tive-negative reaction to other limiting monads. The speculative
thinking alone, and not the mere empirical inductive imagination
can understand and illuminate the ultimate processes of things; it
posits the absolute presupposition of the phenomenal world. For
the speculative thinking, the universe is the totality of living
differentials and integrals of being, manifesting themselves in
chains of space and time or movement. Matter as the mere
passive, extended, impenetrable and moveable substance, is t he
most irrational of all ideas.
(89)
NOTES AND DISCUSSIONS.
What is Truth f
Editor of the Journal of Speculative Philosophy :
Sir:— Some comment on the article entitled " What is Truth ? "
by Mr. A. E. Kroeger in the October number of the Journal, I will
endeavor to express, although in the gossipy style of one whose
brains are not well settled either as to Truth or as to anything else.
Very commendable the article is in several respects, to wit: that it is
brief, and it is clear, and it has at least an ambition to stand alone.
The last is not the least respect, as due to that Greek simplicity which
holds the problem close in view and still attempts to state it, or at
least to declare some strong conviction in regard of it, whereas too
much is usually said, in discussions, of other previous discussions — in-
dulging and expatiating in the " literature of the topic." Not that I
would claim for the method which I here approve much hope from
past examples of success. No : I do not remember any absolute
stand-alone apothegms which are in themselves explanatory, or of any
use or meaning save to those who know and learned their truth other-
wise, and who might as well have said them themselves. Thus the
saying: "the more is thought," or "the more is the thought," (as
Dr. Stirling reads it) has occasioned words enough to make one wish
Parmenides had taken a few more words and explained himself. So
the saying of Heraclitus: "Strife is the father of things," brings with
it after-thoughts which defeat it as an explanation — for the father and
children are of one species, and we are only set at referring the father
to the grandfather, with little hope of reaching the great-great-grizzly
grandfather of All. So the saying of St. John : "All things are made
by the logos," brings after-thoughts as to whether the logos is another
"thing," and whether there are realities which are not things, yet are
principles of things — some-thing made by no-thing, yet not nothing.
The sayings of Jesus also, pregnant with general truth, are but con-
tradictions to all who have not by their own thinking forestalled the
use of them. "My doctrine is not mine," he says; "the words I
speak I speak not of myself," etc. So when Master Emerson says,
"We are wiser than we know," we can but ask, what if not-know-
ledge is competent to itself? how can we know and not know we
know ? Yet this is clear and suggestive to him who holds the general
as the life of the particular, and not all revealed in the particular —
that the genius moves the man (who builds better than he knows,)
and not that the man manipulates his genius — we being in this regard
like those toys on the stove pipe, where a little busy figure seems to
be turning a wheel, which in fact is turning him. And so in this
light we can understand Goethe when in his later years reviewing his
90 Notes and Discussions.
earlier works lie said there was much in them which he did not know,
when he wrote them, and which could not have been written had he
not been submissive in spirit — or as his detractors might say, full of
the conceit that he was inspired. But in regard of making absolute
and uncontradictable statements, I do not see how there is to be a phi-
losophy outside of the philosopher's own head, and left behind when
he dies, unless there is some method invented to preserve it, so that it
can be immediately taught and communicated to a novice. It is of no
use teaching philosophy to one Avho already knows it. What could be
more ridiculous than two philosophers with their heads together, coo-
ing and congratulating over an interior revelation which neither
could tell the other or anybody else? But bring your philosopher to
the test of writing a dictionary — make him say that which shall stand
self-explanatory, and then let us ask if either of Mr. Kroeger's an-
swers to Pilate's question would be satisfactory. One answer is :
"truth is simply a word." That would never do in a dictionary:
boot-jack is also a word, yet not like truth, although it has a double
tongue. The other answer is in effect : " truth " is a phenomenal rela-
tion to the mind, like " causality : " but this would not pass, for many
reasons, not the least of which is that explanatory knowledge cannot
be phenomenal because knowledge alone is competent to itself— while
" causality " is an illusion of sense and time, and is invisible from the
standpoint whence all things always are, under the form of eternity.
Death also is a word for a relation to the mind, but it is a fair ques-
tion what death is, as aside from what it appears.
And, by the way, how have the lexicographers met this demand
upon their philosophical skill? Certainly no better than other folk of
less pretension. What says Mr. Webster to Pilate's question— or
rather, what says another professor who does the unabridged philo-
sophical in AVebster's dictionary ? Truth is thus defined : " Exact ac-
cordance to that which is, has been, or shall be ; " I shall not dispute
this as an aphorism, but some vulgar questions arise : Besides what
is, is there more which accords to it ? What accords to that which is?
— that which is not? or does that which is accord to itself in a self-
relation ? Take another of his definitions- Being: this he defines as
" existence ;" that is, the being of " things." But it does not require
much study to perceive that being, pure and simple, were the same
whether as the being of these things or others or none at all ; that be-
ing is supposed to be thought. Take another of his definitions — iden-
tity: this is defined " sameness." Yet this same is another; same-
ness is of two or more ; and the identity of otherness is one with the
identity of sameness, etc., etc.
This is not very successful defining we will all admit, but who gives
us any better? or can a word define a thought, or put it where it was
not before? Can you tell a man what black is, if he does not know
beforehand? no better than vou can tell him the truth of the tooth-
Notes and Discussions. 91
ache. Even so, Mr. Kroeger infers a man must have the phenomenal
relation of truth in his own experience, and it is not to be referred or
explained but identified, and raises no question if only it is called by
its conventional name. This may be a correct statement, but is it not
empirical? Is it not in the spirit by which Fichte said, "Ask not for
the how; be satisfied with the fact?" Is it in the manner of one
who would make self-determination the final explanation ?
Pilate might have heard all that Mr. Kroeger has said of truth, and
then have said impatiently: "Yes, yes! I know — I want the good
man to tell me of this 'relation to the mind,' what distinguishes it from
false conviction, etc." And haply he had dreamed that being was
thought, and that thought was the universe — was All and at once the
knowledge of All, and as knowledge was all, the truth of All was the
relation of thought to itself. Now why did not Mr. Kroeger say that
truth was thought's one and only relation to itself?
I have a notion as to why he did not say this : it was because this
answer is as dark as the question ; it was because there is at least an
immense difficulty in using generals without particulars — in telling
pure reason — in giving out a "content of the speculative." If the
mind can think the mind and think erroneously, the relation of
thought to the thinker is not necessarily truth.
In any method of immediate thought with which we are acquainted
self-relation impeaches itself. Truth as a relation to the mind infers
a likeness, an accordance, a correlation in thought, which splits
thought as All in two, and declares that truth is when thought is as it
knows, or when the two items of being and knowing are — what ?
alike? or the same? or one? when the two are one! and the one is
other, and the same! According to Mr. Kroeger being and thought
are not the same ; the words indicate a distinction; yet only in their
identity is truth possible — and in their difference.
The difficulty in the mind of Pilate may have been as to whether
the particular truly represents the general, or is at all necessary to the
general ; and if we are to hold that the general is not obtained through
the particular — that our ideas are not all from the senses and experi-
ence (which is the only hope of immortality because, if all our ideas
did not come through the senses, some of them may survive the
senses) — and that there may be generals which have no particulars
(for example the infinite,) then it may be correct to say that pure rea-
son does not descend to nor rise from formal expression, and philos-
ophy does not survive the senses and the formal imagination, which
now make philosophy by trying to embrace the general as speculative
content.
But Mr. Kroeger attempts to knock Pilate down with his Fichtean
"is." Truth does not is, says Mr. K., and it is silly to ask how it ises*
a thing is according to our knowledge of it, or its appearance, and its
reality may not all have ised ; the thing in itself we may not know r
92 Notes and Discussions.
for it may is out other appearances hereafter, etc. I do not see this
clearly. If the "thing in itself" is mind, or thought, and self-know-
ledge is the universe, it would seem that the "thing in itself" is
known, and there is nought else to he known.
If we could get thoroughly at this "is," then we might better de-
cide whether and how truth is. I have a notion that the content of
the speculative, though now it is not, must be made to is before there
can be Philosophy taught. And let not Mr. K. be discouraged, but
set right off and go measuring the infinite, and if by pursuing a
straight course he comes upon his tracks again he may swear that he
has made a circle, and the All, though infinite to sense and imagina-
tion, is One in reason ; then by counting his tracks he may construct
a method, or system, which may be relied upon in predicating forms
of the formless — which will put the back and the front of his head
together, the general and particular together, and find an is which
shall not only predicate the ex-istence of Being, but shall serve as well
for Seyn as for Daseyn. Now truth according to Fichte would
occur thus : Being ex-ists, or is: the existence or manifestation of
Being, whereby and wherein it is (or ises,) is Knowledge ; and Truth
will occur when the knowledge or existence and the Being or inhe-
rence shall what ? conform ? no, for existence is itself the " form "
•of the otherwise formless being; the general cannot conform to the
particular, but dwells only in the "form of eternity." And see how
utterly empirical all this is. Knowledge comes forth according to
Beiug, and is secondary and not a principle ; all first is, and only sec-
ondarily is known — or, fate is the basis of being. But the truth which
we seek, and the only truth which is now held to be explanatory, is
not in an observation of a process of being or becoming or existing,
but in a process of perceiving that which eternally abides ; for in truth
all things always are. So that if we are anywhere near correctness
when we declare that the only possible explanation or truth of the
total is self-relation — a possibility or truth only to the general faculty
of mind, and to the particular faculty a contradiction — and if this
self-relation is self-knowledge, which not by any exertion but by a ne-
cessity of reason is self-determination, and if this cannot be thought
out and understood in any immediacy of imaginative or formal
thought, but must be confessed as the, conclusion of an approved pro-
cess of thinking — if truth is to be sought and gathered by the appli-
cation and test of the right system, rather than formally pictured by
the mind's eye, then is it not a fair question : What is truth ? and the
same whether we refer to truth in general or in particular? If it is
not a fair question then we particulars should be as well contented to
abide as we are, or to set back deeper into our particularity and sen-
sual limits, and filling our bellies with wine, to hoot at reason and
the gods. Mr. K. surely does not mean us to infer that we all know
the truth already. You, Mr. Editor, designate truth as "the form of
Notes and Discussions. 93
the total," and you believe " truth can be known by the thinking rea-
son." I suppose Mr. Kroeger also to know the truth, but he pays me
too great a compliment if he says that I know it also, in any other
sense than that in which Euthydemus said Socrates knew all things,
for of course the latter could not mention anything in instance of
what he did not know. I know enough of truth to mention it, and to
distinguish it from whiteness and sourness, etc., and even so I know
the number of sands on the seashore ; but to say I know " the form
of the total " in such a sense that I see how the positive is constituted
out of the negative — how all eternally abides — were to say a good deal.
To say I know that Being and Nought are equal, simply because both
are alike undetermined, and that the particulars under the general
Being, need no more invention nor explanation than so many void
spaces — that because positive infers negative, and light infers dark-
ness, so a certain region in general nothingness infers a cotton-gin — or
that any amount of sleep and death and darkness infers conscious
soul — or that because the reason of things is and must be reason, the
reason of things is my reason, or reasonable to me without further in-
quiry, is to hold me at least wiser than most folks. I should know
also the False, and the Grotesque — for the wise Greek who carved the
statue of Jupiter cut a baboon's head on the arm of his throne. Shall
not truth as the form of the total embrace the false and the illusive ?
Is not the illusive, as empirical fact, as true as the real ? death as true
as life ? When I think of these things, and remember how we weary
of monotony and sameness, I dread lest the knowledge of an unchang-
ing total should stale within the soul, and make her pine for a Mys-
tery, a Contingency, a Fate, and make her cry with Tithonus "release
me and restore me to the ground." Many evidences indicate that the
truth is just this mixture of certainty and uncertainty. Moreover, in
the ana?sthetic revelation I have a " light that was never on land or
sea," a light which belongs and abides only about the anaesthetic con-
dition, and which normally I can neither utter, remember, nor think
of, and of which all the books I can read fail utterly to remind me.
Still I read on, cherishing for the professors of philosophy a most cor-
dial fraternal feeling, and hoping yet to "know how it is myself." If
a man says he knows, I am ready to believe him ; but if I knew, it
seems to me I should be that happy and contented that I would not
call even a dog "silly," much less lament over the shallowness of
Plato, whose private conclusions are not very well known to us. But
this is a matter of personal disposition.
Now let me sum up, and set forth Mr. Kroeger's position, and see
what he says. Truth in the vulgar acceptation is the likeness or cor-
rectness of any pretended representation ; but on second thought, to
represent a thing absolutely were to double it in place and time, and
hence all pretense of actual representation is questionable to the vul-
94 Notes and Dismissions.
gar mind; the substance is not in the picture, nor is the actual life in
the story that is told. The question then arises, what is absolute
truth? and we see that absolute truth is possible only when know-
ledge is itself the objective substance of knowledge; and here the
after-thought arises that the truth of knowing-being, in order to retain
the vulgar notion of likeness, must have two items in order to like-
ness of them — for if knowing-being were absolutely one, truth would
be squeezed out of it. Rut to hold being and knowing as two, is to
have one element in the world which is beyond knoAvledge, has not
its principle in knowledge, and therefore is blind and unsafe. To ob-
viate all this a new art of thinking became necessary — the art of think-
ing self-relation — an art above the antagonism of sense and reason.
Now it is the progress (whether individual or collective) of this art
of thinking, wherein the old duplexity is obviated, which raises in
lower minds a question to the higher as to what is meant by truth, or.
what becomes of the likeness between the two sides of the old duplex-
ity when the absolute becomes one. In the new method of thinking
the immediate is not the true, in knowledge, and the conclusion is
formless save as it has the form of a system by which truth is found
but not seen. But when this process has obtained such a perfect tech-
nique or mechanism that it can be used for immediate knowing, then
the old likeness will be restored or retained by absolute dialectic.
Now Mr. Kroeger seems to believe or think that as truth is a common
phenomenon of intelligence, all question in regard of it only presup-
poses the mind's consciousness of such a relation, which, like pain, we
all have by experience, and any question of " what it is " is silly if we
only use the word conventionally; if a man shouts "Oh!" when he
is hurt, that settles the question of what is the matter with him. So
in all our uneasiness and perplexity in this existence, if we so state
the phenomena of our condition that other men identify it, all curios-
ity looking to the solution of our doubts and the relief of our anxiety
by solving the puzzle which we are, is impertinent and vain. To me
it seems that Mr. Ivroeger has not spoken relevantly of his rubric, and
that at least a part of life's puzzle is to tell what the puzzle is — that is,
to state the problem of philosophy : What is Philosophy ? And on
this theme I would be glad to hear him.
With high regard for all who even try to know the truth, I remain
your obedient servant, Benjamin Paul Blood.
Amsterdam, N. Y., December, 1875.
Notes and Discussions.
95
Exposition of the Human Form in in its Three Degrees: as Sensory
and Physical ; Rational and Moral ; Sophial and Divine.
Involved Elements. -I
"I : The Sensory Powers deal with thing's — with sense-
properties only.
II: The Rational Powers deal with things and ideas
in the interest of special science, or to special
designs in knowledge.
Ill: The Sophial Powers deal with things and ideas in
lull divine order; under the laws of unitary
science — knowledge upon principles of uni-
versal unity.
ANALYSIS AND DEFINITIONS.
Sensory Form.
(Animal).
1st. Senso-Sensory, consists of merest animal sensibilities
as allied to things and states, under express natural
conditions.
2d. Ratio-Sensory, consists of merest animal reason; reason
prompted and controlled by the wants of the animal
nature.
3d. Sophia- Sensory , consists of the animal instincts, which
are dominant in the animal nature, to direct and ful-
fil its needs.
Rational Form -]
(Human).
II.
1st. Senso-Rational, consists in merest human sensibilities,
allied, by feeling, to things, states, qualities and ideas,
as subject to human discrimination and use.
2d. Ratio-Rational, consists of distinct human powers in
rational discrimination and use ; investigating special
conditions, or analyzing and comparing, on limited
grounds.
3d. Sophia-Rational, uses the human powers in associating,
combining, synthetizing or ordering in the domain of
rational science, but subject to the limitations of par-
tial and special methods peculiar to human reason,
even at its best.
III.
1st. Senso-Sophial, involves those divine sensibilities which
feel or know — in general or involved form — the uni-
versality of Love, Wisdom and Power, and the essen-
tial harmony thereupon pending.
2d. Ratio-Sophial, reflects, and conducts all quests upon
grounds of universal unity in creative law as standard
rule of all intellectual endeavor in whatever realm the
thought explores.
3d. Sophia-Sophial, carries all feeling, thought and action
upon the infallible principle of universal unity as
fixed science ; thus classifies, associates, concludes, or
determines desired results upon the comprehensive
grounds of immutable law.
SU3IMARY STATEMENT*
f This Form, as a unit of personalit}* creatively matured in Divine Human
| Order, exhibits the full play of all these elements in normal realization of
\ the whole Sensory, Rational, and Sophial nature, as one majestic complex
I of infinite Love, Wisdom and Power, duly embodied and active, in created
L realms.
Sophial Form.
(Divine).
90 Notes and Discussions.
EXPLANATORY.
The above is an attempt to make a very concise index of the forms
and forces of character that combine to make mature manhood — ''the
perfect man in Christ Jesus." The animal form is essential as a base
sensibly lodged; the human form is essential to fix and unfold spirit-
ual subjectivity or proper self-hood, as a requisite vessel given for the
inflow of Divine Life; and the Divine Form — infinitely perfect — is es-
sential consummating power, by which alone immortal bliss and glory
can become a conscious reality to man.
In this method of analysis and definition, mental forms, or forms of
character, have been mainly in view. Truest estimates take account
of these, rather than of mere physical form, which only serves as
house or vehicle to such conditions.
Without due estimates of the design and bearing of the whole thinsr,
the leading phraseology of the different moments may seem far-fetched
and awkward. But when it is considered that it is intended to make
a verbal investure of a whole conception as a measured diversity, in a
comprehensive unity, the propriety of such terms will readily appear.
The conception is one which embraces creative diversity in scientific
unity, under a formal law of trinity. Any phraseology that would
consistently present this conception in a comprehensive analysis, must
be shaped to carry, constantly, the specials in the general, and the
general in the specials. Unquestionably the great need of the times
is a scientific ordering of all thought, all conduct, and all conditions
of life, upon the ground of the integrity and constancy of the special
or individual in the universal or public, and the integrity of the uni-
versal, public, or associate, in the fulfilled specials.
A special that does not in its form and degree partake of the uni-
versal, or a universal that is exclusive of the least special, is simply
impossible. Hence Swedenborg, treating of creative order, says sub-
stantially, " the least is in the greatest, as the greatest is in the least."
Now, in classifying mental characteristics, and defining the various
degrees as Sense, Reason, and Wisdom, we are directly led, on the
ground above stated, to this process, namely : We proceed to find
reason and wisdom in sense in their sensory character or degree,
sense and wisdom in reason in their rational character or degree, and
sense and reason in wisdom in their sophial character or degree.
Thought conducted upon this method can never be exclusive or par-
tial, but fully comprehensive. It cannot be thus limited to the sim-
plistic in form ; but it arises to the fully consistent and composed, ac-
cording to the commanding order of serial law.
Knowing this process of analysis and classification to be in strict
accordance with fundamental creative law and believing the defini-
tions adduced sufficiently indicate its validity, let us come closer to
Notes and Discussions. 97
the question of phraseology, or verbal investure. If the major term
is thus constant in the minor and the minor is equally constant in the
major, we must, in order to be duly explicit and exact, construct ver-
bal terms that will consistently hold and carry the precise conception ;
hence in dealing with the sensory degree we must find its dominant
character under the head of senso-sensory, and its subordinates under
the terms reason-sensory and wisdom-sensory : Then, in dealing
with the rational, as the next higher form, we must find the sensorv
and sophial in form appropriate to that degree, and invest them with
verbal terms accordingly ; and, proceeding to the next form, wisdom,
we must find sense and reason there sophially conditioned, and give
them verbal vesture accordingly. Thus we are led to construct and
apply forms of investure befitting the actual conditions apprehended
by strict conceptions of immutable law; the terminal form of that
investure indicating the constant one and the prefixes thereof indicat-
ing the variable conditions of the one.
This is held to be a true method of procedure, to whatever extent
analysis may be cax*ried ; though it is deemed impracticable, and gen-
erally difficult, to carry an analysis beyond the extent indicated in the
formula.
If this method be regarded as simply speculative and curious, and
void of practical availability in the affairs of experience, I would say
that, as a comprehensive principle of creative law fundamental to all
whole thought and all well-ordered conditions, I do not hesitate to
propose it as a practical solvent of the knotty problems of the times,
and as basic in a commanding science of mind and mind's essential
conditions. If capable of such construction and use, there will be
found no limit to practical reordering and reconstruction to be realized
thereby, except in the actual consummation of Divine-Human Order;
wherein the flow of life must be continually accordant with perfected
scientific organization.
'&*
Let no one suppose this presentation assumes to be more than a
faint outline, with briefest hints in definition. Nor must it be over-
looked that the elements indicated will be found wearing very differ-
ent aspects, in their productive function in development, and in their
function of organic use in the play of fully developed conditions — all
of which may be explicated on occasion. Theron Gray.
Concord, N. H., Sept., 1875.
Dr. HickoWs Definition of a Transcendental Logic."
In the last number of this journal Dr. Hickok explained aud de-
fended in a concise manner his position in regard to the chief systems
of German Philosophy, whose principle he characterized under the
X— 7
98 Notes and Discussions.
name of " Transcendental Logic." (See J. S. P. Vol. IX., pp. 222,
328, 430). Kant, Fichte, Schelling and Hegel, he thinks, reached only
an abstract generalization from experience as their highest principle,
and this, whether called by them "absolute Ego," "absolute Identity,"
" Idea," " God," or " Self-determination," is only a totality of all po-
tentialities, things, men. "The universal is but the total of empirical
thought ; Life, cognition and Avill are forms of thinking, and cre-
ating can be conceived only as a process and result of interminable
thought-activity." He would make the whole philosophy of Kant
and his successors turn on the question of form and matter in judg-
ments.
In contrast with this principle he defines that of the " Logic of Rea-
son " : " Instead in any way of a deduction from what is in experience,
it is an induction from without and so a production of somewhat that
is wholly new knowledge. It sees in the experience a clear implication
of a somewhat that must have already been, or the experience itself
had been impossible [i. e., not derivable by analysis from experience
as contained under the latter but inferable as the logically necessary
condition of it]. It knows the conditions on which alone experience
can be, and with which the experience must be and could not other-
wise have been than it is. It is not therefore in any sense an arbitrary
presupposition taken just because it has been needed; it is a legiti-
mate prerequ is ition taken because known a priori to have been in
order to the experience, and in which is the primal ' sufficient rea-
son ' for the experience."
Limiting as he does the work of the so-called "Transcendental
Logic " to mere abstraction and generalization from human experi-
ence, he affirms life, cognition, and will as found in Hegel's system to
be only "forms of thinking." The " Idea in its identity" contains
"all matter and form, thinking and being, in one," and is therefore
pantheistic.
Here, however, it is claimed that the Transcendental logic is not
accredited with what is its due. Even for Kant it may be claimed
that he did not abstract from experience but added to experience syn-
thetically his "pure intuitions" and ideas. Looking at sense-percep-
tion he saw that in order to make it possible there must be a logical
condition (" prerequisition" as Dr. H. calls it) viz: Time and space
must be conceded as forms of mind existing a priori. Time and
space as forms of mind antedating all possible experience are not
generalizations from experience, or as Kant expresses it they "are no
discursive or as we say general conceptions of the relations of things,
but pure intuitions." This he demonstrates by showing that we can-
not think particular spaces or times without presupposing one univer-
sal space or one universal time as the logical condition thereof. The
particular spaces or times can be thought only as limitations of the
one all-embracing space or time. So too with the Ideas of God,
Notes and Discussions. 99
Freedom and Immortality. If sense-perception has its a priori form
transcending all human experience, so too has the Will certain logical
conditions which are required to make even the least of its acts possi-
ble. These are first, its own spontaneity (Freedom) ; second, its im-
mortality (freedom implies responsibility aud the latter implies im-
mortality) ; third, God or the personality of the absolute (for man as
rising in nature aud the last link of its series can be neither free nor
immortal unless the highest principle of the Universe is a free, per-
sonal one, transcending Nature and any form of fate whatsoever.) And
if the highest principle of the Universe is free and personal, it is cer-
tain that Nature, emanating from such a source, will close its series
in a final product which will transcend it (Nature) and reflect the
highest principle by means of and through its own self-activity. So
much is in Kant, on the surface or near the surface of his " Critique
of the Practical Keason." To sum it up: Any, the slightest act of
human will, preferring duty to sensuous desire, postulates God, Hu-
man Freedom, Responsibility and Immortality, just as much as the
perception of any space-occupying object implies out-lying space ex-
tending ad infinitum. To a logical mind, as Kant shows, the
briefest manifestation of that human will reveals in it an immortal
individuality, and the personality of the highest Principle ot the
Universe.
What is in Kant is likewise^in Fichte with still more intensity of
expression aud strictness of demonstration — (not, perhaps, to be found
in any of the expounders of Fichte that have written popular sum-
maries of his system, because they have studied first of all to be epi-
grammatic and sensational in their account of it, and hence have ex-
aggerated all its insights into paradoxes).
Schilling's earlier system needs to be read in the light of his latter.
His Mysticism must interpret his Philosophy of Nature. If one bears
this in mind he will not find Schelling's system pantheistic. .
As for Hegel, his Logic and his Phenomenology of Mind everywhere
show up mere abstractions or generalizations from experience to be
inadequate. He uses the method of presupposition or " prerequisi-
tion" constantly, and points out that it was the moving principle of
the far-famed Platonic Dialectic. In his Republic (Book VI., Chap.
NX. and XXI.) Plato defines the dialectic method as one that proceeds
from the immediately given or assumed (i"a~ v-nodeoeig-) back to its
ultimate presuppositions, cancelling the first assumed on finding them
inadequate, until it arrives at the first principle. In his Logic (Vol.
III., 3 Abschnitt, Kap. III.) Hegel describes the nature of the " Idea,"
which he has reached as the ultimate principle of the Universe : "The
highest, steepest summit, is the pure personality * * * * which
possesses freedom." " The Absolute Idea is not merely soul but free
subjective cognition that comprehends speculatively, and exists inde-
pendently as person and will, an impenetrable, atomic subjectivity, as
100 Notes and Discussions.
personal will and as theoretically cognizing all truth." Again in the
Encyclopaedia (Vol. I., $236) he says: "This [the Absolute Idea] is
the vdrjaig- vo?joe(jj- which Aristotle characterized as the highest form
of the Idea."
In his Logic he first examines whether truth or true being is imme-
diate or absolutely simple, whether, in short, being exists out of rela-
tion. If any being or'any somewhat exists entirely without relation,
it cannot in anywise be determinate or have particularity or speciali-
zation : it cannot exist for another or even for itself; it can have no
difference from aught else. The simple immediate is absolutely null.
Such categories as quality, quantity and measure are used by the
mind with a presupposition that there is an independent simple imme-
diateness. In fact the sensuous consciousness thinks all things as es-
sentially existing, as self-subsistent, and while it does not deny rela-
tion between them, it supposes all relation to be an accidental, unes-
sential affair.
The dialectical examination of the categories of Being (which is
conducted in detail in the three volumes of Hegel's " Complete
Logic ") results in proving that Relation is essential to all beings.
That dependence is a necessary characteristic of individual existences.
Each is in and through something else. Mediation is the basis of im-
mediateness. Pure immediateness is consequently the illusion of im-
mature thinking. Immediateness is apparent and phenomenal.
The second task of logic is to examine the character of Phenome-
nality (manifestation, appearance, seeming) and essentiality. Nega-
tivity is shown to be relativity. Relativity is duality, and to it be-
longs all finitude. Spinoza says : "All that is, is either in itself or in
some other," i. e., it is either through its relation to something else,
or non-related, or self-related. The category of dependence is solved
by the principle of self-relation. The general formula is : (a) All is
negative or relative ; each depends on another. This is the status of
cause and effect, of force and manifestation, of form and matter,
&c. (b) Dependence and Relation however are impossible, except a^
grounded through independence and self-relation. Otherwise we
should have a dependent that did not depend on anything, or a relative
that did not relate, (c) The independent is self-relating because it cannot
be a simple immediate somewhat — such would be a form of being and
devoid of relation, hence devoid of determinateness, and therefore
null. It is relativity regarded as a whole, or totality. For the rela-
tive by itself must be relative to itself. The negative by itself
is the negative of itself. Self-relativity or self-negativity is
self-determination, and, (a) involves pure universality as its
first phase or determining-activity ; such pure identity is an
Ego, (b) as determined it is the phase of particularity — self-objectiv-
ity — reduction of identity to opposition and difference — conscious-
ness, (c) as self-determining or totality it is a pure activity which con-
Notes and Discussions. 101
tinually generates difference, and yet continually dissolves this differ-
ence into unity with itself through recognition, hence .it is self-con-
sciousness. This, then, is the highest principle of all.
How the self-conscious One is related to the world we discussed in
the note on "Pantheism, or God the TJniverse," (J. S. P. for July,
1875). It would he a mistake (according to our view) to suppose this
totality of self-relation a sort of indifferent totality or dead result.
The essential point to note is that its self-relation reduces its differ-
ences to identity, and yet the same self-relation is self-determination,
and hence generative of difference. Such an activity is exactly what
we find in self-consciousness, and is not possible as a dead identity
It is a living activity. As highest Principle of the Universe, it
must next explain the world and the multiplicity of " potentialities,
things, men." This it does, as we have endeavored to show in the
note referred to. Editor.
An Old Picture.
Wrapped in a charmed indolence
AVith slothful lashes half-dropped down,
On cheeks just flushed with quickened sense
Of some sweet pain that she has known —
'Tis so the artist paints her, well
If we could break the silences
Of long-forgotten years to tell
What followed on those hours of peace.
If we could read in those calm eyes
The story of her after years —
If any ship, sailed any seas
And brought her costly freight of tears.
If agony held secret power
To pale the sweetness of her mouth —
And rob her of her pictured dower
Of beauty, or her heritage of youth,
What then ? we know that she was fair —
We know that through immortal years
The canvas boasts the unfaded hair,
The glorious eyes, undimmed with tears.
How much of joy or pain was hers,
What curious soul should guess or care ?
We stand among her worshippers
And only know — that she was fair.
Boston, October, 1875. Mary Christine Kipp.
102 Boole Notices.
Editor of the Journal of Speculative Philosophy :
The argument of Mr. Spencer, (First Principles), shows that evolu-
tion is attended with loss of heat, citing, inter alia, as an instance,
the earth, the contraction of which was coincident with loss of heat.
According to Mr. S.'s view, it is further shown that evolution ends in
dissolution. But he shows that dissolution is attended with acquisi-
tion of heat. Will Mr. S. explain how it is that evolution, which is
attended with loss of heat, can end in dissolution, which is attended
with the acquisition thereof? M. M. COHN.
Little Rock, Ark.. Dec. 25, 1375.
BOOK NOTICES.
La Filosofla dell a Scuole Italiane, Bivisia Bimestrale contenente
gli atti della Societk promotrice degli studj filosojlci e letterarj.
Roma.
The first appearance of this philosophical periodical was noticed hy
this journal in 1871 (Vol. V., p. 94). In 1872, upon the commencement
of the fifth volume, its place of publication was transferred from
Florence to Rome, where it has remained. A table of contents to the
first three volumes and to two parts of Vol. IV. has been given (J.
Sp. Phil., Vol. VI.. p. 189). In order to make the notice of this able
periodical complete, a translation of the contents of the numbers that
have appeared since is here given. Two volumes of three numbers
each appear annually. The editorial corps, commencing with the
fifth volume, included Count Terenzio Mamiani editor-in-chief, with
G. M. Bertini, L. Ferri, F. Bonatelli, and G. Barzellotti associates.
It will be noticed that each number contains a report of the transac-
tions of The /Society for the Promotion of Philosof)hy and Letters.
In fact this review is the organ of that society.
Vol. IV.. Part 3 — Contents — (1). Transactions of the Society for
the Promotion of the Study of Philosophy and Literature in Italy ; a
circular to the members of the society. A list of the members resi-
dent in Rome. An account of the proceedings of the society during
the years 1870-71. Letter of the secretary, Augusto Franchetti, con-
cerning the general assembly of the 29th October, 1871. (2). Philo-
sophical Conversations, by F. Bonatelli. (3). The Second Revival of
the Academy in Italy. Letter to Dr. G. Descours di Tournay, by Te-
renzio Mamiani. (4). The Influence of Philosophy upon the National
Spirit of Germany, by[Dr. Giuseppe Descours di Tournay. (5). Phi-
losophy of Religion, Church and State, by Terenzio Mamiani. (6).
Book Xotices. 103
Analysis and Criticisms of new works: Essay upon " The History
of Philosophy in Italy in the Nineteenth Century." by L. Ferri; Paris
1869, (by Prof. Francisco Lavarino). Notices of Philosophy and Lit-
erature in America, England, Switzerland, Germany and Italy. In-
dex to Vol. IV.
Vol. V., Part 1. — Contents. — (1). Programme by the editors.
(2). Transactions of the Society for the Promotion of the
Study of Philosophy and Literature. (3). The Form of Philosophic
Thought or Method, by L. Ferri. (4). U/pon Count Terenzio Mami-
ani's Theory of the Objectivity of the Idea, by A. Franchi. (5).
Notes upon the preceding article, by T. Mamiani. (6). The Oriental
and Occidental Tradition, by A. Severini. (7). Formation of the
Idea, a dialogue between a Kantian and a Platonist, by T. Mamiani.
(9). Necrology ; Adolph Trendelenburg, by G. Barzellotti. (10). Bib-
liography, by S. Turbiglio. Notices. Part 2. — Contents. — (1). Trans-
actions of the Society, &c. (2). Common Sense in Philosophy, and
its History, by L. Ferri. (3). Philosophy of Nature, The Method of
Positive Science, by L. Barb era. (4). The Origin of the Idea, accord-
ing to the Peripatetics, a letter to Prof. Valerga, by T. Mamiani. (5).
Reply of the Abbot Pietro Valerga. (6). Upon Perception, a letter
to Count T. Mamiani, by F. Tocco. (7). Upon the same subject, a
letter to Prof. Tocco, by T. Mamiani. (8). Other Considerations upon
Theories of Perception, by G. Jandelli. (9). Synthetical Judgment a
priori, in the Philosophy of Kant and in the Italian Doctrine of the
Nineteenth Century, by L. Ferri. (10) Notices. Circular. Part2>. — Con-
tents. — (1). Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). The Mind Accord-
ing to Spinoza, by S. Turbiglio. (3). Philosophy of History in the
Latin and Teutonic Races, by T. Mamiani. (4). Necrology, by G.
Barzellotti. (5). Letter to Terenzio Mamiani, by Nicola Mameli.
(6). Conception of Cause in the School of Herbart, by L. Ferri. (7).
Count T. Mamiani's Theory of the Objectivity of the Idea, by F. La-
varino. (8). Bibliography, by S. Turbiglio. Recent Publications.
Vol. VI., Part 1. — Contents. — (1). Transactions of the Society, &c.
(2). The Mind According to Spinoza, by S. Turbiglio. (3). Percep-
tion According to Positive Philosophy, by Settimio Piperno. (4).
Chai-acter of the Italian Philosophy, and the Latest Sketch of the
Platonic Doctrine, by T. Mamiani. (5). Other Considerations of the
Theory of Perception, by G. landelli. (6). Dr. Julius Hermann
Kirchmann's Theory of Knowledge, translation, &c, by L. Ferri.
(7). Prolegomena to every past and future Criticism of Reason, by G.
M. Bertini. (8). Count f . Mamiani's Theory of the Objectivity of
the Idea, by F. Lavarino. (9). Bibliography— thirty lectures, &c, by
(S. Turbiglio). Count Cattera Lettieri's Introduction to Moral Philos-
ophy and the Strictly Rational, (by the editors). Recent Publica-
tions. New circular by the Eleventh General Assembly of the Italian
Scientists. Part 2. — Contents.— (1). Transactions of the Society, &c
104: Boole Notices.
{2). Philosophy of Religion — Critique on Revelation, by T. Mamiani.
(3). Philosophy of Religion ; upon Revelation in Religion, &c, a
letter to T. Mamiani from L. Ferri. (4) A Letter to L. Ferri from
T. Mamiani. (5). Prolegomena to every past and future Criticism of
Reason, by G. M. Bertini. (6). Count T. Mamiani' s Theory upon the
Objectivity of the Idea, by F. Lavarino. (7). Upon the Origin of the
Idea According to the Peripatetics, by Pietro Valerga. (8). Conclu-
sion Concerning Kant and his Critique of Knowledge, by T. Mami-
ani. (9). Bibliography; The Philosophy of Statistics: Introduction
of Prof. A. Messedaglia, (by S. Turbiglio). R. Mariano's " The Reli-
gious Problem in Italy," (by L. Ferri). Foreign Philosophical Re-
views. In Memoriam : Dr. Lorenzo Cerise, (by L. Ferri). Notices.
Part 3.— Contents.— Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). Benedict
Spinoza, part third : of the Mind and Cognition, by S. Turbiglio.
(3). Philosophic Conversation Concluded, by F. Bonatelli. (4). Notes
on Political Philosophy, Principles of Radicalism and Conservatism,
T. Mamiani. (5). Count Terenzio Mamiani's Theory of the Object-
ivity of the Idea, by F. Lavarino. (6). Bibliography, Sermon of a
Layman, &c, (by S. Turbiglio). General index of the six parts for
1872.
Vol. VII., Part I— Contents. — (I). Programme by the Editors.
Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). Philosophy of Religion ; Crit-
ique on Revelation, by T. Mamiani. (3). Perception According to Pos-
itive Philosophy, by S. Piperno. (4). Upon the Principle and Idea of
Cause, according to the School of Herbart, by Luigi Ferri. (5). The
Conception of Logic, by F. Bonatelli. (6). The "Italian School" and
its Works. (7). Bibliography. Recent Publications. Part 2— Con-
tents.— (1), Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). Philosophy of Re-
ligion ; Critique on Revelation, by T. Mamiani. (3). The Doctrine of
Berkeley and his Theory on Association, by T. Collyns Simon. (4).
Contemporaneous Psychology, and the Problem of Consciousness, by
G. Barzellotti. (5). The Doctrine of Perception, by S. Turbiglio. (6).
Bibliography, by the Editors. (7). Philosophical Journals. Part 3,
Contents.— (1). Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). The Doctrine
of Berkeley and the Theory of Association, by T. Collyns Simon.
(3). A Letter in Reply to T. Collyns Simon, by T. Mamiani. (4).
Fragments of Girolamo Clario's Philosophy, by F. Bonatelli. (5). A
Short Commentary upon an unedited letter of Prof. Castagnola, by T.
Mamiani. (6). The Ideal and the True in Art ; a dialogue between a
poet, a professor and a painter, by P. E. Castagnola. f7). Upon Ex-
ternal Causes, letters to Prof. Luigi Ferri, by T. Mamiani. (8). Study
of the Phaedrusof Plato, by E. Ferrai. (9). Bibliography (by the edit-
ors). Recent Publications.
Vol. VIII., Part 1— Contents.— (I). Transactions of the Society,
&c. (2). Critique on Revelation; a letter to Prof. Bertini, by T.
Mamiani. (3). The Philosophy of Nature and the Doctrine of Ber-
Book Notices. 105
uardus Telesius, by L. Ferri. (4). Fragmental Remains of the Philos-
ophy of Girolamo Clario, by F. Bonatelli. (5). Italian Psychology ; a
letter to Prof. Jacopo Barzellotti, by T. Mamiani. (6). The Practical
Philosophy of Herbart, by A. Paoli. (7). The History of Philosophy
Respecting the Cognition of God, by C. Antonaci. (8) Bibliography.
Review of Foreign Philosophy. Recent Publications. Part 2.— Con-
tents.— (I). Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). The Dialectic Unity
according to the Ancients and Moderns, by B. Labauca. (3). The New
Prolegomena to every present and future system of Metaphysics, by
T. Mamiani. (4). Upon Sentiment (or Feeling), by C Cantoni. (5).
The Conception and Limits of Anthropology, by F. Tocco. (6). Bib-
liography, (by A. Valdarnini and L. Ferri). Review of Foreign Phi-
losophy. Recent Publications. Part 3.— Contents.— (1). Transactions
of the Society, &c. (2). New Prolegomena to every present and future
Metaphysics, by T. Mamiani. (3). Upon a Preliminary Question in
Every Philosophy, by G. M. Bertini. (4). Anthropology and Peda-
gogy, by F. Bonatelli. (5). The Dialectic Unity according to the An-
cients and Moderns, by B. Labanca. (6). Bibliography, Review of
Foreign Philosophy. Recent Publications, M« J. tt,
Die Zeitschrift fuer Philosophic unci Philosophische Kritik. Edited
by Dr. J. H. v. Fichte, Dr. Hermauu Ulrici, and Dr. J. U. Wirth.
Halle : E. E. M. Pfeffer.
We translate the table of contents of the 66th volume of this ably ed-
ited periodical : 1, Dr. A. Dorner on the Principles of Kantian Ethics
continued ; 2, Prof. E. Grapengiesser's third and last article on The
Transcendental Deduction ; Kant and Fries (with references to the
works of J. Bona Meyer, O. Liebmann, Kuno Fischer, Ed. Zeller,
Herm. Cohen and Edm. Montgomery); 3, Dr. J. "Wolff's third article
on The Platonic Dialectic, its Nature and Worth for Human Know-
ledge ; 4, Unprinted Correspondence of Kant and Fichte, communica-
ted by Prof. Teichmueller at Dorpat ; 5, Dr. J. Wolff on the Platonic
Dialectic as method.
The most important book reviews are the following : By Prof.
Erdmann of Prof. K. Werner (a) on the Psychology of William of
Auvergne, and (b) on His Relation to the Platonists of the Twelfth
Century, also (c) on The Cosmology and Natural Science of the
Schoolmen of the Middle Ages. By Br. H. Siebeck of G. Teich-
mueller's History of the Idea of the Tragovala. By Dr. Wirth of
Dr. Ed. Pfleiderer's Empiricism and Scepticism in David Hume's
Philosophy, as the final sundering of the English mental, moral and
religious sciences. By Dr. P. Schuster of H. Siebeck's Investigations
of Greek Philosophy. By Prof. Ulrici {a) of the Province of Logic,
with special reference to E. Sigwart's Logic ; (b) of Kant's treatise on
the Power of the Heart to achieve the mastery over its abnormal feel-
ings by mere resolution (of the will); (c) of T. K. Abbott's translation
10G Book Notices.
of Kant's Theory of Ethics or Practical Philosophy ; (d) of B. P.
Bowne's Examination of the Philosophy of Herbert Spencer; (e) of
Robert Flint's Philosophy of History in Fiance and Germany ; (/) of
G. S. Morris's translation of Ueberweg's History of Philosophy. Ry
Dr. von. Fichte of Maximilian Perty's Anthropology as the Science
of the Corporeal and Spiritual Nature of Man, second article. By
Dr. Pjteiderer of Idealism and Realism as found in Baumann's "Phi-
losophy as the Means of Orienting one's self in Regard to the World."
By Dr. A. JRichter (a) of Franz Hoffman's Philosophical Writings :
(b) of Demetrius von Glinka's "Human Society in its Relations to
Freedom and Law (Rechts);" (c) of Carl D. A. Boeder's edition of Carl
Chr. Fr. Krause's Lectures on the Philosophy of Law, (Rechts). Ap-
pendix: Adolph Steudel's Reply to Dr. Schwartz on the Question of
Monism and Dualism.
Verhandlungen der Philosophischen Gesellschaft zu Berlin. Erstes Heft. Leip-
zig : Erich Koschny, 1875.
Contents.— {I) Professor A. Lasson's lecture on Mechanism and Tel-
eology, delivered before the Philosophical Society of Berlin, Sept. 26,
1874. (2). Dr. Frederich's Lecture on The Principles of Critical Ideal-
ism, delivered at the session of the society Oct. 31, 1874. A brief re-
port also is made of the discussions which took place at the close of
the lectures
The second part of the same work contains (1) Professor Michelet's
Lecture on Idealism and Realism, delivered at the session March 27,
1875. (2). Dr. A. Vogel's Lecture on the Problem of Matter, delivered
at the session April 24, 1875. It is the intention of the society to con-
tinue the publication of its proceedings, and a committee of editors
composed of Dr. Ascherson, Dr. Frederichs and Dr. von Kirchmann,
is appointed to take charge of the preparation of the work. Inasmuch
as the members of the society represent the greatest diversity in their
philosophical views, their discussions are rendered all the more inter-
esting. We notice among the names of the participants in these dis-
cussions those of von Kirchmann and von Heydebreck, besides those
of the lecturers before named.
Philosophische Monatshefte unter Mitwirkung von Dr. F. Ascherson und Dr.
J. Bergmann, redigirt und herausgegeben von Dr. E. Bratuscheck. Leip-
zig: Erich Koschny, 1876.
The ten numbers of the twelfth volume, 1875, have been received.
We translate from the rich table of contents the following:
I. Treatises published during the year: 1, on Positivism in Sci-
ence, by Prof. E. Bratuscheck of Giessen ; 2, on the Study of the Hu-
man Sciences, of Society and the State, by Prof. W. Dilthey of Bres-
lau ; 3, The Philosophy of Religion of Averroes, by Prof. Merx of
Heidelberg; 4, The Present Attitude of the Cosmological Problem.
Boole Notices* 107
by Dr. H. Vaihinger of Leipzig ; 5, The Law of Codification, by Prof.
Merx ; 6, Arthur Schopenhauer, by D. Jose del Perojo of Madrid ;
7, An Investigation of the Perceptibility of Phenomena, and of the
Imperceptibility of Essence, by Maximilian Drossbach of Donau-
woerth ; 8, Correction of a Mistake on the part of a Translator and
Expounder of Plato, by Dr. Wiegand of Giessen.
II. Book Reviews — (a) Relating to the Philosophical Theory of
the World; 1 and 2, Edm. Pfleiderer and Prof. Wundt, The Province
of Philosophy in the Present Time ; 3, Dr. von Kirchmann on the
Principle of Religion ; 4, Rev. Kluge, Philosophical Fragments ; 5 ?
Dr. Strauss and Belief in Miracles ; 6, Dr. Vitringa, Man as Animal
and Spiritual Being, (b) Relating to the History of Philosopihy; 1.
Prof. Rud. Eucken on the Value of the History of Philosophy ; 2,
Prof. George S. Morris's translation of Ueberweg's History of Phi-
losophy ; 3, Prof. Alfr. Weber's History of European Philosophy ; 4,
Robt. Zimmermann,Kant and Positivism ; 5, Prof. Carriere and Count
von Bothmer ; 6, Rev. Potter, History of Philosophy, and The Per-
sonal God and the World ; 7, Thilo on Herbart's Claim as a Philoso-
pher; 8, Dr. Duehring, Critical History of Philosophy; 9, Prof. Ros-
enkranz's "New Studies ;" 10, Dr. AViegand, Literature of the Letters
of Plato, (c) Relating to Psychology; 1, Prof. Brentano, Psychology
from an Empirical Standpoint; 2, Ochorowics, Conditions of Con-
sciousness, (d) Relating to Logic : Prof. Harms, The Reform of
Logic, (e) Relating to Modern Nature-Philosophy: Alex. Waissner,
The Atom. (/) To the Philosophy of History; Prof. Flint's Philos-
ophy of History in Europe, (g) To Religious Questions: 1, Dr.
Asmus, The Indo-Germanic Religion ; 2, Prof. Grau, Origin and Goal
of our Culture-Development.
Besides these there are many notices of books and periodicals ; many
discussions of questions of current interest. We note that Dr. Porter
of Yale College contributes three articles on Philosophy in North
America. There are excellent indexes of current philosophical litera-
ture, as well as of notices and reviews of philosophical works appear-
ing in contemporary journals.
Mind, a Quarterly Review of Psychology and Philosophy. Edited by George
Croom Robertson, M. A., Professor of Logic and Mental Philosophy in
University College, London. London. Williams & Norgate. No. 1. Jan.,
1876.
Our readers will" greet with cordial interest the appearance of a new
philosophical journal in the English language. The first number of
the new enterprise is before us with the follwing table of contents:
Preparatory Words by the Editor.
The Comparative Psychology of Man, by Herbert Spencer.
Physiological Psychology in Germany, by James Sully.
Consistency and Real Inference,. by John Venn.
108 Book Notices.
The Theory of Evolution in its Application to Practice, by Henry
Sidgwick.
Philosophy and Science, by Shad worth II. Hodgson.
Philosophy at Oxford, by the Rector of Lincoln College.
Early Life of James Mill, by Professor Bain.
Critical Notices, Reports, Notes, &c, by G. H. Lewes, Professor
Flint, J. G-. McKendriek, Professor T. M. Lindsay, and others ; Books
of the Quarter and News, including notices of Brentano's Empirical
Psychology, Lassaua's Physiology of the Nervous Centres of the En-
cephalon, Hughlings Jackson's Researches on the Nervous System,
â– Spencer's Principles of Sociology, and Cairne's Logical Method of Po-
litical Economy ; Reports on physiological journals and German phi-
losophical journals, Psychology in Holland, &c, &c.
We insert the prospectus, which gives account of the scope and
design of " Mind."
Mind will be an organ for the publication of original researches, and
a critical record of the progress made in Psychology and Philosophy.
Psychology, while drawing its fundamental data from subjective
consciousness, will be understood in the widest sense, as covering all
related lines of objective inquiry. Thus, due prominence will be
:given to the physiological investigation of Nerve-structures. At the
â– same time, Language and all other natural expressions or products of
mind, Insanity and all other abnormal mental phases, the Manners
and Customs of Races as eyinciug their mental nature, mind as exhib-
ited in Animals generally — much of what is meant by Anthropology
and all that is meant by Comparative Psychology— will come within
the scope of the Review.
[Beyond Psychology, account will be taken of Logic, ./Esthetics and
'Ethics, the theory of mental functions being naturally followed by the
doctrine of their regulation.
The practical application of psychological theory to Education will
receive the attention it so urgently claims at the present time.
For the rest, "Mind" will be occupied with general Philosophy.
Even as a scientific journal, it cannot evade ultimate questions of the
philosophical order, suggested as these are with peculiar directness by
psychological inquiry. There is, also, a function truly philosophical
winch only the investigator of mind is in a position to discharge, the
task, namely, of collating and sifting the results of the special scien-
ces with a view alike to insight and conduct. But "Mind" will, far-
ther, expressly seek to foster thought of bold sweep—sweep that can
â– never be too bold, so be that it starts from a well ascertained ground
•of experience, and looks to come again there to rest.
Nor, in this connection, will the History of Philosophy be over-
looked : whether as it involves the critical appreciation of the sys-
tems of thought, more or less speculative, which eager minds in every
Booh Notices. 109
age have [been impelled to frame ; or as it seeks to understand impor-
tant thinkers in the record of their lives ; or, finally, as it may take
note of what is being done or left undone in the present day at the
intellectual centres where thought and inquiry should be most active.
" Mind " will include among its contributors some of the foremost
workers in psychology and philosophy on the Continent and in Amer-
ica.
Writers will sign, and be alone responsible for, their contributions.
"Mind" will not be the organ of any philosophical school, unless it
be held the mark of a school to give prominence to psychological in-
quiry.
Correspondence will be printed if it communicates new facts of
scientific importance or expresses reasoned opinions.
" Mind " will be published quarterly on the first of January, April,.
July, and October, and may be purchased of all booksellers at 3s per
number.
Revue Philosophique de la France et de 1' etranger, dirigee par Th.
Ribot. Premiere Annee. 1. Janvier, 1876. Paris : Libraire Gernier
Bailliere et Cie.
Cotemporaneous with the appearance of "'Mind," the English or-
gan of Psychology and Mental-Philosophy, appears a philosophical
review in France, devoted mainly to the same movement. "While the
former is a quarterly, however, the latter is a monthly, each number
being of the same size as a number of the Journal of Speculative
Philosophy. The contents of the first two numbers are as follows :
January, 1876, No. I', {a) Preface; (6) H. Taine on the Acquisi-
tion of Language by Infants and Primitive Races ; (c) P. Janet on
Final Causes ; (d) Herbert Spencer on a Comparative Psychology of
Man ; (e) Analyses and Notices : (1) Horwicz's Psychological Anal-
yses upon Physiological Bases ; (2) Despine's De La Folie, &c; (3)
Schmitz-Dumont's "Time and Space" ; (4) Giraud Teulon's " Origin
of the Family " ; (5) Guarin de Vitry's Sketch of Sociology ; (6) Kuno
Fischer's Francis Bacon. (/) Reviews of Foreign Periodicals : (1)
Philosophische Monatshefte ; (2) Zeitschrift fuer Philosophic wad
Philosophische KritiTc. {g) Bibliography and announcements.
February, 1876, No. 2. (a) W. Wundton the Mission of Philosophy
in the Present Time : (6) Ch. Benard on Contemporary Aesthetics in
Germany ; (c) G. H. Lewes on the Hypothesis of the Specific Energy
of the Nerves ; (cZ) P. Tannery on the Nuptial Number in Plato ;
(e) Analyses and Notices : (1) of W. Wundt's Influence of Philosophy
upon Experimental Science ; (2) of E. von Hartmann's Religion of the
Future ; (3) of A. Lemoine's Habit and Instinct ; (4) of A. Brentano's
Empirical Psychology ; (5) of J. H. Jackson's Localization of Cerebral
Movement. (/) Reviews of Foreign Periodicals: (1) Mind, a Quar-
110 Book Notices.
terly Review of Psychology and Philosophy ; (2) The Journal of Spec-
ulative Philosophy ; (3) Notes and Announcements.
In his preface the editor announces that his review will be open to
all schools of philosophy. It proposes to give a complete and exact
view of the actual movement in philosophy, without exclusiveness or
special proclivity towards any one school. It offers a neutral ground
for writers of all classes, upon which they can present their systems
for criticism and study. Here, therefore, is an opportunity afforded
for the removal of wrong impressions and for fair, impartial judg-
ment. While, therefore, eclecticism is avoided as of no value, it gives
room to each school to represent its claims. There is Positivism, the
Experimental School of France, Germany and England, the Critical
School following Kant, and Spiritualism inspired by Maine de Bi-
ran. Of the questions which the editor hopes to discuss he names the
following : Psychology in its connection with Anatomy and Physiol-
ogy, Mental Pathology, History and Anthropology. Logic and
./Esthetics are regarded as departments of Psychology, "the
former studving the mechanism of the human reason, the latter
a certain form of pleasure — that which the beautiful excites in
us." Ethics — relating to human actions is to be discussed in its rela-
tion to religion, to positive science, to social and natural bases. The
theories of natural science will be examined in the light of Philoso-
phy, especially those relating to the principle of the correlation of
forces, to the hypothesis of evolution, to chemical theories and to
theories of Life. Finally, the questions regarding the possibility of
Metaphysics as a Science. Meanwhile the Review is to demand of
Metaphysicians the facts on which they base their conclusions, being
convinced that no one can neglect experience without running the
danger of basing himself upon creations of his imagination and upon
mystical effusions ; but a pure Empiricism it avoids. Its great value
to French thought will be manifest in its influence in behalf of a more
thorough study of the previous works in each department. The la-
bor of solitary students who waste their time in going over useless
and sterile investigations will be spared. Oriented by the history of
Philosophy each will make the best use ot his time and opportunities.
A very interesting list of articles is advertised for the future num-
bers, and we shall gladly lay before our readers from time to time an
account of the progress of this and the English journal ("MIND,") to-
gether with some notice of the contents of the several discussions.
Metaphysics ; or the Science of Perception. By John Miller, Princeton, N. J.
426 pages, Svo. New York : Docld & Mead, 1S75.
This work, within the compass of a single volume, treats the mind
in all its aspects, theoretical, practical, and divine : Book I. investi-
gates "Psychology, or the Science of Perception as Such " ; Book II.,
Book Notices. Ill
"Logic, or the Science of Perception as Knowledge"; Book III.,
" Ontology, or the Science of Perception as the Knowledge of Being; "
Book IV., "Pathics, or the Science of Perception as Emotion"
(aesthetical and moral); Book V., '' Theology, or the Science of Per-
ception as Knowledge of the Being of a God."
The author says at the outset : "It is a doctrine of this book that
there are no simple ideas. It has been a usual doctrine that simple
ideas cannot be defined. It is a doctrine of this book that no ideas
can be defined ; that definition is a near approach to a boundary ; and
hence the endless lists ; no thought ever having attracted much dis-
cussion without great vagrancy in defining it ; that vagrancy being
greatly increased as thought wanders off from the concrete ; abstract
thought, and, above all, speculative thought, being endlessly at sea,
and hard to fix by any understood limits."
With this view, we see why he has given so wide a scope to the
word "Metaphysics." Wolff made it include only theoretical philos-
ophy with four divisions : (1) Ontology, (2) Cosmology, (3) Rational
Psychology, and (4) Natural Theology. The philosophy of ethics, eco-
nomics and politics he includes under "practical philosophy," i.e.,
the philosophy of the will. Co-ordinate with metaphysics and prac-
tical philosophy, he makes logic a third discipline treating of that
which appertains to the general use of reason. Thus with the excep-
tion of cosmology (fragments of which are to be found in his fourth
and fifth books) Mr. Miller treats the enth-e field of philosophy as fall-
ing within the province of metaphysics. He holds perception to be all in
all in philosophy, there being " nothing consciously in the mind but per-
ception;" "nothing intuitively known but perception"; hence no
being cognized except as perception; that "emotion is numerically
the same as perception ; that " unless God is perception He is not in-
tuitively known." Agreeing with Berkeley he makes all esse to be
percijri. But when he makes will to be only a species of perception,
and explains attention by the law of the strongest emotion, he encoun-
ters a difficulty which he seems unable to surmount : Perception is
not morally good or bad ; and to make volition a species of percep-
tion is to deprive it of responsibility and render virtue impossible.
The author has taken great pains to present the results of the prin-
ciples and method of which we have a glimpse in the above, in a pop-
ular colloquial style, so as to attract and hold the common reader.
Philosophy of Trinitarian Doctrine: A Contribution to Theological Progress
and Reform. By Rev. A. G. Pease, Rutland, Vt. New York : G. P. Put-
nam's Sons, 1875 ; pp. XII., 1S3.
This little volume, the fruit of the thoughtful and loving medita-
tions of one long separated from the active affairs of life by painful
disease, has, it is true, on the face of it, apparently a theological,
112 Book Notices.
rather than a philosophical, bearing. The work is, to a considerable-
extent, an exegesis of verses in the Gospel of St. John. But this exege-
sis is philosophical. It aims at real explanation. It would facilitate
rational comprehension. Proceeding on the evident assumption that
a revelation to man is to be received with all man's faculties, and is
therefore to be apprehended with the reason, just as much as (though
not more than) it is to be taken up into the heart and life, the author,,
whose thoughts run in sympathy with the best philosophical idealism
of the world, seeks to show the organic relation between God the
Father, the Word His Son, and the world (more especially, humanity,
which lovingly receives the Word). It is not the place, in a philosoph-
ical journal, to discuss the bearings of a work like this on dogmatic
theology. But every thoughtful reader will find the book in a high
degree mentally stimulating and in the best sense practically helpful.
In "a Plain Word with Prof. Tyndall," at the end of the volume,
Mr. Pease tersely and plainly expresses what he terms the " Gist of
the [assumed] controversy" between science and religion, o. s. m.
The Influence of Descartes on Metaphysical Speculation in England. By VV.
Cunningham, B. A., Scholar of Trinity College, Cambridge. Liverpool :
Printed by T. Brakell, Cook Street. 1875.
An excellent monograph which shows both powers ot thought and
a philosophical erudition very unusual in the English metaphysical
literature of the present time. In an introduction the author elabo-
rates the speculative principles which govern his work. His first
chapter is devoted to discussing the " Internal Connection of the Va-
rious Systems." Next he passes to Descartes and gives an exhaustive
review of the Cartesian philosophy. The succeeding chapters are :
The Contemporaries of Descartes ; John Locke and his School ; Geo.
Berkeley ; David Hume. These writers are discussed in their rela-
tion to Descartes mainly. The fundamental stand-point of the author
can be seen when he states the central principle to be " the Notion and
its Moments." An acquaintance with the best German works which
treat of his subject is a leading feature. d. j. s.
Notice to Shakespearian Students.— We deem it our duty to call
attention to the remarkable work of Dr. Alexander Schmidt of Kon-
igsberg, Prussia, entitled ''Shakespeare-Lexicon, a Complete Diction-
ary of all the Words, Phrases and Constructions in the Works of the
Poet." It is our opinion that Dr. Schmidt has furnished here the most
important contribution yet made to Shakespearian literature.
i>. j. s.
'
THE JOURNAL
O F
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Vol. X. April, 1876. No. 2.
KANT'S EEPLY TO HUME.
By John Watson.
David Hume, as Carlyle has said, was the true intellectual
king of the eighteenth century. Nor is his authority any the
less real now, because he receives little outward homage. The
dead but sceptred sovereign still rules the spirits of many who
refuse to be called his subjects. No one who has followed the
course of philosophic thought with any care will be surprised
either at the real influence or the apparent neglect ; for the sin-
gleness of purpose and clearness of thought which lend an espe-
cial charm and value to the work of the master, are but rarely
met with in the halting disciple. And hence there are not a few
writers of eminence of our own time who show that they have
not been able to receive the lesson it was Hume's mission to
teach, by occupying themselves with the futile task of raising a
dogmatic system upon a foundation that he has proved to have
no stability. One thinker, of remarkable subtlety, seeks to for-
mulate the canons of a science of nature, after expressly reduc-
ing nature itself to a procession of vanishing sensations. An-
other, whose speculations have won the confidence of many
leading physicists, maintains that thought is in its very essence
X— 8
114 Kant's Reply to Hume.
self-contradictory : that neither Materialism nor Idealism is true,
but both; that the universe is resolvable into the feelings of the in-
dividual, and is yet absolutely independent of those feelings; and
that nothing hinders us from saying unconditionally that con-
sciousness is synonymous with nerve-vibrations, but the equally
demonstrable fact that nerve- vibrations are nothing apart from
consciousness.
The eager reception of such self-contradictory and anachronis-
tic systems as those of Mill and Spencer, can only be accounted
for upon the supposition that, while the premises of the master
have been accepted without hesitation, the spirit which animated
his philosophy has tied. For Hume has proved, once for all,
that absolute Skepticism is the legitimate outcome of the assump-
tion, made by all Empiricists, that knowledge may be explained
by an inspection of the individual consciousness. In the suppo-
sition that the individual mind is the final court of appeal, it is
already implied that subject and object, thought and nature, are
abstract opposites, which can in no way be reconciled, and which
therefore logically annihilate each other. This however is what
the followers of Hume are unable to see ; and hence, instead of
letting each side of the opposition develop itself until both
vanish, they either preserve the oue at the expense of the other,
or they allow each alternately to destroy its opposite, and yet
very strangely suppose that both survive in their integrity. The
former method gives rise to Sensationalism or Materialism, ac-
cording as the subjective or objective term of the relation is
preserved ; the latter to what may be called Indiflereutism. Of
the three, the two former involve a less sacrifice of logical con-
sistency, while none can put forward any valid plea for accept-
ance. It thus becomes a matter of the last importance that this
veiled Skepticism should be forced to disclose its true nature,
and that some estimate should be made of what has already been
done for its overthrow and for the reconstruction of knowledge
upon a secure foundation. And as the Skepticism latent in Em-
piricism appears with little disguise in Hume, and the philosophy
of Kant was at least believed by its author to be a rcpl t v to t 4l t
Skepticism, a comparison of the main points in the system of
each cannot tail to be profitable.
Know ledge, if it is to be more than an empty name, must con-
tain a permanent element that is unaffected by the perpetually
changing phases of the individual consciousness. If no such
Kant's Re-ply to Hume. 115
element can be shown to exist, the supposition that truth .is at-
tainable must be rejected as a delusion. Now common conscious-
ness and the special sciences are at one in believing that truth is
within the reach of human faculties, and that they are them-
selves to some extent actually in possession of it. The objective
validity of the conceptions of substance and causality — the per-"
manence of objects and the permanence of their connection — is a
presupposition which it does not occur to common sense to doubt.
The physical sciences in like manner take for granted that there
are objects independent of the individual consciousness, and that
the laws of their connection are discoverable ; while it is a pos-
tulate of mathematical science that its axioms and demonstra-
tions are necessarily and universally valid. There is therefore in
the direct or unrefleetive consciousness in all its forms an unhes-
itating belief that there is in knowledge a universal and perma-
nent element, which is raised above the mutations of the individ-
ual mind. This belief may however be incapable of justifying
itself; being assumed as a ready-made fact that does not stand in
need of proof, it is possible that science, as well as common
sense, has been all the time deluding itself by an assumption of
stability which a critical investigation will show to be baseless.
That such a universal delusion besets the fundamental beliefs of
mankind is what Hume, following out the line of thought first
consciously entered upon by Locke, has to tell us. Uulike the
extreme school of ancient sceptics, he has no quarrel with the
facts of consciousness as facts. He admits that people do imag-
ine that substances persist, and that effects flow by necessary
sequence from causes ; that there is an appearance of knowledge
he not only allows but contends ; but appearance is not reality,
belief is not demonstration. When we come to examine the sup-
posed necessary and universal notions, which the possibility of
knowledge presupposes, but which the uncritical mind makes no
attempt to justify, we find that their objective validity disap-
pears and gives place to a flux of individual sensations, each of
which perishes in the moment of its origination. Nevertheless
the delusive appearance of knowledge — the belief that there is
in knowledge a uuiversal and necessary element — has to be ac-
counted for, and this is the task with which Hume mainly occu-
pied himself.
Formulating the presuppositions of common sense, Locke had
held that all real knowledge is given in a simple and momentary
116 Kant's Reply to Hume.
act of consciousness, and hence that the inind is purely receptive
in its acquisition of knowledge. There are two sources of know-
ledge, sensation and reflection, or inner and outer sense. The
relations introduced by the spontaneous activity of thought — and
thought is in all cases a faculty of relations — do not constitute
but destroy reality. But if relations of thought are consistently
excluded, no assistance in the derivation of real knowledge can
be obtained from the assumption of an external world or of an
internal self. Locke however allowed himself to take advantage
of both assumptions, and was thus enabled to account for the
knowledge of reality, although at the expense of logical consis-
tency. His illegitimate assumption of the relation of individual
feeling to an external world was pointed out by Berkeley, his
unproved supposition of its relation to an internal self by Hume.
All reality has therefore to be sought in unrelated ideas of sen-
sation and reflection, or, in the language of Hume, in impressions
of sensation and impressions of reflection. These indeed do not
exhaust the phenomena of consciousness ; impressions are not
only originally felt but reproduced, and that in two ways — either
in their original or in a new order. These are called by Hume
respectively ideas of memory and ideas of imagination. The
distinction of an impression and an idea cannot be found in the
relation of the former to an external object or an internal self,
nor does it consist in any difference in the content of either ; and
hence Hume places it in greater or less vivacity. An impression
is a more vivid, an idea a less vivid feeling ; as again an idea of
memory is more vivid than an idea of imagination. Whatever
reality an idea has, it possesses in the secondary sense of being
a copy of an impression : and hence to impressions of sensation
and reflection all reality is reducible. The Skepticism of Hume
thus lies ready to his hand. The only connection in the objects
of knowledge he can admit is that arbitrary order in which feel-
ings succeed each other. There can therefore be no necessary
element either in common experience or in the sphere of mathe-
matical or physical truth. There can be no objects in the sense
of permanent and identical substances, nor consequently can
there be any necessary connection of objects in the way of caus-
ality. All reality is reducible to a series of feelings, as they are
to the individual, and the supposed identity and causal relation
of objects must be explained as an observed uniformity in the
order of succession among feelings. Now a feeling, as Hume
Kant's Reply to Hume. 117
himself tells us, is a "perishable passion, 7 ' and hence all feelings
taken together form a mere series, each of which is over before
the other begins. Xo two feelings can be identical "with each
other, because no feeling can repeat itself: in one word feeling is
a multiplicity and nothing but a multiplicity. Xo real know-
ledge therefore is possible. There is no object to be known,
and if there were, no self to know it : and the belief in the
identity and necessary connection of objects is a natural de-
lusion, produced by confounding the subjective necessity of cus-
tom with the objective necessity of things.
This sceptical result cannot be consistently avoided by any one
who follows the psychological method. The immense superiority
of Hume over "his recent disciples and imitators is especially
manifested in his clear perception of the really crucial question.
He saw plainly that, if no necessary relations can be shown to be *-
involved in experience, knowledge in any intelligible sense is a
contradiction, and that, on the principles of Sensationalism, which
he inherited from Locke, such a necessary element is inadmissi-
ble. One cannot but be surprised that, both by Hume's immedi-
ate opponents and by his recent followers, the difficulty as to the
possibility of knowledge is supposed to be solved when it is said
that all knowledge must be based upou the facts of experience.
For what is this but a re-statement of the untested belief, that
what is in consciousness is in consciousness ? So understood,
the explanation is the mere tautology : consciousness is con-
sciousness, experience is experience. The real point at issue —
viz : whether our conscious experience has in it a permanent and
universal element, and whether therefore knowledge in any sense'
that is not unmeaning is possible — is not in this way so much as
touched. The true problem of philosophy, as Hume showed
with unequalled clearness and force, is : Is knowledge possible
at all? or, more definitely, Are the conceptions of substance and
causality necessary and objective, or subjective and arbitrary .'
Moreover, in showing that, if the mind is purely passive in its
apprehension of reality, all knowledge must be reduced to imme-
diate and unrelated states of consciousness, none of which per-
sists beyond the moment of its origination, Hume indirectly
suggested a way by which the reconstruction of knowledge
might be attempted. Neither his mode of stating the problem,
nor his suggestive failure to account for knowledge, was lost on
Kant. Generalizing the problem of philosophy, Kant saw that
118 Kant's Reply to Hume.
the possibility of knowledge depends upon our capability of re
turning an appropriate answer to the question, Does experience
involve, as its condition, universal and necessary notions ? And,
as Hume had shown that upon Locke's assumption of the pas-
sivity of thought such notions cannot be established, it was sug-
gested to Kant that thought does not passively apprehend ob-
jects of experience, but is instrumental in their construction.
The relation of Kant and Hume is thus of the closest and most
suggestive kind. Both start with experience as it is for the un-
reflective consciousness ; they are agreed in holding that there is
in consciousness a belief in the necessity and universality of cer-
tain notions, and that truth is unattainable unless this belief can
be justified; and both are agreed in holding that feeling in itself is
a mere multiplicity, and that if thought is purely receptive no-
thing but feeling is knowable. On the other hand, Kant denies
that mere feeling can be known at all, as Hume had assumed in
order to explain the appearance of knowledge; and hence he is
led to see that, starting from the facts of consciousness, as ap-
prehended by common sense and the special sciences, we must,
to account for their existence, hold that they imply an element
which, as contributed by thought, is necessary and universal.
This partial account of the genesis of the Critical Philosophy
may serve to explain the ambiguity that attaches to certain of
Kant's technical terms, and to account for that appearance of
contradiction between the earlier and later portions of his work,
which obscures his real meaning and has caused the true devel-
opment of his thoughts to be misunderstood. Beginning with
experience, as it is for the individual, Kant's object is, by a criti-
cal analysis of it, to separate the contingent element due to feel-
ing from the necessary element contributed by the mind, and thus
to prove how experience itself is possible. Hence the term ex-
perience is at first used in the ordinary sense as equivalent to the
untested facts of consciousness. And, as all untested tacts are
from their nature received passively, this meaning naturally
passes into that in which it is applied to the element of know-
ledge given to the mind by sense. Finally, the term experience
is employed in its strict critical sense, to designate real know-
ledge, i. e., experience that has been proved to involve a necessary
element originated by thought, as Avell as a contingent element
contributed by sense. Closely connected with the difficulty aris-
ing from ambiguous language, is an imperfection in Kant's expo-
Kant's Reply to Hume. 119
sition of his system, in which the order of thought is inverted ;
the consequence of which is that he has to speak provisionally,
and make assumptions that have afterwards to he justified.
Thus, in the earlier part of the Kritik he seems to infer that
there is in experience au a priori element contributed by thought,
because experience contains necessary and universal judgments;
whereas his real thought, as we discover in the sequel, can only
be correctly expressed by saying exactly the reverse, the proof
of the universality and necessity of judgments being that expe-
rience is inconceivable except upon the supposition that there is
in it an element which as originated by thought is a priori.*
The task of Kant then was to prove that the real knowledge
which common sense and science suppose they possess, but which
remains in them an unproved assumption, is not hopelessly in-
fected by delusion. As has been said, he accepted the conclu-
sion of Hume that sense of itself can only give a multiplicity of
isolated impressions, and that if there is no other source of know-
ledge truth is unattainable. But unfortunately, while he saw the
necessity of deducing the necessary element of knowledge from
Eeason, Kant did not entirely free himself from the false assump-
tion that had led to Hume's skepticism ; and hence, biased by
the influence of the Wolfian dogmatism, he retained the absolute i-
distinction of subject and object, upon which the Empiricism of
Locke rested, even when advancing a theory which rendered it
superfluous. Accordingly, while all known phenomena are re-
duced to the unity of thought, he yet holds that beyond con-
sciousness there is a real object and a real subject, which are not
known in themselves but are only implied in their known effects.
This dnalistic assumption has partially destroyed the purity and
harmony of the Critical Philosophy, and, in conjunction with the
imperfection of Kant's exposition just referred to, has given
color to the false impressiou that it is only another psychological
explanation of knowledge. The psychologist starts from the
supposition that the problem of philosophy is to explain how the
individual mind, of which the known object is supposed to be
the abstract opposite, comes to have a knowledge of that object.
*Mr. Laurie (Jour. Spec. Philosophy, Vol. VI.. p. 224) charges Kant with
assuming that there is a "necessary in propositions," and upon this assump-
tion basing his proof that there are a priori judgments. It would be very
strange if Kant had assumed that which the Kritik was mainly written to
establish.
120 Kant' 8 Reply to Hume.
But when the question is thus stated, Ave are inevitably driven
back to the theory of which Hume's skepticism is the logical re-
sult, that thought is a purely formal activity. If therefore we
insist upon interpreting Kant's system from the dualistic point of
view which it undoubtedly presents, we may show it to be infec-
ted by the psychological method. The truth is however that the
assumption of a noumenal subject and object, while it could not
but make its influence felt in Kant's exposition, is quite incom-
patible with the whole scope and aim of his philosophy. What
imperfections exist in his theory from the intermingling of the
psychological with the speculative method, will appear as we
proceed.
Sense in itself, as Hume has shown, is a mere multiplicity.
But a mere multiplicity, as he ought to have maintained, but did
not, cannot account even for the phenomena of the individual
consciousness. Although Hume was much more consistent than
Locke or Berkeley, or their recent followers, he was forced, in
order to explain even the appearance of knowledge, inconsist-
ently to assume that sensation is more than a mere multiplicity ;
that it not only gives the particular, i. e., isolated differences, but
also the individual, i. e., a combination of differences. What
Kant does is to iusist that we shall not surreptitiously foist into
the conception of mere difference the contradictory conception
of identity, and thus make a show of extracting from sense a
unity of differences. Sensation as purely immediate and unrela-
ted, is mere difference. But, in our unreflective consciousness
there are individual objects, each of which, as in space, is exter-
nal to every other, and each part of which for the same reason is
external to every other part. Moreover these objects are regard-
ed as persisting through successive moments of time, no two of
which co-exist. Whether, therefore we attempt to account for the
unity of differences involved in the spatial and temporal rela-
tions of objects, or for the unity of determinations of individual
objects themselves, we must have recourse to something essen-
tially different from sense. For sense of itself can only give
difference; it has no possibility of integration, and therefore is
incompetent to account for that unity of differences which oven
the simplest phenomena of consciousness imply. Before, there-
fore, we can explain how the individual mind could have a con-
scious experience of external objects, or of space and time, we
must suppose that the differences of sense have been success-
Kant's Reply to Hume. 121
ively apprehended and in that apprehension combined and re-
duced to unity. While then the differences are receptively ap-
prehended, their combination must be spontaneous. This act of
combination Kant calls Synthesis, to indicate its spontaneous
character, and the faculty which produces synthesis he terms the
Understanding. That in our ordinary experience a synthesis of
the differences of sense is implied, is overlooked when it is sup-
posed that the understanding is a purely analytical faculty.
This is the fallacy that vitiates the theory of Locke, as of all
Empiricists, and which has as its result the skepticism of Hume.
The very fact that we can analyze our ordinary conception of
objects, is of itself a proof that a synthesis of the understand-
ing must have gone before; for although knowledge in its earli-
est stage is in a confused and partially indeterminate state, and
therefore stands in need of analysis, still had there been no prior
synthesis of differences, there would have been nothing what-
ever to analyze.
The necessity of a synthesis by the understanding of the mere
difference of sense, as the condition of even the simplest experi-
ence, has been proved ; but much more is required to establish
that there is in knowledge a necessary and universal element.
The combination of differences evidently cannot be effected by
sense, as the Empiricist supposes, but must be produced sponta-
neously by the understanding. It is competent however for an
objector to say that the synthesis of the understanding is per-
fectly arbitrary, and hence that we can have no certainty that
truth is attainable. If we can combine determinations in any
way we please, obviously the product of this combination will
not be objective knowledge. To place knowledge upon a sure
foundation we must be able to show that there is a supreme prin-
ciple which regulates the synthesis of the understanding; that
the unity to which sensuous determinations is reduced is not the
result of an arbitrary combination, but on the contrary that the
combination is itself absolutely conditioned by a necessary
unity.
And here it may not be out of place to point out that Kant
does not regard sense and thought as giving different kinds of
knowledge, but only as contributing elements of knowledge, -
which in themselves are mere zero. ^Ye should hardly have
thought it necessary to insist upon this distinction had not Mr.
Lewes in his recent work repeated the charge, first advanced by
122 Kant's Reply to Hume.
him in his " History of Philosophy," that Kant absolutely sepa-
rates the sensibility from the understanding, and regards the one
as capable of being exercised apart from the other. Kant, says
Mr. Lewes, '' after first defining knowledge to be the product of a
subjective element and an objective element, henceforward treats
the subjective element as if it alone contributes a peculiar kind
of knowledge, and not simply one of the factors of knowledge."*
]STow if we are resolved to adhere to the mere letter of the
Kritik, many statements might be produced which, taken by
themselves, would seem to substantiate this charge. But the
doctrine that sense in itself affords but a possibility of know-
ledge, which only becomes actual upon the exercise of the syn-
thetic understanding, is so fundamental a distinction in the Criti-
cal Philosophy that to overlook or obliterate it is to render the
whole system meaningless. If sense in itself gives one kind of
knowledge, it must of course be a knowledge of individual ob-
jects, and hence thought necessarily takes up the place of a
purely formal activity, which has no other task than that of ab-
stracting certain attributes from the completely determined object,
and recombining them in a perfectly arbitrary way. It thus be-
comes not synthetical but analytical ; and when Kant represents
the problem of philosophy as comprehended in the question,
How are synthetical a priori judgments possible? we must sup-
pose that he did not understand what he himself meant, and thus
fell into an elaborate ignoratio elenchi ! On the other hand, there
is a side of the Kantian philosophy, to which reference has al-
ready been made, that may be said logically to overthrow the
relativity of sense and thought; but only because it destroys the
possibility of any knowledge whatever. By absolutely opposing
the noumenal self to the uoumenal object, Kant lent countenance
to the fundamental fallacy of Empiricism — a fallacy which Mr.
Lewes endorses, and which therefore it is not competent for him
to object to in another— that the mind is purely passive in its ap-
prehension of knowledge. If we carry out this assumption to
its consequences, we shall no doubt be led to say, not only that
sense gives one kind of knowledge, but that it gives all know-
ledge worthy of the name. The ultimate issue of this mode of
thought we have already seen to be the skepticism of Hume,
which, on the ground that sensation is immediate and moment-
•
^Problems of Life and Mind, American Ed., Vol. I. p. 405.
Kanfs Reply to Hume. 123
ary, denies the possibility of any knowledge of reality. But this
psychological point of view, although it is distinctly countenanced
by Kant, can only be regarded as a superficial flaw which leaves
his philosophy in its essential features unimpaired. The thing-
in-itself is in Kant an unwarranted presupposition, which may
easily be separated from his system, and very much to its im-
provement in simplicity and self-consistency. As it is, it neces-
sarily exercised a pernicious influence, which may be traced in
the most purely speculative part of the Kritik, the reduction of
all knowledge to the unity of self-consciousness, to which we
now proceed.
To prove the possibility of real knowledge we must be able to
show that there is a primal unity, which is the necessary condi-
tion of the synthesis of the understanding. In our ordinary ex-
perience we have a consciousness of individual objects as exist-
ing in space and time. Such a consciousness cannot be accoun-
ted for upon the supposition that sense gives us a knowledge of
objects, for sensation is in itself bare difference. The mind must
not only apprehend the difference of sense, but by an intellectual
synthesis combine it. But such a synthesis is only possible if
there is something which contains in itself no difference — some-
thing which is absolutely self-identical. Xow it is evident from
a mere analysis of our ordinary consciousness that in each of
our perceptions the consciousness of self is implied ; for an un-
perceived perception — a perception that is not in consciousness —
is a contradiction. This consciousness of self is however simply
accepted as a fact, without being proved or in any way accounted
for; and hence it may be said, as Hume did say, that self, like
the object, is an illusion which philosophy dispels. It will not
therefore do to prove the reality of self by a mere appeal to the
individual consciousness ; for all that can in this way be estab-
lished is that there is in our ordinary consciousness a belief in
the reality of self. What we have to show is that the conscious-
ness of self is the necessary condition of the belief in self. Xow
it has been shown that sense per se is a mere multiplicity, and
hence that, to account for the empirical consciousness of objects,
the understanding must combine this multiplicity. The possibil-
ity of such a combination has to be accounted for, and that which
is to account for it must have in itself no difference, or a higher
synthesis would again be required to reduce this difference to
unity. The conscious /however exactly meets the requirement.
124 Kant's Reply to Hume
The J is a pure identity ; it is absolutely one and the same in all
perceptions, as an analysis of the empirical consciousness is sufi-
cient to show. The various determinations which in their total-
ity constitute one perception would not be in consciousness at
all, did they not belong to one and the same self-consciousness.
It is only by going through the separate determinations of sense
and summing them up that they can be in one consciousness, and
being in one consciousness they are related to an absolutely iden-
tical self. Were there no universal self lying at the basis of
knowledge, we could not have even the consciousness of the dif-
ference of sense as a difference ; aud on the other hand if there
were nothing but the identity of self we could not have the con-
sciousness of self as identical. Actual experience and the pos-
sibility of its extension, alike involve as their condition a synthe-
sis of sensuous differences by an absolutely identical eelf. The
fact that when I analyze my empirical consciousness I detect the
presence of self in each perception, implies that self-conscious-
ness is the necessary condition of synthesis, just as synthesis is
the condition of analysis. The synthetical unity of self-con-
sciousness is thus the highest principle of all knowledge, and
hence it may be called the "original unity of self-consciousness;"
and as it is the condition of the necessary element of knowledge,
it may be termed the " transcendental unity of self-conscious-
ness." The possibility of experience thus involves that the va-
riety of sense should be reflected upon the identity of self-con-
sciousness. Self-consciousness is therefore the absolutely neces-
sary condition of all knowledge.
The synthetical unity of self-consciousness, as it is the central
truth of the Critical Philosophy, so it is the highest point of
pure speculation to which Kant attained. Interpreted in its true
spirit, and liberated from a certain inconsistency (to be immedi-
ately considered) that vitiates its actual presentation, it ought to
commend itself to the "inductive" logician not less than to the
speculative thinker. To the former it should appeal as a suc-
cessful instance of the advance of knowledge " from the known
to the unknown" by the verification of an hypothesis. Starting
from admitted "facts of experience," it goes on to explain them
by a principle that binds them together by a necessary law: set-
ting up the hypothesis that self-consciousness is competent to
explain the given phenomena, it tests the hypothesis by the phe-
nomena, and finds that it, and it alone, is competent to account
Kant's Reply to Hume. 125
for them. Nor can it be said that Kant flies beyoud the bounds
of possible experience in search of his principle of explanation ;
for surely, since Descartes' " Coqito ergo sum," all are agreed
that the consciousness of self is the simplest and most certain of
"facts." Why then do our Empiricists obstinately refuse to ac-
cept so irrefragable an instance of induction "? May it not be that
their favorite formula of the progress " from the known to the
unknown," and their no less favorite maxim that induction in-
volves the " verification of hypotheses," are barren truisms that
no sane person would dispute, but which tell us no more than
the ''trifling propositions" that stirred the wrath of Locke by
their pretentious emptiness? Surely we are all agreed that if
any advance in knowledge is to be made, it must be by knowing
something we did not know before ; and that to find out the law
which regulates any given phenomena we must hazard a conjec-
ture, which can only be accepted if it turns out to be correct.
But after these " wise saws" have received due homage, the only
really important question — the value of the explanation offered
— is as far from being settled as ever. Kow in the present in-
stance, that which prevents the Empiricist from gratefully ac-
cepting Kant's solution — as he certainly ought to do, seeing that
it places " experience " upon a solid basis — is the preconception
that the object of thought stands in absolute opposition to the
self that thinks it. Under this false supposition he seeks to
overthrow the logical law of contradiction (for which he should
have more respect) by trying violently to bring the object into
relation with the subject, each being implicitly defined as the-
contradictory of the other. Hence when Kant brings forward a
principle which is to explain knowledge by showing that self and
not-self, as strictly correlative, are meaningless when taken in
abstraction from each other, the Empiricist replies reproachfully
that this is to take the " high priori road " that leads away from
experience and loses itself in mist. The charge is undoubtedly
just if by "experience" is to be understood the object in isola-
tion from the subject; but if it means, as it ought to mean, the
totality of experience, the synthesis of subject and object, it is
the Empiricist, and not Kant, who violates the integrity of expe-
rience.
But, however innocuous may be the assaults of Empiricism, the
disturbing element, to which reference has more than once been
made, would not allow the central doctrine of the Critical Phi-
120 Kant's Reply to H^me.
losophy to remain uiicontaminated by contradiction. Taken
strictly, the conception of self-consciousness as the principle
which unites subject and object in a higher unity, is fatal to the
presupposition of a thing-in-itself, which as beyond conscious-
ness is unknowable. By simply holding fast the two correla-
tives, we get the conception of a self-consciousness that is nei-
ther an abstract universal nor a mere' particular, but at once uni-
. versa! and particular, and therefore individual. To suppose that
there is an unknown self and an unknown object, in addition to
the known self and the known object, is to advance an hypothesis
that is at once unnecessary and self-contradictory. But Kant
was not prepared to surrender the thing-in-itself, and hence we
find him, after he has enunciated the strict correlativity of self
and not-self, falling back into the psychological point of view
which Hume had shown to be contradictory of knowledge. For
immediately after he has spoken of self-consciousness as the uni-
fying principle of all knowledge, and therefore in effect as the
unity of subject and object, he goes on to remark that the I. be-
ing an absolutely simple unity, contains no difference in itself,
and must therefore have difference given to it by sense. Hence
he deliberately and emphatically rejects the suggestion that the
understanding may be perceptive. There may, he admits, possi-
bly be a self-consciousness which originates the determinations of
which it is conscious, but of such a self-consciousness we can
form no positive conception. In other words, the difference of
sense, although it has no existence apart from consciousness, is
nevertheless in its origin due to the noumeual object and not to
reason. Now by thus denying to thought any capacity of origi-
nating difference, Kant virtually makes the original self-con-
sciousness a bare unit, and thus identifies it with the abstraction
of self, which is the negation of not-self; and hence he is debar-
red from giving any consistent explanation of the relation of sub-
ject aud object. Even in this imperfect form, his theory success-
fully explodes the fallacy of Empiricism, which assumes that
sense of itself gives a knowledge of objects, i. e., of a unity of
differences. But, on the other hand, a purely abstract self is as
incapable of accounting for the difference which all knowledge
involves, as mere sense is of explaining its unity. No doubt if
knowledge is possible at all there must be a synthesis of differ-
ences ; but how can any synthesis be produced by a self-con-
sciousness which is so defined as to exclude all difference ? That
Kant's Reply to Hume. 127
the self is in its own nature a unity — or rather a unit, for unity
necessarily implies difference — does not help us to understand
how it introduces unity into that which is conceived as its ab-
stract opposite. Self is a mere unit, not-self is mere difference,
and so they must remain in eternal isolation, unless we can point
to a principle which is in itself a synthesis of unity and differ-
ence. This principle must be neither self nor not-self, but that
which in transcending - combines both. Kant sees this clearly
enough ; but, unable to break loose from the fetters of the thing-
in-itself, he confuses self-consciousness with the abstract self, and
stumbles in the very moment of victory. Hence if we mete out
praise to him strictly upon the ground of what he has achieved, '
without taking into consideration the scope and intention of his
efforts and the near approach he made to complete success, we
may say that he has rather given an exceptionally clear state-
ment of the problem of philosophy than a true solution of it.'
The follower of Kant has therefore only two courses open to him:
either to hold fast by the unknowable thing-in-itself, and the con-
sequent abstraction of self; or to deny the reality of the indemon-
strable noumenon, when the conception of self-consciousness as
a unity that transcends the opposition of self and not-self, will
follow as a matter of course. If he decides to adopt the former
alternative, he must be prepared to throw in his lot with Empir-
icism, and therefore with Skepticism, which attends it as its
shadow. For when self is conceived as the abstract of not-self,
thought can only be a formal activity ; and hence the wealth of
reality is thrown out of the orderly domain of Eeason and given
over to the lawless realm of Sense. If, on the other hand, he
choose the alternative that self-consciousness is implicitly both
subject and object, he will see that, knowledge is placed upon a
foundation that cannot be moved; being the self-evolution of
Eeason, which, in universalizing the particular, realizes itself in
the concrete individual.
After establishing that the difference of sense is reduced to
unity by a synthesis of the understanding, of which self-con-
sciousness is the only possible condition, Kant goes on to ask
what are the special forms that that synthesis takes. Hitherto
it nas onlv been shown that no knowledge is possible unless we
suppose that sensuous determinations are combined by the spon-
taneous activity of tnoiight. We can easily see that, however
contingent may be the sensuous material given to thought, the
128 Kantfs Reply to Hume.
various modes of reducing this material to the unity of self-con-
sciousness must be necessary. But to hud out what these modes
are, and to be sure that we have discovered them in their com-
pleteness, we must have some clue to guide us in our search. All
intellectual synthesis being a manifestation of one absolutely
identical self, the understanding is a complete unity; and hence
it must be possible to find some one principle that will lead to
the discovery of all the ways in which it combines the variety of
sense. Now to reduce variety to unity is to judge, and hence all
thinking is judging. Judgment is either analytical or syntheti-
cal : and, as all analysis implies a prior synthesis, the various
forms of the analytical judgment will afford a clue to the differ-
ent manifestations of the synthetical judgment. Formal logic,
which abstracts from all content of knowledge, has already tab-
ulated the forms of the analytical judgment. In our ordinary
experience we have a consciousness not only of individual ob-
jects, but of general conceptions. It is with the formal relation
of these conceptions to each other that common logic deals. Con-
ceptions are generalizations from individual perceptions. Com-
paring a number of individuals together and noting their points
of agreement, we form general conceptions. We may next com-
pare together the conceptions thus obtained, and by a like pro-
cess of abstraction, form higher conceptions ; and this process
we may repeat until we have obtained a conception that includes
all individuals under it. The act by which we reduce a number
of perceptions to conceptions, or a number of conceptions to
others of a higher degree of generality, is judgment. And as
conceptions can only be employed in judging, the only office of
the understanding is to judge, i. e., to refer conceptions to ob-
jects through perceptions. An analysis of the various forms of
judgment thus affords an infallible clue to the different concep-
tions used by the understanding in the synthetical judgment.
Applying this principle, Kant finds that all judgments may be
classified according to their quantity, quality, modality and rela-
tion, each of which has under it three phases, and that to these
phases there correspond as many pure conceptions, or categories.
These categories then are the different ways in which the under-
standing reduces the material of sense to unity. Thus the per-
manent element of knowledge, which Hume had denied to exist,
has been found. The categories, as belonging to the very consti-
tution of thought, cannot be reduced to an arbitrary order in our
Kant's Reply to Hume. 129
feelings, inasmuch as, without presupposing them, no experience
even of a series of feelings as they are to the individual could
have taken place. They are therefore necessary and universal.
In this account of the way in which he was led to the discov-
ery of the categories, Kant attempts to comprehend the analyti-
cal and synthetical judgments under one formula. To think, he
tells us, is to judge, and judging consists in referring concep-
tions to objects through perceptions. Now in strict propriety
this formula is only applicable to the analytical judgment, the
common view of which rests upon the supposition that individual
objects, with the full complement of their attributes, first exist
full-forced in consciousness, and are afterwards referred to an
abstract universal. If, following the analogy which the account
naturally suggests, we attempt to assimilate the synthetical to
the analytical judgment, we shall naturally be led to think that
objects as such beiug given by perception, the understanding
proceeds to apply to them its categories. We might suppose, e. g.,
that on entering a room our senses reveal to us a number of
individual objects, which the understanding afterwards combines
by means of such categories as unity, plurality and totality. It
must be under some such misapprehension that Mr. Lewes
charges Kant with holding that sense and thought contribute
different hinds of knowledge. Kant's real thought is, that by
the application of the categories to the element of knowledge
given by sense, objects are first constituted as objects. This, no
one who has apprehended the relation of the categories to the
synthetical unity of self-consciousness, can fail to understand.
Self-consciousness, as we have seen, is the absolute condition of
all knowledge, no matter how rudimentary or confused it may be.
The isolated impressions contributed by sense would have no
existence even in the changing consciousness of the individual,
were they not reduced to unity by an all-pervasive and identical
self. But to refer the manifold of sensation to a universal self is
to think it, and therefore to bring it under the unity of the cate-
gories. The categories are thus the condition of the perception
of objects ; and hence we must suppose the analytical judgment
to imply the synthetical, as the analytical unity of consciousness
presupposes the synthetical unity. For the analytical judgment
in all cases brings one or more individuals under an abstract uni-
versal, either mediately or immediately ; and hence it assumes
X— 9
130 Kant's Reply to Hume.
the individual to be already known. This assumption has to be
justifies', and its justification lies in the necessity of supposing a
prior synthesis of individual impressions to account for con-
scious experience. It is true that the office of the categories iu
the synthetical judgment is not only to constitute objects as such,
but also to connect them ; but the process by which they are con-
nected with each other is not divergent from that by which they
are constituted, but strictly continuous with it.
Interpreted in its spirit, Kant's derivation of the categories is
inconsistent with the assumed opposition of the synthetical and
analytical judgments. If self-consciousness is conceived, as Kant
in his higher moments does conceive it, as the unity which tran-
scends the opposition of subject and object, the analytical must
be regarded as strictly correlative with the synthetical judgment.
The isolated impressions of sense are only knowable in so far as
they are distinguished from each other, and in that distinction
related to a universal self. But this implies on the one hand an
analytical judgment which distinguishes one determination from
another, and on the other hand a synthetical judgment which
unites the determinations thus distinguished. Take away either
the judgment which differentiates or the judgment which inte-
grates, and knowledge becomes impossible. Thus knowledge is
neither mere synthesis nor mere analysis, but a unity of both. It
i.s the self-determination of Beasou, which in manifesting itself
at once differentiates and integrates. For how can the syntheti-
cal judgment combine elements that without analysis would have
no existence ? and how can thv re be an,\ analysis without a cor-
responding synthesis ? These are uot separate processes, but
correlative aspects of the same process. The same presupposi-
tion, however, that prevented Kant from clearly apprehending
and retaining the absolute unity of subject and object in self-
consciousness, led him to contrast the synthetical and analytical
judgments as distinct and opposite processes. That presup. osi-
t on, it need hardly be said, was that the particular is given to
the mind by the unknown thing-in itself. For, the particular be-
ing thus taken up ready-made, the only task left for thought to
perform is to reduce it to unity. Hence the understanding, in so
far as it is constructive, is supposed to form synthetical judg-
ments alone; and hence also the categories are conceived as
empty forms of combination that receive their filling from an ex-
ternal source. The result is that the analytical judgment is de-
Kant's Reply to Hume. 131
graded to the rank of a purely formal activity, instead of beiug
regarded as not less constitutive of knowledge than the synthet-
ical judgment.
Kaut could not overlook the fact that analysis plays an impor-
tant part in the development of knowledge; but, misled by the
false assumption that all necessary relations are constituted by the
synthetical judgment, no other course was left open to him than
to hold that analysis merely resolves objects, that are already
known in their completeness, back into their original elements.
Accordingly he plays into the hands of the formal logician,
maintaining that thought as analytical refers objects to abstract
universals, or, in other words, separates from them the attributes
by which they are already constituted. But this is to identify
judgment with memory, and to fall into a lifeless nominalism. If
objects in their completeness, i. e., in the sum of their relations
to other objects, already exist in consciousness, thought can only
by introspection recall them as they are suggested by a given
name. In strict propriety therefore we cannot say that the ana-
lytical judgment brings individuals under the unity of a con-
ception, for the attributes designated by a term are already sup-
posed to be given as united. And hence Kant, in assuming that
the analytical judgment is a reliable guide to all the forms ofv
the synthetical judgment, goes upon a false principle, the influ-
ence of which is shown in the incompleteness and want of con-
nection of his list of categories. That he was led to a discovery
of certain of the categories, notwithstanding his derivation of
them from the superficial analysis of common logic, is due to the
fact that the analytical judgment, as he conceived it, is a repeti-
tion in an inverse order of the actual process of thought. The
syllogism is a disintegration of the elements put together by
thought in its constructive activity ; and hence it does serve as a
clue, although an imperfect one, to the discovery of the cate-
gories.
Little more is needed to complete Kant's proof of the possibil-
ity of a real knowledge of objects in their connection. The dif-
ference of sense, it has been shown, must be referred to the unity
of self-consciousness in order to be known at all ; to refer sensu-
ous differences to a universal self is to think them, and thus to
bring them under the categories. But here the difficulty arises
that the categories are merely the ways in which thought may
combine a difference that is given to it, and the differences of
132 Kant's Reply to Hume.
sense are in complete isolation from each other; and hence we
cannot, without supposing something that shall mediate between
the categories on the one hand and the sensuous differences on
the other, explain how actual knowledge can take place. But if
we look again at what is involved in experience, we shall see that
the consciousness of objects, as possessed of qualities and as
related to each other, implies that they exist in Time and Space.
And here we come upon the last element required to constitute
experience. For Time and Space can be resolved neither into
the mere difference of sense, nor into the unity of thought : not
the former, because they must be presupposed before we can ex-
plain to ourselves how sensuous differences can come within the
sphere of consciousness : not the latter, because Space and Time
are complete unities in themselves. It was by supposing that
sensuous differences are given as coexistent and successive that
Hume was able to make a show of deriving Space and Time from
sensation. But when we simply hold fast by what he himself
states, that sensation per se is bare difference, we see that Space
and Time, as unities, must be referred to some other source.
They are therefore not given from without, but supplied from
within, and hence they are a priori. And just as little can they
be identified with the categories of the understanding as with the
differences of sense; they are indeed unities, but not unities
which may comprehend under them an infinite variety of differ-
ences supplied from some other source ; their unity and their
difference are implied in themselves, all parts of space and time
being limitations of one space and one time. They are therefore
perceptions. Space and time have thus the peculiar character-
istic of being akin on the one hand to the categories, and on the
other to the differences of sense; and hence they are fitted to
mediate between the two. As pure forms they lie a priori in the
mind, and thus thought can act through them upon the manifold
of sense supplied by the transcendental object. Thus we can
understand how we may have experience of objects in their con-
nection. When we analyze experience we find that it involves
these elements: (1) isolated seusations, (2) the pure forms of
space and time, (3) the categories and (4) self-consciousness.
Self-consciousness is absolutely the highest condition of all
knowledge ; the categories stand under it, as its modes of reduc-
ing the manifold of sense to unity; space and time are the formal
conditions of the apprehension of sensation ; and through them
Kant's Reply to Hume. 133
the latter is brought into connection with the categories, and thus
referred to the unity of self-consciousness.
Thus the possibility of knowledge has been proved, and by
implication its limits prescribed. That there is a necessary and
universal element in experience is established from the impossi-
bility of accounting for experience upon any otber supposition;
and that we can have no knowledge except within the bounds of
experience is involved in the fact that sense must contribute the
element of difference before we can even be conscious of self as
identical. For thought can only be exercised upon condition that
a manifold of sense shall be given to it; and as this manifold
is itself conditioned by the forms of space and time, we can have
no knowledge of the tbing-iu-itself, which is out of space and
time. It is true that thought could reduce any manifold what-
ever to unity, provided only that it were sensuous ; but so far as
our knowledge is concerned this capacity is valueless, since we
can have no sensible experience except that which is given in
space and time. While therefore within the limits of experience,
our knowledge is beyond the assaults of Skepticism, the condi-
tions of possible knowledge preclude us from ever knowing more
than phenomena.
We had intended to point out, somewhat in detail, how com-
pletely the Critical Philosophy of Kant meets the philosophy of
Hume, both in its positive and negative aspects : proving on the
one hand that mere sensation cannot account even for a series of
feelings, as they are to the individual, and therefore not for that
limited amount of certainty which Hume inconsistently allowed
to the mathematical and physical sciences ; and on the other hand
destroying the basis of his Skepticism by showing that the neces-
sary element of knowledge cannot be the product of custom or
repeated association, since custom itself implies the constructive
activity of thought. Had space permitted we should also like
to have made some remarks upon Kant's conception of space
and time as purely subjective — a conception which, like the other
imperfections in his system, to which reference has been made,
flows from the assumption of an unknown thing-in-itself— and
upon his limitation of knowledge to phenomena. But perhaps
enough has been said to show that the Critical Philosophy, while
its purity is so far polluted by the intermingling of absolute Be-
alism with absolute Idealism, nevertheless gave the death-blow
to Empiricism ; and that it clearly pointed out the way to a thor-
134 Dancings Descent of Man.
ouglily consistent philosophy, which should explain all reality as
the externalization of Reason, working through and yet indepen-
dent of the consciousness of the individual. The Empiricist
should learn from a study of Kant that the only reality his own
premises will allow him to retain is that which remains after all
thought and existence have vanished ; and the less prejudiced
reader, in making the thought of Kant his own, may perhaps be
led to see the necessity of cleansing it of all taint of Empiricism.
DARWEN T 'S DESCENT OF MAX.
(A Few Thoughts and Queries Suggested on Heading Darwin's Introduction
to his fifth edition of " The Origin of Species, and Descent of Man ").
By J, II. Pepper.
Darwin commences by begging the question and talks at the
commencement of " prejudices against his views;" as much as to
say that he alone is right, and that other people are so stupid
and bigoted, they will not change their minds on a subject that
nature alone can teach them, and the knowledge thus acquired
appears to ignorant observers to be all against Darwin, because
no one has yet heard or read of a monkey being anything but a
monkey, a codfish a codfish, a jelly fish a jelly fish, a cell a cell,
&c, &c, &c.
Darwin says " man must be included with all other organic
beings in any general conclusion respecting his manner of appear-
ance on this earth." Granted as we allow (at least a large sec-
tion of the Christian world) that Father, Son and Holy Ghost is
one God, but each separate and distinct, as we allow that red,
yellow and blue waves come from one wave of white light, but
all distinct and having separate qualities. "Species are the
modified descendants of other species." Very true again, but
each species belongs to its species, and you cannot raise a con-
tinuous species by uniting a horse and a donkey, and if you do
it the result is a mule, which can no longer generate its species,
Darwin's Descent of Man. 135
but ends as a mule. Mules do uot aud cannot increase and mul-
tiply. If you name three species, A, B, C :
A — Monkey, ( A cannot generate with B,
B— Dog, \ B with C, or
C— Man. ( A with C.
It is Darwin's business to get over this great and fundamental
difficulty, and he must be able to prove that the reverse of the
story of the confusion of languages at the building of the Tower
of Babel must happen to living animals, viz : that the multiplic-
ity of organisms and varieties of animal life possessing the com-
mon instincts of their species, must be all as the people were
said to be before the confusion of languages, i. e., all speaking
one language, or in other words having "one common seed" of gen-
eration, so that the seed of a jelly fish is really by some refined
and long time process, gradually to evolve itself from an humble
and ignoble condition to the more glorious and perfect estate called
man. Darwin's postulate seems to be that the story of the
" Tower of Babel" may be paraphrased into that of the "Tower
of Mental Activity — Man," the confusion of languages, the confu-
sion or differentiation of species, did not occur in nature, but that
the Architect of nature used only one language, one seed, out of
which came all living things from the jelly fish to man. " Natu-
ral Selection " meant that the weakest or least perfect seed was
destroyed, tbe strongest as most perfect, only lived.
Darwin allows he may have overrated the importance of "Nat-
ural Selection," aud he compliments the old and honored chiefs
in natural science and says: "Many unfortunately are still op-
posed to evolution in every form.''' 1 Darwin admits that he has
never deliberately applied these views to a species taken singly.
" When we confine our attention to any one form we are de-
prived of the weighty arguments derived from the nature of the
affinities which connect whole groups of organisms, their geo-
graphical distribution in past and present times, and their geo-
logical succession. The homological structure, embryological de-
velopment, and rudimentary organs of a species, whether it be
man or auy other animal to which our attention may be directed,
remains to be considered, but these great classes of facts afford
ns, it appears to me, ample and conclusive evidence in favor of
the principle of graded evolution."
First it may be noted that Darwin obtains no proof of evolu-
tion by studying one species ; he then begs the question again,
136 Darwin's Descent of Man.
and asks to be permitted to argue on " groups." Very good : let
him do so, and still group A is different from group B, and that
from C. If he can prove that the seed of group A will beget B r
and B beget C, we must then pay strict attention to this great
and awful fact, and say that it may then be possible to conceive
the world peopled only with monsters such as the Pagan Satyrs
or Centaurs, and in process of time by the degradation, or rather
in this case the evolution of species, we may realize semi-animals
— half dog half man, half horse half cow: but fortunately this
imaginary cataclysm is arrested by the stubborn, incontroverti-
ble obstinacy of nature in declining to permit a mule to generate
with another mule.
It would appear that the world is more likely to become de-
graded than elevated, if Darwin's doctrines are to be paramount,
and as we proceed with the analysis of his pleadings, we perceive
that like a drowning man he snatches at straws.
Darwin is undoubtedly a great philosopher, but like other
monomaniacs appears to be insane on one point, viz: that man
came from the seed of a jelly fish by "Natural Selection," (the
strong destroying the weak) occurring through millions and mil-
lions and millions (make jour left hand figures stand well in this
discussion) of years.
Darwin states that " the sole object of this work is to consider
firstly, whether man like any other species, is descended from
some pre-existing form ? Secondly, the value of the differences
between the (so-called) races of man." Ye gods ! so-called ! ! as
if a negro (so-called) was not different from a white man. When
human beings of weak intellect have escaped into the forest
wilds, it would appear that they become in certain cases covered
with hair almost like an animal, they tear their food with hands
and teeth, and live on berries, or whatever they can masticate,.
swallow, or digest.
This is the degradation of the species called man. The idiot is
one of a degraded species, and may have sprung from some in-
cestuous connection, or from the intermarriage of relations too
closely connected and within the ties of consanguinity, as usu-
ally happens when first cousins marry. Even the same seed in
the same species, man, is fatal to longevity — the offspring being
weak, languid, and die early.
If man generating with his species, and intermarriages in one
community or family, may breed idiots or other people of weak
Dancings Descent of Man. 137
bodies and intellects, what would it be if the same seed permeated
all living things belonging to the mammalia? Why gradual de-
cay, and the earth should be empty and void of human beings by
this time.
Darwin says "the high antiquity of man has recently been
demonstrated by the labors of a host of eminent men." Very
true— let that pass. Why not very ancient? when a thousand
years in Thy sight are but as yesterday.
And this, the distinguished author goes on to say, is " the in-
dispensable basis for understanding his origin." One would have
thought the contrary, because antiquity shrouds much that is
ordinarily regarded as historically in comparative darkness, and
u as distance lends enchantment to the view," so distance of time
provokes the most fascinating narratives, which, unhappily, like
the " Evolution Fairy Tale," cannot be proven — and yet are most
amusing because they wear a rag of probability of truth about
them. It seems that this vaunted antiquity shuts the door and
hides the key that might open the domain of knowledge respect-
ing the actual date of the origin of man. Darwin continues,
" Nor shall I have occasion to do more than allude to the amount
of difference between man and the ape, for Professor Huxley
says the opinion of the most competent judges has conclusively
shown that in every single visible character man differs less from
the apes than these do from the lesser members of the same
order of primates." True again, in all time man has observed
the remarkable similarity between himself and his " poor rela-
tions," the monkeys. There is a great similarity between a horse
and a mule or a donkey, but "the difierence" just makes the two
perfectly distinct. Man and apes are alike " with a difference "
profound and immense; no monkey has ever been tried in a
court of justice for a crime or conduct unbecoming a gentleman ;
they are irresponsible members of the animal world, endowed
with remarkable instincts and a great imitative faculty, but there
it ends ; individual apes, chimpanzees and ourangs, with contin-
ued kind treatment may perform remarkable acts, and by these
and facial expressions simulate their lord and master, man; the
record is full of such cases, with the usual sequel of attempted
civilization of the poor wild animal viz : death, as the ape dies of
consumption ; whereas, if allowed to roam its own native forests
and feed in its own way, the poor relation (as Charles Lamb called
the monkey) shifts for himself and lives his appointed time.
138 Darwin's Descent of Man.
So, on tbe contrary, when man is turned adrift in the forest, as
has happened with children of weak intellect, they have hardly
been able to sustain life, because they require the opposite con-
ditions of life to the monkey; if by accident they are of the fam-
ily of Esau, i. e., hairy, and nature has furnished this natural
suit of clothes or skin covering-, they may manage to exist.
When hair does not grow profusely, death probably ensues from
exposure, unless it be in a warm or temperate climate.
Darwin is a most sincere and truthful enthusiast ; it is not dis-
respectful to call him a monomaniac in the sense one would
.speak of the " perpetual motion" inventors, or "Biblio-inamacs,"
or other men who harp so long upon one string that a slight
lesion of the brain apparatus probably takes place.
Darwin's modesty charms the thoughtful reader — thus he says :
-" This work contains hardly any original facts in regard to man ;
but, as the conclusions at which I have arrived after drawing up
a rough draught, appeared to me interesting, I thought that they
might interest others." Very nice, very prettily put, and quite
refreshing as compared with the self-assertion of Tyndall and
others.
" It has often and confidently been asserted that man's origin
can never be known, but ignorance more frequently begets con-
fidence than does knowledge, it is those who know little and not
those who know much who positively assert that this or that
problem will never be solved by science." True, very true, an
undoubted truism.
The conclusion that man is co-descendant with other species of
some ancient, lower and extinct form, is not new in any degree.
See Haeckel's remarkable work, a book so perfect that even
Darwin says his own essay should not have appeared if it, the
book, had appeared before his own was written.
Possibly true again. We need not oppose the idea of the
gradual improvement of the race of man, although we are enti-
tled, with Agassiz, to reverse the process of "Evolution" rea-
soning, and say that the first creations called " man " were more
perfect than anything we now see, more beautiful, and cast in
the mould of the Apollo Belvidere and Venus of Milo.
Out of tens of thousands of horses only one wins "the Derby."
Out of tens of thousands of men and women, only one here and
there is perfect in form and conspicuous from intellect.
Were the first creations of man Apollos and Venuses ! or were
Darwin's Descent of Man. 139
they ugly, brutal, and simply animal, with or without a wild and
scanty form of language ? HoW did the divine gift of speech
originate ? The answer to these simple questions is impressive,
because silence is the result — except we say because man was
originally endowed with the organs of speech. Then if man had
the vocal organs, why did not the monkeys have the same gift >
Can we cultivate a monkey's voice to speak like a Washington or
or to sing like a Kellogg or a Titiens ?
Darwin says that "Sexual Selection has played an important
part in the differentiation of the races of man." Of course it
has, or we should not be able to recognize the pluck and endur-
ance of the Anglo-Saxon race as distinct from that of other races
of white men. We know that intermarriage, and mixture of va-
rieties of white men, climate and food, work great changes, as we
speak of a beef-eating Englishman.
Darwin's arguments fail to show us " that the differentiation of
the races of man" brings him nearer to the race of apes.
If it pleased the Creator to form monkeys and men with the
same kind of skeleton and external form, it also pleased him to
leave great barriers of distinction, b}* endowing the flesh and blood
of man with a nervous system that monkeys have not, and even
if they had it, does not give the monkeys the power to express
their thoughts in words or to reason upon or indite their ideas.
Monkeys may communicate with other monkeys by cries and
signs, but they cannot speak to man. Has any monkey
learned talk within the period, since the Antigone of Soph-
ocles was written, viz: about 450 Before Christ! If any
change had taken place in the forms of apes it must have been
recorded during the last 2,000 years. The conversion of monkeys
into men would have been too startling a fact to have escaped
notice in the Greek works published during that period. But
then Darwin's reply would be : give me more time, and count the
•evolutiou of living persons by thousands of centuries, and the
most perfect work of the Creator, viz : man, will be the result.
After reading Darwin one regrets that it is difficult if not im-
possible to agree with him, and if we take all he says for " gos-
pel,' 1 there is still a bond of connection, theoretical of course,
like Darwinism, between matter and a first great Creator.
" We may extend our vision backwards," is the high-flown and
pedantic lauguage of Tyndall, or in other words dream a dream,
140 Darwin's Descent of Man.
which put into words, suggests the following queries to the
"speculative" but "philosophical" readers of this journal:
I. Might not the principles of " evolution " and " natural se-
lection " lead up from cell life to divine perfection ?
II. If there is a beginning in " cell life," which is the lowest
form of vitalized matter, unless we begin with the chemical com-
pound called protein, whose vitality is doubtful, may there not be
an end somewhere in the very highest condition of " vitalized
matter"?
III. Do not extremes meet, and may not " cell life " and divine
majesty be the two ends of a long chain ?
IV. If cell life began the reign of vitality, why should it not
be asserted that the highest order of " spiritualized vitality " has
started first into "Power," and unrolling itself like a scroll,
shows the Powers from whence it, the "Divine Spiritual Essence
or God-head " proceeded, but ending in a cell ?
V. Upon the "Evolution Theory," we may dream that millions
and millions of years ago, matter gradually formed itself into an
Essence and Divine condition, i. e., " Perfection." This once
achieved would give the control over matter, and constitute a
" Divine, Absolute and Perfect Power," which may forever re-
peat itself in the creation of countless worlds.
VI. As a "moral code" is the basis of true happiness, the
same perfect " God-head " that repeated itself in the creation of
worlds, would provide for this want. Without a code of moral-
ity man would abandon himself entirely to brutal lusts; man
would destroy man, ergo, man would destroy himself. It was
necessary to subjugate the powers of " Ethereality," viz : "the
operations of the mind," by permitting reason to assert itself as
a co-existent power with mere animal, nervous, electrical, chemi-
cal, and mechanical "cell life."
VII. The ten commandments are the grandest examples of
what should constitute a moral code. The civilized world has
mainly accepted this code, and embodied nearly all of it in
laws. Whoever breaks the laws must in the end bring upon
himself or herself unhappiness and misery, as punishment fol-
lows the breaking of the laws. The upright and prudent man
obeys the laws (if acknowledged by all to be just), and if indus-
trious may enjoy that degree of happiness which our senses can
receive; but even the good and industrious may through ignor-
ance break some minor branch of the law, or in other terms
Turner. Ill
4 * make mistakes," and so a lack of knowledge is almost a crime,
for it frequently brings the punishment of want and penury, as
shown by unsuccessful speculations. Parents cannot too early
inculcate and insist upon rigid economy and habits of saving, for
without "means " even the best "go to the wall."
VIII. All denominations are certainly begging for money, de-
clared to be " the root of all evil," ergo, they ask for evil.
After Moses and the letter of the law, come a still more won-
derful "evolution" of "Divine Essence" of highly spiritualized
reason and thought to occupy Darwin's improved and higher
order of "cell life," viz: the marvellous life of " Him who is
called the Saviour of the World," whose code of "Mental Ethe-
riality," if once firmly established, would end all wars, and de-
stroy forever the love of the " root of all evil," and lead to sus-
tained, pure, and everlasting happiness, by the angelic purity of
the lives of men.
IX. When this last result of " Evolution," or continual de-
struction of the weak and evil, takes place, then we must have the
uprising of the highest condition of " Mental Essence," as shown
for our example in the " Life of Christ." And now has arrived
the Millenium.
But alas, it is only a dream caused by an attempt to digest the
tough theory of good, truthful, learned Darwin.
TUEXEE.
By W. E. Channing.
" He sat — and talked
With winged messengers ; who daily brought
To his small Island In the ethereal deep
Tidings of joy and love.
The measure of his soul was filled with bliss,
And holiest art, as earth, sea, air, with light,
With pomp, with glory, with magnificence."
Joseph Mallord William Turner, was born April 23, 1769, and
died December 19, 1851, at Chelsea, England.
142 Turner.
In the last ten years of the eighteenth century, there sprang
up in Britain the fashion of publishing illustrated books of local
scenery. Draughtsmen at leisure, and sketchers or amateurs,
were thus employed. Turner, in 1794, made the first sketch for
a work of this kind. He had been for some time acquiring the
rudiments of drawing and coloring, and was now sent into the
field to make sketches from nature, a practice he never aban-
doned during his extremely industrious artisMife. In these
early sketches we find his later traits, his love of reality, his
strong yet essential contrasts of light and shade, and the natural
style of his work — an elevated realism, Never would he make a
purely fanciful and traditionary picture. "We see less clearly
what he at length became, as superior by art to nature, as the
latter is to the unversed spectator — his tact and complete ad-
dress of manipulation, came latest. The author of "Modern
Painters," of whom Turner says : " He sees things in my pic-
tures that are not in them," and to whom, "A thing of beauty is
a snare forever," makes no allusion to these early works — so un-
commonly quiet and literal, needy performances, by which the
first of artists Avas educated, and confirmed in his purpose to be
a painter. Thus, face to face, he came with sea and shore, in
calm and storm, hand to hand with their beauties and their mer-
ciless exactions, never this picturesque attitude of the world ab-
sent from his eye, using his pencil before the thing he painted,
putting in his colors, in the brilliant sunshine on an open deck at
sea, as sweetly as at home :
"All he desires, all that he would demand.
Is only that some amicable hand.
Would but irrigate his fadeless bays
With due, and only with deserv-d pra'se."
This man was one to whom experience cries : " Little child,
the path of human life is something dark and crooked. I will
lead you up to the blazing sunshine, yet you shall not know it.
Eude and pitiable you must seem, awkward in the cunning appli-
ances of men and things." Never could Turner unbind his
thought save in the wave of his color, oven if he knew most dis-
tinctly what he liked. This environment restricted him from
metaphysical expression, an instinctive, irrepressible sense of
creating beauty, only possible in his art, la^- forever seeking its
Turner. US
outlet through that cramped exterior; he could draw, but never
spoke his thought.
From the outset he shows his every-day, humane tendency,
and by symbols homely in their kind. He lived a realist. He
says : "I must paint the world as I think it. Men have human
affections, they live by work and work by" tools ; I will not shut
human sympathy oat of my picture. Beauty must there be, and
love; and humauity must have its place. They laugh at my
wheelbarrows and pickaxes, the shows of toil and labor in my
compositions; the plough left in the furrow, the fishing-net
drawn up to dry; such ore the things I really sympathize with
in the scenes I draw." Raphael, having a like respect for home-
truth, paints a view of Florence into the " back wards and dark
abyss " of a " Holy Family," and Titian finishes every single sta-
men of the wild-rose, in his " Bacchus and Ariadne."
Xo weight, nor mass, nor beauty of execution can outweigh
one grain of knowledge. Three penstrokes of Raphael make a
better picture than the most highly sweetened Madonna Carlo
Dolci ever coddled. In Turner's great drawing of " Whitstable,"
with its shadowy, sweeping middle-distance, and an interminable
infinity of moving sky, we see a stone in the right-hand corner,,
with a memento of man, " Whitstable Oyster Beds, Notice." All
the rest is pure, fascinating poetry :
'• With his Yemen sword for aid ;
Ornament it carried none,
But the notches on the blade."
This quality of human truth appears the more forcibly in his
boats, those lumps of fate, as in the "Hastings" and so many
others. Here pitched to the seat swings like a wash-kettle on
the surge, the fisherman's hammock, which suggests : " It's nae
fish ye're buying, Monkbarns : "
" Wha'll have my caller herring 1 ,
Wives and maithers most despairing
Ca' them lives o* men."
With round bows, heavy and forcible, he builds that salt-fish
craft, now sunk in the waves, now with a wave on board, and
perchance the figure-head of some uuheaveuly fisher bolt up-
right, and staring bravely with fishy eyes at Providence. Then
144 Turner.
there is the amiable artist's buoy, dashy and shining on salt sea
wrack, with a streak of rusty crimson from the angry sunset,
or shivering under the wash of a bankrupt cloud, yet a useful
buoy, morally prepared to do his duty. In one drawing he has a
stout brig resting on the very crest of a foaming wave, lifted
bodily out of the sea-level, and calculating the plunge for a
second.
He crowds hosts of figures, as in the " Zurich," where we see
a hundred and more washerwomen, raising their morning hymn to
the Virgin of Linen, or as in the '' Valhalla," and its endless pro-
cession, sauntering along the shores of the rapid, sparkling
river. A domestic symbolism prefaces the unutterable glories of
color — this foreground must and shall be an objective outlook at
humanity — art must be brought by me into friendly social rela-
tions. Here are native sympathies which can be counted on as
certain. It is his paying excellence to have invested a long, pains-
taking life, in improved art-copies from common facts. Those
lines from the " Blind Highland Boy " would not have displeased
him :
"A Household Tub, like one of those
Which womeu use to wash their clothes ;
This carried the blind boy."
He feared not truth, nor like good society " lied on principle,"
as a comfort to the other side. Veracity in expression was his
from his earliest education, and from his after practice, brought
up by sketching for his bread. The picture must be a recogniza-
ble likeness of the thing painted, if it must also be paid for. His
work thus became a personation of that old romance of reality :
" The light that never was on sea or land."
To the last — limited — if vaporing about one's self is counted
for substance ; what he sought not to do. Is not the planet, the
cost of limitation, the monotonous march in an orbit, and the ab-
sence of the accident, by which we are not what we had imagined
— on credit '?
With him, his landscape shall have an earnest, life-giving pur-
pose. It is meant to satisfy the desire after property, which
haunts the human breast. It must not be dry and meagre ; if
not more than a dozen lines, these must record a rich and varied
experience, to be so many, by right. In his progress to his sec-
Turner. 145
ond style, he bad learned to execute through unspeakable en-
deavors. How, as in tbe " Southern Coast," be ventures to con-
test with the exasperating differentiation of distance, the trailing
of sudden showers across wide spaces, the yeasty waves with a
shipwreck in their mouth, rainbows, or glittering, wet strands,
painting nioonrise and sunset at opposite corners of the picture,
as nature also can.
"Such delights
As float to earth, permitted visitants."
From nothing that appears in Turner's manner was he heart-
broken or repining, as men inspired through their individual
cracks reflectively assert he was. His native fashion was to be
resigned — he could symbolize grief, and see terrors that lurk like
serpents, in tbe undertow of human expectation, and wrote "Fal-
lacies of Hope," but he felt the consciousness of immeasurable
endowment, and that he possessed the power of setting forth a
portion of tbe Providential glory of tbe lower world. Xever was
any man broken-hearted in any calling or craft wherein be had
worked and lived with earnest and successful industry. The
outset and culmination of a practised artist's life, tbat moral les-
son, the result of certain, well-directed effort, shines fortb, for he
was not anywise bom a painter, but forcibly made himself one,
by the "struggle for existence," which is a saving strength to the
soul. He never looked to cast stones at his humble apprentice-
ship — "it was," he said, "good practice." It taught him scrupu-
lous fidelity in work. Every first line in bis unfinished drawing-
betrays the same truth as the last magnificence of his creative
whole. He had humility, and he had ease. He exacted every-
thing from himself, and everything he also did perform — always
the two sides to the building of success. In a small space he
analyzes a great outline, and he rejoices to find much room may
be packed in an inch. He produces storm-fed skies that clutch
up and indignantly reject the prose of earth. He is as peculiar
by his numberless varieties of manner, as the mass of painters
by their variety of one. He composed a delightfully picturesque
architecture, fouud books in the running brooks, sermons in stones
and humanity in everything. The cataract and the woodland
could be set in skies such as no poet has conjectured; the hues
of peaches and violets melting upon soft mountain castles, with
X— 10
14G Turner.
their purple shadows sleeping in the sweet distances of heaven T
far beyond all beauty that thought or speech can suggest. His
color soon lost its first close precision and mechanism, and he
was at length blamed, even ridiculed, for his indefiniteness. A
great and overpowering landscape painter cannot be such save by
daring variations and unexpected conclusions. But what pen
could ever portray, or what pencil ever copy, those perfect and
simple effects ? Simple in expression, and of countless design,
they melt, they fade — those outlines seemingly firm as stone, of
the floating mountain-walls — the subdued light of the sinking
sun from the torn edges of the crimson sky falls over the sea in
that shimmering haze. We thought we had seen it all over and
over again. Never, till now; for it is alone through the great
artist's eye we can ever truly see at all. Turner was most inspired
artistically in his infinite adaptations, his multitudinous natural
expressions. There are artists who all their lives repeat their
one success, and more, the many failures. Then the genius comes
with his heroic affluence of possibility.
" Quia delectasti me, Domine, in factum tua,
Et in operibus manuum Tuaruni exultabo. , '
(Thou, Lord, hast made me glad through Thy works.
I will triumph in the works of Thy hand).
In these sublime words we read the meaning and the impulse
in which Turner lived and wrought. His life was a worship of
that one God, who dwelleth not in temples made with hands, who
inspires the puffing Isaiahs or Samuels, and will inspire all God-
seeking men, whatever their profession or sect — saint, sinner or
sage — so long as creation repeats the joyful anthem of the stars.
If there was anything Turner did not, and could never do, it was
to have the supercilious atheist's liver complaint, and above all
that of the despairing, thin-skinned, over-cultivated atheist. No
child rocked in its mother's arm to peaceful slumber, ever more
confided in that mother's heart than he in the mysteries of the
Creator, so purely worshipped.
If we contrast the work of Turner with that of J. F. Millet,
the distinction lies in the superhuman character of the former,
whereby transcendent beauty escapes from the dull environment
of earthly form. Millet's manner does not yield in vitality of
surface. He too knows that shadow is perforated with light.
Turner. 147
There are enough of smooth daubs across the surface — work of
artists — nature contrives light and life to pulsate beneath her
drawing. Millet's picture may be three inches by two, a bit of
wood-road, water beneath a low bank, on which crouch a few
scrambling trees or bushes, or loose stones with a stream over
them, like the subject of some French song. "You see in the
meadow, through an opening in the thicket, the lengthened
shadow of a horse and cart in the setting sun, and from time to
time the end of the fork loaded with hay appears and disappears
above the hedge." So here the glimmering, unsteady pool, the
frowning trees, (live green or brown, with just a mere shimmer
in one spot of soft, sun-lit green, and trees, stones and ground
drawn in by diagonal lines, make up the whole ; but all is crammed
with thought. A tree in the distance, not the tenth of an inch,
is perfect. There is no littleness, no effort, all is strong, free and
well alive. The water positively stirs as it reflects, under the
shimmering half-transparent bank, and the cassimere-yellow mid-
dle-distance, with a single dot on the outline, that xoufeel should
be a house, speaks French. Such is the possibility of art, on a
strip of paper you could put in your pocket. Turner rises supe-
rior to Millet, as the sky is superior to ground. He has that re-
ligion which gently leads his thoughts to flow out in creations of
otherwise impossible beauty. With one it is the garden or the
vine, with the other the radish and the sip of tea — one heaven,.
the other earth. And to-morrow what will constitute the
style ?
" Y peiisez vous, ils sont fanes, ces noeiuls ?
lis sont d'hier ? Mon Dieu, comme tout passe ! "
(And think you then my ribbons are soiled? Yesterday's pur-
chase. Good God, how it all spins ! )
A few traditions of Turner follow, which might be taken cum
grano salis. Mountains possess a different hue according to the
standpoint of the looker-on. The supposed date of his birth, in
a parish register, is 1775; he said he was born on the twenty-
third of April, 1769, the birth-day of Shakspeare as to the month,
and in this same year Wellington, Xapoleon, and Sir Thomas
Lawrence were also born. As for his mother's family name it is
not known, nor where his- parents married, nor where he was
born. His luck in dates, that pneumonia of bores, was small,
and that upon his parents' gravestone, written by himself, is
148 Turner.
wrong by a year. In his last move, to Chelsea, where he died,
the widow whose rooms he hired asked him his name. " Name,"
said Tinner, who had an apathy of questions, "Why, what is
your name ? " " Booth," was the reply. *' So, so, Booth," said
he, " well, I am Mr. Booth," and by that name he went, and was
so called by the doctor who made his last pill, and who knew
Turner, the artist, well. The malaria of the great is discounted
as over soul. Turner kept seven Manx cats with no tails, and a
lady, Mrs. Danby, to form their society, and had that horror of
mending and moving, that the damp and rain streamed down
over his pictures. His nickname was "Avalanche Jenkinson,"
and he was usually so addressed by his friends, which by no
means accuses him of ill-humor, nominally.
He did not spend his days, in recounting the fact that he was a
genius (the ear-mark of an ass) and had no envy ; he was a little
humorous with his brother artists. On visiting the handsome
gilded gallery of Thompson, in Edinburgh, after looking slowly
about and musing, he said thoughtfully, "You beat me †” in
frames." Mulready disposed a little bird inconspicuously but
very effectively on a pillar, in one of his taking pictures. Tur-
ner quietly said, " I saw your robin," at once catching the motive.
He had a pleasant turn. Sometimes he leaves a parasol in a
foreground, without a figure, to show that one has been there.
In his lovely, warm spring landscape, a sweet idyl of misty morn-
ing sunlight, " Bain, Steam and Speed," there is a hare running
before the engine which is crossing the viaduct, but he is almost
inconspicuous ; the little beastie and the puffing iron-horse, the
morn as lovely as a dream of youth, life, fate and God, somewhat
antithetically put. In the old proverb to see a hare running be-
fore you denotes calamity. In one of his plates, named Wick-
liff'e, he introduced a burst of light, in touching the proof, not in
the drawing.' The engraver inquired about it. Turner replied,
" That is the place where Wiekliffe was born, and there is the
light of the glorious Beformation." " Yes," said Mr. Pye, satis-
fied : "but what do you mean by these large geese?" " They
are the old superstitions, which the genius of the Beformation is
driving away." In the original sketch of Elgin Cathedral, by an
amateur, the windows of the nave were built up. Turner, in his
drawing, left them open, and on being asked why, replied: "They
should be open. How much better to see the light of day in
God's house, than darkness."
Turner. 149
Once driving home with a friend, at the pike his host found he
had no money, and borrowed sixpence of Mr. Turner. After a
superb dinner, sitting over their wine, the gentleman gravely
said : " Let me see, Mr. Turner, I think I owe you a little
money." " What money," cried Turner, clapping down his glass,
" what for ? " " You paid sixpence for the gate when I drove you
down." " Oh," said Turner, with an odd look of disappointment
"nevermind that — now." One of Sir Thomas Lawrence's rich
friends at Clapham Terrace ordered a picture at a great cost, and
Turner went down to see it hung. After a noble dinner, with
the ladies, who praised the magnificent work, his host saw that
the artist was restless, and when they were alone said: u Xow
to business. I'll go and write you a cheque." He came back,
handed Turner the cheque, who held it and looked at it, turning
it over and over, but did not put it up. His host said, seeing
something wrong : " I have made it guineas. I think it was to
be guineas, Mr. Turner." "Yes," replied the artist, in his
awkward fashion, " the guineas are right, but I paid six shillings
for the coach ; that's not down."
He gained a great fortune for an artist. He left it all beyond
a doubt, as he believed, as a fund for the benefit of " Decayed
Male Painters." Out of this will the lawyers strained the truth.
This sum, painfully scraped out of the dirt, straw and ashes of a
long, penurious life, was by him faithfully economized fortius one
good end. His art-remains went to the English people ; the re-
lief for the " Decayed Male Painters," with their distressing com-
pany— to Hades.
Some hints follow from " Modern Painters," a book that en-
folds in its lengthening chain and long drawn out, good bits of
Turner. There are gem my sparks scintillating from a maze of
vertiginous obscuration.
Yorkshire scenery greatly influences him, he feels a strong lo-
cal attachment to its minutiae. With his feeling for beauty of
line, the broad wooded steeps and swells reappear, in the infinite
massiveness of his mountain drawing. They contain finish and
quantity of form with aerial perspective, and light without color ;
they are studies in light and shade, very green blues being used
for the shadows, and golden brown for the lights. France, in its
perfectness of foliage and forms of ground — lowland France, the
valleys of the Loire and Seine, and the district between Calais
150 Turner.
and Dijon was grateful to hiin. He is still the one sufficient
painter of French landscape.
He felt the true colors of nature had never been attacked by
any artist. He went to the cataract for its iris, to the conflagra-
tion for its flames, asked of the sea its inteusest azure, of the sky
its clearest gold. Color is a god-inspired commandment to him.
He is the one painter who has drawn the sky, a mountain or a
stone ; the stem of a tree, the surface of calm, or the force of ag-
itated water; the effects of space on distant objects, and the ab-
stract beauty of natural color.
He boldly takes pure white for his highest light, and lamp-
black for his deepest shade. He associates warm with cold light.
In his sunsets he has the gray passages about the horizon, where
seen through its dying glory, the cool and the gloom of night
gather themselves for the victory. As in the "Old Temeraire," be-
neath the blazing veil of vaulted fire which lights the vessel on
her last path, there is a desolate, blue, deep hollow of darkness,
out of which come the sad and lonely voices of the night-wind,
and the sorrowful anthem of the unresting sea. A single dusty
roll of Turner's brush is more expressive of the infinity of life,
than the niggling of Hobbima, if he had niggled on till doomsday
at the spicule of hay stacks or the ear of a donkey.
Where Turner gives blue, it is atmosphere. Nothing near
enough to have details, is painted sky-blue. Sunset skies, the
moment before the sun sinks, when his light turns pure rose-
color — when the whole sky becomes one molten, mantling sea of
color and fire, the intense hollow blue of the upper sky melting
through it all, Turner has painted that. Or, as in the "Napoleon,"
the stormy blood-red of the horizon, the scarlet of the breaking
sun-light, the rich crimson browns of the wet, illumined sea-
weed ; the pure gold and purple of the upper sky, and shed
through it all, the deep passage of solemn blue, where the cold
moonlight falls on one pensive spot of the limitless, unthought-
ful shore. He sheds through every hue a dazzling intensity of
light. He has points, where the system of each individual color
is concentrated by a single stroke. There is no warmth which
has not gray in it, and no blue which has not warmth in it.
Grays, as with all perfect colorists, are the cherished, the inimit-
able portions of his color. In the "Mercury and Argus," the pale
and vaporous blue of the heated sky is broken with gray and
pearly white, but there is not a grain of pure blue. All is sub-
Turner. 151
clued and warmed by the mingling gray aud gold, up to the very
zenith, where, breaking through the flaky mist, the transparent
and deep azure of the sky is expressed with a single, crumbling
touch. He gives a dash of pure white for his highest light, the
other whites are pearled dowu with gray and gold. He gives a
fold of pure criinsou to the drapery of his nearest figure, all his
other crimsons will be warmed with black, or deepened with yel-
low. There is a general current of gray pervading the whole of
his color. The highest lights and the local touches of pure color
are the key-notes, flashing with intense brilliancy. He never
leaves a quarter of an inch of canvass without a change in it.
No richness nor depth of tint can atone for the loss of one par-
ticle of arranged light, no splendor of hue must interfere with
the depth of a determined shadow. And color is the climax of
his excellence — that dream all beauty — that illusion of the soul.
Turner depends on attaining brilliaucv of light by clear and
perfect drawing of the shadows, not by blackness, but by exces-
sive evenness, unity and sharpness of edge. The liner and
vaguer shadows throughout give a thrilling influence to the light
they leave — its passion and its power. On each stone, and leaf,
and cloud, the light is felt to be passing and palpitating, which
chooses one thing and rejects another, glowing, or flashing, or
scintillating, aud then losing itself in doubt or dimness, or per-
ishing in drifting mist, or melted into melancholy air — living
light, which sleeps but never dies. Search all the foregrounds
that Claude ever painted, and you will not find so much as the
shadow of one leaf upon another.
The conception of each individual inch of his distance is com-
plete in the master's mind. Not one line of the myriads there, is
without meaning. A distinct, sharp, visible, yet unintelligible
and inextricable richness. In the capital on the foreground of
the "Daphne," not one jog of the acanthus leaves is absolutely vis-
ible. The lines are all disorder, but you feel in an instant, they
are all there. Or, look at his treatment of the highest clouds —
the cirri, which have symmetry, sharp edges, multitude, purity
and variety :
"Multitudes of little floating clouds,
Through their ethereal texture, had become
Vivid as tire; clouds separately poised,
And giving back, and shedding each on each
152 Turner.
With prodigal communion, the bright hues
Which from the unappareut fount of glory
They had imbibed.'"
When serenity of sky and intensity of light are needed, Tur-
ner uses the cirri. At times, a ray of light calls them to exist-
ence from its misty shade; in greater repose, a few detached,
equal rounded flakes hang motionless in the deep zenith-blue,
each other's shadow, or burn in fiery, flying fragments, with
separate energy, or are woven with fine threads of intermediate
darkness, melting into the blue. He beautifully uses the low,
horizontal bars or fields of cloud, the cirro-strati. In some of
his skies the whole space of the heavens is covered with the del-
icate, dim flakes of gathering vapor, the link between the central
region and the rain-cloud. Then we have the haze of sun-lit rain,
or the half-exhausted shower, when the white torrent flings up
its white jets of spray, which vanish in the shafts of the sun-
light — wind-woven sunlight, sending them as messengers of peace
to the far mountain summits yet unveiled, and hoarse with the
down-rush of the plunging freshets. Or, we may have clouds,
without rain, at twilight, enveloping the cliffs of the coast, but
concealing nothing, every outline visible through the gloom, in-
tense in its pure warm gray, without blackness or blueness. Or,
high and far above the volumes of the swift rain-cloud, are seen
through their opening, the quiet, horizontal, silent flakes of the
highest cirrus, resting in the repose of the deep sky. In his
storm-drawing we witness angular outlines, vastness and energy
of form, infinity of gradation and depth, without blackness.
In the "Jumieges" there is the haze of sun-lit rain, the gradual
retirement of the dark wood into its depth, and the sparkling
and evanescent light, which sends its variable flashes upon the
abbey, figures, foliage and foam. In the "Long Ship's Lighthouse"
we have clouds without rain, at twilight, intensity of gloom in
pure warm gray without blackness or blueness, full of storm-
energy, fiery in haste, with fitful swirls of bounding drift. In
the "Coventry" the great mass of cloud is characterized through-
out by severe right lines, but no one entirely parallel to any
other, and made up of the most varied curves. Those of the
falling rain are equally varied. Impetuous clouds, twisted rain,
flickering sunshine, fleeting shadow, and oppressed cattle, all
speak of tumult, fitfulness, power and velocity. One thing is
wanted, a passage of repose — we find it in the highest cirrus, rest-
Turner. 153
ing on the deep sky. But the color of the delicate and soft forms
of these pausing vapors, and the exquisite depth and pulsing
tenderness of the blue with which they are islanded, never could
be portrayed by aught else than the artist's soul from which they
sprang, or ever were else created, far beyond man's lower nature,
and its herd of self-sufficient averages :
" My course is run, my errand done.
I lived to Him from whom I came."
In Turner, the dash of the brush is as much under the rule of
thought and feeling as its slowest line, and cannot be varied a
hair's breadth without changing the expression of the whole.
To them who have never seen a cloud vanish on a mountain-side,
we cannot indeed hope to tell what the morning mist is like in
mountain air. How soft, how soothing, how ineffably agreeable
its perfumed breath, the incense of the hills, and that delicious
contrast with the loving, cheerful, far away sun-lit valleys, that
spring from out the changing mist-cloud with their brief green,
glad life, bathing the soul in thankfulness to God for those adorn-
ments of earth which lift it to the skies ; lie paints it all.
In the "Lake of Lucerne'' we see the recess of near mountain
form, not into dark, but into luminous cloud, the most difficult
thing to do in art. In the "Battle of Marengo," we feel that Tur-
ner is as much a geologist as a painter. However the light may
fall, mountain peaks are marked with sharp and defined shad-
ows. They rise in the morning light, rather like sharp shades
cast up into the sky, than solid earth. Their lights are pure,
roseate and cloud like, their shadows transparent, pale and opa-
lescent, and often indistinguishable from the air around them.
The mountain top floats like a flake of motionless fire in heaven.
In Turner's distance we see transparency or filminess of mass,
with excessive sharpness of edge. Slurred and melting lines do
not characterize large objects. In the "Mount Lebanon," there is
not one touch or shade on the rock that does not show the strata.
Every shade is understood at once, you can step from block to
block, till you reach the top. In the "Daphne,," the mountain is
simple, broad, the surge of a swelling sea, an unbroken line
along the valley. In its mass there are ten thousand hills. On
this side, a range of tower-like precipices. The clinging wood
along the ledges, with waterfalls gleaming through, stealing
down from shadowy point to point, with evanescent foam and
154: Turner.
flashing light, here a wreath and there a ray, through the deep
chasms and hollow ravines, out of which rise the soft, rounded
slope of mightier mountains, surge beyond surge, immense and
numberless, of delicate and gradual curve, accumulating in the
sky until their garment of forest is exchanged for the shadowy
folds of slumberous morning cloud, above which the utmost sil-
ver peak shines islanded and alone. The most essential quali-
ties of mountain line, are to be explained alone by appeals to our
feeling of what is beautiful, they cannot be reduced to line and
rule — intangible, incalculable, to be loved not comprehended, to
be felt not understood, — a music of the eye, a melody of the
heart :
" O they are fairer than the evening air,
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars."
In the foreground of the "Mercury and Argus," we have earthy
crumbling banks, cut away by water. The whole distance is
given by the retirement of solid surface. If ever an edge is ex-
pressed, it is only felt for an instant and then lost — heaving here,
sinking there, now blending now breaking. In the foreground of
the Llanthouy, the rocks are not divided by joints, but into their
horizontal and united beds, cut by the torrent one above another,
with the eddying, water-worn edges showing beneath. In the
Ulleswater, the rock surfaces seem to move under the tine touch
of the waves, a soft swell, or a gentle depression. You cannot
find a single edge in Turner's near rock- work ; there are every-
where round surfaces, and you go back on these, you cannot tell
how. In "Penmaen Mawr," there is soft soil, beautifully modulated
by descending rain. He who cannot make a bank sublime, will
make a mountain ridiculous, and the painter's rank is shown by
his use of minutiae. Turner's foregrounds are united in all their
parts. The eye cannot take them by divisions, and we discover
new truths by approaching them in a new direction. Without
effort, he showers knowledge into every touch. His slighted
passages, part by part, contain the universal working of his deep-
est thought. Like a sonata of Mozart, every note is necessary
to the whole, the gradations of tone and color perfectly agreeing,
from the highest line of the sky to the lowest line of the ground.
In his smooth water there is a peculiar texture given to the
most delicate tints of the surface, when there is little reflection
from anything save sky or atmosphere. This gives the appear-
Turner. 155
ance of substantial liquidity. In the "Lucerne," we see the melt-
ing of the mountain promontories, below into the clear depth,
above into the clouds. He obtains the force of falling or agita-
ted water, by fearless and full rendering of its forms. He never
loses himself or his subject in the splash of the fall. Nature
gives more than foam, she shows beneath and through it, a char-
acter of exquisite form, on every wave and line of fall. This
character Turner seizes. In the "Llauthouy," the chief light falls
on the surface of the stream swelled by recent rain. Its mighty
waves roll down, close, green and clear, but pale with anger. A
race of mad motion, the waves dragged into lines and furrows
by their swiftness, but drawn with the most studied chiaroscuro
of delicate color, grays and greens, with that thoughtful refine-
ment of profound execution which the eye strains itself with
looking into, and the vividness of foam is obtained by a general
middle tint.
The right painting of the sea must depend, at least in all coast
scenery, on the power of drawing foam, in good part. It is not
usually from the shore Turner studies his sea, but twenty or
thirty yards from it. In the "Laughame" especial attention is
given to the flatness of the lines, as in his mountain drawing.
Sublimity is not given by the height but by the breadth of mass-
es, and there is a peculiar expression of weight in his waves.
The surges roll with such prostration against the shore, we feel
the rocks shaking under them. The wind has no power on this
tremendous unity, and there is only an indication of a line of
torn spray along the beach. The same lines show the violence
and the swiftness of the rising wave, as were used to give the
fury of the torrent. Two waves which spring high into the air,
in the distance, show their encounter with the recoil of the pre-
ceding wave. In the "Land's End," the whole surface of the sea
becomes one dizzy whirl of rushing, writhing, tortured, undirec-
ted rage, subdivided into myriads of waves, not each a separate
surge, but part and portiou of a vaster one. There is not one
false curve given, not one that is not the expression of a visible
motion. The color of the sea is a solemn green gray, its foam
seen dimly through the shadows of twilight, modulated with the
fullness, changefulness and sadness of a deep, wild melody. In
the "Slave-ship" the storm is somewhat lulled, the torn and stream-
ing rain-clouds are moving in scarlet lines to lose themselves in
the hollow of the night. The surface makes two ridges of enor-
156 Turner.
rnous swell — between these the fire of sunset falls along the
trough of the sea, an intense and lurid splendor, which burns like
gold and bathes like blood. The tossing waves of the swell lift
themselves restlessly in dark fantastic forms, leaving between
them treacherous spaces of level and whirling water, now lighted
with green and lamp-like fire, now flashing back the gold of the
declining sun, now fearfully dyed from above with the indistin-
guishable images of the burning clouds. Purple and blue, the
lurid shadows of the hollow breakers are cast upon the mist of
night, which gathers cold and low, advancing like the shadow of
death upon the guilty ship as it labors amid the lightning of the
sea, its thin masts lined upon the sky in crimson :
" Such is the eve of tropic sun :
With disk like battle-target red.
He rushes to his burning - bed,
Dyes the wide wave with bloody light,
Then sinks at once, — and all is night."
It has been said no men but Titian and Turner ever drew the
stem of a tree. The woody stiffness hinted through muscular
line, and the inventive grace of the upper boughs, have never
been rendered except by the latter. The boughs if finely grown,
bear among themselves such a ratio of length, as to describe
with their ends a symmetrical curve, constant for each species.
Any engineer could have drawn the steps and balustrade, in
the "Hero and Leander''; Turner alone could have thrown the ac-
cidental shadows upon them. Generally his management of color
and tone is so absolutely exceptional in fineness and variety, it
may be said no one but he ever made a beautifully perfect water-
color drawing. Engravings and copies from him may possibly
give, if extremely skillful, a partial idea of his design. Chro-
mos from his works, are a vulgar caricature. He has not one dot
or line whose meaning can be understood without knowledge, and
nothing is in one that knowledge will not enable us to under-
stand. He aims at the deep final truth, which is the ripened
fruit of reflection and experience. He does, or omits nothing,
without comparison of results, after careful selection, and
thoughtful arranging, of all that can bethought of and arranged.
Turner's word for finishing a picture, was always this : " Carry
forward."
Turner. 157
He fell in flashing splendor, — like a star,
{Down through a clouded chasm of worn-out days) —
Veiled in celestial blooms ; such skies as saw
Far-freighted isles all loveliness, with fanes
Of columnar splendor clustering round
Bays in their depth of foliage ; sun-bright meads.
Held to their dream by guardian heights of rock.
And looking in soft lakes, on whose smooth cheek.
Like down upon a maiden's lip they lay,
Wondering what was their beauty.
When the storm
Beat high and rocked the humble shore, upon
Its haughty arm, and tossed it in mid-heaven,
With rock and surf, and many-pebbied weed,
Loaded with purple tresses like a nymph's,
Born in the sea-depp grots, he too was there,
Drinking that ocean-chorus, till the swell
Danced in long lines of light, and filled his soul ;
Or on the main, launched in the fiery ship,
Saw unremorseful ocean seize his prey.
Beauty must find a voice, nor always speak
By one aperture. Hers, a thousand tones,
Of smallest flower, or gleam of serpent's scale,
Or touch of waterfalls o'er glittering stones,
And in the mind of man, we know not how, —
Something that should be said, albeit no ear
May take it in, human or otherwise.
For yet that starry vault and crystalline air,
And the blue throbbing worlds roll on unheard,
Utterly unheard, in their old round !
The many— come and fade ;— they fade, they fly,
Like leaves at autumn, and the cold, deaf wind
Heaps up their stricken multitudes ! What thought,
What utterance of the early gods, had they,
In such unvaried paths, all toil and care ?
And less the fluttering gnats that fashion swarms,
The beautiful and fine, dancing the sunset's gold,
Splendid as gems, all Ormuz in the blaze, —
Motes in the shadow, desolate as scorn !
Not thus, the seer !
On earth, if once he comes, she lifts an eye,
(Old nature weary of old forms) to see,
A being made to re-create more than hers.
So far as man, the last — perchance the best,
Of time's long products, in his choicest sons,
Material shapes, infinitely outdoes
Those pebbles on life's shore, dry and ungraced.
158 The Tico Kinds of Dialectic.
Until a shining surge floats o'er their souls,
And in a fairy touch so gilds their face
That it becomes the mirror of the wave,
And earth and sky and air uplift their prayer,
And the sweet music of the low-voiced sea
Says : "Take us, we are Thine, do as Thou will,
Slaves to Thy bidding, O, too glad we serve."'
THE TWO KINDS OF DIALECTIC,
[We have received the following valuable contribution from Rev. Dr. L. P.
Hickok, for our " Notes and Discussions." We insert it here, and will reserve
our comments for another place.] — Editor.
Editor of the Journal of Speculative Philosophy :
Sir — You have written so clearly that I readily take the stand-
point from which you view a priori truth. I am not so sure that
I can give to you my own so completely. My attempt to do so,
as concisely as I can, is as follows —
Logic gives the law of thought, and is logic proper when con-
necting phenomena into judgments; but when carried beyond
phenomenal connections into questionings of thought itself, it
then becomes dialectic and is of two kinds only, though the logic
may have many varieties. The logical law will regulate the dia-
lectical process, but in one kind the dialectic will be within the
ruling of the Logic of Eeason, which has no varieties ; and in the
other kind it will take the regulation of the Logic of the Under-
standing, which will be modified into many varieties. The logic
of reason will carr.s the dialectical process from universals to
particulars, and the logic of the understanding in all its varieties
will take the dialectical process from particulars to the universal.
The former process will be by continual concretions, and may be
termed the concrete or Platonic Dialectic ; the latter will be by
perpetual abstractions, and may be known as the abstract or Ar-
istotelian Dialectic.
I. The Platonic Dialectic. When we observe an acorn as
it grows onward to an oak, it is phenomenal only through all the
The Tico Kinds of Dialectic. 159
course, but beyond this sense-observation, the reason-insight
detects the inner life-power which has all along been determining*
the passing phenomena, and which has been the real acorn and
oak through all the process. And just so with every natural and
artificial object; a stone, and a brick, have each in them their
efficient working-force which both fixes and moves the appear-
ances, and this inner efficient is the real entity. Now, this real-
ity connecting the appearances is the Platonic Idea, not at all as
mentally made but a real rationally lnoicn, and every observed
object of whatever sort has its idea, and that idea is the only
real object. This idea holds the many phenomena together indi-
visibly in the object and so makes of the multiplicity an individu-
ality, and therein also a concrete universality. All sense-phe-
nomena become known as individual objects, only by the reason-
insight detecting their respective real ideas, and thus it is that
the entire phenomenal world has its entity as a reality in the
ideas ; and in this is found the Platonic logical law for thinking
sense-appearances into valid judgments.
And now, beyond this logical connecting of the phenomena
comes a dialectical mental questioning ; how may these ideas be
known in their connections ? The like reason-insight, which
knew the phenomena conspiring in one, knows also all ideas to be
conspiring in unity, each holding others and all holding each de-
terminately, so that one being taken all others may be known,
and thereby is the individual completely known only in the uni-
versal. And further still, the reason sees in the universe of the
phenomenal and real that it has also its comprehending fountain
of all efficiency and rationality, and this is the Good, as called by
Plato, standing independent in personal self-sufficiency, and both
sustaining and ruling the dependent Universe. The phenomenal
in the real occasions the Universe to be known in the distinctions
of space, and time, and individuality ; but the Good, as reality
beyond all sense appearing, necessitates that to him all distinc-
tions of space, and time, and substantial divisibility, must be ut-
terly impertinent.
So, moreover, the one common space and common time give
occasion for all possible pure figures and numbers to be construc-
ted within them ; and since they cannot be regulated by the real
ideas, in their purity, and only ruled in reason by definitions and
axioms ultimate and universal, they give rise to a middle science
between the phenomenal and real, viz : mathematics, to which the
100 The Tico Kinds of Dialectic.
absolute space and time are concretes, and every figure construc-
ted within them is a concrete, and every demonstration a law for
and not a deduction from the Empirical, and so they afford for the
reason a field of known truth ultimate and eternal.
We have here then a prior, independent of our form of repre-
sentation, both in its reality and its ruling. In the physics, the
idea rules the phenomenal experience and is no abstraction nor
deduction from the experience. The phenomena can be intelligi-
ble only by the idea, the ideas only by their union in the cosmos,
and the Universe only by its comprehension in the Good. And
in the mathematics, the demonstration can be convincing only as
ruled by the definitions and axioms, and these must be alike for
all rational beings. In none of these can the posterior have any
meaning but as interpreted in the light of the prior. Just as
soon as the insight flashes through the constructed diagram, the
demonstration is irrefragable; and just so soon as the phenome-
nal world is apprehended in its logical ideas, the dialectic shoots
up. as the minaret from the mosque, and at a glance the Universe
and its God are known as the dependent on the Absolute.
II. The Akistotelian Dialectic. The logic in this will
ever be an abstraction and deduction from a precedent experi-
ment, and so a logic of the understanding only, and attaining its
uuiversals only from what appears in the particulars ; while some
minor modifications of the logical will so far modify the dialecti-
cal process. Any a priori knowing will be only of that which
we ourselves put into the objects.
1. The Variety of Logic that Regulates the Knowing by the Ob-
ject. This is Aristotle's own method, and it of course rules his
dialectic. The prime principle is that of contradiction;, viz : that
of two universal opposites one only can be true ; and he trusts
so little in reason and will so invariably have experiment, that
he seeks to prove its truth by showing that any opposer to it can
be made to contradict himself, as if contradiction by an example
could be a more repulsive absurdity than when only in the light
of reason alone. The logic begins with the known in experience
and seeks by this to reach the unknown. Particulars are sorted
in species and graded genera till the conception of abstract being-
is reached, in which is universal essence exclusive of all differ-
ence, and here logic must terminate, since all predication ceases.
Below this, all syllogistic forms may be arranged and deductions
concluded, but all questioning beyond is dialectic and belongs to
The Two Kinds of Dialectic. 161
First Philosophy, or Metaphysics. All essence is here just as
found in experience, and the dialectical querying is, what more
can analysis and abstraction get from it ? It is then fouud poten-
tial for all changes, which will give matter and form, the one
merely capable for any changes and thus passive, the other active
in passing into form and taking the essence along with it. In
the actual is material, formal, moving, and final causes in combi-
nation, in which the movement attains the end and is satisfied.
Here, movement and end are identical in that the moving has its
object, just as the eye acts and objectifies in the acting, or as
mind thinks and is satisfied in the thinking, even so the univer-
sal energy ever grasps the Universe and in that satisfies its aim.
This is Aristotle's grand Entelechy, the eternal thinking of
thought.
We pass now all critical remark, that nothing is here satisfac-
tory in the presumption that nature has any substantial and
causal connections, and is truly a Universe ; that we can appre-
hend a self as free personality, either as creature or creator ; and
that there is no opening for morality or religion; we only note
that there is and can be here no a priori knowledge. All the
known given is in the phenomenal, and the only way to the un-
known is through the sense-known. We may abstract and de-
duce, we have no insight to verify presuppositions and prerequi-
sitions. Neither the logic nor dialectic can reach anything prior
to the Empirical. The only semblance of a priori knowledge is
in making a limited induction stand for universal observation.
We cannot perceive all ; we have observed so much and so well,
that we may take this as receipt for the deficit. We presume
that the future is mirrored in the past, and that what has been
is a warrant for what will yet be. Indeed this logic does not
claim, but disdainfully discards all a priori knowing.
2. The Logic which Regulates the Knowing by the Subject. —
Spinoza might be here adduced who takes the understanding to
be distinct from the universal substance, and constitutionally
gives to the substance the attributes of thought and extension,,
mind and matter, in complete harmony; or Leibnitz might be-
cked, whose view of mind and matter is that in distinct sub-
stance they are monads representing together each by itself ac-
cording to a pre-established harmony, the former in conscious-
ness and the latter in unconsciousness ; both Spinoza and Leib-
X— 11
10l» The Tico Kinds of Dialectic.
nitz, acquiring such instruments for representing, could then a
priori speak of the knowing. But under this variety, Kant is the
fullest and fairest example. We observe man representing by
sense, and judging by understanding, and both in such a manner
that we are induced to give to the sense constitutionally the forms
of space and time as intuitions, and to the understanding those
of the categorical conceptions. We find him competent to know
only by ordering the intuitions in and by the conceptions. That
Empirical intuitions may be given to the constitutional intuitions
of space and time, a noumenon as " thing-in-itself" is assumed,
but cannot be known since it cannot of itself be envisaged. Be-
yond these intuitions and conceptions, there are constitutionally
the formal ideas of the Infinite and Absolute in the Beasou, but
as these forms cannot be filled through sense, their objects can-
not be reached by human intelligence.
Taking thus, from experimental trial, what the human mental
•constitution is, we may say a priori what it is competent to do.
Such a mind may know what can be envisaged in space and time
and ordered in the categorical conceptions, but nothing beyond.
The Empirical intuitions in space aud time may be ordered in all
the categories of Quality, Quantity, Relation, and Mode ; but not
in the ideas of the infinite and absolute ; they may be perceived
and conceived, but never so as to have known infinity and abso-
lute being. Space and time themselves can go into the category
of Quantity so far as they may be limited, but not as infinite aud
absolute, and cau never so be known by man. Substance can
hold the accidents, and cause connect the events just as suppos-
ed or assumed iu the noumenon, but never as real entities in
sreason. We may know the necessary aud the contingent as
fixed or potential, but nothing as free and personal, for in this
dialectic we can prove as much against as we can for freedom.
Presuppositions in philosophy, and postulates in morality, can
stand under no forms and come within no judgments of the
sense and understanding, and if they are to have validity they
must be known by some other faculty. Our a priori knowing
can reach only to our constitutional making, and if supposed to
reach further, this logic should admit the contradiction or find
some place for a new faculty.
3. The Logic Regulating the Phenomenal in Thought. Fichte
and Schelling may here be included iu Hegel, last and greatest of
transcendental thinkers, aud for present purpose we need refer-
The Two Kinds of Dialectic. 163
ence to Hegel's philosophy only. It is wholly by abstraction
from the phenomenal and passing from particulars to a universal,
and thus is thoroughly Aristotelian ; admitting nothing of Plato's
reason and using nothing of his ideas in real entity. Kant's nou-
menon is also discarded, and while thus phenomenal, it is also of
the inner or mental phenomena alone. Hegel first takes his
"voyage of discovery" and records the movement and attain-
ment gained in his experiment, in his Phenomenology, and which
turns out to be an abstraction thinner and broader than had be-
fore been used. The vision taken is mental inspection rather
than rational speculation, and what is found is as nakedly "a
mode of motion " as is Tyndall's notion of heat. He knows only
phenomenal acts, and these exclusively thinking acts, and all
their appearances are wrought in us by our own movement as
surely as in our dreaming.
The appearance first taken is immediate, and thus indetermin-
ate, and the act has nothing further of it than a " this," wholly
indefinite. But this means nothing without a that, and so the act
discedes into two counterparts and this aud that limit each other,
and yet we cannot take one without the other, and in such unity
we get a middle-third, which has now become for us a this deter-
mined. And just such movement is perpetuated to and through
common consciousness, self-consciousness, and into reason, where-
in the objective of common consciousness and the subjective of
self-consciousness become known in the one reason-act, and in this
we have the truth of all our discoveries in a self-cause, potential
for all self-manifestation. This may be known as Idea, not at all
Plato's reality but Aristotle's potentiality and actuality. Applied
to abstract being in the above method of stating, disparting, and
reuniting, through all occurring categories, it is science of Logic ;
then applied to abstract externality it is science of Xature ; and
then combined with iuternality it is made science of Mind, wherein
we have found universal Spirit — the God-thinking to be also God-
manifesting throughout all created phases.
Here then is the most marvelous system of abstract thought
that the world has had from a human understanding, all pro-
duced from one activity, working after one method, and conform-
ing with surprising exactness to our outer knowledge and our
inner thinking; and yet the whole is the phenomenal in merely
thinking-act. The unsound part is in the closing assumption
that such a movement can attain to a self-knowing and freely
1G4 The Two Kinds of Dialectic.
willing personality in reason. So constituted, it could only act
on in its method endlessly, with no capability to presuppose any
other mode of movement than that of its past experience. It is-
not competent to forecast, but only to know as the thinking-act
reveals itself.
The knowing is in and by the moving, and the method of the
movement has been found in experiment, by an actual discovery
of what passes in consciousness from immediate appearance to
self-recognition, and in the logic by actually carrying the abstract
conception of being through all categorical judgments. We are
warned against all prompting to anticipate what is to come, and
bid just to look on the movement and see what does come. It
can only say what must be from having discovered its constitu-
tion in what it has done, and so knowing what must be its own
making. If it were guided by Plato's reason, it would know the
reason's space and time as concrete in themselves, illimitable,
immutable, and not mere abstract externality. It would see that
these must be, in order that place and period might be in them \
and that place and period must be held persistent or pass suc-
cessive by a common object for all, in order that all may in com-
mon know the same place and period. This would be true a pri-
ori knowing, as it would be knowing in reason what must be for
all reason, and not merely for a specially constituted understand-
ing. The reason space and time is prior to place and period, and
the persistent real ideas must be prior in the places and periods
for all, and give their connected phenomena to all prior to the
perceiving, and known as so being, or we cannot a priori know
how all must know in common. Such knowledge the thinking-
process cannot gain except as in connection with quite another
faculty for knowing.
III. The Conclusion. We now know Plato's dialectic as
recognizing and using a process peculiar to itself. It takes fleet-
ing phenomena with no intelligent consistency in themselves, which
yet in their grouping and flowing have enough of method and
order to indicate infallibly some existent efficiency working in
the standing and flowing appearances; and thus he both saves
and harmonizes the two sides of what had then been a long dis-
pute, viz: whether the standing or the flowing had real being.
This is effected by attaining being for both, but each after its own
fashion. One is perceived in sense, standing in and passing off
the field of consciousness ; the other evinces its reality, to an in-
The Two Kinds of Dialectic. 165
sight sharper than sense, as perpetually existing and working in
those sense-appearances. This penetrating organ is the Eeason,
which, as apprehended by Plato, is competent with quick glance
to detect, and with steady gaze to comprehend, the real entity
determining the appearing ; aud which he terms idea, since it is
an object the reason attains beyond all sense-perceiving. And
yet, in Plato's age the observation of phenomena had been too
partial to admit of a full expression of its meaning to the reason.
Mature had many mysteries, aud seemed abortive in frequent oc-
currences, or monstrous and wayward in her occasional produc-
tions. The way the phenomena were connected with the idea,
and the method also in which the ideas were themselves bound
together were but obscurely seen, although the fact of these con-
nections was to him unmistakable. More especially were the in-
effable perfections of the Good, as Author and Ruler of all, held
to be forever inscrutible secrets without some divinely communi-
cated revelation. He knew the fine thread his reason saw was
a real guide through the labyrinth, though there were many tan-
gled loops he could not unravel. He knew that matter and mind
made up a cosmos, and that the Good held and moved the Uni-
verse in wisdom ; and he has spoken out his message so well that
the ages since have kept and studied the record as the wisest
word among its philosophical teachers.
Aristotle was still greater than Plato, but only in his own dis-
tinct field of thought and utterance. Cautious and careful, pa-
tient and persevering, he will feel out the thread he does not see
by analysis, abstraction and deduction, and will never take one
step in the dark except as literally he can keep his clew in his
hand. The working philosophy of the world has, since his day,
been, nearly entire, kept within the compass of his dialectic, vary-
ing the logic as each found he might best leap the abysses which
he could not fathom. It has done much for Platonism, while that
has been held in abeyance till the materials shall be found and
gathered for its universal prevalence. Eeason reads by its own
light, and yet only as the printed book is laid before it. It
makes for man no new truths nor reveals to him hidden wisdom
garnered up in stores of its own, and only takes from legible
characters the meaning previously put within them and expressed
by them. This is the full import of a priori human knowing,
viz : seeing in nature's phenomena the veritable entities which
already were, prior to the appearing, and necessary condition for
1G0 Herbart's Ideas on Education.
the appearing, and the more clearly seen by so much as the ex-
pression has been the more sharply cut. And it is just here
that so much has been done for future Platonic questioning. The
physics and metaphysics studied and taught under Aristotelian
masters have made both matter and mind a plainer book now,
for reason, than Plato ever had in hand. What of fact physical
science is gaining in the modern doctrine of the conversion and
conservation of forces, and what especially German logic and
dialectic have discovered in profound abstract thought, have
opened wide occasion for expounding the connections of phenom-
ena and idea, and idea with idea, in ample plainness and fullness,
that until his death remained dark and unsatisfactory to Plato.
But much as Platonism owes to Aristotelian dialectic, the latter
begins and ends within the natural, while the former only can
a priori know the supernatural; and sure as the ages the time is
coming, when every logical grist shall be carried to Plato's old
mill, and there together all be ground in one logic and one dialec-
tic, which will make of all the one Philosophy.
HERBART'S IDEAS ON EDUCATION.
Translated from the German of Dr. Karl Schmidt* (Geschichte der Poeda-
gogik), by^HuGO Haaxel.
John Frederick Herbart was born the 4th of May, 177C, in the
*Dr. Karl Schmidt's sketch of Herbart's Pedagogics is herewith presented
with notes designed to prepare the way for a review of Herbart's system,
which may appear in a subsequent nurnber of this journal. These notes have
been added with a view to compare Herbart's views with those of other sys-
tems better known, and thereby interpret them. Though the additions to the
text are not only quite free, but, at times, imply criticism, the general connec-
tion ot the remarks will bear evidence that they have been conceived in the
spirit of Herbart's arduous undertaking to make the formation of moral char-
acter the aim and end of public education. The text and the comments being
separated by brackets, the latter may be disregarded without much inconve-
nience.— [Translator.
Herbart" 1 s Ideas on Education. 107
city of Oldenburg, where he received his collegiate education,
and exhibited a much stronger inclination for investigation than
for erudition. In 1794 he attended the University of Jena, join-
ing the law department, but studying philosophy under Schmid,
Eeinhold, and Fichte for three years, when he became private tu-
tor in Switzerland. He was admitted as academic lecturer into
the University of Goettingen, 1802 ; went as Professor of Philos-
ophy to Koenigsberg in 1809, and returned as such in 1833, to
Goettingen, where he died August 14, 1841. Herbart has paid
more attention to pedagogics than any other philosopher; in fact
pedagogics was the aim and end of his best efforts in psychology.
He says himself: "I have summoned and kept employed meta-
physics and mathematics in addition to self-observation, experi-
ence and experiment for the space of twenty years, that I might
discover the foundation of true psychological knowledge. The
cause of these not very easy investigations was chiefly, and stil
is, my settled conviction that a large share of the tremendous
gaps in our pedagogical knowledge is attributable to defects in
our psychology, and that we first have to possess the latter sci-
ence; nay, first of all, that we have to do away with the illusion
called psychology at present, before we are able to pronounce
with any degree of accuracy whether a single lesson has been
taught well or otherwise."
The chief works resulting from Herbart' s practical interest in
pedagogics are :
(1) "Pestalozzi's Primary Principles {Idee eines A,B, C,) of Ob-
ject Lessons (AnscJiauung) Developed Scientifically (icissenschaft-
lich enticicJcelt) into a Course of Preparatory Training (Vor-
uebungen) for Perception of Form. 1802."
(2) "General Pedagogics Deduced Scientifically from the Aim
and End of Education." 1806.
(3) "Concerning Public Co-operation in Matters of Education."
1810.
(4) "Relation Between Idealism and Pedagogics." 1831.
(5) "Sketch of Lectures on Pedagogics." 1835.
(6) "Letters Concerning Psychology Applied to Pedagogics" —
(fragments).
All these works have their deepest root in the "Text-book of
Psychology," and "Psychology as a Science, Founded in a Xew
Manner upon Experience, Metaphysics and Mathematics."
Herbart considers an outside influence upon the person under
168 HerbarVs Ideas on Education.
age necessary in order that be may grow mentally in the same
[continuous] maimer as he does physically, because he (Herbart)
maintains, as a principle of his psychology, that there are by no
means fixed, predetermined capacities in the human soul, similar
to those in plants and animal bodies; that man — only as far as
his body is concerned — brings his future form with his germ into
the world; that the human soul on the contrary, resembles rather a
machine entirely constructed out of perceptions* [The impres-
sions furnished by circumstances being without order or plan,] a
systematic education has to nurture the mental capacities of the
pupil and thereby save them in [for and against] a world from
which they neither can nor should be isolated, and to train them
to a conscious attitude of moral freedom. [All] possibility of
education involves the fact and idea (Begriff) of a plastic nature
(Bildsamheit) exhibiting a transition from something indefinite to
a fixed form (Festigheit.) The aim of education is the harmoni-
ous development in manifold directions of spontaneous activity,
subordinated to moral culture. " Let each one be an amateur in
all things, but let each one be master in one branch of business,"
is a fundamental principle of Herbart.
*This should read : That the human mind may be made to resemble an or-
ganism, but under different circumstances with very different degrees of per-
fection, and that this mental organism or system is created by the soul out of
the material furnished to the senses. Herbart holds that the soul is active, not
passive, in forming perceptions out of the momentary sensations of color,
sound and the like, that these elementary sensations are reactions of the soul,
corresponding to outside influences; that we know nothing of soul, self, or
faculties, save what we have learned by induction from the works of the hu-
man mind, that other faculties— being likewise the result of work and compar-
ison — maybe produced purified and strengthened but in no other manner than
by induction, and that the faculties both as regards their separate fnnctions
and their joint operation, will approach the closer to the perfection of a living
organism, or of the system of mathematics, or of a machine, the more thor-
oughly we use our energies in the removal of definitely given difficulties and
the solution of definitely given problems, first and before such application is
followed up by broad and exhaustive 1 comparison with other objects operated
upon by the same energies of the soul ; whereas a psychological theory which
rests satisfied with a number of disconnected faculties for an ultimate basis,
to the neglect of their unity in application, and without inquiring into the
cause of their unity in the soul, is apt to unfit man for the business of life, and
at best to degrade him to the rank of a laborer, whose sense of freedom, and
natural enthusiasm for unity in the different departments of society is reduced
to smoking embers. — Translator.
Merbart's Ideas on Education. 169
Pedagogics is, according to Herbart, closely connected with
ethics and psychology ; it really depends upon both. He com-
mences by showing that pedagogics depends upon ethics, and
proves [indirectly] that those opinions are erroneous which do
not let the process of education begin and continue as well as
terminate in the individual subject, but which place the pupil in
such a relation to certain ideal objects (happiness, usefulness,
family, State, humanity, God) that the future actions of the indi-
vidual are defined by such objects as the end and aim of educa-
tion. This proceeding has to be reversed, and it must be main-
tained that the individual person is and remains the exclusive
and true centre for the purposes of education. Xothing of an
objective nature has to be fixed in such a manner that value and
safety is transferred to the actions of the individual from out-
side, but on the contrary, any and every kind of objective reality
receives [all] its importance and value from the individual per-
son, and if such importance has been attached to it already, it
will not be recognized or assimilated unless it is found to be
consonant with the highest standard of individual endeavor and
action. It is thereby not denied that humanity, age, State, fam-
ily, mean great things, but it is not permissible to hold up any
one of them as the one ideal standard ; they are alike parts of a
system centring in him whose idea of right is realized in his
individuality. This realization is morality or virtue, and [if]
concentrated and embodied [in the idea of self] it is personified
force of habitual morality (CharacterstaerJce der SittlicMteit).
Pedagogics, according to this principle, should be defined as
the sketch of a plan designed by means of ethics for the real-
ization of the latter, and executed under the presupposition of
a systematically artistic activity in individuals, necessarily sup-
posed to be susceptible of its influence.
[The part which ethics perform in Herbart's system, and espe-
cially in his pedagogics, may be explained briefly by comparison
with the corresponding views of Hegel.
Hegel and Herbart agree that the chief end of education is to
raise the individual to fixed habits of subordinating all to moral
activity ; neither of them proposes to attain that end by the ex-
planation of moral texts ; the spirit of their systems is evidently
in emphasizing correct habits of methodical observation and
work, which, at the age of mature reflection, may be employed in
the culture of our moral self, directly and systematically; both
170 Herbart's Ideas on Education.
undertake to educate by means of instruction, and to develop the
moral judgment of the individual while it is assisted in taking
possession of the indispensable results and conditions of civiliz-
ation. They further agree that the life of the individual owes
fruitfnluess and scope to society, while unity and harmony of the
departments of society rest upon the moral strength of the indi-
viduals, and furthermore that the perpetuity of life, whether of
society or of the individual, depends upon the "idea," if we un-
derstand by the term ''idea" the consciousness of the necessary
conditions of such perpetuity. We may therefore conclude that
if Hegel had elaborated pedagogics himself, the speculative prob-
lem would have been for him as it was for Herbart, how to real-
ize the "idea" within the province of education. jSTow, though
Hegel subordinates everytling to one absolute idea, while Her-
bart co-ordinates his five ideas, viz : Freedom, Perfection, Right,
Equity and Benevolence, it is nevertheless not difficult to harino-
ize the latter five with the one absolute idea, for practical pur-
poses. For, whereas complementary opposites are equally neces-
sary to life, and the knowledge thereof to responsibility: non-inter-
ference between such co-ordinate powers constitutes the basis of
rights; compensation in proportion to the number of complement-
ary opposites united in any purpose and multiplied by the number
of actual repetitions, constitutes equity of reward and punishment;
both, Eights and Equity limited to the domain of intention and
spiritual intercourse, i. e., where the assistance of physical organs
and forces is precluded, constitutes Benevolence, the principle of
morality in contradistinction from those applications of Bights
and Equity which may be enforced ; the agreement between in-
tention and action, both being governed as stated above, consti-
tutes individual Freedom. All subordination is governed by the
relative term Perfection. Setting aside differences of quantity,
any one of the complementary opposites is imperfect as compar-
ed with their unity ; the richer unity is perfect in comparison
with the object embodying a less number of complementary op-
posites. But whatsoever severs that which is jointly necessary
for life, liberty and happiness, actually and with the intention of
keeping it severed, is physically bad, legally wrong, spiritually
untrue, and morally sinful.
The general manner in which Herbart facilitates the applica-
tion of the above practical (ethical) ideas, is termed aesthetical
judgment. The statement : "It pleases," as to the harmony of
Herbarfs Ideas on Education. 171
colors, sounds, tastes, the symmetry and proportion of forms,
the exhibition of unity in variety by the works of nature and of
man, is a judgment only in appearance, but in fact an inference,
the major premise of which is a fixed, a priori, though uncon-
scious relation of complementary opposites, outward or inward
experience furnishing the middle term. The introduction of in-
ventive dialectics into schools in such a manner that the scholar
should discover for the elementary forms of drawing their coun-
terparts, symmetrical to an axis or a centre (inventive drawing),
or for the definite qualities of objects as to form, size, number,
color, sound, use (object lessons) their opposite qualities and the
objects corresponding to their varied combinations (lessons on
natural science) ; or, for the geographical conditions of one place,
the opposite conditions and the commercial reciprocity of ex-
change (physical geography) ; or for the given grammatical com-
binations of number, gender, case, voice, tense, mode, &c., their
corresponding opposites (elements of composition), or for the al-
gebraical expression the geometrical construction (analysis) —
these and the like obvious applications of inventive dialectics
cannot be attempted directly, but every master of a specialty
prepares his scholars by means of the aesthetical judgment. He
writes, draws, sings, speaks, reasons well, i. e., embodies the har-
mony of opposites in his work; its perfection pleases because it
is agreeable to true human nature, the pleasure stimulates imita
tion, successful imitation develops into knowledge of the method,
and critical application of the method to works of art and nature
widens, by means of classical education, into "sesthetical concep-
tion of the world" — the goal of Herbarfs pedagogics].
Pedagogics depends not less upon psychology [than it does
upon ethics]. Ethics may point out the goal of education, but
they cannot decide as to the connection between the general
method and the given individuality to be educated, nor as to the
probability of success. All that is business belonging to psy-
chology, [namely] to that science which treats in general of the
internal constitution of substances which are the foundation of
things that appear.
Psychology, (Herbarfs), teaches that the soul is a simple sub-
stance, indivisible by physical forces, and not liable to any
change of its identity; pedagogics should not, therefore at-
tempt to treat the human soul like impressible matter to
which every possible impression might be given. And no more
172 Herbarfs Ideas on Education.
are we permitted to conceive the soul as changing- its identity in
lime (Werdendes) than we are allowed to admit a change of the
internal constitution of the soul at any moment; the soul is what
it is [retains its nature] absolutely and perfectly, and is and re-
mains this identity (dies) always, unmodified by differences of
quantity. The soul is the real, unchangeable, concrete centre of
all conscious activity whatsoever (Vorstellungen), which latter,
being susceptible of change, may assume all these forms, the to-
tality of which is called Mind and among which [conscious pro-
ducts] we find even the conception of Self (Ichlieit).
[Herbart demands as an act of justice to himself, and repeat-
edly, that such a construction should be put upon his words as
may be obtained by a comparison of all his works. This is not
easy to be done with reference to the doctrine of the simplicity
of the soul. This theorem has its proper place in his metaphys-
ics as basis for a philosophy of nature; it may, therefore, be per-
missible to construe simplicity as unity indivisible by physical
forces ; for he admits that the mind may distinguish between the
various actions of the soul, that the latter are different, accord-
ing to the various objects acted upon, that difference of quality
is the principle of physical attraction, that all attraction does
not end when substances touch each other, but that it may con-
tinue until one occupies the place of the other, that millions may
be absorbed by one, that the substances have an internal consti-
tution or permanent relation of qualities necessarily joined which
act as a unity in case of self-preservation against outward forces.
This and much more cannot be understood unless the simplicity
of a soul endowed with the above practical ideas, means concrete
unity. On the other hand, if such a rendering is allowed, we
think that his views are not only plain but may be illustrated by
every equation above the first degree].
The opinion, according to which a certain [and fixed] number
(Anzahl) of higher and lower faculties are ascribed to the soul, is
a psychological myth.
[The enumeration of faculties in psychology is as faulty as the
mythology of Greece. Neither in these gous nor in these facul-
ties is there to be found harmonious co-operation, well defined
subordination to ethical ideas, or help for the practical concerns
of life; both the gods and the faculties are imperfect productions
of the mind. All those gods are in every human breast, all the
faculties in every thought. Extraordinary strength of faculties
Herbert's Ideas on Education. 173
may be explained by greatness of purpose, i. e., objective unity
of faculties and zealous purity of character (subjective unity of
faculties) both being curtailed by given circumstances].
Everything which enters our mind [appears to] act as a force,
on account of its contradictory or complementary qualities with
respect to other matter of thought with which it is connected by
means of [in] the soul, and the effect is considered as [the result
of reaction against some] interference which may be more or less
transient, reciprocal and extensive. The general activity in the
great variety of thoughts is thus accounted for, but it is also evi-
dent that categories, unities of categories according to their com-
plementary relation and different degrees of application of both
these primary and higher faculties [Psychology, Complete Works,
Vol. VI., p. 361] will be produced, from the fact that the relation
of opposition is different in degree, existing in part only with ref-
erence to some, being entirely absent with regard to other per-
ceptions, and that [therefore] the material will be dialectically
graduated and concatenated from extremes towards the centre, (a
scale of electro-positive and negative bodies): and lastly that these
[ideal chains of things] will be interwoven in consequence of
identical or similar links. The thinking, feeling, and perceptive
activities, are nothing but the same general action of the soul to
preserve its identity limited in different ways ; they are, as such
limitations, solely [subjective] relations among that which is real :
[but] consciousness is the totality {Summe) of such relations ex-
isting between the soul and other substances. These relations,
and the corresponding acts Of consciousness not being of equal
intensity, some of them [may and] do interfere with, oppose, [or]
throw into shadow others; those which are suppressed, keep
waiting at the very threshold of consciousness until they are at
liberty to arise again, when they associate with cognate percep-
tions and press onward with united strength. Such associations
[temporarily] repressed, but continuing to act with the least
degree of distinct consciousness, and working in the dark [as it
were], are denominated feelings. A somewhat higher degree of
action is termed desire, namely, when the work of assimilation is
more or less successful. Desire develops into will, when sup-
ported by probability of success. That which we call imagina-
tion, memory, understanding, desire, reason, will, and-so-forth, in
popular phraseology, and whatever other [mental operations] are
supposed to be, and are introduced as primary faculties of the
174 Herbart's Ideas on Education.
soul [in addition to metaphysical categories and mathematical
operations] are nothing but a certain activity observed in, and
limited to (vorhanden) a definite number of intellectual facts sys-
tematically connected — the correlation of stages of mental action
with reference to the same or different objects.
[The faculties of psychology are secondary faculties ; they
cannot be influenced directly; they can be affected only by means
of the primary faculties, or categories ; the latter are always
ready for action and require nothing but to be directed; their
union the soul controls, by means of the co-operation of the
physical organs, and more especially the correlation of eye and
ear by means of language and mathematics].
The [general] question, how any kind of education is possible,
[how man may transfer his remembrance, imagination, will, self-
consciousness by means of sound, form or color,] necessarily
presupposes that certain processes are going on in the mind of
the pupil, though without distinct consciousness, which the edu-
cator must have it in his power to control though with certain
limitations, and he can direct his action only upon the co-opera-
tion of these primary actions, but not upon their real unity from
which they proceed, and which as soul we conceive to be the
unchangeable foundation of conscious life, [nor] upon the rich
variety of intellectual events resulting from the association of
primary 'faculties which gradually unite, multiply, improve or
deteriorate, and which exhibit the predominant functions in
which the operations characteristic of human nature are perceiv-
ed. Pedagogics can reach a satisfactory degree of scientific gen-
erality and applicability only by means of true psychological
knowledge, and it is only by this means that education as a pro-
fession will take rank among the fine arts. Psychology accounts
[also] for the causes which render minds vascillatiug between
error and truth, between that which is good and that which is
bad, and convinces us that there is a natural demand for educa-
tion, and that education is a matter of necessity. The applica-
tion of pedagogical means attains scientific accuracy and connec-
tion, the [entire] business of education attains unity and system-
atic use from Psychology alone.
The complete work of education may be divided into disci-
pline, {Itcgieruny), instruction, (Unterricht), and training, (Zucht).
The child comes into the world without ability to concentrate the
action of his organs upon one object, to the exclusion of the rest;
Herbart's Ideas on Education. 175
bis individual will is tbe result of practice ; this gradual result
is interrupted by all manner of disordered inclination ; to bold
the latter within proper bounds, is the office of discipline. What
experience and society teach, outside of school, is too one-sided
and desultory, it is disconnected and fragmentary : a systematic
activity must supervene which is able to complement, to digest
and to unite the material collected as a mere aggregate. This
methodical business, complementary of experience and society,
is instruction. The term training (Ziehen, duco, educo, education)
contains allusion to that which is not yet existing [the harmony
of opposites controlling insubordinate tendencies] something-
hoped for [the strength of the complementary opposite, now be-
ing weak in the individual] which exists only as purpose, and
toward which the pupil has to be led : this action, devoted more
especially to the culture of the will, but also, in part, to know-
ledge and understanding is designated by "training."
1. It is the office of discipline to keep order, and to subject the
naturally predominant and unruly inclinations of the individual.
Such subjection has to be effected by a power strong enough, and
acting so frequently as to be completely successful, before indi-
cations of a genuine will [persisting in wrong] are exhibited by
the child. Measures within the reach of discipline are : (a) to
keep the pupil so busy that he can find no time for mischief; (b)
detective supervision which, however, is useful only during the
first years of life, and during periods of special danger ; (c) com-
manding and forbidding, with respect to which great caution has
to be exercised, lest discipline be rather weakened by it; ((7)
threats and punishments, which must be superseded by respect
and love, wherever possible. Discipline, [assisted by physical
means] has, at all events, to cease long before training ceases,
and should, as soon as possible, be relieved by the latter. The
[apparently] limiting power of discipline [resembling tbe restraint
of prison] cannot be discontinued so long as great temptations
are offered to the pupil by his surroundings.
2. Instruction ought to be and must be educative : tbe aim of
instruction should not be solely, or even predominantly, the
amount of knowledge, nor should it be the acquisition of merely
technical skill, but culture of the Personality [executive ability
for ethical ideas] ; this most essential part of education should
be rooted and grounded. To be more definite, instruction is
methodical production and culture of representations of objects
170 Herbart's Ideas on Education.
[as definitely constructed applications of the categories and ethi-
cal ideas], such representations being - the true germs from which
to develop the unit}' of all faculties until said elementary unities
of object and subject seem to assimilate subordinate facts with
spontaneous rapidity, embracing the complementary opposites in
such an exhaustive manner that executive ability and energy for
action are the direct result, as well as tact or [more generally]
the quick decision as to the ethico-aesthetical value of a given
fact.
The operations of the soul which are performed both with and
without distinct consciousness (psychisch), have to be studied to
solve that problem. Attention is, among these psychical opera-
tions, one of the most important, and a correct theory thereof a
momentous question for pedagogics. Attention is [accompanied
with consciousness of the relations between the object and the
aims of the person, or it is not; it is] either artificial or natural.
Intentional attention, produced by conscious direction of the will,
©r by aims more remotely subserved, or by the directive power
of the teacher, transferred by his methods of discipline and train-
ing, is more especially required for [unprejudiced reception of
facts by] observation and memorizing, though it is of less impor-
tance for the theory of culture on a large scale [as observed in
the onward march of history]. Unintentional or natural atten-
tion has to be divided into primary and apperceptive attention.
The former exists, when notice of a fact ( Vorstellung) [appears]
to work of itself and for itself [by means of its antithetical nov-
elty] ; the latter exists when the action [of the consciousness of
the object upon the subject which, for the time, is unconscious
of his operation] is supported by correspondence with expecta-
tions apriori. The following four rules are of use with reference
to primary attention : Let the sensuous objectivity have a sutri-
cient degree of intensity; the exhibition of the real object, and,
if the latter cannot be had, a picture thereof is to be preferred to
the combination of categories embodied in the construction of
sentences without the help mentioned. 2. Excess, however, in
quantity and quality of that which is novel [compared with what
is known] is to be avoided, lest the susceptibility [unconscious
synthetical action] might be discontinued too soon. 3. Instruc-
tion [i. e., the operation of construction, conscious in the teacher,
unconscious in the pupil] must be careful not to heap that which
has to succeed [the more concrete] upon that which has to pre-
Herbart's Ideas on Education. 177
cede [the complementary opposites] too fast; the subject matter
has to be analyzed, factored and the corresponding parts of op-
position have to be fixed step by step. 4. The teacher must
allow well selected periods of review, before presenting to the
perceptive function difficulties of a higher order, in which the
diffusive richness of the newly acquired material may be digested
symmetrically.
When the mind is apperceptively attentive, the new matter is
assimilated directly [though unconsciously] by previous habits
of thought, and is intelligible and interesting on account of such
relation.
[To understand thoroughly] the action of the mind in the con-
struction of objectivity, it is of chief importance to perceive the
correlation between the unity of the categories in the object
(Vertiefung, adding depth, third dimension, perspective-centre,
self-forgetfulness) and the unity of the categories in the subject
(Besinnung : s/?m=sense; sinnen=TiBmg senses in matter of mem-
ory; iio<j = according to their correlation; i?e==jointly: method-
ical recollection). The more exclusively the pupil forgets him-
self in such objects as are agreeable to his idiosyncrasies, the
more danger there is that every fact will be distorted : [culture
of] self-recollection must, therefore, alternate with that of self-
application. Personality is rooted in the unity of conscious ac-
tions, [which proceed either without reference to past and future
or with reference to both, and are, therefore, either] presence of
mind (Sammlunq) or methodical reflection (Besinnung). Both op-
erations preclude, as such, and for the time being, self-forgetful-
ness in the object (Vertiefung); the former have, nevertheless, to
be united in the latter [to-wit : by the stages of speculation,
where, by suppression of self, aud projection of the faculties into
the object, objectivity becomes conscious embodiment of the pow-
ers of the subject, as far as in activity]. If the acts of attention
concentrated upon objects never unite in the attentiou bestowed
upon the subject, the objects remain disassociated for general
purposes, and the individual is inattentive ; if the objects unite
on account of their relation to the person, but the conscious fac-
tors of personality by which objects have been analyzed is not
exhaustive, and their unity, therefore, weak, though without con-
tradiction of the parts, the individual becomes one-sided. Ethi-
cal self-forgetfulness proceeding with freedom from predilections
X— 12
178 HerbarCs Ideas on Education.
and selfish aims, projects the distinctive particularity in relief.
The progress from one act of objectivation to the next [eomple-
inental of the preceding], is the cause by which the results are
associated, and the reciprocal reproductions arising among the
multitude of associations, are personified as imagination: the
latter [seems to] perceive the complementary relation (schmeckt
= tastes) of every mixture, and ought not to reject anything
[whether real or imaginary] except what is insipid, [the super-
fluous repetition of identity]. The undisturbed concentration
of freedom seeks objective unity ; the undisturbed self-recollec-
tion of freedom seeks the [genetic] relation of the several orders
[and to comprehend] every single thiug as organ located among
the associations according to its intrinsic capacity. The rich or-
ganization of a rich genetic construction is called system. The
upward step of genetic construction is called method; it is by
means of the method that we sweep through the system of
thoughts, in order to produce new constructions, and to watch
over the consistency of its application [when the latter presents
itself with seeming spontaneity].
Building upon such knowledge and such motives of action as
have been prepared by experience and society outside of school,
instruction has now to offer material of importance for the ope-
rations mentioned ; for it is such material [only] that objective
attention has to complement and subjective attention has to sur-
vey. Matter of interest may be divided [by our concern for
things and persons] into matter important to be known aud mat-
ter important to be concerned about [Theilnahme — participation.]
Facts of interest derive their value either from the novel varie-
ties presented by experience, or because they embody laws, or
on account of their resthetical [complementary] correlations;
concern is directed either upou man as individual, or upon the
moral persons of society, or upon the relations of both to the
Absolute Person. Accordingly, there are six chief classifica-
tions for whatever may be of interest or concern : (1) Empirical
interest in specific differences, the mind seizing upon nature in
whatever way it may present itself. (2) Speculative interest as
to the manner in which laws are realized, the mind endeavoring
to discover the [necessar n ] connection between matter and form
in nature. (3) iEsthetical interest in complemental and supple-
mental relations arising from the perception of the objective re-
ality of the beautiful. The stages of "concern' 7 are: (4) Syrn-
Herbarfs Ideas on Education. 179
pathetic concern in humanity as such, reproducing the longings
discovered in human hearts without criticism and in the manner
iu which they are presented by society or the fine arts. (5) Civil,
Political and Social concern [in co-operation by means of co-
ordination and subordination.] (6) Religious concern originating
when the concern for the whole is redistributed among the indi-
viduals by retlex considerations combined with the preceding
stages of concern — both, therefore, interest iu actions, as well as
concern for motives take, in their lowest stage, what nature, so-
ciety, humanity offer; both seem to lose themselves, the one in
empiricism, the other in sympathies [and antipathies]. But the
development of things urges both beyond these limits; empiri-
cism is left behind by the [eternal] marvel (enigma) of creation ;
the free submission of society to law results from the [conviction
that] conflict between might and right, between virtue and happi-
ness, [cannot be settled] by merely sympathetic action. The
spirit of freedom invents laws ; speculation discovers laws. The
whole heart is lifted to the recognition of the law identical in
subject and object by the speculative freedom of sesthetical rela-
tions [in teleological organisms] ; it is lifted by [universal] sym-
pathy, as to the inadequacy between man's aspirations and his
individual capacities, out of its bondage to the spiritual law of
inertia, iuto — [transcendental liberty, into the necessary faith
that man can commence anew upon an ever broader basis of
thought and action, into the recognition of the remedial agency
of the necessarily creative power of the Spirit, intoj — Religion.
Instruction enriches and fecundates desireand ability by means
of the stages of interesting knowledge; it leads, on the other
hand, up to the other aim, to ethical judgment in treating matter
of interest by the stages of concern. This is effected by the gen-
etic reproduction of any work, exhibited in its essential stages of
interest and concern, that is, by means of the construction ot
any systematic result of life presented exhaustively according to
its [antithetical and synthetical] stages, in such a manner that
the ideal correspondence between human freedom and action is
reflected, either directly [by their agreement] or by their con-
trast. It would hardly do to take works of the present age for
illustration; the sphere of the adult in an age of culture is too
complicated and too much limited by conditions of life which we
do not wish the pupil to understand even if we could render
them intelligible. Classical representations of an idealized boy-
180 Herbarfs Ideas on Education.
hood, such as are found iu Honier's poems, especially in the
Odyssey, are proper to begin with. Instruction iu language even
need not commence with Latin, but may begin with Greek, and
proceed as speedily as possible to the study of the Odyssey, we
mean, when the boy is just stepping out of the period iu which
care for his body engrosses the attention — say, at least before he
has finished his tenth year.
[To be more general], the subject matter of instruction [for
any age, whether of the pupil or of the country] has to be selec-
ted with reference to the fact how fully the objective and subjec-
tive unity of the faculties and the subordinate stages of interest
and concern are represented by means of it. Xo factor, indispensa-
bly necessary for the maintaining of freedom at any given histori-
cal stage of the country, no science or art which is systematically
developed and universally recognized should be excluded en-
tirely. Notwithstanding the division of labor required for [the
harmony of] life, talents, and inclinations, the conditions are
offered for, and allowed to, one part of our youth a systematic
culture of philological studies, [to-wit: a consideration of lite-
rary works from all stand-points of society] which may be more
complete and fundamental [than that which is obtainable within
the sphere of any one of the different organizations of society],
while an education predominantly mathematical, and by means
•of the exact sciences, to the postponement of classical studies,
in point of time and duration, is imperatively required for an-
other portion of our young men. Higher schools may, there-
fore, be organized [by means of the method which engrafts the
totality of the stages of any science or art without exhaustive
treatment of the subdivisions] on such a plan that [after the en-
cyclopaedia of philosophy illustrated by means of the results of
exact and historical sciences has been finished by all students]
one set of classes carries to greater perfection the ideal and
sestketical culture of objective unities by means of thorough ap-
plication of the principles of ancient literature; without, there-
fore, completely excluding the modern and realistic foundations
[of inductive experiment], including mathematics and natural
sciences — while the application of exact sciences may preponder-
ate with another portion of students, the culture of ideals being,
nevertheless, nurtured by application of modern languages and
literature, especially by the use of the works of one's own
country.
Herbarfs Ideas on Education. 181
The business and the successive stages [recurring in each and
every branch or topic] of instruction [whether belonging to ex-
act sciences or otherwise] are, to exhibit [definite objectivity]
— to engraft the same upon previous knowledge — to generalize
the predicates separately for the purpose of obtaining their lim-
its, to speculate [i. e., discuss the possibility, reality or necessity
of constructions by means of predicates contradictory or con-
trary to the actual predicates of the thing exhibited].
[Likewise] in matters of ethical concern — to commence with a
case in point — to engraft it upon the ethical functions a priori —
to generalize into objective ethics of society — and to realize
higher possibilities.
[All] instruction, therefore, presents objectivity, and the facts
have to be narrated and pictured [as nearly as possible] in such
a manner that the pupil may seem to see and hear what is only
related and constructed, as if it were actually present. [Then
and only then] should instruction proceed to analysis [and con-
tinue the latter solely] for the purpose of a higher synthesis.
Concerning the sphere of empirical knowledge, analysis teaches
qualities of things and divides into parts by means, and for the
purpose of affixing signs and names — concerning speculation, it
dissects observations to show the connection between purpose
and means ; concerning matters of ethical judgment, analytical
instruction should take care that whatsoever is truly expressive
of the idea be lifted out of its associations with what is immate-
rial, or imposing by physical proportions, or pleasing by changes
without purpose ; the master-pieces of nature offer abundant ma-
terial, not more, however, than the life of man and society, to
contrast what is sublime and good forever, with the reverse qual-
ities; concerning sympathy for man, it should turn to historical
and poetical representations of his [tragical or comical] actions,
to give depth to the distinct emotions of compassion in the heart
of the pupil ; concerning the interest in social freedom, the atten-
tion should be extended to the variety of institutions required
for its safety, and the necessity should be impressed upon the
pupil that men have to adjust themselves and be mutually help-
ful, and that the forms of co-ordination and subordination arising
from that source are not inconsistent with liberty of the individ-
ual [provided the individual lives the life of the whole in per-
forming his duties like part of a machine] ; concerning religion,
humanity's utter dependence has to be shown [upon provisions
182 Herbart'8 Ideas on Education.
of nature without and within t lie individual], and also the weak-
ness and limits [of actions contradictory to nature and right],
and all exclusive reliance upon works, physical or social, own or
foreign, instead of trust upon the purity of method or motive,
has to be distinctly referred to the false and dangerous imagina-
tion of power [in any existence against the sleepless spirit of
dialectic revolution].
The office of synthesis is, to arrange the possible combinations
of the elements of culture [thus obtained].
The general process of synthesis, the mathematical operation
of combination [to-wit : the juxtaposition of varieties and elimi-
nation of identities] corresponds to [the purpose of complement-
ing] empirical observation. We find, among its applications,
grammatical instruction [constructing new sentences by chang-
ing adjective and adverbial relations, tense, mode, voice, &c, into
their opposites] and [the combination of opposite], arithmetical
operations [e. g., "Grube's method"].
Speculative synthesis rests upon the correlation of compre-
hensions [by means of the ideas, according to which the totality
is void when one factor is void] and this instruction [e. g. in the
explanation of the Constitution] presupposes objective or visual
apprehension of the speculative problem [e. g. of organic caus-
ality or teleology in science-lessons] ; concerning sesthetical syn-
thesis, instruction takes for pattern definite masterpieces of the
various forms of art [such, e. g., as are contained in the readers,
and changing the conditions of the persons or things treated of]
combines with them the distinctively pleasing manner of presen-
tation, as far as it can be perceived clearly, or gives and practices
such variations directly, as in the variations of a musical theme,
[or in those of inventive drawing].
Concerning sympathy for [progressive] men, synthetic instruc-
tion leads the pupil to discover in himself the germ of the most
different failings and excellencies of struggling humanity [by
the graphic and sympathetic rehearsal of their adversities and
triumphs] and selects matter from the purest poets and histori-
ans [but above all, from the lives of those who discovered the
facts and laws now taught in school, and who invented the tools
of civilization, in order that, from the appreciation of the sacri-
fices made and the battles fought, the natural desire to go and do
likewise, may gather strength].
As to concern for liberty of society, synthetical instruction
Herburt's Ideas on Education. 183
takes the ideas of co-ordination of men by inalienable rights,
and subordination by corporations for special rights and duties
from the analytical part, and shows that the conflicting [and dis-
connected] powers of societies are appeased and united [in pro-
portion] as a special case of wrong or distress is both general-
ized and individualized [political freedom being the one self-rem-
edial agency of all social ills, while the policy of despots and
their schools, is to keep apart complementary opposites, facul-
ties, people, or organizations].
Synthesis of religious instruction confines itself to the gene-
ralization of such a spirit of the family, as results from the har-
monious co-operation of all ethical ideas ; the family serves as
type for analogies (symbol) concerning the purpose and spirit of
the government of the world, and the explanation of the attri-
butes of the Godhead is taken from the idealized qualities of
parental care.
[A brief review will serve to clear up what follows :
It has been shown that all instruction is the result of three
concurrent operations, namely :
(1) Of discipline, or limitation of one-sided thoughts, which
are relatively too strong.
(2) Of training, or the exercise of complementary knowledge
and skill, which are relatively too weak ; and
(3) Of government, or the joint application of the results of
discipline and training.
To express the inseparable connection of the three operations,
and for the sake of brevity, we may now call them by the term,
under which they are known more widely ; for, from a psycho-
logical point of view, they appear to be essentially identical with
the dialectical process.
To prove the necessity of dialectics for all instruction, it has
been shoAvn, by exhaustive analysis, that there is no kind of at-
tention, and that there is no matter of interest, or concern, which
does not contain the dialectical process, either explicitly or by
implication.
To complete the argument, it is admitted that teaching can do
no more than interfere, aid, or direct the education which the
pupil would acquire without systematic help, but that this indis-
soluble union and reciprocity of interference, aid and direction,
or dialectics, is the fundamental faculty, not only of the teacher,
but of the pupil also, perfecting and uniting the secondary facul-
184 Heruarfs Ideas on Education.
ties, eacb and all, whereas the common faculties of the soul, so-
called, as also the ethical and aesthetical approval of harmonious
opposites are classified results of dialectics applied to matter of
experience, and that therefore neither memory, will, imagination,
&c, nor the sense of rights, love, &c, and the like, can be culti-
vated directly without a more or less conscious application of
dialectics. In other words, it can be shown, that the measure of
success with which any one cultivates the faculties and ideas
mentioned, is attributable to the degree in which 'he is a dialec-
tician by nature, or training, and that any one, using dialectics,
necessarily educates the above faculties and ideas.
The great obstacle to the plan of making every step of instruc-
tion an illustration of dialectics, and of thus developiug truth
and freedom together, is found in the inherited, and otherwise
necessary division and subdivision of studies and lessons, by
means of which different kinds of knowledge and skill are culti-
vated separately, and in such a manner, that, psychologically
speaking, discipline and training preponderate, while govern-
ment does not receive that share of time and attention which
practical life and social freedom demand. The tendency of this
oversight is more especially evident in schools above the grade
of common schools, as tendency to impair directive energy, and
to overtrain the analytical judgment of the understanding, at
the expense of skill in using the knowledge so acquired.
The gist of the remedy proposed by Herbart is, to start from,
and to return to concrete topics.
The topic, whether obtained by observation or by testimony of
others, is the unit of operations, embodying the function of men-
tal concentration.
To start from that unity of the topic, means to analyze the
different parts, qualities, properties, actions, effects, purposes.
The successive attention bestowed upon the grammatical or log-
ical categories, as far as contained in the topic, is training : the
exclusion of every other object and part, is discipline.
To return to the topic is, to find the complementary opposites
embodied in other topics, and to enrich it by such association.
This is termed synthetic instruction, and means composition,
whether it is oral, as in lessons on natural science, or written, or
by other means, as in the constructions of the Kindergarten
and inventive drawing.
The most elementary application of the whole process is ill us-
Herbart's Ideas on Education. 185
trated by the following method : An object is presented and an-
alyzed orally ; the word is then written by teacher and pupil in
full ; next conies the analysis of sounds and practice of the con-
stituent letters. After a few words are fixed, the synthesis of
the elements for new words commences].
Herbart's Pedagogics now proceeds to consider how directive
force may be educated by means of written compositions :
The term [dialectic] training embraces all direct action upon
the disposition of the pupil which is prompted by the intention
to purify and supplement his energies, and to lead him towards
objective liberty. Dialectic training has to deal [with the limita-
tions of the person fixed by way of inheritance or association]
or, in other words, it has to deal with the character of man.
Character manifests itself by individual preferences [and is two-
fold, either objective or subjective. The objective portion or
factor of character consists of] the individual's particular con-
struction of inclinations, indicated by the relative proportion or
percentage of action ; the subjective factor of character consists
in the enjoyment of complementary opposites criticizing the in-
dividual inclinations. The historical conception of both our
objective and subjective character (Site = centre of geometrical
locus) constitutes the totality of actual energy, and this is pro-
duced continuously by means of complementary natural desires
into acts of responsibility. The difference of the causes where-
with persons identify themselves, defines such or another char-
acter. It is, nevertheless, the internal act, as described, whether
purely internal or whether conceived as possibly external, which
produces balanced energy out of the material of desires [in every
species of character].
Faculty, [i. e., power of one of the complementary opposites
which would act independently if it was not restrained and direc-
ted] is, without doubt, the condition of acts of responsibility, and
[adopting this definition of faculty, we see that] every individ-
ual is peculiarly endowed or disposed, according to the physical
constitution of his body, according to the conscious connection of
his personality with his habits of thought, and according to the
relation of these mental habits among each other, character
gradually develops and matures [by suppressing dispositions
which are relatively too strong, and training such complement-
ary inclinations as are relatively too weak.] [Hence we perceive
that] opportunities, influence of the mode of living, influence of
18G Herbart's Ideas on Education.
the sphere of thought, are of essential importance for the cul-
ture of character [though it is quite as evident, that they are of
such importance as m.'ans for developing freedom, but are not to
be regarded as independent or necessary causes of action].
Among psychical actions which develop character, is foremost
" the memory of will" [the knowledge that the higher unity, in fa-
vor of which insubordinate attention, affections, or energies have
suppressed, retains and embodies said energies unimpaired,
though the latter have been disengaged from the objects to
which they were attached originally] ; this kind of will [the
unity of sacrifice and faith] must manifest itself without a pro-
cess of reasoning (or categorically), as often as occasion requires
[that is, as often as any desire exhibits the tendency to throw off
subordination to conscience] if such a conception as character
involves may be realized, [i. e., a perfectly free and perfectly re-
liable person].
One of the following stages of this process is the act of choice,
that is, preference [to unity] and subordination [of preparatory
extremes] : this act of choice settles the gradation of energy, it
imparts organic or systematic construction to the inclinations,
it attaches limited valuation to each separate act, and each sepa-
rate cause of action, rendering the person aware of the relation
between what he ought and ought not to sacrifice, between what
he ought and ought not to own, or, between what he ought and
ought not to do.
Objective freedom [or harmony of the individual will with na-
ture, and with the will of society] by means of the ethico-aes-
thetical judgment appears to be a third stage of the process,
though it [is manifest that the susceptibility and attention for
what is good and beautiful is in reality the reward for rejecting
what appears to be otherwise, and that this act of rejecting]
precedes and determines the act of choice. The act of identify-
ing one's moral self with a cause follows next [or the determina-
tion to stand, fall and rise with said cause] accompanied by the
definite knowledge of the duties, responsibilities and sacrifices
involved, and is succeeded, finally, by self-observation, [or scru-
tiny how far our acts are expressive of moral resolutions, and in
in case of inadequacy] by reaffirmation of the original resolution
against further obstacles.
Tie individual is thus carrying on a policy at once conserva-
tive [the energies not being impaired by suppressing or govern-
Herbarfs Ideas on Education. 1ST
in-- the objects of one-sided tendencies], restorative [in training-
functions weakened by the overgrowth of others], and reforma-
tory [by concentrating the energies thus controlled and trained
upon the right cause] — in fine, the individual is carrying into
effect the true principle of self-education.
An enlightened warmth for acts of objective liberty, unabated
by selfish desires, compatible alike with courage and prudence,
by means whereof the truth of objective liberty becomes an indi-
vidual impersonation, cannot grow out of any root other than
the power of faith, which leads to sacrifice for duty's sake, re-
sulting from ethical application of dialectics.
Distinct measures of dialectical training [to be carried into
effect by the teacher in separate lessons] are required, on
account of faults inherent in all schooling [more particularly in
schooling of a higher order, where the culture of directive energy
by means of composition is not made the leading aim, and the
necessary faults referred to arise from the fact that systematic
excellence in the plan of studies, together with the best possible
standard in the separate lessons, cannot alone, and without aid
from systematic use of knowledge in lessons on composition,
overcome the discrepancy between the claims of practical life
and the one-sided culture of theoretical or abstract judgment,
which results from any division of labor by means of teachers,
subject-matter, time and methods, without adequate and scien-
tific correction].
Measures of dialectical training are also required for realizing
the general purposes of education [to-wit : the perpetuation of
justice and freedom. The future juror should practice the art
of looking at opposite phases of a fact without bias ; the future
citizen might, in some degree, be prepared to give a fair hearing
to opposite views advauced by different papers and parties, with-
out introducing political or religious questions into schools ; and,
why should the future legislator not contract the habit of look-
ing at the consequences of an act from different stand-points,
even in his youth ? Or, how is the foundation of constitutional
liberty to remain intact, if the harmonious co-operation of the
judicial, executive and legislative functions in the individual is
weakened, instead of carefully trained?]
Among measures for dialectical training of an external nature,
we find, first and foremost, the deportment of the teacher to-
wards the pupil, [the balanced harmony of firm self-esteem for
188 Herbart's Ideas on Education.
discipline and kind self-forgetfulness for training, representing,
as well as circumstances permit, the power from which his share
of authority is delegated] ; after that, the degree to which the
teacher permits or refuses [the pupil's individuality and circum-
stances to modify the application of prescribed laws], and, con-
sequently, the consistency with which he aims to produce me-
thodical habits of thought, or to cancel habits* which interfere :
training is, in this last case, [manifestly] combined with disci-
pline [suppression of wrong, or faulty use of faculties], but is
distinguished from the latter by its aim, to apply the faculties,
which have been set free, for the appropriate object. [" Use
your auger for your problem " — said Stonewall Jackson, as pro-
fessor of mathematics].
[Hence it appears that dialectical training, or rather govern-
ment, consists in this: to concentrate different and opposite
knowledge and skill upon imperfect work, for the purpose of
transforming such work until it exhibits conformity with the
ethical ideas. The illustration, most widely accepted, is the solu-
tion of equations, by means of their transformation. But, inas-
much as the ethical ideas of Eight, Equity, Love, Freedom and
Perfection result from, and express the process of dialectics ap-
plied to finite objects, dialectical government may be defined more
briefly, as the aid afforded by the teacher to the scholar to trans-
form imperfect work by means of dialectics.
Dialectic government subserves the following purposes essen-
tial to education :
(a) Dialectic government prepares a proper disposition for
[subsequent] instruction. [Analysis and criticism of imperfect,
one-sided, incomplete work, creates demand for a higher, more
complete and harmonious unity].
(&) Dialectic government gives distinctness and balance to the
scholar's natural aspirations [in presenting and explaining the
harmonious relations of the comparatively perfect work] in such
a manner that the ethical and resthetical conception and approval
is freed from opposing predilections.
(c) Dialectic government affords time for the various germs of
ethical conception to develop according to the individuality of
the scholars [by comparing the different properties of the less
perfect work (a) with the qualities of the higher treatment or
unity (b)] and assists by means of correcting or generalizing the
judgment.
Herbart's Ideas on Education. 189
(d) Dialectic government helps the scholar to cultivate the
" memory of will" [inasmuch as any lesson or composition treat-
ed dialectically, affords an additional illustration of the principle
that nothing is lost by suppressing attachment to one-sided ex-
tremes in favor of a higher unity].
(e) Dialectic government observes, nurtures, cultivates and
directs the spirit of sacrifice, of acquisitiveness, of industry;, and
prompts the pupil to choose [the more concrete conception,
treatment and comprehension, because the higher unity contains
greater possibilities and is in consonance with duty].
(/) Dialectic government regulates [the adjustment of ethical
ideas] when one-sided dispositions of the scholar are formulated
as maxims or principles, and the subjective factor of character
preponderates [by criticism of the one-sided and composition of
the balanced character].
(g) Dialectic government quickens the voice of conscience,
[whenever the might of passion is seen to crush the right of the
complementary opposite, and thus to arrest the dialectic progress
toward higher unity].
(h) Dialectic government aims to fix the system of ethical
doctrines adopted in recognized text-books as a system of actual
freedom with which the scholar may be in hearty accord, and to
bring it about that the culture thereof and its actual realization
may appear to him as the most important concern of his after
life.
[It is not denied that unlimited freedom of inquiry into facts,
and unlimited publication of truth, by means of the press, can-
not be restricted without danger to right, freedom and progress.
Freedom of speech and of science are held sacred for the defense
of truth, right, charity, liberty and progress; that freedom is,
however, not upheld against the ethical ideas named. The ethi-
cal ideas are the acknowledged and constitutional support of the
free press. The support and superstructure contract and ex-
pand together, as a matter of history. It is evident to com-
mon sense that the comparative strength of ethical and sel-
fish tendencies in the individual and the community determines
how far inquiry into the truth of facts will be pushed, and how
soon it will be abandoned. If, then, freedom of the press and
strength of moral freedom in the commuuity stand and fall to-
gether, it is the right and duty of the press, as an act of self-
preservation, to insist that ethical instruction and practice, by
190 Rerbarfs Ideas on Education.
means of composition or otherwise, be introduced into the schools
of the people. But when these ideas of Eight and Equity, of
Love, and Freedom, and Ferfectiou, are shaped into an eye, to
see with, to sift, to complement, to embrace, to recognize experi-
ence, such eye is called Dialectics. It is true, dialectics may
result, without ethics, in sophistry. But let dialectics, regulated
by ethics, be welcomed. For what are ethics, without dialectics,
but a series of commands, which do not impart the ability to
obey ? ]
Finally : (?) Dialectic government fosters grateful acknowl-
edgment of, and glad submission to the necessity of complemen-
tary arrangements in nature and society, without which individ-
ual life could not be sustained, and actions, whether good or bad,
could yield no returns, but it fosters such tendencies solely by
the results of undoubted experience and by matter of instruc-
tion universally recognized, in order to protect [the religious
germ] against that superficiality [which is satisfied with pious
imagery without making use of complementary relations for
better work or broader knowledge] and against that despotic
extravagance [which under cover of some theory, would substi-
tute a mediator between man and the Author of all providential
arrangements, other than the eternal law of mind. Dialectics,
for the same reason, disclaim affinity with physical or dogmati-
cal assumptions which destroy or impair the responsibility of
man. But responsibility is impaired to the extent to which any
belief is strengthened against the axiomatic faith of dialectics,
that everything returns to its author. Dialectic government
harmonizes with true religion, representing such faith, and call-
ing upon men to do as they wish to be done by], it points to
such religion as the condition of virtue and true knowledge.
[The educational value of speculative philosophy since Kant,
results from its systematic effort to separate morality from creeds
and churches, in order to evade the dilemma spoken of; the spe-
cial value of Herbart's Pedagogics consists in the fact that it is
an attempt to demonstrate the necessity and feasibility of mak-
ing morality the aim and end of public education, while he insists
upon a separation of moral principles from dogmas of any and
every kind, in the most uncompromising manner.
Eeading, writing and arithmetic, classics and mathematics,
natural science and history may, do and did serve, not only the
cause of freedom, but all manner of evil. We feel interest in
Herbarfs Ideas on Education. 191
the question, how sciences and arts may best serve the cause of
freedom ; for the discussion of this question elevates the profes-
sion of teaching from the consideration of very trivial matters to
that of a sublime theme, even in case no result of economical
value should be apparent at the outset. The general plan also
of the foundation appears to be quite simple. If we take a free
act to be an act of choice effected in accordance with our inbred
desire for unlimited progress, we exclude wrong, i. e., choice in-
consistent with the general conditions of life ; we exclude what-
ever does not yield an equitable return and also any choice with-
out general validity under like circumstances, or choice without
love. For all such choice limits or- defeats progress. And to ar-
rive at a decision as to what is preferable relatively, it seems that
the preference given must result from quality or quantity, and
that, in either case, that must be preferable which contains and
includes the other. But to exclude such a choice, the general
reflex action of which would be self-destructive, and to include in
the choice the self-limiting extremes is, at once, application of all
the above principles of ethics. But this operation is precisely
what we mean by dialectics : dialectics, therefore, are the method
by means of which ethical principles apply themselves, as it
were. Nothing further is needed, no new set of rules to apply
dialectics. The attempt to educate the will by teaching a system of
moral philosophy would be as ridiculous as the attempt to teach
a foreign language by means of a scientific grammar. Both
things are done, but Herbart is radically opposed to trifling
away time and strength in such a manner. Educate by means of
instruction says : help the scholar to choose, to reject the errors
and mistakes which, happily, make their appearance in pairs, to
seek and present facts which belong together essentially, to find
the harmonious unity, to prefer the more concrete to the more
abstract; it says: cultivate his practical judgment, determine his
choice in accordance with moral principles, enlarge and intensify
freedom by means of dialectics.
We are referred to his psychology for further information.
This information is two-fold. We learn first, that any and every
theory, true or false, may be supported by the theory of inbred
faculties. Let us be miseducated first, and it will be easy to find
the predetermined germ therefor in consciousness. Let us sup-
pose our miseducation and complementary faculties will be de-
veloped by susceptibility for complementary truths. What we
192 Herbart's Ideas on Education.
may be, can be determined only by actual trial, and such trial is
either the categorical assertion of some one-sided abstraction,
faculty and habit, or the exercise of freedom ; the former weak-
ens and its objects fade, as the tediousness of each repetition
increases; the latter is the true progress in infinitum, gathering
strength by every complement of our individuality.
We learn, secondly, as a positive result, that the categories of
being, essence and morality are the true primary faculties ("Psy-
chology based upon Metaphysics") these categories being neces-
sarily involved in the idea of free personality, but that no one
can know their full stretch nor their joint intensity without first
using them separately and jointly. Do, and you will know ; act
first, reflect upon it afterwards; art precedes its theory ; not only
the binomial theorem has been discovered in this manner, but
every valuable generalization has been effected by developing the
possibilities of isolated cases. It would, of course, be utter per-
version to apply this precept to physical as well as to mental
action, or to admit it with reference to the latter when not con-
trolled by moral principles. To act physically without having
used our reason, and to use our reason independently of our con-
science, is the -ery origin of crime and sin, which education
seeks to prevent.
As result of the application of moral principles to our sensu-
ous or immediate conceptions by means of dialectics, we obtain
the theory of attention substantially as follows : Let every con-
ception be analyzed by as many primary faculties or categories
as possible. The object presents the unity of these faculties,
and such apparent analysis is, in fact, synthesis, and culture of
directive energy, but is termed accidental view, because it does
not exhaust the categories. This being done, we have a common
measure ; quantitatively, we may compare one thing and another
by means of the same category; qualitatively, we may compare
one thing or person and another by the number of categories
inhering iu the same, or the exponent of concreteness. We edu-
cate the primary faculties separately by quantitative comparison,
we educate them jointly by qualitative comparison, and educate
self-consciousness by means of both. We commence by concen-
trating our attention upon objects, Ave end by concentrating it
upon the subject: self-application terminates in self-recollection;
instruction in education ; between the original and final synthesis
we have comparison as means.
Rerbarfs Ideas on Education. 193
Synthesis in the object is instruction ; union of categories in
the purpose is moral discipline: comparison by means of meth-
odical review is government.
All interest results from the reciprocal influence existing be-
tween object and purpose by means of thoughts. If change of
objects enlarges or restricts the scope of purpose, we have ses-
thetical interest, if change of purpose increases or diminishes
the sphere of experience, we take empirical interest : the meth-
ods of reflection, by means of which the bouds of reality and
purpose may be loosened or tightened constitute our speculative
interest.
These bonds are, correspondingly, practical judgment, com-
prehension and conclusion. The exercise of each and all of them
depends upon the faculty of faculties, to be able to conceive the
opposite properties, attributes and actions comprised by the
things or persons which we apprehend by senses, thoughts or
conscience. Logic tells that there is no logic without freedom.
To every focus of predicates may correspond a focus of opposite
predicates, and foci containing the means. Truth realizes the
possibilities of freedom, if freedom is the motive power for the
discovery of truth.
But every truth now taught, and every safeguard of freedom
now enforced, is a legacy left to us by men who believed in infi-
nite progress, and, therefore, stepped over the boundaries of the
past. They educated themselves not by ''culture studies," but
by identifying the development of their faculties with the real-
ization of a moral purpose. To teach in their spirit, instruction
and education is inseparable. A general outline of the appl'ca-
bility of this principle is obtained by the reflection that all in-
struction concerns persons or things and their relations, while
faculties are developed by actions. Things may be considered, a
priori, in themselves (natural history), in their relation to each
other (physics), and in their relation to us (geography.) The
knowledge of persons is exhausted, correspondingly, by the
knowledge of their characters, their relations in society, and
their historical stand-point. It has been explained that matter
of instruction, whether relating to things or persons, may be pre-
pared, by means of anilysis and comparison, in such a manner
that an involuntary judgment is elicited from the scholar as to
their comparative value and worth. Xor need we fear to preju-
X— 13
194 The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
dice him, if we confine ourselves to preferences settled by arith-
metic aud the constitution. But it is to be feared that the mere
mass of empirical knowledge, without such aim in view, may
crush instead of developing- the faculty to use it,
On the other hand, reading, writing and arithmetic, spelling,
grammar, and the like exercises of indispensable faculties,
should, it is contended, be joined, as directly as possible, with
the desire to impart useful information. This, we may take to be
the settled conviction of our age. The cry against culture stud-
ies unites the most extreme parties. Many things are being done
in this direction, but nothing will give thorough satisfaction, unless
we unite them by means of composition. Most schools will
discover some useless culture studies, for which composition may
be substituted profitably.
The purpose for which composition is recommended would be
defeated, if form and matter were separated, if the matter were
not elicited by questions, aud the form were empirical analysis,
instead of harmonious s.. nthesis.
Analogies are the gems of diction, the source of mental fertil-
ity, the key to the secret^ how one set of faculties educates an-
other. By analogy we understand the reciprocity or reflex-action
by means of which the correspondence between things or persons
is discovered. To develop a -fruitful analogy is an exercise
which, by its very nature, sets all our faculties, moral, mental
and sensuous, to work; it is competitive comparison; it is the
flower of dialectic discipline. Papers and books teem with excel-
lent analogies ; let us use this wealth in exercises of composition
to educate the desire for progress, freedom and truth].
THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VEROXA.
By D. J. Snider.
This is no doubt one of the youthful plays of Shakespeare.
Its theme is the passion of youth, fullness and warmth charac-
The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 195
terize its descriptions, and at the same time there is a feeling of
resignation to the power of love which amounts to weakness.
The coloring is peculiar and uniform throughout; there is felt
the lassitude of the stricken shepherd; there is seen the com-
plete absorption of the individual in the fancy and emotions. The
mood of the Poet is diffused through the entire work, giving it
the fragrance as well as the languor of early Spring, the season
which in so many ways represents youth. The tone often resem-
bles that of the pastoral romances of Spain and Italy ; it is the
feeling of the lorn lover who has lost himself and wanders around
in a dreamy quest like a shadow. Such is the artistic hue which
colors this drama, and gives its distinctive characteristic ; it is
the true poetic element which no analysis can reach and which
can only be felt. For the poetry, therefore, the reader must go
to the poem ; criticism may unfold the thought which is the con-
trolling principle in every work of art, though it cannot be ex-
pected to take the place of that work.
In the present drama the thought is not so profound, the organic
structure is not so perfect, the characterization is not so rich as
they will hereafter become. But the germs of many of the most
beautiful parts of Shakespeare are to be found here. The reader
is continually reminded of scenes, incidents and motives which
occur in other plays. But the peculiar and striking fact is, that
the Poet now gives the outlines of his most notable literary form,
namely, the special drama together with the introduction of the
idyllic realm to harmonize the conflicts of life. Here it is, though
in an incipient stage ; the outlaws in the forest form a world of
their own, which becomes the great instrumentality for doing-
justice- to the wronged, for inflicting retribution upon the guilty,
and for restoring to society its banished members.
We may now pass to consider the organization of the drama.
There are three movements, though they are not marked with
such precision as in some other plays, nor have they quite the
same order and signification. The first movement exhibits the
two chief male characters as devoted friends on the one hand,
and as devoted lovers on the other. The emotional unity which
cements one individual to another, and makes both as it were a
single person, is here shown in its two most important phases.
Friendship and love, therefore, constitute the theme, the former
existing in its highest and truest manifestation only between
people of the same sex, the latter only between people of differ-
196 The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
ent sexes. The second movement shows the disruption of this
unity in both directions ; through the faithlessness of one person
the friends are separated and the lovers torn asunder. Here
occur the struggles and conflicts which give to the drama its seri-
ous tone and remove it from the realm of pure comedy. The
third movement portrays the return out of this state of disrup-
tion, the restoration of friendship and love, and the harmonious
solution of all the conflicts. The instrumentality is the world of
outlaws.
The two friends are first introduced, who, however, at once
separate ; the one, Valentine, is eager to set out on his travels,
the other, Proteus, remains at home because he is enthralled by
love. Valentine derides the condition of his friend who is so
utterly absorbed by his passion, and then departs. The thread
of which Proteus is the centre may now be followed to its con-
clusion in the first movement. Julia is the name of the loved
one, through her shrewd waiting woman she has received a letter
from Proteus containing a declaration of his affection. After a
pretended resistance and various strange caprices she yields to
the influence of the winged god; the sufficient reason being be-
cause she is loved and must requite the affection unless there is
some good ground for not doing so. Xor is any motive given for
the love of Proteus, except that he loves. Man and woman be-
long together and will come together unless there is some excel-
lent reason for their remaining asunder; the burden of proof lies
on the side of separation, not of union, which can always be ta-
ken for granted. Nature with a whip of scorpions drives the
human being as an isolated individual into his rational existence
in the Family. Love with its unrest is just the manifestation of
insufficiency ; the single person is not adequate to the truest and
happiest life. Proteus and Julia thus in a rapid whirl, love, de--
clare, pledge.
But now comes the painful separation. The father of Proteus
is not yet satisfied with his son's education, he is determined to
send him abroad to see the world and to gain its experience.
Proteus, while reading a missive from the fair Julia, is surprised
by the old man ; the boy fibs stoutly, but thereby falls into his
own trap. Off" he must; the parent will not be trifled with.
There ensues the parting scene between the lovers, and the oaths
of eternal fidelity soon to be broken, with the customarj' accom-
paniment of tears and sighs. Such is the external separation.
The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 197
The destination of Proteus is the court of Milan, where he will
meet his old friend Valentine.
We shall now go back and pick up Valentine's thread and see
what he has been doing. We beheld him setting out upon his
travels with many a jibe and derisive taunt against love and its
thralls; but retribution has come, and the mighty traveler has
been stopped in his journey at Milan by the eyes of Silvia, the
Duke's beautiful daughter. But the most gratifying news comes
through his knowing servant, Speed : his affection is reciproca-
ted. Indeed, the young lady herself writes a note which con-
veys the same information in a somewhat circuitous yet quite in-
telligible manner. But alack-a-day! the course of true love never
did run smooth, at least in a comedy; the much-employed, time-
honored obstacle rears its front, papa is opposed. Also the old
wealthy suitor, that goblin of youthful lovers and favorite of
parents, puts in his appearance and is of course supported by the
father. Thurio is his name. The conflict is inevitable, it opens
with a few flashing sky-rockets of wit between the combatants,
but it is clear that heavy artillery will be brought in before the
war is over. The principles which collide are, the right of choice
on the part of the daughter agaiust the will of the parent. The
outcome of the struggle is indicated in the mere statement : the
daughter must triumph, her right must be maintained even at
the expense of disobeying and deceiving her father. If he de-
mands conditions which render the Family impossible, the Fam-
ily must set him aside ; such at least is Shakespeare's solution.
Just at this most interesting point of the struggle, Proteus ar-
rives at court, and by his conduct changes the whole attitude of
affairs. Instead of the ordinary two-sided combat, it becomes an
intricate triple fight, with abundance of stratagem and treachery.
This part will be developed in the next movement. We have
bad brought before us the double relation of friendship and love;
there has also been an external separation in each ; still the inter-
nal bond has not been destroyed by absence, fidelity to both
principles remains as yet in the hearts of all.
A word may be said here upon the two clowns and their func-
tion in the play. It will be noticed that both Valentine and Pro-
teus are each provided with such an attendant. The main duty
of the clown is to give a comic reflection of the actions of his
master. The latter is in earnest, employs elevated language,
moves in high life, and the Poet usually puts his words in a met-
198 The Tico Gentlemen of Verona.
rical form ; while the former belongs to low life, deals in coarse
jests, aud speaks the rude slang of the hour. It is the same eon-
tent viewed from the poetic and from the prosaic stand-point,
from refined sensibility aud from gross sensuality. Nr is the
most serious aud even affecting theme to be treated without pre-
senting its ludicrous side. Thus there is always a double reflec-
tion of the action, which makes the work complete. The clowns
seem to be partly imitating and to be partly mocking the manner
and circumstances of their superiors ; the effect is that of a bur-
lesque. Their prototype is to be found in Spanish and Italian
comedy, from which Shakespeare in his earlier plays was in the
habit of freely borrowing. Hereafter he will elevate these some-
what stiff and conventional figures into living beings ; instead of
a clownish and monotonous imitation he will pour into them a
varied and independent comic character, which is connected with
the main theme through itself, aud not through another person
of the play.
Between Launce and Speed a close examination will find a few
but not very important differences. The perplexing fact is that
each is so different from himself at different times. Launce, for
instance, is in one place a stupid fool, while in another place he
manifests the keenest iutelligeuce. The same discrepancy may
be noticed particularly in the case of Valentine. In fact the
characterization in this drama is by no means fine aud consistent
always; it betrays the youthful, uncertain hand. Still the out-
lines are all here; the interest is to trace the development of
these rude features into the most beautiful aud ideal forms.
The second movement which portrays the conflict and dissolu-
tion of the ties just mentioned, is next in the order of explana-
tion. Proteus has come to the court of Milan, is immediately
admitted into the Duke's confidence upon the recommendation of
his friend, who also received him with affection and joy. But he
at once falls in love with Silvia. This sudden change rests in his
susceptible disposition; it requires the presence of the fair object
to keep up his fidelity. He is unable to subordinate emotion to
reason; in his soliloquies he states the true principle of his ac-
tion : love is above duty. The result is, he commits a deed of
triple treachery : he is faithless to friendship, to love, to hospi-
tality. He is truly the victim of passion, the thrall of love,
which drags him from one object to another in hopeless bonds.
Such is emotion without the permanent, rational element, it
drives man into a violation of all honor and virtue.
The Tico Gentlemen of Verona. 199
The conflict of Valentine with the will of the parent, the Duke,
has been already noted. To bring his purpose to a triumphant
conclusion he proposes an elopement, the time and manner of
which he confides to Proteus, who goes at once and tells it to the
father. The Duke, by a very ingenious scheme of dissimulation,
succeeds in making Valentine reveal his plan, and then upon the
spot pronounces his banishment. Thus results another separa-
tion of lovers. Throughout this scene the reader is continually
reminded of Borneo and Juliet, both by the incidents and the
coloring. Proteus now must continue his treachery, he has to
be false to Thurio and the Duke. But his suit is unsuccessful ;
Silvia, whose character is fidelity to love, reproaches him for his
faithlessness to his betrothed, and thrusts home with logical
keenness the nature of his deed : you have been untrue to her,
you will be untrue to me.
The clowns perform their function as before, they give a dis-
torted but comic reflection of the main action. The romantic
love of the high-bred suitors is caricatured in the affair concern-
ing the milk-maid, whose homely qualities show the force of real
life; Launce foreshadows the faithlessness and villainy of his
master; he too has a subordinate, namely, his dog; this relation
is a humorous image of his own relation to those above himself.
Launce makes long speeches, and has more to say than Speed,
who seems to be the more prying and the less clownish charac-
ter. Lucetta, the serving-woman of Julia, ought perhaps to be
placed in the same general category with Speed and Launce,
though she surpasses both in refinement.
The second thread of this movement is the actions and adven-
tures of the two women, Julia and Silvia. The Poet has not
made the separation here implied by these threads except in a
few scenes, but for the convenience of the analysis some such
division may be permitted. Both these characters have the fun-
damental type which is seen in all of Shakespeare's women : de-
votion to the Family. Those whom he wishes to portray as
good, are endowed with this one highest purpose, to which all
their other qualities are subservient. They are depicted with
various degrees of intellectual ability, and with various degrees
of power of will ; but they are all women, and ultimately unite in
the single trait of supreme womanhood. Julia here, so modest
and gentle in her nature, assumes the garments of a page in
order to go to Proteus; her devotion supplies the courage to
200 The Two Gentlemen of Verona.
accomplish such a bold act, though its audacity in no sense taints
her innate modesty. She discovers the faithlessness of her lover,
the premonition of her waiting maid has turned out true. With
her own eyes she beholds Proteus wooing Silvia, indeed she car-
ries to the latter a missive of love and her own token of betrothal
from the perfidious gallant. What will she now do ? Not re-
vjnge or even jealousy fires her bosom; she remains true to her
principle; her feeliug with Proteus is so intimate that she even
pities his unrequited love for Silvia. His case is also her own ;
her affection blends with his suffering and partakes of it, though
her success depends just upon his want of success. Love has
here reached quite the point of self-contradiction, it hugs the
object which destroys the end of its being. Essentially the same
character and essentially the same incidents will be repeated by
the Poet in at least four of his later .plays.
Silvia has also the characteristic trait of devotion, and mani-
fests it in its full intensity. Her struggle is different from that
of Julia, it lies with the will of her father. She has also to with-
stand the importunate suits of Thurio and Proteus, but this does
not cost her much trouble. She has been separated from her
lover by the violent mandate of her parent, but the separation is
only external, both are still one in emotion though asunder in
•space. Julia's case is more difficult, for the separation is inter-
nal, since Proteus has proven faithless. Silvia thus has only to
.get rid of the intervening distance in order to reach her purpose,
which requirement she at once proceeds to carry out. For the
true existence of the Family is her highest end ; her courage and
daring will rise to the emergency ; she will even defy an other-
wise valid ethical principle, namely, parental authority. Now
follows her flight; she finds a certain Sir Eglamour who lends
l)oth sympathy and aid. But whither will she go f She must
follow Valentine, and hence it is necessary for us to go back and
look after him.
At this point we observe one of Shakespeare's most peculiar
and effective dramatic means. It is the transition to a primitive
or idyllic state in order to cure the wrongs of society. The lat-
ter tails into strife and injustice, it becomes destructive of insti-
tutions which lie at its own foundation, man can no longer find
his abode in it but must leave it in order to get rid of its oppres-
sion. Valentine and Silvia desire to form a family, placing it
upon its true and only possible basis ; the parent, who is also the
The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 201
ruler of the State, interferes to disrupt the union. The Family
must flee unless it cease to exist, since its very essence is assailed
by the supreme authority. It must find a spot where there is no
such authority ; hence it betakes itself to the woods, to a pasto-
ral life in which it is free from the conflicts of society. The lov-
ers thus have gone to a forest whose sole inhabitants are out-
laws, that is, those who have renounced the civil authority of
the land.
The third movement, which now follows, will portray this world
of outlaws, and that which it brings about through its influence.
Already in the first scene of the fourth act is a description of its
nature and origin. The outlaws tell what they have done; it is
some offense against the laws of the country which they have
committed and which compelled them to flee from society, yet
the Poet has shaded lightly their deeds, for though they were
guilty they were not mean in their crimes. The allusion to Kobin
Hood, the English ideal of chivalric brigandage, gives the true
tinge to their character. The superior breeding and learning of
Valentine, who happens to pass through their abode, conquers at
once their esteem i he consents to become their chieftain on the
honorable condition that they "do no outrages on silly women
and poor passengers." But they have never done this, and
strongly asseverate that they "detest such vile practices." Eobin
Hood is clearly the model of these Knights of the Forest. They
have violated and deserted the institutions of men, but they still
seek to preserve personal honor.
Silvia also flies in order to avoid the conflict with the mandates
of society ; she must therefore go where she will find no oppres-
sive social order standing in the way of her purpose: there she
will find Valentine, who has been forced to depart for the same
realm. Union is now possible, since all restriction is removed ;
the Family can be built up from the foundation. But this world
has now become antagonis.ic both to the authority of the parent
and to the authority of the ruler; it has also defrauded the two
unrequited lovers of their prey; the result is that when the
flight of Silvia becomes known, the Duke, Thurio, Proteus, at-
tended now also by the faithful Julia, follow at once the runa-
way to the forest. Society thus attempts to assert itself against
this other world which has sprung up at its side; its representa-
tives try to restore by force what it has lost ; it will be seen in
the end how they succeed.
202 The Tiro Gentlemen of Verona.
Silvia is at first captured by some of the outlaws, but is reta-
ken by Proteus, who seizes the opportunity to press his suit
anew. She rejects his advances with her old reproaches of his
infidelity to Julia; then he assays to do her violence. At this
moment Valentine, who has heard the whole conversation in his
hiding place, comes forward ; he has discovered the treachery,,
his supposed friend has been the cause of all his misfortunes.
But now follows the sudden change. Proteus repents of his con-
duct and expresses the deepest contrition. Surprise awaits us
again. Valentine just as suddenly forgives him, which alacrity
may be tolerated on account of the previous friendship ; but
when Valentine offers to surrender to him the devoted Silvia, to
subordinate true love to treacherous friendship, both feeling and
reason protest to Heaven. But Julia is here to settle the diffi-
culty; she now throws off' her disguise, her presence restores the
affection of her inconstant lover, the two pairs are thus free from
both the internal and the external conflict, friendship and love
have passed through their straggle into complete harmony and
reconciliation.
Now comes the tinal act, the restoration to parent and to soci-
ety. The Duke and Thurio are brought in by the outlaws, Thu-
rio cowardly resigns his claim to the hand of Silvia in the pres-
ence of Valentine, the latter has the true element of union, viz:
requited love, whose right can now in this realm be enforced.
The father then relents and is reconciled, this obstacle is thus
swept away. Finally the Duke as ruler pardons the bandits at
the intercession of Valentine, and they all go back to the place
whence they had fled. Thus the world of outlaws is dissolved,,
and no longer stands in hostility to legal authority, the internal
disruption of society is also healed, and the conflict in the Fam-
ily has received its solution. This is the return to the world of
institutions, the reconciliation with Family and State is com-
plete, and the personal relations of friendship and love which
were so disturbed, are restored to their pristine energy.
The elaboration here presented is no doubt fuller than the mere
text of this play warrants. But for the sake of the light which
is thrown upon a whole series of the Poet's works, and for the
sake of illustrating his most peculiar and original dramatic form,
the present play is worthy of the most careful study and analy-
sis. It is, however, only a germ which has not yet unfolded, but
which shows the future flower in all its details. A comparison
The Two Gentlemen of Verona. 203
with his later procedure in the Special Dramas will demonstrate
the immense advance in depth and completeness of treatment,
but will also prove that every essential element is to be found
embryonically in The Two Gentlemen of Verona. Hereafter he
will free his idyllic realm from its present taint of illegality and
crime, for now he almost seems through its use to excuse the
wicked deed; he will also portray it with far greater fullness and
beauty, and give to it a more definite place in the action. Here-
after too he will assign supreme validity to repentance, which is
now so lightly and so unsatisfactorily dismissed. The restora-
tion also will be more strongly emphasized, and indeed will be of
itself elevated to an entire movement of a play. Finally the di-
visions of the action will be changed to their true logical order:
the Disruption, the Mediation through an idyllic world, the Kes-
toration. It will be seen that this play belongs to the class of
Special Dramas whose form and instrumentalities it has through-
out ; it cannot be called either a comedy or a tragedy.
Such is unquestionably the species to which The Two Gentle-
men of Verona belongs, but its other relations to the works of
the Poet are worthy of notice. Julia with her disguise and her
situation is reproduced in Twelfth Night in the person of Viola,
though the latter is in every way more complete. In fact no
comparison can better show the difference between the youthful
possibility and mature realization of a great artist than a com-
parison of these two characters. A less distinct adumbration
of the same traits will be found in Portia, Imogen, Helena, and
others. Then again the reflections of Valentine in the forest re-
calls vividly the soliloquy of the gentle Duke in As You Like It.
But the resemblance to Borneo and Juliet is the most intimate of
all. The two stories of the dramas often seem to run together;
there is the same collision with the parent and with the rejected
suitor ; there are often noticed the same incidents and the same
instrumentalities, even down to the ladder of ropes; there is the
same style of imagery, language and versification ; we observe a
like extravagance of the emotions, particularly of love; there
are the same general outlines of characterization. But the qual-
ity which links these two dramas together most closely is the
tone which runs through each, the indescribable coloring which
leaves all its hues in the feeling and fancy, so that the mind is
strongly impressed with the conslusion that both plays must
have been written in the same mood and at about the same time..
( 204 )
THE RELATION OF RELIGION TO ART.
The three forms in which man attaius communion with the
highest life, and enters independent spiritual existence, are Art,
Religion and Philosophy. In Art, as contradistinguished from
the "arts/' by which we understand the mechanic appliances and
dexterities designed and employed for man's well-being — for min-
istration to his wants of food, clothing and shelter, and social,
secular necessities — in Art — as thus contradistinguished, we in-
clude all realizations of the beautiful, all the diverse forms under
which nations or peoples have endeavored to body forth in mat-
ter a ma nifestat ion of the Highest in their consciousness. The
Divine, which in the consciousness of all peoples is an invisible
— for it represents the highest mediation, the completest gener-
alization of which that consciousness is capable — shall become a
visible somewhat. That which is far withdrawn from mere
local and temporal existence, shall descend into time and space,
and become embodied in a thing which we can perceive with our
senses. Art makes the invisible, visible.
Religion has for its object a far higher function than Art. It
is not sufficient that some aesthetic feeling of the presence of the
Divine may be experienced — it is not sufficient that our outward
senses alone shall give us intimations of the great ultimate fact
of the world. We niust be able to form conceptions which shall
realize for us in the depths of our minds and hearts the Divine.
In what we see with the senses we are relatively passive recipi-
ents, and we are limited by external conditions, the time and
the place, but in our power to call up images and conceptions we
are in the exercise of greater freedom. We can call up the reli-
gious representations under any and all circumstances; they be-
come as it were a present consolation which cannot be taken
away by external foes, but only forfeited through internal per-
gonal lapse from holiness.
Not only is religion superior to art in this relation of freedom
from the external limits of locality and time, but it has a more
important prerogative in the fact that the portrayal of the Di-
vine is far more adequate than in art. Religious conceptions vio-
late the demands of aesthetic truth in order to present a deeper
and truer idea of essential, spiritual existence. In the external
form or shape we can have only the effects of spirit — its manifcs-
The Relation of Reliqion to Art. 205
tation. But in Beligion we have kevelatiox, and revelation is-
essential to all religion. Eevelatiou is superior to manifestation
in the fact that the latter gives us only the dead external results
while the former gives us the moving, creative causes. The self-
active — spontaneous — free — cannot be immediately presented to
our senses. We can see or perceive only some disposition of
matter so shaped and formed as to indicate the action of crea-
tive intelligence. The Apollo Belvedere has no limb or posture
that does not seem fully possessed of the indwelling purpose of
the grand personality that animates the figure before us. Tbe
classic beautiful achieves its triumph in incarnating the free soul
so completely that no phase or outline of the sculptured block
shall remain that seems to be in the way or not needed for the
expression of the purpose of the divinity dwelling in the flesh.
There is nothing more than this in classic art, and this is certainly
enough. Ask yourself in examining a work of classic art, is
there an outline that looks as if it portrayed an external limita-
tion which the individual had not been able to vanquish. If you
find any such limitation you will find something anti-classic, some-
thing that is not quite up to the highest standard which the
Greek spirit conceived. But with its highest realization — take
the Apollo Belvedere — what is it more than an intimation of the
Free Personal Might ? It is not a revelation of it, but a manifes-
tation. The religious contemplation of Apollo would dwell upon
his generic attributes, upon his spiritual disposition and charac-
ter, and thus upon the creative cause of any or all of the mo-
ments which art might seize and portray. The religious con-
ception may avail itself to a greater or less degree of artistic em-
bodiment — thus it almost always uses allegory — but it always
transcends the aesthetic limit and introduces a negative element
that destroys and makes null any sensuous manifestation. Take
the Hindoo art, essentially the portrayal of incessant incarna-
tion of vitality. The Greeks reproduced the same thing under
the myth of Proteus, but did not make statues of Proteus. The
East Indian made a statue with four faces and eight arms, or the
Egyptian made a compound of animal, mineral and human, a god
Osiris or a Sphinx. In the corresponding religious conception
there was not merely the creative descent into form, but the neg-
ative idea of desertion of that form — death, transmutation,
change.
An illustration of this thought occurs in the present aspect of
206 The Relation of Relirjien to Art.
natural science. In early attempts to construct a science of
Physics, men imagined the phenomena of heat, light, electricity,
and sometimes even gravitation or attraction in general, to be oc-
casioned by fluids, or at a later period ethers or auric were
introduced to explain them. Still later these are explained by
vibrations and vibratuncles. There is a passage from mere ima-
ges of the fancy to a process of thinking the destruction of these
images. The step from thing to force is a very important one in
culture. The uncultivated thinker tries to conceive everything
under the form of thing and its properties. When he has dis-
solved thing into an equilibrium of forces he has accomplished a
great feat. Even the elevation from the thought of heat as a
fluid to that of heat as a vibration of matter, is the elevation
from the thought of a thing — a dead result — to the thought of a
relation. Heat as vibration is a relation — an activity of some-
thing. When we consider that heat is a relative term and that
all bodies have some heat, we see at once that all bodies must be
in a state of continual vibration, which vibration is in a continual
process of interaction, every body through its vibration influenc-
ing every other body. Then again the form of bodies and their
properties, whether solid, fluid or gaseous, whether visible or in-
visible, whether luminous or opaque, tangible or intangible — all
these depend on calorific vibrations directly or indirectly. Thus
we see that by the mere change of the hypothetical conception
under which we conceive an object in Physics, we enable our-
selves to penetrate far into the essence of the material world
about us. A thing is a fixed dead result, but a force is a pure
relation, that which exists in transitu — in its passage from one
manifestation to another. All forces are manifested in their ac-
tivity — in their passage from one state to another. One force be-
comes another continually. All that seems fixed is really in trans-
ition, and the permanent is the law of forces and not the individ-
ual force — still less the temporary phase of the play of forces,
the objects of our senses, what we call "things."
Similar to this elevation of the understanding from the idea of
things to that of forces, is the elevation of the Eeason from the
sphere of Art to that of Eeligiou. In Art the Divine is pre-
sented to the senses as a thing— but a thing moved and swayed
by free spiritual might. In Art our point of departure is the
thing, and we are thence elevated toward the conception of free
personality ; the latter is intimated and not directly revealed.
The Relation of Religion to Art. 207
But in Religion the Divine appears as creator and destroyer of
natural things, as the dominant ruler elevated above nature, now
manifesting Himself in the material as the Beautiful or Sublime,
now manifesting Himself as the negative migbt that destroys
the material form and reduces it to higher uses. These two pha-
ses combined make revelation, and hence it will be seen that rev-
elation contains manifestation and its opposite, or annullment.
In the annullment of the beautiful the ugly reveals itself, and
hence Religion essentially contains the element (or moment) of
the ugly. The phase of formation is followed by the phase of
de-formation, and this precedes the genesis of higher forms.
The true essence revealed in Religion has still another form of
existence to man. In his pure thinking it may be cognized as the
scientific truth of the Universe. Philosophy includes the sys-
tematic unfolding of this knowledge. Thus we may say Art
sensuously perceives the Absolute as the Beautiful; Religion
conceives or imagines the Absolute as revealed in its traditions
and mode of worship, while Philosophy comprehends the Abso-
lute as defined in pure thought. Thus in the language of Reli-
gion the three may be defined as follows : Art is the piety of the
Senses, Religion the piety of the Heart, and Philosophy the
piety of the Intellect. The impiety of these faculties is easily
formulated: senses that cannot discern the beautiful, but are con-
tent with what is ugly, have that form of impiety which we call bad
taste ; the heart which does not find its consolation in the great
doctrines of Religion, the intellect which sets up as its highest
principle any other than Absolute, self conscious Reason or Per-
sonality — these are the other species of impieties.
Looking again at the correlation of these three forms in which
the individual communes with the Highest, we see a frightful
chasm between the last results of abstract thought and the facts
that appeal to the senses. It is the Whole which is beautiful.
Thus matter as matter — as a system of gravity — must be beauti-
ful as a solar system. But our senses cannot perceive the Uni-
verse, hence Art strives to create a visible semblance of it in a
convenient compass. The old mystics talked much of the ma-
crocosm and the microcosm. The microcosm, or man, was the
miniature Universe, as indeed he possesses self-motion and the
power of reflecting in his mind the macrocosm. It will be re-
membered that Leibnitz in his system of monads has each one
possess the power of representing in and to itself the rest
208 The Relation of Religion to Art.
of the universe of monads, all existing ideally in each. To
Leibnitz then, the progress of the individual history of each
monad was a progress in the clearness with which it represented
the universe to itself. Very profound and suggestive is Leib-
nitz's system when applied to the world of souls, for souls only
are true monads. The lowest monad, buried in itself, has only a
dim capacity for feeling. Finally there is a monad that can sen-
suously perceive the Beautiful — some Greek soul. Then a long
distance beyond this soul is a soul that can represent to itself
not only the Beautiful but also the causal process which makes
it; here is a theistic, a Jewish soul. Another soul may in its
representation be able to consciously mirror the conditions
which lie at the basis of the two former stages of representation.
In each stage of progress the soul adds, to the content of its rep-
resentation, the counterpart which was lacking to its previous
representation.
This process of evolution or development suggested by the
system of Leibnitz, brings up the second phase under considera-
tion, of the Belation of Art to Beligion :
The Reciprocal Influence of Art Upon Religion.
That there should be a unity in man's higher endeavors is to
be expected. His relation to the Absolute if three-fold is still
one relation. Thus Art subserves the interests of Beligion, and
in the form of Speculative Theology, Beligion and Philosophy
become one. The onward progress of each produces more and
more a complete union of all in one. Art becomes religious, and
Beligion uses aesthetic form, and Philosophy comes to be at home
in either of the two provinces as well as its own. But in the
history of this progress there is likewise developed difference in
manifold forms. Out of the germinating acorn pushes down-
ward the root and upward the stalk in antithetic tension. Thus
Beligion in its first distinction from Art develops antitheses
which are sharply in contrast with what is sesthetical. In a pre-
vious analysis we have traced out the element which Beligion
adds to the Art element. The phase of creative power that de-
stroys or subordinates the immediate sensuous existence is
clearly perceived in Beligion, and Beligion accordingly feels devo-
tion instead of (esthetic enjoyment. Devotion iuvolves a subjec-
tive side, a perception of what a work of art does not possess.
Every act of worship presupposes a conscious Being with which
The Relation of Religion to Art. 209
the worshipper seeks to commune. All subjectivity withdraws
itself at once out of and beyond the sensuous.
But from the lowest spheres up, there is an increase of ade-
quateness on the part of Art to present the content of Religion.
But Art that should completely do this would vanish entirely
beyond the appreciation of the senses, or would form a species
of art like Browning's poetry, half aesthetic, and half abstract
and addressed to the understanding. The paintings of Kaulbach
belong to this order. There is however genuine Art that accom-
plishes true miracles in this direction.
Beethoven's Symphonies, Michael Angelo's Last Judgment,
Dante's Divine Commedia, Goethe's Faust — these are some of the
works that present us both the aesthetic and abstract or negative
phases, and yet present us Beautiful Wholes. It is interesting to
examine how this is accomplished, for in this we shall find the
most profitable answer to our inquiry as to the reciprocal influ-
ence of Beligion upon Art.
We have already shown how foreign to the definition of Art
such attempts to portray the negative must appear. The first
attempts to do this are accordingly deeply impressed with this
contradiction. It is Bomantic Art that makes such attempts.
After Classic Art had died and been buried for hundreds of
years by the new religion — the Christian religion — there began
again an aspiration to give sensuous realization to the Divine — in
this instance, the Christian form of the Divine. There had been
a hard fight indeed to root out the Greek sensuousness suffi-
ciently to make the religion of Jesus of Nazareth flourish, and a
race of iconoclasts had even to come first. But the West — Italy
— where the internality of the conception of justice had developed
with Roman power — there might with impunity develop an aes-
thetic tendency — one not hostile to the Christian idea. Painting
could portray such meekness and holy resignation in the face,
and such fortitude under bodily suffering that it should be em-
ployed first to represent our Lord in the events of his world-
historical career, and secondly to do the same service for the
saints and martyrs. Stiffness and awkwardness in the pose of
the limbs of the body; emaciated forms, unkempt, unshorn, care-
less of raiment — as if purposely in contrast to the studied grace
of classic forms — these saints invariably exhibited in their faces
a perfect, implicit trust in the invisible. The visible which Art
X— 14
210 The Relation of Religion to Art.
portrayed said plainly, the visible is nought, the invisible is all.
Utter neglect or contempt for worldly gratifications, and perfect
repose in their faith, is seen in the early Italian paintings. Reli-
gious in a certain sense these paintings are, but in such a sense
as to exclude aesthetic When after a period Eaphael came, we
find very much that is aesthetic simply by itself, and yet every
pieture, even of his, admits the negative or ugly element as a
memento mori at a feast. The Transfiguration presents to us the
grand " contradiction" of this species of Art. The family of the
insane boy — whose figure is strangely non-aesthetic — look to the
nine disciples supplicatingly, while the latter point up to Christ
— the latter, in his highest moment, with transfigured face, gazes
with faith and trust longingly into the glories that hide the invis-
ible Source of all strength and power. Thus the family show or
manifest dependence on the disciples ; the disciples manifest de-
pendence on Christ, and the latter on an invisible beyond. The
whole picture is an index finger pointing to an object that is not
revealed. This and its class of paintings plainly say : " I man-
ifest that which cannot be presented to the senses at all." Here
the negative side preponderates, and the chasm between the
Transfiguration and the Apollo Belvedere or Venus of Milo is
enormous. In the latter is the perfect repose of attainment of
utter freedom in the body ; they triumph in their incarnation.
In the former there is the ecstasy of repose in the freedom from
the body, and incarnation is incarceration only, to them. With
Michael Angelo indeed we stop our flight to the Beyond, and
begin to realize that the sharp contradiction in Romantic Art
may be surmounted. That daring genius everywhere unites the
classic completeness and repose to the Romautic striving and as-
piration. In the Last Judgment there is the totality of the finite
mortal world placed under the form of Eternity, and the infinite
responsibility which attaches to the individual, portrayed in the
looks with which each one meets the fruits of his actions.
Each one sees his life through the perspective of his own deds.
Thus there is totality which gives the aesthetic again and does
not by this omit the negative. The separate statue of Moses all
will remember as the grandest and noblest form in stone. The
Apollo Belvedere is a beautiful child, but Michael Angelo's
'Moses" is a full grown man, transfigured with the growth of no-
blest human experience.
For the purposes of modern Art as indicated by Michael An-
The Relation of Religion to Art. 211
gelo, music is a far better instrumentality than painting or sculp-
ture. Music already deals with the formless, with the phantasy,
direct. It portrays by means of harmony and its opposite, and
can represent an event in its inception, its progress, catastrophe,
denouement and final consummation. Thus it is exactly fitted to
present the modern Art which requires that not only the mani
festation of the divine shall be made tq the senses but also the
negative elevation of the same above the sensuous, shall likewise
be portrayed in the same work of art, in order that the contenl
of Art may be adequate to that of Eeligiou. A work like Schu
mann's Pilgrimage of the Rose portrays first a naive, infantile in-
nocence and ignorance of life, and its experience — an abstract,
moonshiny music to which fairies dance and bathe in the dew-
drops of the flowers. Second, the experience with human life
with its cares and trials, its discipline, turns the music to the ex-
pression of pain and the accompaniments of mockery and scorn.
The experience with death brings in the solemn requiem which
in the presence of the nadir of human life lifts itself in trust and
consolation to the invisible Helper, and soothes the plaints of
the disappointed soul which sought earthly pleasure alone. Lif-
ted above the earthly and its pleasures as well as its torments,
the soul gathers strength and attacks the real world with that
independent spirit which is assured of an infinite refuge if oblig-
ed at any time to retreat from the battle. The finale gives us
complete and healthy conquest over the evils of life.
Any one of Beethoven's symphonies or sonatas will give some-
what in the same form a collision between the sensuous and spir-
itual in human life, and the victory of the latter, although fre-
quently with very bitter struggles and plentiful self-sacrifice.
In poetry we have at start far less of the sensuous to deal with,
for it appeals only to the ear rhythmically and in Eomantic po-
etry with rhymes also ; but relies for its sensuous effects chiefly
upon the reproductive imagination to bring up such images as it
will portray. Its form therefore permits it to hold the whole
compass of the matter of Art from its genesis to its complete au-
nullment. It was to be expected that poetry should lend itself
to Eeligiou from the very first, and that its content should gen-
erally involve religious collisions. Secularity indeed, as in Shak-
speare, when portrayed in its totality or entire extent, gives the
Divine will, just as Eeligiou does, in its separate moments. For
the spectacle of the will of the individual presents first its spon-
212 The Relation of Religien to Art.
taneous, impulsive acts, colliding it may be with right, humau
and divine. In the end comes the reaction upon tbe individual
from the social and religious worlds of humanity, and the result
certainly is the annullment of the individual and of his one-sided
strivings, or else a reduction of his deed and intention to har-
mony with the ethical and divine will, as made valid by the insti-
tutions of the church and civil society. Thus Shakspeare may
be said to be a religious poet, in the sense that he presents other
than sensuous mediation in his plays.
In his great essay on Dante's Divina Commedia, Schelling has
characterized the true province of modern Art and its difference
from the antique : " The antique world is that of classes, the
modern that of individuals — the law of modern Art is that each
individual shall give shape and unity to that portion of the world
which is revealed to him, and out of the materials of his time,
its history and its science, create his own mythology."*
That is to say, he shall make all the material of his time sig-
nificant as type of the Divine purpose " that moves at the bot-
tom of the world." Mythological figures are simply individual
instances elevated to types and thus transmuted from natural
facts to spiritual facts and means of expression or portrayal —
manifestation and revelation of the spiritual.
" Into the struggle," he continues " betwen science [which cre-
ates abstractions and generalities] and Keligion and Art [which
demand something definite and limited] must the individual en-
ter; but with absolute freedom seek to rescue permanent shapes
from the fluctuations of time, and within arbitrarily assumed
forms, to give to the structure of his poem by its abso-
lute peculiarity, internal necessity and external universalty."
[This Dante has done, as he shows at length ; this has Go-
ethe done in the Faust. No element of his own time or of the
past history of humanity but is taken up into the work.] "It
unites the outermost extremes in the aspirations of the times by
a very peculiar invention of a subordinate mythology in the
character of Faust." The action begius in heaven and passes
through the world to hell and back again to heaven. In such
works as Faust and the Divine Comedy is found the highest
achievement of reconciliation between the realms of Art and
Religion, and one feels that what was in its earliest germs iudis-
♦Longfellow's Translation.
The Relation of Religion to Art. 213
tinguishably Art and Keligion, as in the Edda or Hymns of the
Vedas, perhaps may yet become one in the final perfection of
Art, in spite of the incongruities which appear in the middle pe-
riod of development.
There is however another thought suggested by the considera-
tion of Dante's Divina Gommedia. This first great Christian
poem is regarded by Schelling as the archetype of all Christian
poetry ; its study in our time is to be regarded as a favorable
sign. Of the thirty Euglish translations of it, ten have been
made within the past twenty years. The poem embodies the
Catholic view of life, and for this reason is all the more whole-
some for study by modern Protestants. The three-fold future
world, Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso, presents us the exhaustive
picture of man's relation to his deeds. The Protestant " hereaf-
ter" omits the purgatory but includes the Inferno and Paradiso.
What has become of this missing link in modern Protestant Art?
we may inquire, and our inquiry is a pertinent one ; for there is
no subject connected with the relation of Eeligion to Art which
is so fertile in suggestive insights to the investigator.
To conduct one through Dante's great poem which, as Tieck
said, " is the voice of ten silent centuries," is not to be attempted
here. Only a few hints as to its significance will be ventured,
and then some of the traces of the same insight in subsequent
literature, pointed out.
One must reduce life to its lowest terms, and drop away all
consideration of its adveutitious surroundings. The deeds of
man in their three-fold aspect are judged in this "mystic, un-
fathomable poem." The great fact of human responsibility is
the key uote. Whatever man does he does to himself. If he
does violence he injures himself. If he works righteousness he
creates a paradise for himself.
Now, a deed has two aspects ; first, its immediate relation to
the doer. The mental atmosphere in which one does a deed is of
first consideration. If a wrong or wicked deed, then is the at-
mosphere of the criminal close and stifling to the doer. The
angry man is rolling about suffocating in putrid mud. The incon-
tinent is driven about by violent winds of passion. Whatever
deed a man shall do must be seen in the entire perspective of s
effects to exhibit its relation to the doer. The Inferno is filled
with those whose acts and habits of life surround them with an
atmosphere of torture.
214 The Relation of Religion to Art.
One does not predict that such punishment of each individual
is eternal, but one thing is certain : that with the sins there pun-
ished, there is special torture eternally connected.
" Through me ye pass into the city of wo.
Through rue ye pass into eternal pain.
Justice the founder of my fabric moved
To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.
Before me things create were none save things
Eternal, and eternal, I endure."
Wherever the sin shall be there shall be connected with it the
atmosphere of the Inferno, which is its punishment. The doer
of the sinful deed plunges into the Inferno on its commission.
But Dante wrote the Purgatorio, and in this portrays the sec-
ondary effect of sin. The inevitable punishment bound up with
sin burns with purifying flames each sinner. The immediate
effect of the deed is the Inferno, but the secondary effect is puri-
fication. Struggling up the steep sides of purgatory under their
painful burdens go sinners punished for incontinence — lust, glut-
tony, avarice, anger, and other sins that find their place of pun-
ishment also in the Inferno.
Each evil doer shall plunge into the Inferno, and shall scorch
over the flames of his own deeds until he repents and struggles
up the mountain of purgatory.
In the Paradiso we have doers of those deeds, which being
thoroughly positive in their nature, do not come back as punish-
ment upon their authors.
The correspondence of sin and punishment is notable. Even
our jurisprudence discovers a similar adaptation. If one steals
and deprives his neighbor of property, we manage by our laws to
make his deed glide off from society and come back on the crim-
inal, and thus he steals his own freedom and gets a cell in gaol.
If a murderer takes life his deed is brought back to him, and he
takes his own.
The depth of Dante's insight discovers to him all human life
stripped of its wrappings and every deed coming straight back
upon the doer, inevitably fixing his place in the scale of happi-
ness and misery. It is not so much a " last" judgment of indi-
vidual men as it is of deeds in the abstract. For the brave man
who sacrifices his life for another, dwells in paradise so far as he
contemplates his participation in that deed, but writhes in the
The Song of the Spirit Over the Waters. 215
Inferno in so far as he lias allowed himself to slip, through some
act of incontinence.
If we return now to our question, what has become of the Pur-
gatory in modern literature, a glance will show us that the fun-
damental idea of Dante's purgatory has formed the chief thought
of Protestant " humanitarian" works of art.
The thought that the sinful and wretched live a life of reaction
against the effects of their deeds is the basis of most of our nov-
els. Most notable are the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne in this
respect. His whole art is devoted to the portrayal of the purga-
torial effects of sin or crime upon its authors. The conscious-
ness of the deed and the consciousness of the verdict of one's
fellow-men continually burns at the heart, and with slow, eating
fires, consumes the shreds of selfishness quite away. In the
"Marble Faun" we have the spectacle of an animal nature be-
trayed by sudden impulse into a crime, and the torture of this
consciousness gradually purifies and elevates the semi-spiritual
being into a refined humanity.
The use of suffering, even if brought on by sin and er-
ror, is the burden of our best class of novels. George Eli-
ot's " Middlemarch," "Adam Bede," " Mill on the Floss/' and
"Roinola" — with what intensity these portray the spiritual
growth through error and pain !
Thus if Protestantism has omitted Purgatory from its Eeligion,
certainly Protestant literature has taken it up and absorbed it
entire.
THE SONG OF THE SPIRIT OVER THE WATERS.
[Translated from the German of Goethe, by Frederic R. Marvin].
The Soul of Man
Is like the water ;
From heaven it cometh,
To heaven retiirneth,
Then to earth again desoendeth —
Ever and forever changing.
216 Book Notices.
From lofty rocky walls
Swift leaps the glowing flood ;
Then in the valley spreads it gently
O'er the rocks in cloudy billows —
Billows ever kindly welcomed —
Veils its murmur as it wanders
Downward to the waiting deep.
Cliffs projecting
Oft oppose it :
Angry foaming
Downwards moves it,
Step by step.
Now in smoother channels
Through a flowery meadow winds it,
Till, within the lake reflected.
Gaze entranced the constellations.
"Wind is the loving
"Wooer of the waters ;
Wind together blendeth
The all-foaming billows.
Soul of Man,
How like the water !
Fate of Man,
How like the wind !
BOOK NOTICES.
Norse Mythology ; or The Keligion of Our Forefathers, containing
all the Myths of the Eddas, systematized and interpreted. "With an
Introduction, Vocabulary, and Index. By R. B. Anderson, A. M.,
Professor of the Scandinavian Languages in the University of "Wis-
consin, Author of "America Not Discovered by Columbus," "Den
norske Maalsag," &c. Chicago : S. C Griggs & Co. London :
Triibner & Co. 1875. (St. Louis: Gray, Bak r, & Co.).
A scientific work on the Mythology of Eddas has for a long time
been a desideratum among persons unacquainted with Danish and
Book Notices. 217
German. The present work undertakes to meet the need. It is writ-
ten with first-hand knowledge of the subject, with more than suffi-
cient enthusiasm, and with a boldness and sledge-hammerness that
would not ill become Thor himself. Prof. Anderson is a Norwegian,
and like an old-time Viking, does with might whatever his hand finds
to do.
It is a most ungracious task to call attention to faults in a work in
which there is so much that we are glad to see placed within reach of
the public. The free citizens of America ought to be thankful to
Prof. Anderson for bringing them face to face with the foundations of
their political existence, which are so overgrown by the civilizations
of Greece and Kome as to have well-nigh been lost sight of; and lite-
rary men ought to thank him for helping to bring into our feeble-
growing, feeling-analyzing, subjective literature, that element of ob-
jectivity and heroic strength which is so characteristic of all that
comes from the Northland. At the same time, one cannot help feel-
ing that the literary part of Prof. Anderson's work might have been
much better done — and that the author himself, had he taken time,
could have done it much better. His enthusiasm prevents him from
being a scientific expositor, and makes him a propagandist. He feels
himself in fact an apostle of the cesir, sent forth to turn men of taste
away from worshipping the gods of Greece, who had not sense enough
to live in a climate where clothes were absolutely necessary, and to
lead them to the aesthetic truth as it is in the heroes of Valhalla,
drinking mead from the skulls of their enemies. It is this spirit of
propagandism that is the source of all the short-comings in Prof. An-
derson's book, of its lung-windedness, crudeness, and frequent irrele-
vancy.
Of the first 115 pages, a full hundred might have been spared with
great advantage both to the book and to its author's reputation. The
whole introduction is crude, and in many places badly written. Chap-
ter V., for example, begins with the dreadful Yankeeism : " Consid-
erable has been said on this subject." In the body of the book we
miss what is all-important as preliminary to any attempt to interpret
the Norse myths, viz: a discussion of the origin and age of the songs
of the Edda, and the conditions of society in which they were pro-
duced. The very fact that so many names in the Norse mythology
are significant, renders interpretation indeed easy, but at the same
time comparatively worthless ; for so long as the name of a mythic
personage remains in that condition, he is a mere abstraction or po-
etic fiction— as are, for example, many of the names in Hesiod's The-
ogony, which never attained any permanency. Prof. Anderson has
not endeavored to draw any line between unconscious myths and con-
scious mythologizing, of which latter there is a great deal even in the
elder Edda. His book simply reports, without criticism, the myths.
218 Boole Notices.
as they staud ; but often fails to interpret those that most need inter-
pretation. For example, we are told, upon page 177, that " Mundil-
fare was father of the sun and moon ; " but not a hint of interpreta-
tion is added. Now it toould be interesting to know something about
Mundilfare, and how he came to have such a brilliant progeny. A
reference to a brief article in the first volume of Kuhn's Zeitschrift,
(p. 473), would have enabled the author to give us a little inform-
ation.
AVe are very glad to see Prof. Anderson's book ; it is a contribution
where contributions are much needed. It is pleasant reading, and
will doubtless be widely read, with much profit to many readers. At
the same time, with his information and enthusiasm, he can, and
doubtless will, do much better. When he prepares a second edition,
he will, no doubt, give us a much more polished and scientific work,
and avoid wandering into regions, like that of the plastic arts, in
which he is evidently a stranger. T. D.
The Physical Basis of Immortality. By Antoinette Brown Black-
well. New York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. 1876. Price, $1 50. For
sale by Gray, Baker, & Co., 407 North Fourth Street, St. Louis, Mo.
The author of this volume shows a genuine appreciation of the
true issue of to-day, when she states it to be the question of the na-
ture and duration of personal life. ''Between Professor Tyndall
and his friends on the one side," she remarks, "and the Christian com-
munity on the other, the really vital point at issue concerns the Per-
sonality or Impersonality of Uncreated Being — the Ultimate ; science
has not proved that this Ultimate is Conscious and Infinite Intelli-
gence. The religious man knows that if he cannot cling to a Personal
God, he must equally let go his firm and assured hold upon an immor-
tal consciousness for himself." Mrs. Blackwell occupies several chap-
ters in considering chemical theories ; correlation of forces and the
changes of form in nature; the atom as unit of matter; force and
extension as the essential conditions of matter ; force, extension, and
sentient force as essential conditions of mind ; the relation of exten-
sion to force — as two phases of one unity, force being active, and ex-
tension passive. She regards an atom as a centre of many activities —
as a group of interdependent conditions. Force and extension condi-
tion each other, and motion is the resultant. Rest is an impossibility.
The "mind-atom" has "sentient force and intention" as well as force
and extension. "Thought is a voluntary, sometimes an involuntary,
train of past perceptions or conceptions, 2'elated either capriciously or
according to the necessary laws of legitimate thinking." "Conscious-
ness is individualized ; it is the all-embracing sentient nature, within
which arises every fresh experience, several moods of experience be-
ing often present at the same time." These sentient moods are limit-
Book Notices. 219
ed in number by physical conditions — one excluding another or in-
volving another in necessary succession. "Sentient moods are con-
vertible among themselves." "The laws of things and the laws of
thought are one."
The present work claims to have gathered evidence which to the
mind of its authoress is as strong as demonstration, that the "mind-
atom " is immortal ; but acknowledges that the demonstration is not
complete; it is only a probable inference. "What more probable
than that, co-acting with its ever changing organism, the mind-unit is
able to steadily provide itself with allies which shall outlast the per-
ishable form with which it is temporarily associated ? Still this is
but tracing possible analogies. It all very possibly, very probably,
may be ; we cannot say positively that it actually is. But we can as I
think assume without a shadow of doubt, from sufficient evidence of
an affirmative character, that there is an indestructible atomic iden-
tity for every ultimate atom ; that in minds, physical and mental
properties inhere together in mutual dependence. In what way con-
sciousness will associate itself with cooperative energies in the future,
when and in what state we have been in the past, must, at present be
matter of surmise. But that life, in all orders of being, has a physi-
cal basis through which it can ally itself to a willingly cooperative
universe, is not left to any contingency."
One cannot but regret that the earnest woman who has pursued her
path for twenty-five years through these mazes of physical science,
had not given a moiety of her time to the philosophic thinkers who
have viewed the question from the standpoint of pure thought. She
has sought her alphabet in matter wherewith to spell out the solution
of mind, as though atoms were the absolute elements of the universe.
Had she tried to find the alphabet in psychology, it is quite possible
that she would have spelled out the solvent word in a less problematic
form.
For us who are conscious beings, and who start therefore from con-
scious thought, the problem is to find mental equivalents for material
phenomena. Therefore the first truly scientific step is to derive and
establish the functions of mind — to ascertain its elements or simplest
terms, and reduce its empire to equivalents corresponding to them.
Starting from consciousness it is evident that mind lies nearest to us
and matter the farthest off. Hence, after settling our philosophy of
mind, we may go out and endeavor to find equivalents in the realm of
matter. [See J. Sp. Phil., Vol. VI., p. 2.] Kant is the chief founder
of modern methods in this research. His clear exposition of time
and space and of their relation to phenomena and to noumena, al-
though not by any means the last word to be said on the subject, has
at least rendered unnecessary any further speculations on the atomic
nature of the soul, if indeed he has not settled the question against
the atomic nature of matter itself even.
220 Book Notices.
A preliminary investigation is necessary — on the question whether
there is or can he in the nature of things any permanent individuality
whatever. If this should he answered affirmatively, the answer will
also indicate whether this is conscious or unconscious being. It will
moreover indicate whether many heings participate or only One Be-
ing participates in this eternal consciousness. After this preliminary
research into the nature of the problem , one may inquire profitably
into the relations held by chemism, organism, and human life, to im-
mortality. Then it is profitable to become minutely acquainted with
the data of science. But to discuss these data in such reference before
such preliminary investigation, is like attempting to measure the
earth and the stars before establishing and tabulating an y geometrical
formulae wherewith to work out the solutions. One should not for-
get that in traveling over the bridge which shall connect mind and
matter, man at least starts from mind (consciousness) and arrives (if
he arrives at all) at insensate matter as the more remote and undis-
covered country. editor.
Shakespeare's Borneo unci Julia. Von Eduard v. Hartmann. Leip-
zig. J. F. Hartknoch.
No one must expect to find in this little pamphlet of 38 large printed
pages, anything like an essay on or an analysis of the characters of
Shakespeare's great drama. The only question which Dr. Hartmann
raises and proceeds to answer negatively in his pamphlet is, "whether
the drama of Borneo and Juliet is really the dramatic Cantica Canti-
corum of love ; the exhaustive, poetical expression of this world-
moving power of love ; the erotic model poem not only for its own
but for all time. Is the love between Romeo and Juliet the deep love
of the heart and soul, which is the ideal of Teutonic peoples, especially
of our German mode of thought and feeling, or is it not rather the
excitation of a fancy-wreathed sensual glow, peculiar to a more hot-
blooded and easy-going people, from whom Shakespeare borrowed
his fable ? Can the poem of the great Briton satisfy our modern Ger-
man feeling as the representation of the ideal of our love, or shall we
not rather be compelled to acknowledge here a characteristic foreign
and somewhat repugnant to us, the cause of which might be found in
a greater profundity and polish in our modern views concerning the
nature of love, as compared with those of the days of the Elisabethan
age ? These few words sufficiently characterize the scope of Dr.
Hartmann's criticism. One incidental observation, however, we can-
not bring ourselves to pass over. Many critics, especially German,
have thought it a fine stroke on the part of Shakespeare, that he
should have represented Romeo as having a sweetheart, Rosalind, be-
fore he fell in love with Juliet. Dr. Hartmann, on the one hand agrees
to this ; but adds that Shakespeare has made nothing of that fine psy-
Book Notices. 221
chological and physiological circumstance, since he paints Romeo's
love for Rosalind as of the same kind with that he subsequently makes
Romeo exhibit for Juliet. His love in either case is, to speak it
coarsely, that of a dreamy booby, ready to fall in love with any
woman — a duplicate of Beaumarchais' Figaro. I, for my part, never
could see any fine art in the bit of Rosalind episode with which Shake-
speare opens his drama — though generally his openings show special
artistic taste. It always jarred upon my feelings, and I think that if
Dr. Hartmann would rid himself of his notion in favor of keeping up
the Rosalind episode, and if he would look upon Juliet as Romeo's
first, youthful love, their whole love the first passionate, almost exclu-
sively sensual— because never thinking of anything else— love, he
would change his view of Shakespeare's sweet work, and would not
urge that Romeo, having exhausted his first love in Rosalind, should
now woo Juliet in ordinary ever y- day fashion, and that his court-
ship be received by her with the demure timidity of a German Maed-
chen. a. e. k.
Zur Reform des Hceheren Schulwesens, von Edward von Hartmann.
Berlin. Carl Duncker's Verlag. 1875.
In this work Dr. Hartmann discusses the same question that has
for some years past excited more than usual exchange of opinion also
in this country, the kind of education to which our higher classes of
schools and colleges ought to be devoted. The school system of Ger-
many is so different from ours, and the schools are named and classi-
fied in a manner so peculiar, that a sketch of Dr. Hartmann's propos-
ed reforms in the schools of Germany would be unintelligible to an
American reader without a previous detailed description of that sys-
tem, for which we have no room here. In a general way we may
state, however, that Dr. Hartmann is, as a whole, strongly in favor of
giving education a more practical character, abandoning useless
branches, and substituting for them studies in natural science, &c.
He also strongly protests against too many school hours per day, as
being ruinous to the health of the children. Fourliours he considers am-
ply sufficient. In regard to the vexed question as to the study of the
ancient languages, Dr. Hartmann strongly advocates the substitution
of Greek for Latin in all schools where Latin is taught. Let the few, he
says, who want to learn Latin for practical use in life, learn it like any
other special study ; but in public schools the study of Greek is far
preferable, as being not only the most philosophical and practical
-of all languages, but also that one of the ancient languages which
most resembles ours (the German) in its structure. a. e. k.
222 Bool- Notices.
TJeber das Princip des Realismus, von J. H. v. Kirchmann. Leipzig.
1875.
This is the first published of a monthly series of philosophical essays
or lectures prepared and delivered before the Philosophical Society of
Berlin, of which Mr. Kirchmann is president. The main part of the
work is devoted to a criticism of Hartmann's ^'Philosophy of the Un-
conscious," to which we shall probably have occasion to refer at
length hereafter. a. e. k.
I. R. Museo D' 'Istruzione e di Edacazione: Discorso del Professors
G. Dull a Vedova. Roma : Collegio llomano, No. 216.
IE. Giornale del Museo D' Istruzione e d 7 Educazione. Anno 1. Num.
1. Roma, 15 Xovembre, 1815.
III. Giornale, &c. [Same as above.] Num. 2. Decembre, 1875.
On the nineteenth of June, 18 '5, was inaugurated the Royal Museum
of Instruction and Education of the " Collegio Romano." Profr. G.
Dalla Vedova, the director of this museum, delivered the inaugural
address, s-etting forth the objects and aims of the new institution.
One of the most important results of this museum, is the pub-
lication of a monthly journal of Education, of which two num-
bers have come to hand. We shall notice the contents of this new
journal from time to time. The Editor desires to exchange with
American Educational Journals, and to receive educational treatises
for the Library of the Royal Museum. These can be sent direct to
the above address, or (better), through the Bureau of Education at
"Washington. — [Ed.
BOOKS EECEIVED.
Bacon versus Shakespeare: A Plea for the Defendant. By Thomas D. King.
Montreal and Rouse's Point, N. Y. : Lovell Printing and Publishing Co.
1875.
1. Loi Generale de L'Evolution de T/Humanite. Introduction au Livre de
LAutonomie de la Personne Humaine. Par Le Professeur Emile Acollas.
Paris : Gamier Freres, Libraires-Editeurs, G, Rue des Saints-Peres. 1876.
2. L'Economie Politique et le Droit. By same author.
3. La Philosophie de L'Histoire et le Droit. By same author.
4. LAnthropologie et le Droit. By same author.
Zwei briefe ueber Verursachung und FrehVit im Wollen gerichtet an John
Stuart Mill. Slit einein Anhang ueber die Existenz des Stoffes und unsere
Begriffe des unendlichen Raumes. Von Rowland G. Hazard. Im Auftrage des
Verfassers aus dem Englischen uebersetzt. New York: B. Westermann iV
Co. Leipzig: In commission bei Bernhard Hermann. 1S75.
BooTc Notices. 223
Insanity in its Relations to Crime. A Text and a Commentary. By William
A. Hammond, M. D. New York. D. Appleton & Co. 1873.
Scripture Speculations ; with an introduction on The Creation. Stars, Earth.
Primitive Man, Judaism, etc. By Halsey R. Stevens. Newburgh, New
York : Published by the author. (St. Louis : Gray, Baker & Co.).
The Christ of Paul; or, The Enigmas of Christianity. St. John never in Asia
Minor. Irenaeus the Author of the Fourth Gospel. The Frauds of the
Churchmen of the Second Century Exposed. By George Reber. New
York. Charles P. Somerby. 1876. (Grav, Baker, & Co.).
The Keys of the Creeds. New York : G. P. Putnam's Sons. 1875.
The Protection of Majorities ; or, Considerations Relating to Electoral Re-
form. With other Papers. By Josiah Phillips Quincy. Boston : Roberts
Brothers. 1876.
Views of Nature and of the Elements, Forces, and Phenomena of Nature and
of Mind. By Ezra C. Seaman. New York : Scribner, Armstrong & Co.
Ann Arbor : Gilmore & Fiske. 1873.
Des Marcus Tullius Cicero Lehre der Akademie. Uebersetzt und erlaeutert
von J. H. v. Kirchmann. Leipzig. Erich Koschny. (L. Heimanns Ver-
lag.) 1875.
The Anaesthetic Revelation and the Gist of Philosophy. By Benjamin Paul
Blood. Amsterdam, in New York, America. 1874.
Ueber die Aufgabe der Philosophic in der Gegenwart. Rede Gehalten zum
antritt des oeffeutlichen Lehramtes der Philosophie an der Hochschule in
Zurich am 31 October, 1874, von W. Wundt. Leipzig : Verlag von Wilhelm
Engelmann. 1874.
Der Mensch eine Maschine, von De la Mettrie. Uebersetzt, erlaeutert und mit
einer Einleitung ueber den Materialismus versehen, von Dr. Adolf Ritter.
Leipzig : Erich Koschny (L. Heimann's Verlag.) 1S75.
Denkschrift zur 25 Jaehrigen Erinnerungsfeier der Stiftung des Deutschen
Schulvereins und der Freien Gemeinde von St. Louis und Bremen — am 6
November, 1850 — veranstaltet in der Halle an 17 und Dodier Strasse, am 7
November, 1875. Druck von M. Seiffarth, 21 Suedliche Vierte Strasse, St.
Louis.
Percy Bysshe Shelley as a Philosopher and Reformer. By Chas. Sotheran.
New York : Charles P. Somerby. 1876. (Gray, Baker, & Co.).
Problema Dell' Assoluto per A. Vera. Parte II. Napoli : Tip. E Stereotipia
Delia R. Universita. 1875.
Municipal Law and its Relations to the Constitution of Man. By R. S.
Guernsey. New York : McDivitt, Campbell & Co. 1874.
Die beiden Nebenbuhler des Amerikanischen Westens. Chicago und St. Louis.
Ein Beitrag zur Entwickluiigsgeschichte grosser Staedte des Westens nach
L. Simonin, von Ed. Buehler. Chicago : Ed. Buchler. 1876.
George Stjernhjelm, the Faiher of Swedish Poetry. By Prof. Bernard Mo-
ses, Ph. D., Professor in the University of California. 1S76.
The Universe. By John Paterson, A. M. Troy, New York. 1S75.
224 Boole Notices.
The Relation of Philosophy to Science. Inaugural Dissertation. By John
Watson, M. A. Kingston: Wm. Bailie. 1872.
Moral Causation ; or, Notes on Mr. Mill's Notes to the Chapter on Freedom,
in the third edition of his Examination of Sir. W. Hamilton's Philosophy.
By Patrick Proctor Alexander, A. M. Edinburgh and London : William
Blackwood & Sons. 1S75. Second Edition.
Notes on the First Book of Benson's Geometry and Concerning the Circle.
By Lawrence S. Benson. New York : James S. Burnton, publisher. 1873.
Physiology and Psychology of the Brain. By Horatio R. Bigelow, Esq.
Boston, Mass.
Some Conclusions in Regard to General Paresis, with the Report of a Case
Under Observation. By Horatio R. Bigelow, Esq. Boston, Mass.
. Christianity ana Materialism. By B. F. Underwood. New York : Butts &
Dinsmore.
Ways and Works. The Syntric Philosophy. By Cardan Braine. Philadel-
phia : Sherman & Co. 1874.
Tinnitus Aurium; or, Noises in the Ears. By Laurence Turnbull. Philadel-
phia : J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1S75.
The Eleusinian and Bacchic Mysteries. A Dissertation. By Thomas Taylor.
Edited with Notes, Emendations, and Glossary, by Alexander Wilder. New
York: J. W. Bouton. 1875.
Novae Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum ex Francofurto Moenano ad D. Arnol-
dum Rugium Philosophum Rubrum nee non abstractissimum datae. Editio
3o. Francofurti ad Moenum : Typis excusum Broenneri. MDCCCXLLX.
Soul Problems, with other Papers. By Joseph E. Peck. New Y'ork : C.
P. Somerby. 1S75. (St. Louis : Gray, Baker, & Co).
Eine Untersuchung in Betrefl des menschlichen Verstandes von David Hume,
E^q. Uebersetzt, erlaeutert und mit eiuer Lebensbeschreibung Hume's ver-
sehenvonJ.H. v. Kirchmann. Leipzig: Erich Koschny (L. Heimann's
Verlag.) 1875. II. Aufl.
The Elements of the Psychology of Cognition. By Robert Jardine. London:
MacmUlan & Co. 1874.
Freedom and Fellowship in Religion. A Collection ai Essays and Addresses
Edited by a Committee of the Free Religious Association. Boston: Rob-
erts Brothers. 1S75.
THE JOURNAL
O F
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Vol. X. July, 1876. No. 3.
THE HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY.
[in outline].
By Wm. T. Hareis.
The definition of Philosophy must distinguish it from various
forms of literature, critical, aesthetic or religious, as well as from the
special sciences. These forms of literature and the special sciences
may however assist in realizing the grand purpose of Philosophy.
Their function is a part of the greater one of self-cognition in
which man as man is engaged. In its Philosophy each nation
attempts to solve the problems of the world as they appear to it
from the stand-point of its national life. The Philosophy of a
given epoch endeavors to state in ultimate terms the elements of
the problem as it occurs in that epoch. The peculiarity of the
philosophic solution consists in this : it attempts to reduce the
immediate and contradictory elements as they are given in life to
the ultimate terms or expressions which indicate the universal
and necessary conditions out of which those elements have arisen.
Hence every Philosophy presents us (1) the form or principle
which explains the multiplicity of existence (this being some-
thing eternal, infinite — a permanent, unchangeable idea), and (2)
the empirical elements that are to be explained — the multiplicity
X— 15
22G The History of Philosophy.
of existence. The difference between systems of Philosophy is
not to be found so much in the explanatory principle adopted as-
in the empirical elements which it attempts to explain. The life
of man continually presents new phases. Consequently his
world changes, and in one age he has one set of conditions to
solve, and in another quite a different one. The solutions he
gives in his Philosophy have a substantial agreement, but the
systems seem very diverse, because the facts of the. world are
described from different points of view.
In the most rudimentary form of knowing, i. e., in sense-per-
ception, there is a synthesis of the two extremes of cognition —
1st, the immediately conditioned content which is the particular
object as here and now perceived — 2d, the accompanying percep-
tion of the self or Ego which perceives, that is, the activity of
self-consciousness — the knowledge that it is I who am subject in
this particular act of perception. Hence in sense-perception two
objects are necessarily combined : (a) the particular object here
and now presented, (b) the universal subject of all activity of
perceiving.
This universal subject which is thus its own object in all forms
of knowing, appears in two characters : 1st, it is absolutely par-
ticular, i. e., present in this special moment now and here and in
this special act of perception : and, 2d, it is absolutely universal,
retaining its self-identity under the constant change or flux which
essentially belongs to the process of the immediate now and
here, or present moment. The present now is a point in time
and thus has no endurance except through the synthetical addi-
tion of past or future times which a?e not but either ivere or else
will be. Thus such a thing as the perception of the permanent
or a relation of any sort (for example, the one of identity, or of
difference, the most elementary and fundamental ones) cannot
transpire without attention on the part of the subject who per-
ceives, to the perception of self, or to the universal factor which
is present in perception. This act of attention to self is reflec-
tion — self-perception entering all perception.
The degree of the power of reflection, or of attention to self-
consciousness measures the ability to generalize or the ability to
think — in other words, the strength of thought. For the min-
imum of this power of reflection admits barely the possibility of
combining the perceptions of time-moments that are slightly sepa-
The History of Philosophy. 22?
rated, and hence its results are the mere perception of identity or
difference without quantity or quality thereof. Sense perception
increases in richness of knowledge in proportion as the power of
synthesis or of combining the successive elements of perception
increases. And this power of combining such separate elements
is contingent on the power of reflection or of attention to the
self-activity in perception. Such reflection has been called " sec-
ond intention/' and is the condition of all generalization. Self-
consciousness is therefore the basis of all knowledge ; for all
predication — from thj emptiest assertion: "this is now" — up to
the richest statement involving the ultimate relation of the
world to God as the highest principle, is possible only through a
withdrawal of the mind out of the limiting conditions of the par-
ticular here and now, by means of attention to its own activity,
which, as already pointed out, comprehends the two phases of
absolute particularity and absolute universal potentiality in one.
This is the psychological basis of the general principle laid
down regarding the identity of systems of Philosophy and their
phases of difference. The naive state of mind of the uncultured
human being, alike with the acute philosophical intellect or the
intuition of a religious mystic, involves in all its activities and at
every moment thereof this phase of attention to the self-activity, or
to the subject which knows. The naive or non-philosophical stage
of consciousness differs from the philosophical stage in the fact
that the latter sets up some one of its cognitions as the highest
principle, through which it attempts to explain the totality of said
cognitions, while the former makes no such attempt. The Philo-
sophical activity of the mind is therefore a third intention or act
of attention which has for its object the reference of individual
cognitions to an assumed supreme principle.
This Philosophical act it is evident, therefore, is a species of
reflection different from that reflection which is implicit in all
cognition. It is an act of withdrawal of the mind from immedi-
ate cognition (which arises through the first and second intention,
or perception and reflection) and a concentration of the attention
upon the relation of that immediate cognition as existing in its
separate details, to all cognition as totality. It is therefore sys-
tematic knowing. Moreover, it may posit as its supreme princi-
ple any one of its cognitions, taking for example an empty one
lying close to the sensuous pole of cognition, or a concrete one
lying close to the pure Ego. Thus it may make matter, or some
228 The History of Philosophy.
form of matter, as water, air, fire or ether, the philosophical
principle which is to explain all things — being universal and par-
ticular at th e sine time; or it may take for this purpose Reason
(vovs), the Will, the Idea, the Good, Causa sui, the self-repre-
senting monad, or some form nearly approaching the pure Ego
for its principle. But the psychological presupposition underly-
ing all Philosophy, whether materialistic or spiritualistic, is the
fact of withdrawal or abstraction of the mind from its first stage
of cognition and the contemplation of the same under the form
of relation to a single principle, i. e., to an absolute totality.
Tins contains the remarkable result that in this species of
knowing the mind views its first principles, or the primitive exis-
tences by which it explains things, as self-activities — which means
that mind sees under all its knowledge its own form as the ulti-
mate truth of all. Take the stand-point of materialistic philos-
ophy lor example: matter is the ultimate principle, the whence
and whither of all. Matter is* thus posited as a universal which
is the sole origin of all particular existences and also the final
goal of the same.* But "matter," as such idea, is a cognition
which arises only through reflection ; it is perceived by " second
intention," for first intention only refers or relates to immediate
particular objects and not to general objects like " matter" which
is only a term for the persistent activity which recurs in the per-
ception of whatever objects in time or space. As cognition of
the mind, therefore, "matter" is a product of "second intention,"
but as philosophic principle it is more ;han this ; it is this special
cognition of matter posited as the absolute or as the totality and
Hence matter is active, giving rise to special existences, and also changing
them into others with all the method and arrangement which we can see in
natural laws. For matter must contain in it potentially all that comes from
it. Hence matter is creative, causing to arise in its own general substance
those particular limitations which constitute the differences and individuality
of things. It is negative or destroyer in that it annuls the individuality of
particular things, causing to vanish those limitations which separate or dis-
tinguish this thing from that other. Such a principle as this matter is assum-
ed to be. which causes existences to arise from itself by its own activity upon
itself and within itself, entirely unconditioned by any other existence or en-
ergy, is -elf-determination, and therefore analogous to that factor in sensuous
knowing which was called the Ego or self-consciousness— an activity which
Was universal and devoid of form, and yet incessantly productive of forms and
destructive of the same. All this is implied in the theory of materialism, and
exists there as separate ideas, only needing to be united by inferences.
The History of Philosophy. 229
entirety of cognition, and hence not as limited through other
particular cognitions, but as containing within itself all limita-
tions necessary for the particularization of other cognitions.
Hence it is a pure Ego in so far as the possibility of all special
ideas are concerned, and an. active process so far as actual par-
ticular existence arises from it. Thus the position even of ma-
terialistic Philosophy implies the thought of totality, which is
purely universal, and a pure activity originating particular exist-
ence at the same time. And here we meet the most important
distinction which belongs to the definition of Philosophy.
The degrees of consciousness are various, and differ through
the completeness with which they grasp the determinations of
the self-activity of the Ego. On the stage of Philosophy con-
sciousness grasps determination as a totality, and hence as self-
determination. But this may happen in all shapes from the
emptiest up to the fullest and concretest. Even in materialism,
the attempt to explain the world through an ultimate principle,
indicates the certitude of the mind of the objectivity of its prin-
ciple of self-determination, and it therefore implicitly asserts and
presupposes that the truth of things is self-determination. And
yet it may under this form so far contradict itself as to place for
its content " matter," thinking under the term a vague abstrac-
tion as the origin of all immediate particularity, and as the final
cause thereof, without distinctly defining to itself these attrib-
utes as belonging to matter as highest principle.
There are then various forms of Philosophy, differing in the
degree of completeness in which they consciously define their
highest principle as the concrete universal which originates the
particular by its self-activity, and thus realizes itself in its own
externality.
The distinction of Philosophy from Eeligion — which would be
thought, at first, to be a reduction of all specialty to an absolute
principle in the same manner as defined for the province of Phi-
losophy, lies in the fact that while Philosophy attempts to com-
prehend the totality of things through its absolute principle, Ee-
ligion represents its absolute, and thus may exist for all stages of
theoretical consciousness ; for its revelation, although of the
highest, is not immediately addressed to the theoretical reason,
but rather to the Will. Hence it presents its absolute, not for
assimilation, but for practical reconciliation with the individual.
The relation of Theosophy to Philosophy is here to be defined.
230 The History of Philosophy.
Setting out from the standpoint of Religion, and positing the
Absolute of Religion as not only principle of human action, but
also of theoretical cognition, the Theologian explains the world
of Nature and of History through it. This constitutes Theoso-
phy. It purports to arise through special illumination of the
mind by the Absolute, and may be very profound and complete,
and even concrete in its theory of things, but will of necessity
use categories borrowed from Religion, and consequently tinged
with pictured representations, while Philosophy uses its thoughts
abstractly and derives them from the activity of reflection.
With these distinctions in view it will be seen that very impor-
tant presuppositions are involved in the passage of a Philosophy
from a stage of dogmatism to that of criticism, or from criticism
to the construction of a new system upon the critical basis.
A dogmatical system of Philosophy proceeds psychologically
from the third intention of the mind, inasmuch as it not merely
perceives general principles or forms (as in the act of ''general-
ization" or the second intention of the mind) but it perceives
their inter-relation — the subordination of all to one principle, se-
lected as the ultimate explanation of all. Within Philosophy itself
arises a fourth intention. The attention of the mind in its fourth
intention is directed not merely to the relation of the ultimate
principle to the world (regarded under the phases of particular
and general existences) but to the method by which the relation
is traced from one to the other. Each higher intention of the
mind has for its object the previous intention of the mind audits
relation to those (if any) preceding it. Thus the secoud intention
(ordinary generalization) notes the relations between sensuous
perceptions by attending to its own activity in perception. The
third intention of the mind notes the relation of all objects of
the mind, whether general (of the second intention) or special (of
the first intention) to one principle (of course selected from the
objects of second intention) — and it does this by attending to its
own activity in the act of second intention. The fourth inten-
tion notes the activity of the mind in its third intention, and
hence recognizes the form under which the many are related to
the one — it notes the method of the philosophical system.
The "fourth intention" as here described makes its first ap-
pearance in Philosophy as Scepticism. No one of the naive or
dogmatic systems, of Philosophy can resist Scepticism, for the
reason that it rests on a relatively deeper and truer insight. It
The History of Philosophy. 231
perceives the method and bases its strictures on a criticism of
that method. But Scepticism is only a rudimentary form of the
higher insight. The result of a thorough critical investigation of
method leads to a consistent system based on the fourth inten-
tion — a system which may be called the dialectical system, inas-
much as it exhibits everywhere the ultimate principle as the vi-
tal element of the multiplicity of existences.
The richest phases of Philosophy for the study of one who
would gain an insight into its living growth, are therefore those
of Scepticism : for example, in ancient times the dialectic of the
old and new tropes as found in Sextus Empiricus — in modern
times the dicta of Hume and Kant. Scepticism surveys the
thought-movement of its time as a totality, and begins the study
of method. It awakens the speculative mind and prepares it for
new and vigorous studies. The sceptical reaction of the Sophists
— especially of Gorgias — leads to the glory of the triumvirate,
Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. The reaction of Hume and the
oounter-reaction of Kant leads to Fichte, Schelling and Hegel.
The reaction against Averroism leads to Thomas Aquinas and
Meister Eckhart.
The first question in a History of Philosophy is : where to be-
gin ? At what period and in what country did human thought
first direct itself to the task of finding a one principle through
which it could explain all else ? In the definition of Philosophy
given above, this characteristic of philosophic thought as such
has been pointed out. Common sense, ordinary knowledge, reli-
gion, the special sciences, literary art, moral science, &c, have
been distinguished from Philosophy by the application of this
test.
The first writer who has treated the History of Philosophy
in a thoroughly sympathetic spirit is Hegel- He endeavors with
great depth of speculative insight, imitative vitality of repro-
duction, and acuteness of general criticism, to interpret and ex-
pound the different philosophic systems to the reader. Taking
the point of view of the system he is treating, he exhibits the
course of thought by which its members originate, and the limi-
tations which react upon it and cause it to give way to subse-
quent systems.
CHAPTER I. ORIENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
Hegel and his followers have excluded the Orient from the do-
232 The History of Philosophy.
main of the history of philosophy, alleging as a ground for this
that Oriental thinking is not emancipated from the religious
phases of mind. Among peoples who have not yet achieved po-
litical freedom, he thiuks philosophy impossible.
Although this view possesses such strong claims for adoption
that it has widely influenced the recent writings on this subject
outside of the Hegelian school, it must not receive a too literal
interpretation. Imperfect accounts of Oriental systems, and
these mostly given a theological bias by their European expoun-
ders (whose original authority is frequently Christian mission-
aries) have been hitherto, and are doubtless at the present time
our only accessible sources of information.
1. Chinese Philosophy. — It would seem as though the Chinese
systems of Lao-Tzu (604 B. C.) and Confucius (550 B. C), pos-
sessed the requisite characteristic of philosophy. They under-
take to explain the Universe from a substantial principle. Tao
is the name of the first principle of the former, and is the inde-
terminate primitive substance " without name it is the [mascu-.
line] principle of the heavens and the earth ; with name it is the
mother of the Universe." This has been interpreted (unjustly)
as the " Supreme Reason." But it is simply an abstract sub-
stance (or negative unity). The system of Confucius is not ma-
terially different. It calls the primitive substance Tai-Jci and
makes two principles emanate from it, the one masculine {yang)
symbolized by a horizontal line ( ) is the perfect, the father,
unity, or the affirmative ; the second, feminine (yiri) represented
by the first line broken into two ( ) is the imperfect, the
mother, dually, or the negative. The four combinations which
arise from combining these (— , — , — , ==) signify perfect matter
and imperfect matter, each in its strength and weakness. A fur-
ther combination by threes gives rise to eight kua signifying
heaven, cloud-mist, fire, thunder, wind, water, mountains, earth.
Further combination by fours is given.
Herein we note the Chinese principle of the family as the basis
of the national state and religion, reappearing in its philosophic
system. The parents, male and female, are transfigured into ab-
stractions and become the two originating principles of all things.
This crude quantitative expression by means of broken lines is
inferior to the Pythagorean system of symbolism by numbers,
for number possesses a far higher universality than horizontal
lines.
The History of Philosophy. 233
2. Indian Philosophy. — East Indian Philosophy possesses
greater interest to people of the Occident than does the Chinese
system. In Sanscrit literature we find the embryonic shapes and
metamorphoses of modern literature. Indian thought is a kind
of prehistoric adumbration of European thought. For the rea-
son that the will and the intellect are not yet, in the Orient, so
far developed as to present the modern contrast of theoretical
and practical, philosophy as independent thinking goes but little
way either in China or India; it very soon takes a practical di-
rection and becomes moral or ethical. The arbitrary will of the
despot (whether in state, church, the family or the community)
everywhere prevails; there is no constitutional limitation of the
will of the tyrant of the State, or code of laws to limit the will
of the other species of tyrants. The only amelioration of this
condition lies in the personal sense of justice, or the magnanim-
ity of the ruler or master. Hence the wise men of China, India
and Persia have left ethical treatises rather than philosophemes
seeking to curb the arbitrary will by moral principles and
to kindle the sense of duty in the minds of the rulers and mas-
ters. In our age and country it matters little whether the ruler
is of a tyrannical disposition or not, the people are protected by
constitutional limitations, and the one in power finds an imper-
sonal mould in which he must act, if he acts at all. When the
moral forms of freedom get realized in statutes, the wise man
gives less attention to the ethical view and more to the purely
theoretical. The lack of established institutions of justice in the
shape of civil laws and constitutions produces the intensity of
moral inspiration which we see in such teachers as Confucius,
Mencius, Zoroaster, Saadi, Vyasa, Gautama, Patanjali, and their
peers.
This explanation must be borne in mind in studying the sys-
tems of Asiatic thought. The moral precocity of its wise men
must not blind us to the compensating defect which is its occa-
sion.
The translation of the Bkagavad Git a b> Wilkins, (1785), is
the source whence the current ideas regarding Indian Philosophy
have come. This remarkable episode in the Xational epic, the
Mahabharata, contains nearly all of the grand mysteries of the
Brahmanic religion. Its system of philosophy is the Yoga or as-
cetic doctrine, of which there are two branches. The one of Pa-
tanjali enjoins avoidance, of temptation, and tends to renunei*
234 The History of Philosophy.
tiou and quietism, while the other, called the Karma Yoga, which
enjoins the combatting of temptation, and arms its devotees for
the active contest with evil, is the doctrine of the Bhagavad
Gita. The Yoga systems are founded on the Sanlhya or rational
system founded by Kapila (Sankhya Karika,* translation by Cole-
brooke published in 1837). Independent of the Sankhya or ra-
tionalistic system is the Nyaya or logical system of Gautama,
with its modification in the atomic system of Kanada, called the
Vaisheshika. Besides these there is the Yedic system, full of
mysticism, including an earlier school of commentary on the
Veda, called Purra Mimansa, founded by Jaimini, and a later one
called Uttara Mimansa founded by Krishna Dwaipayana, the
supposed compiler of the Yedas. The Yedic system is reaction-
ary against Philosophy.
The most important of these is the Saukhya system, inasmuch
as it stands opposed to the religious form of authority, and ap-
proximates the proper form of philosophy. It has an atheistical
left wing, a theistical centre, and the Yoga systems for its right
wing. The general point of view of Indian thought is that of
emanation. Individuality is regarded as having arisen from lim-
itation of the abstract essence or being of the deity. Hence the
individuality of material things and also of souls is a negation of
true being and must perish. That which distinguishes one being
from another is an addition from without, involves externality,
and is a fetter and hindrance preventing the attainment of the
divine.
Emancipation — "liberation of the soul" — is accordingly the
great object, first of the Indian religion and next of its philoso-
phy. From individuality arises pain : for complication of one
being with another outside of it is the source of all pain. Hence
the SanTchya Earika begins with the announcement of its funda-
mental problem : " Our inquiry is into the means of avoiding
the three sorts of pain ; for pain is embarrassment," i. e., exter-
nal limitation. Here we have the fundamental characteristic of
Oriental thought exhibited at the outset, even in the purest and
most abstract of its philosophic systems. It seeks liberation of
the soul, an object which belongs equally well to ethics, and is
the especial end and aim of religion, and thus justifies Hegel's
rejection of it from the domain of Philosophy. "By seven
Sec Jour. Spec. Phil., Vol. II., p. 225.
The History of Philosophy. 235
modes Nature binds herself by herself, by one she releases her-
self for the soul's wish. So through the study of principles, the
couclusive, incontrovertible, one only knowledge is attained, that
neither I AM nor is aught mine, nor do I exist. Possessed of
this [self-knowledge] the soul contemplates, at leisure aud at
ease, nature; [thereby] debarred from prolific change, and con-
sequently precluded from those seven forms." "When separa-
tion of the in-formed soul from its corporeal frame at length
takes place, and nature in respect of it ceases, then is absolute
aud fiual deliverance accomplished" Whether this doctriue is
to be interpreted as that of the annihilation and absorption of
the soul iuto the nothingness of the absolute, or whether we are
to understand it as a statemeut of the theory that when mind
recognizes the external world to be phenomenal, (Maya) " nature
desists " or ceases to be regarded as an independent (from mind)
existence, and the soul is "debarred from prolific change" because
it now knows the fundamental truth and no longer wanders
about in error, now taking this and now that natural principle for
the highest, — is in dispute. The Vishnu Parana says: "Until
all acts which are the causes of notions of individuality are dis-
countenanced, spirit is one thing and the universe is another to
those who contemplate objects as distinct and various; but that
is called true knowledge, or knowledge of Brahma which recog-
nizes no distinctions, which contemplates only simple existence,
which is undefluable by words, aud is to be discovered solely in
one's own spirit."
It is notable that while the Chinese Philosophy descends from
the pure substance to special individuals in accordance with its
monarchical State principle, the Indian Philosophy is a reaction
against its social and political system of caste. The limitations
through caste are so irksome and galling that theoretical mind
seeks relief from the rigid particularity of the distinctions (tedi-
ous, ceremonial observances) which it encounters in life, by flight
to the indefinite, vague and empty ground and substance of all
things, and tinds solid satisfaction in contemplating the pure
identity wherein neither caste-differences nor the bewildering
luxuriance of tropical nature, nor even the prolific creations of
its own active fancy and teeming intellect, any longer And subis-
tence to vex and weary it.
3. Buddhistic Philosophy. — In Thibet and Farther India Bud-
dhism, which is a comparatively modern reaction against Brah-
236 Tne History of Philosophy.
manism (initiated by Sakyamuni, 550 P>. 0.) replaces the aristoc-
racy of the caste system by a monastic democracy. Instead of
one caste only, the Brahman, all society may participate in a di-
vine life, and each family has the possibility that one of its sons
may become the Grand Lama, i. e., the visible manifestation of
the Absolute. Rejecting with the caste system the burdensome
ceremonies of the Brahmaus, it retained the principles of the
right wing of the Sankhya Philosophy, the Yoga doctrine, and
added very little that is of metaphysical importance. Its doc-
trine of the Nirvana or deliverance of the soul from pain and
illusion, is substantially the same as the 'liberation' of the Sarikliya
Karika or of the Yogas, and the same ambiguity attaches to it.
While some hold it to be annihilation of the soul, others make it
to mean merely the conquest over our animal passions and de-
sires, the annihilation of selfishness described in the common
language of mysticism. Its doctrine of Sansara, or of the mun-
dane life is identical with that of Maya or illusion. The Sansara
ceases in respect of the soul when the latter arrives at the
knowledge of the illusion (i. e. phenomenal nature) which belongs
to individuality, (a manifest repetition of the Sankhya doctrine).
4. Philosophy of Persia;, Syria, and Egypt. — With the Persian
race we arrive at a new and important element in philosophic
thought, although thought scarcely yet deserves the name of
Philosophy, being rather religious dogma. While the extreme
East (China, India and Thibet) have seized true being as one and
have regarded all multiplicity and individuality as mere illusion,
the Persian seizes the thought of negation as something valid.
In the Zend Avesta of Zoroaster (Zarathrustra), the good and
evil, light and darkness, are in perpetual conflict. Ormuzd
(Ahura Mazda) and Ahriman are the deities who wage this war-
fare. With dualism arises the principle of activity as the basis
of substance, and its unity is a concrete one, possessing individ-
uality.
This doctrine is only germinal in the Persian dualism, and as
we come westward to Phoenicia and Egypt we find no philo-
sophic systems preserved, lint in the outlines of the religions sys-
tems of those peoples and their influence upon the Greeks, we
can trace a further growth of the consciousness of individuality
as essential principle. The Adonis-worship of the Phoenicians
recognizes pain as something positive and necessary to man, in-
deed as that through and by which he realizes his feeling of Self.
The History of Philosophy. 237
Hercules-worship (Melkarth) also originated here. By his la-
bors, by renouncing his ease and comfort, by suffering in the ser-
vice of man, he becomes a demigod. Thus here pain is the
agency by which the natural man becomes spiritual — involving
the doctrine that individuality is something substantial.
In Egypt this tendency becomes still more noticeable. The
immortality of the individual is celebrated in a variety of ways,
and seems to have been the chief thought of the Egyptians.
Their attention to the preservation of the bodies of the dead,
their gigantic pyramids built as tombs for their kings, their in-
cessant endeavor to symbolize in art the question of immortality
of the individual — the sphinx, (rock, animal, man, — inorganic,
organic, spiritual), the veiled goddess Neith (nature as mother of
spirit) the Memnon statue, (matter becoming vocal when the
light enters it), these show the fervor of their belief in the ascent
of the soul out of nature, and of the permanence of its individu-
ality. Their doctrine of Osiris, his death and resurrection, vari-
ously typical of processes in nature such as the cycle of the sea-
sons, and of the life of the plant as buried seed, sprouting up,
bearing seed again, &c v had a direct significance also in their
theory of immortality, and corresponded in many respects to the
Phoenician doctrine of Adonis.
These phases of thought agitated by the thinkers of Western
Asia, whose systems of Philosophy have failed to reach us, per-
haps because of the destruction of their nations by wars, reap-
pear in Greek thought as presuppositions, which it has prserved
in its mythology. Again in Xeo-Platonism, which developed
about Alexandria as a centre, a profound study is made of the
symbols which embody these thoughts.
CHAPTER II. GREEK PHILOSOPHY.
In Greece, what Philosophy owes to the theogonies and cosmog-
onies of Homer and Htsiod, aud especially of Orpheus, is nol
certainly known, but can only be inferred, partly by the reaction-
ary tone of the Ionic systems, and partly from the mystic ten-
dency of the Pythagoreans and Platouists.
1. Pre-Socratic Philosophy. — Philosophy proper begins with
Thales (040-550 B. C.) of Miletus, who proclaimed water to be
the original source of all things, a doctrine still defended by
Hippo of Samos in the time of Pericles. Anaximander (011-547
B. 0.) and Anaximenes (528 B. C.) both of Miletus, follow next
238 The History of Philosophy.
in order; the former holding* that the origin, which he called dgxv
or principle, was indefinite (a-eipov) ; the latter holding that air is
the first principle, and that all things are produced from it by
condensation or rarefaction. Diogenes of Apollonia (468 B. C.)
and Idaeus of Himera held the same doctrine. Heraclitus of
Ephesus (500 B. C.) completes the list of Asiatic Greeks who
agree in setting up a material principle as the explanation of
things. Heraclitus takes particular notice of the process in
nature, and asserts that all things How and naught abides. Fire
seems to him the material embodiment of this process. Cratylus,
an extreme disciple of Heraclitus, was a teacher of Plato, and to
his influence we owe the frequent reference in Plato's dialogues
to Heraclitus. In his doctrine of the strife of opposites as the
origin of all things, recent writers have discerned the Zoroastrian
doctrine, received by him from Persians in Asia Minor.
From the Greek colonies in the East, in Asia Minor, we turn
to those on the West, in Lower Italy, where Pythagoras of Sa-
mos (582 B. C), who is supposed to have been a pupil of Anaxi-
mander and to have traveled in Egypt, had founded a society
(in Crotona). To him is attributed the doctrine that numerical
harmony is the essence of all things. His followers, Philolaus,
Ocellus Lucauus, Timaeus Locrus, Epicharmns, are best known.
Scarcely any Pythagorean writings however are believed to be
genuine. The Xeo-Platonist, Jamblichus, wrote his life, collect-
ing the remarkable myths that seem to have circulated among his
disciples.
Of the Eleatic Philosophers, Xenophanes of Colophon (569-
480 B. C.) is the founder of the doctrine that unity is the principle
of all, a doctrine aimed perhaps against the Polytheism of his
countrymen. Parmenides (515-450 B. C), the pupil of Xeno-
phanes, is the greatest of the Eleatics. His doctrine: "Being
is and nothing is not," is the most elementary phase of pure
thought. Zeno of Elea (490 B. C.) and Melissus of Samos (440 B.
C), defended the doctrine of Parmenides, the former by invent-
ing the dialectic, showing that the supposition of the many in
opposition to Being involves contradictions, while the latter uses
similar polemics, ("Ex nihilo nihil fit, 11 there is no transition
possible from nothing to being or vice versa).
Empedoeles of Agrigentum (402-432 B. €.), (influenced by the
doctrines of Heraclitus) setup the principles of love and hate as
The History of Philosophy. 239
moving principles in the origin of things, from four elements,
earth, air, fire, and water.
Anaxagoras of Clazomena? (500-428 B. C), is famed for his
announcement that Reason (vov-) is the principle of things.
Leucippus and Democritus of Abdera (460-370 B. C), were the
founders of the Atomic Philosophy. They posit the full and the
void as principles of things, the full being indivisible atoms from
which all things arise by agglomeration. "Atoms differ in shape,,
order and position."
Up to this point we have had the physical system of the
Ionics (water, air, fire and eartb) ; the numerical proportion of
the Pythagoreans, the abstract thought of the Eleatics, Reason
of Anaxagoras, and the atomic system of Democritus. All
things are explained (a) as physical aggregates, or (b) as phases
of a process of being, becomiug, number, harmony or reason.
The sophists turn their attention toward the thinking subject
in his individual character : Protagoras of Abdera (500-411 B.
C), taught "man is the measure of things," and "all truth is rel-
ative" ; Gorgias of Leontini (483-375 B. C), held the doctrine
that "nothing exists" ; Prodicus of Ceos (420 B. C), was the
teacher of Socrates.
2. Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. — With the appearance of
Socrates (470-399 Before Christ), Greek Philosophy assumes
a world-historical significance. He made the investigation of
universals his specialty, seeking in the will the principle
of virtue, and in the knowing the unchangeably true. He
employed irony, keen definition and induction to remove old
prejudices. His close connection of virtue with knowledge, and
his definition of the good as the highest principle, furnish the
foundation of the systems of his successors. Dialectics and
ethics are thenceforth the chief philosophic disciplines. Of his
immediate disciples there is the school of Euclid of Megara, that
of Phaedo of Elis, both chiefly occupied with dialectics ; the
school of Antisthenes the Cynic, and of Aristippus the Cyrenaic,
both occupied with ethical questions.
But the real successor of Socrates is Plato of Athens (427-347
B. C), whose school extends through all intervening time to the
present. Thirty-six of his compositions, in fifty-six books, have
been transmitted to us, as genuine. Much ingenious speculation
has been devoted to the subject of the order of composition and
the internal connection of these works. The dialectic portion of
_'4ii The History of Philosophy.
Plato's Philosophy is to be found best developed in the dialogues
named the Phaedrus, the Thecetetus, the Phaedo, the Sophistes,
the Phi Jehus and the Parmenides. His doctrine of ideas —
— is the centre of his system, and is, inseparably connected
with the investigations of his master, Socrates, into the per-
manent and universal elements of thought. The Sophists
had seized the principle of Anaxagoras that vov~ is the princi-
ple of things, and interpreted it that individual mind is the meas-
ure of all things, and proceeded on this basis to make all fixed
convictions, whether in regard to religion, morals or truth, wa-
vering and doubtful. They proved by trial that the activity of
the intellect could undermine the whole fabric of conventional
knowledge, and thus that reason is the negative might over the
world which exists for man.
The appearance of Socrates constitutes an epoch, inasmuch as
he discovers the existence of positive 'principles in reason that
are valid and constructive, transcending the particular who an-
nounces them, and giving to the well-nigh empty assertion of
Anaxagoras a wonderful depth of meaning. Plato's investiga-
tions clear up this subject still further, and Aristotle, who labors
in the same general direction, leaves a system wherein the world
is inventoried in its details, and shown to be throughout the
work of vov~.
The first step in the inquiry consisted in tracing the changing
and variable through its metamorphoses until its entire round of
possibilities was exhausted. It is evident that the reality of a
thing embraces only a small portion of its possibility, water at a
given moment being either liquid or solid (ice) or vapor, but not
all three at once. We can look upon its entire round of possi-
bilities as its complete ideal, as its pure form, or in short as its
idea. At this point the theory of Plato stops, and he leaves us
with a world of ideal forms eternal in their nature, and contain-
ing the necessity of the things in the world, all of which are
mere fragmentary realizations of their archetypes or patterns,
the ideas. Particular existences are participations, imitations or
images (eldu/.a) of their ideas. The further thought of
Aristotle cleared up the relation of these archetypal forms to
each other so much as to reduce them to one rational principle
or Personal Reason. The total round of potentialities belonging
to an individual thing is identical with the totality of possibili-
ties of every other thing, and hence there is one totality of pos-
The History of Philosophy. 241
sibilities and consequently one necessary ideal to the world. This
ideal unity is the highest principle and its fragmentary realiza-
tion in the particular things of the world becomes very complete
and exhaustive when the world is taken also as a whole. The
infinitude of things complementing their mutual deficiencies
makes as a whole an adequate image of the divine archetype.
That Plato had glimpses of this thought we see from the
Timaeus, which indicates doctrines that were probably expan-
ded much more fully in his oral discourses (aypaou doyuara),
which related to the Good, and have not been reported to us.
God as the absolute good does not grudge anything to the world,
but has given all possible perfections and "begotten the world as
a blessed god." This view is quite in contrast to that which
makes the hypostatic ideas to be eternal in their independence
and multiplicity, and shows that Plato stood quite firmly on the
ground attributed to Aristotle, although he did not more than
hint this in his dialogues, which were polemical and therefore
negative in their stand-point. Besides this, the thought was
new, and such a life with such opportunities as Aristotle had
was needed to develop from this germ a vast system of consis-
tent truth. Plato's physics was, accordingly, the least devel-
oped of the three parts of his Philosophy (being confined chiefly
to his sketch in the Timaeus.) His ethics is more fully developed.
The larger part of the dialogues have for their object the uproot-
ing of loose ideas of morality, and the inculcation of his doctrine
of the highest good, "the attaining to a likeness to God who is
the highest good" ; "virtue is the fitness of the soul for good
works," each part of the soul, theoretical and practical, having
its specific good work to perform. The State, according to Plato,
was a vast institution for the training of its citizens in virtue,
making education its chief function. The rulers were to be
chosen from the Philosophers.
The resemblance of the Platonic State to the Christian hier-
archy of the Middle Ages has been pointed out by at least one
writer, its resemblance to the Spartan State in important fea-
tures, by many others. The Chinese State is not a bad example
of it. Although he places justice at the head of the virtues to
be taught by the State, yet he adds piety, modesty, bravery and
wisdom, making his State rather an indistinguishable unity of
X— 16
242 The History of Philosophy.
the principles of the family, civil society and religion, than a trnly
political organization.
Among the professed disciples of Plato are distinguished five
schools: (a) that of the old academy to which belong Spensippus
Xeno crates, Heraclides, (who taught the revolution of the earth
on its axis), Philip the Opuntian, Hermodorus, and others ; (6)
the sceptics Arcesilas and (c) Carneades, both of the middle
academy; (d) Philo of Larissa, and (e) Antiochus of Ascalon,
belong to the new academy, and prepare the way for Xeo-Platon-
ism.
Aristotle of Stagira (384-322 B. C), is however the third (with
Socrates and Plato) in the philosophic triumvirate of the ancient
world. His Philosophy investigates the possibilities of natural
and spiritual existences, and takes an inventory of them with a
view to reaching an exhaustive statement or definition of the
ideal totality of each existence or totality of existences. Thus
he maps out the paths of the several- particular sciences, and
defines their several principles.
Since the totality of the possibilities of any one thing involves
other things, or perhaps all things, (in its metamorphoses it will
become these successively as it realizes its potentialities) it is ev-
ident that natural science will be synthetic and continue to trace
out the unity not only of particular things in a common process,
but also of entire departments of nature. When science ex-
hausts the potentiality of a thing, or completes its inventory of
it, it will possess a definition of the idea of that thing, i. e., its
eternal archetype, its essential nature. Within this round of
possibilities will circle forever the changes of the thing, and in
the definition of its ideal will be revealed the final cause of its
whole process. The circle of its potentiality includes the entire
circle of its dependence and hence of its moving principles and
resulting motion.
Thus the idea must be a self-determining form. This may be
regarded as the general point of view of Aristotle, who unfolds
it in logical, ethical, aesthetic, physical and metaphysical works,
(a) His logical treatises are united in the organon, which dis-
cusses single terms, judgments, syllogisms, and their application
to the practical use of the intellect. (&) His ethical treatises
include an exhaustive discussion of morals, politics, and econom-
ics or social science, in which he is more careful than Plato, not
to confound the province of the State with that of the family or
The History of Philosophy. 243
civil society, (c) He gives in his "Poetics" the fundamental
ideas which are accepted to-day in resthetical science ; to this de-
partment belongs also his Rhetoric, (d) His work on Physics is
a sort of rational cosmology ; his works De Coelo, De Oenera-
tione et Corruptione, on meteorology, on the history of animals,
and finally De Anima, each make an epoch in the history of sci-
ence, (e) His work on metaphysics is a sort of history of phi-
losophy and theology combined.
These writings formed the sacred scriptures of human thought
for well nigh two thousand years, and their influence is just now
greatly on the increase in Germany. Through Aquinas they are
immovably fixed in Christian theology.
To give an account of the details of Aristotle's application of
his fundamental principle and of his immense inductions would
.require a book, or several books. Even an outline of them can-
not be given here. As their most important bearings will continu-
ally recur in later Philosophy (which in one sense is only commen-
tary on Aristotle), such outline is unnecessary. The most im-
portant principles in which he has realized the general insight
given above, are : (a) the necessary existence of each idea in its
reality as an individual, being either a system of interdependent
things or else the soul of an organized, living being. Substance,
(ovaia), is therefore not an abstraction, it is concrete and individ-
ual ; it is the union of matter (#At?) and form (i. e., ideal totality
= eldos, popfoj, rb ri fjv dvat) ; it can possess true individuality
only because it contains the total of potentialities, and hence is
identical under all changes that fall within it ; (b) the doctrine of
first and second entelechies, or of self-actualizing entities, the
first being germinal or rudimentary shapes and the latter being
the complete actuality (evepy eta) ; on this distinction is based the
doctrine of the immortality of man. (c) The distinction be-
tween vovs TToirfriKos as the actus purus which makes intellect and.
will possible, and the vovs TTadrjriKds (or the activities of sense,
memory, phantasy, discursive thought, and the appetites) is so
important that all Christendom, with the assistance of Moham-
medanism, devoted the best part of two centuries to getting an
insight into it.
The Peripatetic school that followed closely the master, inclu-
ded the famous' names of Theophrastus, Eudemus, Aristoxenus,
Dicsearchus, and others. The most famous commentators on Ar-
istotle are Alexander of Aphrodisias (A. D. 200), Porphyry, (A.
244 The Histery of Philosophy.
D. 233), Theinistius (A. D. 387), Simpliciug (A. D. 500), and later,
Aviceima and Averroes. Zeno of Cittinm (350-258 B. C.)
founds the Stoic school, combining Aristotelian logic, Heraclitean
physics, and other doctrines derived from the Socratic Schools,
into a popular eclectic system whose chief end is ethical ; it
claims to he a continuation of the Socratic Philosophy. Epicu-
rus (341-270 B. C.) modifies the doctrine of Aristippus and com-
bines it with that of Democritus, founding a system of atomic
materialism, whose ethical aim is happiness as the highest good.
Pyrrho (360 B. C), Timon the Sinograph (325 B. C), Sextus
Empiricus (A. D. 200), are important Sceptics, and preserve for
us valuable fragments of ancient dialectic. Cicero gives us the
results of his Greek studies at Athens and Ehodes — a summary
of the school traditions of the time.
3. Neo-Platoniim. — The last phase of Greek Philosophy ex-,
hibits its struggle to define its relation to spiritual religion. The
polytheism of Greece had no essential influence upon its Philos-
ophy except the negative one of furnishing the best possible con-
dition for free, untrammeled speculation. Transferred by the
Alexandrian conquests in the Orient, Greek thought came neces-
sarily into collision with forms of religion which were substan-
tial inasmuch as they contained the entire spiritual life of their
peoples. Alexandria was a kind of focus wberein centred the
East and the West. The implicit unity of religion, politics,
art, and philosophy, which had been found in the Persian Empire
(Parseeism, Judaism, Egyptian Mysteries, &c.,) had to be com-
prehended and assimilated by Greek Philosophy, now that the
West had subdued the East.
First are the Jewish Greek philosophers, of whom Philo (A.
D. 30) is the chief; his doctrine of the "Logos" is the first inter-
pretation of the doctrine of divine incarnation. Xext come the
New-Pythagorean eclectics, foremost of whom is Apollonius of
Tyana (A. D. 50). Numenius of Apamea (A. D. 150) elaborates
the idea of a Logos. â– Finally Neo-Platonism transforms the en-
lire fabric of Philosophy, and subordinates it to a new method.
Its principle is the transcendence of the Deity. Ammonius Sac-
cas (A. D. 175-250), who was educated in the Christian faith but
returned to the Greek stand-point, is the founder of this move-
ment. Among his pupils are Plotinus and the two Origens (one
of them the Christian).
Plotiuus (204-269 A. D.), developed the doctrine in a system-
The Hfciory of Philosophy. 245
atic form, teaching that the primordial essence, the original unity
(tV), or the Good, is neither reason nor cognizable by reason.
From its emanation arises its image, which is the vovs, or mind,
which in its endeavor to behold the One produces its image =
the soul. From the latter arises the body, which is the image of
the soul. Thus descending through degrees of reflection by
means of images, the lowest depth is reached in matter, which is
farthest removed from the One. From its theoretical concept,
that of emanation, arises its practical doctrine that the business
of man is to return to God, from whom he, as a sensuous being,
has estranged himself. This return can be accomplished by, first
asceticism, secondly by philosophic (discursive) thought, and
thirdly by ecstatic intuition, through which the soul unites itself
again with God and becomes the One. Porphyry (A. D. 233-304)
his disciple, edited and published the works of Plotinus in six
Euneads. His own introduction to the Categories of Aristotle
is so valuable that it is usually printed with the Organon. It
exercised a great influence on the thought of the Middle Ages,
a passage from it giving rise to the celebrated controversy
of Nominalism and Realism. Jamblichus of Chalcis (A. D.
330) a pupil of Porphyry, founded the Syrian School of Xeo-
Platonism, and, intoxicated with the influence of Orientalism,
posited an absolute One above the already transcendent One of
Plotinus. The absolute One was wholly without attributes, not
even being the Good, as Plotinus had made it.
With Proclus (A. D. 411-485) who, at Athens elaborated the
whole body of Greek Philosophy and gave it the form of his own
system, Greek Philosophy ends. His system resembles that of
Plotinus, being a descending system of triads. Boethius (A. D.
470-525), through his Consolatio and his translation of a por-
tion of the Organon and his commentary on Porphyry, transmit-
ted almost all that was known of Greek Philosophy by the Chris-
tians in the West for several centuries.
CHAPTER III. THE PHILOSOPHY IN CHRISTIAN THEOLOGY.
1. Gnosticism. — Within Christianity, Gnosticism arose in the 2d
century, as an attempt to construct a religious philosophy on the
Christian basis. The Gnostics investigated the relation of Chris-
tianity to Judaism, and next its relations to the Hellenic relig-
ions. Yalentinus (A. D. 160) was the most important represen-
tative of Gnosticism. He connected the doctrine of Christ's in-
carnation with a system of supramundaue ^Eons (evidently
246 The History of Philosophy.
influenced by Parseeisni.) The Nous was the "only-begotten,"
and from it came the Logos. More and more this doctrine (Gnos-
ticism) became involved with Orientalism, until it degenerated
to a form of Magianism, and entirely corrupted practical life.
Origen and Clement of Alexandria also strove to assimilate some
of the doctrines of Gnosticism.
2. Orthodoxy. — After Christianity had assumed a definite form
through the action of the Council of Nice, more attention was
given to the work of demonstrating its dogmas on philosophic
grounds. Athanasius, Gregory of Nyssa, St. Augustine (A. D.
354-430), Synesius (A. D. 375-430), ^Eneas of Gaza, Philoponus,
and more especially the pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, are
important names in this connection. In St. Augustine may be
found, at least in germ, the entire body of Christian Philosophy
and Theology. Christian mysticism is generally based on the
writings of the Areopagite, and their translation into Latin by
Scotus Erigena in the ninth century gave rise to Scholasticism.
3. Scholasticism. — The teachers of the seven liberal arts (trivi-
um and qiiadrivhim) in the cloister schools of Charlemagne were
called doctores scholastici — whence the term "scholasticism" as
applied to the system of philosophy within the church during the
middle ages. The whole ground of the relation between religion
and philosophy had to be brought under discussion and the atti-
tude of the church readjusted toward the numerous questions
which the new intellectual activity of the time brought forth.
Belonging to the fir^t period of Scholasticism which is character-
ized by the assimilation of Aristotelian logic and Neo-Platonic
principles by the doctrine of the church, the most noted names
are Johannes Scotus Erigena (843-877), whose translation of Dio-
nysius has been referred to, An selm (1033-1109) the "arch-realist,"
Eoscellinus (1092) the most famous of the early nominalists, Abe-
lard (1079-1142) the so-called "conceptualist," William of Charn-
peaux (1070-1121) Gilbertus Porretanus, (1154) Amalrich of Bena
(1206). The disputes between nominalism and realism which
arose in this period generally resulted in favor of realism, espec-
ially after the time of Eoscellinus who had been so bold as to ap-
ply the nominalistic doctrine to the dogma of the Trinity and to
deny the unity of the Godhead. Only individuals exist really.
and a general name has nothing objective corresponding to it but
is only flatus vocis (an expression of Anselm.) Hence there are
three Gods and the Godhead is a mere concept or name without
The History of Philosophy. 24?
reality. The Council of Soissons (1092) forced him to recant
this doctrine, and nominalism although it continued to exist was
silent until William of Occam used it to overthrow all scholastic
philosophy in the interest of faith. In Porphyry's Introduction
translated by Boethius (as already mentioned) occurs the passage
which occasioned the disputes of nominalism and realism:
"whether genera and species have substantial existence or exist
solely in our thoughts, whether material or immaterial " he de-
clines to say X" dicer e recuscibo "). The followers of Plato held the
-doctrine universalia ante rem, (in God), in re, (in nature), and post
rem (in our minds) and this doctrine was endorsed by all the real-
ists while the nominalists or conceptualists taught universalia
post rem only. Nominalism was closely connected with the rise
of independent thinking and the study of nature, but inevitably
led to scepticism through the inadequacy of its principle to ex-
plain spiritual existences.
The conquests of the Saracens aroused and united Christian
Europe for several centuries and finally produced the reaction of
the Crusades. In like manner the intellectual activity of the
Arabians as it developed in the schools and universities chal-
lenged the sluggish intellects of Christendom and incited them
to strenuous efforts. The oriental principle of abstract unity in
the Godhead which had made its appearance in the early Christian
Church and had been finally eliminated by violence after the Coun-
cil of Nice, made its . way through the preaching of Ebionitic
Christians in Arabia into a new religion — Mohammedanism.* A
rigid monotheism sprang up and became a menace to Christian-
ity. Its philosophic thinkers quite naturally had a proclivity to
adopt the emanation theory and to deny permanence of identity
lo the individual. In the eighth and ninth centuries and much
earlier, Nestorian Syrians lived among the Arabs and introduced
a knowledge of philosophy, especially of Neo-Platonism and the
system of Aristotle. They translated first into Syraic and later
into Arabic the works of Aristotle and of his most eminent com-
mentators. These were used by Alkendi (870) Alfarabi (900)
Aviceuna (Ibn Sina) (980-1036) Averroes (Ib» Eoschd) (—1198)
and through their instrumentality Western Europe was impelled
again to the study of Aristotle. The unity of system in the Peri-
patetic philosophy quite fascinated the Arabian intellect already
occupied with the same principle in its religion. The [great com-
*(Sprenger : Das Leben und die Lehre des Mohammad, Berlin, 1S6S.)
248 The History of Ph ilosophy.
mentators, Aviceuna and Averroes accordingly followed Alexan-
der of Aphrodisias in his interpretation of the De anima, and lim-
ited immortality to the world-soul which should find its particular
existence in individual men, capable, it is true, of cognizing uni-
versal ideas through participation in this general intelligence, but
who could not survive as individuals the death of the body, inas-
much as the faculties of perception, memory, appetite and reflec-
tion (vovs -a$r]TiKos) are corporeal. Christian thought was aroused
and it grappled resolutely the question whether any particular
individual can be immortal, that is, whether the individual can
be universal and particular at the same time. This added to the
zeal with which realists combatted nominalism. Is the universal
or generic only a fiction of the mind ? If it is really existent, is
it immanent in or separable from the particular individual ? If
the latter is the case then individuals are merely phenomenal and
there is no immortality, and the whole fabric of Christianity is
destroyed at ouce.
The discussion of these questions was no idle quibbling, as is
sometimes supposed, but an altogether serious affair in those
days. The Christian dogmas establishing the Trinity, human re-
sponsibility and immortality had hitherto been accepted on faith
and few thinkers had arisen since the downfall of the Western
Empire, with any inclination to follow the direction of St. Augus-
tine and attempt to gain theoretical insight into the dogma.
Against pagan religions such as Christendom had encountered in
the north and west there was no need of a metaphysical system
for there was none to oppose. But with the Moslem came a
philosophical system as complete as Aristotelianism and skillfully
interpreted in the interests of pantheism. There arose a series of
great minds who made it their work to master Aristotle and to
interpret him in the interests of Christianity : Alexander of
Hales (—1245), Bonaventura (—1274), Albertus Magnus (1193-
1280), his pupil Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), and Duns Scotus
( — 1.308). Of these, Aquinas is the greatest, and through bim
Christian theology gained a consistent, systematic form. Aris-
totle was thoroughly studied aud each portion of his system ex-
plained in the light of the whole; he accordingly became the
great pillar of the church and was compared to John the Baptist,
being "precursor Christi in naturahiliis."
Boger Bacon (1214-1292) and William of Occam (—1347) did
not participate in the prevailing movement — the former being a
The History of Philosophy. ' 24&
great experimental physicist born before his proper time, and the
latter being the invincible opponent of the current logical realism
and the first nominalist who succeeded in sustaining himself
against the current schools. He used his nominalistic arguments-
against the philosophical basis of realism and not against the
dogmas of the church, inasmuch as he denied the authority of
reason altogether and proclaimed that of faith. Scholasticism
rapidly went down during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.
CHAPTER IV. MODERN PHILOSOPHY.
1. Translators and Commentators. — Upon the downfall of the
Eastern Empire many learned Greeks came from Constantinople
westward and kindled at Florence and elsewhere the direct study
of Plato and Aristotle, thus dispensing with the commentators
whose views had been taken hitherto as genuine interpretations.
Distinguished translators and original commentators of this
epoch were Gemistus Pletho, Bessarion, Ficinus, George of Tre-
bizond, Theodore Gaza, Pomponatius, Scaliger, Zabarella and
Melanchthon. The epoch closes with naturalistic opponents of
the traditional philosophy of the schools : Nicolaus Cusanus-
(1401-1464), Jerome Cardan (1501-1576), Telesius (1508-1588),
Patritius (1529-1597), Eamus (1517-1572.)
2. Emancipation from Authority. — The epoch of emancipation
from authority opens with three great names : Giordano Brunc*
(1548-1600), Francis Bacon (1561-1626) and Bene Descartes
(1596-1650). The first of these, Bruno, developed the doctrine of
Nicolaus Cusanus and Copernicus, in an anti-ecclesiastical direc-
tion, having quitted the Dominican order. He left Naples for
Geneva, and afterwards lived in France and England ; after
remaining several years in Germany he returned to Italy where
he was burned at the stake, after several years imprisonment, by
order of the Inquisition. Bruno's system attempts to reconstruct
the theory of the world in accordance with the view of Coperni-
cus. His doctrine of monads anticipates much that is found in
the system of Leibnitz and his optimism is identical. Lord Ba-
con's great merit was in his attempt to separate natural science
from religion so as to allow the former to develope with freedom,
He is the founder of empirical philosophy rather than induction
in natural science, although he laid the greatest stress upon the
value of useful discoveries. Thomas Hobbes (1588-1624) devel-
oped Bacon's principle in the direction of politics, favoring an
absolute monarchy. It is somewhat singular that, while he was-
250 The History of Philosophy.
an extreme nomiualist theoretically, Hobbes should have been a
realist in regard to the State, characterizing its generic existence
as a "mortal god" and making it the substantial existence and
that of the individual only contingent. Descartes completed the
emancipation of philosophy from scholasticism by bringing its
doctrines to the test of immediate consciousness and throwing off
the authority of tradition. His distinction between spirit and
matter was so sharp that his followers had much labor to explain
their connection. Geulincx held that on the occasion of each act
of the will God effects the corresponding motion of the body,
and Malebrauche explained sense-perception by the doctrine that
we see all things in God.
Spinoza (1632-1677) avoided the Cartesian dualism altogether
by his one substance which has the two attributes, thought and
extension. He excluded all finitude from his substance making
all limitation to be negation. In the place of arbitrary free will
which had been emphasized so strongly especially by Duns Sco-
tus, he laid great stress on the necessary nature of truth {sub-
specie cetemitatis) and excluded all final causes from God. He
would seem to deny immortality to man or personality to God by
his principle and yet in the fifth book of his Ethics he portrays
human freedom as intellectual love of God, and makes this love
reciprocal. His use of the geometrical method of definitions and
axioms shows the influence of the reactionary spirit of the time,
which repudiated dogmatic authority and sought the certainty of
scientific demonstration.
3. Empiricism and Eclecticism .—J ohn Locke (1632-1704) in his
"Essay Concerning the Human Understanding" attempted to take
a critical survey of the power of the mind to cognize truth and
thus to determine its limits. The origin of our ideas, is accord-
ingly, his chief theme. Innate ideas he repudiates and makes
the mind to be a blank tablet before the activity of sense-percep-
tion furnishes it with ideas of the external world. "Knowledge
is the perception of the connection and agreement or of the disa-
greement and repugnancy of several ideas." He adduces a proof
of the existence of God and regards the immateriality of the soul
as probable. Berkeley (1685-1783) drew out the ultimate conse-
quences of Locke's doctrine in a system of "Universal Immateri-
alism" denying the existence of the material world as well as of
abstract ideas and making (like Malebranche) nature to be a reg-
ular succession of ideas called forth by God. Pierre Bayle
The History of Philosophy. 251
(1647-1706) author of the famous pantheistic dictionary, Cud-
worth (1617-1688) author of the "Intellectual System," Henry
More (1614-1687) Platonist and mystic, Gassendi (1592-1655)
reviver of the atomism of Democritus and Epicurus, Grotius
(1583-1645) and Puffendorf (1623-1694) writers upon the law of
nations — a/e important names in this epoch. Samuel Clarke
(1675-1729) a disciple ot Xewton and Locke, defended his masters
against Leibnitz.
4. Mysticism or Theosophy. — German philosophy previous to
Leibnitz was chiefly theosophic. The teacher of Thomas Aquinas,
and the first to present the entire philosophy of Aristotle in a
systematic order, illustrated by Arabian commentary and inter-
preted in harmony with Christian doctrine, was Albertus Magnus,
a Swabian by birth, coming from the same country which after-
wards produced Schelling and Hegjl. While he taught at Paris
or more probably at Cologne, it is supposed that Meister Eckhart
of Strassburg (1256-1329) attended his lectures and received the
first impulse to that wonderful theosophic speculation which
afterwards gave rise to the Rhenish school of mystics, prominent
among whom were Tauler of Strassburg (1366-1361), Heiu-
rich Suso of Constance (1366-1365) John Ruysbroek of
Grunthal (1293-1381), the Teutonic Knight of Frankfort
whose "Theologia GetmaniccC discovered by Luther, gave so
much impulse to later mysticism. Thomas a Kempis in the fol-
lowing century (1386-1471) may be mentioned as belonging to this
school, and Nicolaus Cusanus of Treves (1461-1464) forms a con-
necting link between theosophic speculation and the later meta-
physics. The profound speculations of Albertus Magnus and
Aquinas were popularized and preached at large by Eckhart and
his followers. Xot content with the limits which had been placed
by Aquinas and adopted by the church, distinguishing the dogmas
that may be demonstrated from those which transcend human
reason, Eckhart boldly pushed his speculations into the dogma
of the Trinity, and seizing its expression of the concrete univer-
sal (i. e. a unity in different individuals) built upon it a compre-
hensive system of thought, as elaborate and consistent in its de-
tails as the great cathedral begun at Cologne in the year of his
birth. In this theosophic system may be found all the cardinal
doctrines of the latest bloom of German philosophy or at least
their germs. His hearers learned to demand for the intellect its
participation in divine doctrines, and a wonderful illumination
252 The History of Philosophy.
appeared in subtle minds — tbe piety of the intellect was attained.
Man not only can will the divine which he receives implicitly as
dogma of faith, but he can also think the divine and, indeed, ac-
cording to Eckhart, he can theoretically become a participator in
divine knowledge.
God's personality as revealed in the Trinity is the b#sis of his
system. God's necessity to exist, hence to realize or reveal him-
self is involved in the fact that He is to be a person and Self-con-
scious. He makes himself an object to himself, and without
this objectivity to himself He would remain a mere abstract pos-
sibility of existence, and not be the living God. This self-knowl-
edge unfolds as the Trinity : . I. God the father (the subject
knowing): II. God the son (object known); III. God the spirit,
the return or reconciliation, or mutual reunion. God beholds
himself as the real object of his knowledge. Such act of behold-
ing is the creation of the object beheld — it is nature — the world
in time and space — the Son eternally begotten. His object as
nature exists in externality as separate from Him through this
act of diremption involved in knowing. But His act of recogni-
tion of himself in it (i. e., in nature) brings out of it the image of
himself, i. e., intelligent souls who aspire again to their source,
and love and recognize the Father. Thus out of the abyss of
God's "not me" involved in his consciousness, arises the creation
ascending through all its stages from inorganic matter, plant, an-
imal, to man, in whose immortal soul, gifted with free will and
speculative intellect, He sees His own image. Thus the whole
universe of stellar systems may be regarded by Eckhart's the-
ory as existent for the evolution of rational souls. .
In this bold system he transcended the limits set by the Ko-
manic Scholasticism. For this he was summoned before the in-
quisition (in 1327) and his doctrines condemned in a bull. To
take the chief mystery of theology and expound it as the solu-
tion to all problems, could not be allowed by the Latin mind. It
savored of Pantheism, from which the church was just then happily
escaped through the thinking of Thomas Aquinas. Indeed this
interpretation of the Trinity has been generally denounced by
theologians, Protestant as well as Catholic, for Pantheism. If,
however, one defines Pantheism as the doctrine which denies the
personality of its highest principle — setting up for example a
blind force, or principle of evolution, or abstract mundane intel-
ligence — then Eckhart's system is not Pantheism. Il holds in
The History of Philosophy. 253
fact with all Christian theology that the Absolute is a person,
audthat the world of nature is his free creation, whose purpose
is the production of His image. It is, to use the words of Rich-
ard Eothe, the conversion of His pure not-rue (or chaos) into a
manifestation of Him, and thus the realization of the fullness
and blessedness of His own divine being in a creation independ-
ent of Him.
But Eckhart held (like Eothe) the existence of an eternal
world of ideas in God as well as a temporal world of creatures
in time and space. This is essential, moreover, since God's crea-
tion of an image of himself were incomplete without a return
out of the limits of time and space to pure ideas again. Without
the contemplation of pure ideas He would remain beholding His
opposite, or the world of tinitudes limited and necessitated in
time and space. "God has externalized his inmost essence,"
says Eckhart. "The end of all creatures is to be soul and to
cognize God." Theosophj- always makes this mystic union of
the soul with God the destination of man, and for this reason
lays great stress on internal contemplation, and undervalues ex-
ternal forms and ceremonies, which the church is obliged, how-
ever, to employ not only for the sake of the non-speculative ordina-
ry minds, but for the reason that it is essential for each man as a
denizen of the world to stand in practical relation to his fellow men.
This relation involves participation in the common recognition of
the Highest, and its celebration through visible spectacles as in
the church service. Hence it has happened that Theosophists
have been regarded as heretics in their day.
Whatever view may be held of the orthodoxy of Eckhart's
system, it is certain that he prepared the way for the Befonna-
tion by his ethics, and for the later German Rhilosophy by his
metaphysics.
Holding a similar relation to his time so far as doctrines were
concerned, came Jacob Boehme of Goerlitz (1575-1624) contem-
porary with Descartes and Lord Bacon, and called Phi osoplius
Tcutonicus, because, being ignorant of Latin, he wrote in Ger-
man. Although a poor shoemaker he was one of the subtlest
minds that Germany has produced, and numbered among his fol-
lowers Henry More, John Pordage, Pierre Poiret, and more re-
cently St. Martin, Baader, and Sehelling. His insight into the
necessity of the negative in the highest principles was his
chief apergu. The Absolute should be a spiritual activity, and
254 Tne History of Philosophy.
hence involve self-opposition, self-determination, self- negation
in it. While Lord Bacon proclaimed the English stand-point for
modern times, Boehme proclaimed the German. These two indi-
vidualities, as different as one may find, agree in this that they
both find the content of thinking mind not in the dogma but in
concrete being — the former in the world of time and space, the
latter in the immediate internal life existing for each man in his
own soul. Like Eckhart Boehme finds in the Trinity his highest
principle and the solution of all mysteries. His "chief yea" is
the attempt to grasp all in an absolute unity — all antitheses are
reconciled in God. The holy Trinity is to be shown in all things
and all things are its revelation ; all things are by and through
it. The universe is to him one divine life and revelation of God
in all things, so that from the essence of God is born the totality
of all qualities and forces, as the eternally begotten Son who re-
veals himself in those forces. The internal unity of this light,
or divine essence, with the substance of the forces, is the Spirit.
Johaun Scheffier (1624-1677) or "Angelus Silesius" {The Cher-
ubinic Wanderer) was born the year of Boehme's death. He
continues the line of mystics, and celebrates in the poetic form of
short verses doctrines identical to those of Eckhart and Boehme.
God's need of his image in man to reflect His essence, and man's
need of God to develop in him His essence. "God loves himself
alone, and thus becomes His Other in His beloved Son." "God's
son has been for aye and yet is first brought forth to-day."
"Thyself niaketh the time, its works thy senses be ; but checkest
Thou their unrest, then thou from time art free;" " I know with-
out me God cannot a moment live; If I to naught should turn,
He too would death receive." His expression of the necessity
of God's image seems quite extravagant unless one attends care-
fully to the philosophic content of the doctrine, and sees in it
only an expression of the doctrine of the Trinity as necessarily
involved in the most important of all principles, that of the Per-
sonality of the Absolute. This is the kernel of all German mys-
ticism and Theosophy. Personality involves consciousness and
will, each of these involve self-objectivity or the contemplation
of self, and thereby the actualization of self; hence creation as a
progressive manifestation of the Absolute from the pure empty
externality (time and space or chaos) up to internality — the im-
mortal sonl which completes the " Image" of the Absolute, by
The History of Philosophy. 255
reflecting God in its intellect (Truth) and will (the Good). (Spel-
ling's Mysticism and Theosophy will be mentioned later).
Franz von Baader (17G5-1811) is a genuine theosophist of the
old school. Contemporary with Schelling and influenced
by the study of the latter, but more especially by the study of
Boehme and St. Martin, he held that our knowledge is a partici-
pation (conscientia) in the divine knowing. The immanent vital
process of God reveals him and in the first place makes him tri-
personal; furthermore in his creation he creates and comes into
final union with his image which must be distinguished from him
in his eternal Selfhood.
In Bichard Eothe (1799-1867), theosophy becomes identical
with the philosophical movement as developed to its highest form
in Hegel.
These are the most noteworthy names among the German theo-
sophists. Attention must be called to the fact that difference of
opinion exists as to the definition of pantheism, and that all the-
osophy may be regarded as pantheism by strict theologians.
Hence there is a struggle on the part of educated theosophists to
avoid the appearance of pantheism by separating the creation of
the world from the self-revelation in the Trinity. This appears
even in Eckhart occasioned by his collision with the theology of
the church as developed by Thomas Aquinas. It is more clearly
manifest in Baader ; and in Eothe perhaps we have the clear
escape from any tinge of pantheism.
The category of necessity is sometimes not carefully discrimi-
nated into internal or logical necessity and external necessity or
Fate ; and again internal necessity is not distinguished into
unconscious self-determination or evolution, and conscious self-
determination — freewill. Necessity of efficient causes is Fate,
necessity of final causes is freedom. If as Lessing taught, think-
ing, willing and creating are one and identical in God, then his
self-consciousness is his eternal act of creation and creation is
inseparable from God, as self conscious Person. But it con-
strains Him no more than the consciousness of self costraius man
and destroys his freedom. Self consciousness is the complete
realization of freedom for in it all externality appears as a mere
product of the self-activity. Thus two kinds of pantheism may
be distinguished, (a) materialistic and (b) theosophic: (a) materi-
alistic pantheism according to this view would include the doc-
trine which holds God to be a blind, unconscious force vitalizing
256 The History of Philosophy.
nature aud thus making conscious being to be merely phenome-
nal and not essential or immortal. All things would thus orig-
inate from an unconscious principle and return to it. (b) But
theosophic pantheism is the opposite of the former and holds
the first principle to be a self-conscious Person from whom na-
ture eternally proceeds ; out of nature proceeds man as a return
to the absolute through his thinking and free willing. Thus in
the former pantheism fate or blind force is the highest; in the
latter, free spirit. The latter is called pantheism solely for the
reason that it connects the creation of nature necessarily with
God. Those who hold the latter, disclaim the charge of panthe-
ism on the ground that the manifestation of God does not limit
Him any more than self-consciousness involves fatalism. God's
contemplation of his image is not only a creation of that image
but a process of annullment of all inadequateness in the image
and hence the process of change and evanescence going on in all
the lower forms of nature.
5. Dogmatism. — Theosophy becomes metaphysics in Leibnitz,
(1646-1716) whom we find holding the same relation to the Eng-
lish and French Philosophers as his Theosophic countrymen had
done in earlier times. Leibnitz is usually called the founder of
German Philosophy, aud certainly in the writings of his follower
Wolff, his doctrines became systematized, and held sway down
to the time of Kant Indeed in Herbart's system some of its
essential features are revived, and through it a wide school of
recent thinkers receives its principles from Leibnitz. His Mo-
nadology presents his point of view in sharp and clear outline.
Over against the mechanism of Descartes, he sets up the system
of monads, which have no mechanical relation to each other, but
only the ideal or psychological one of representing each other —
each monad mirroring in itself all the others (the entire world of
monads appearing in each) — the macrocosm in the microcosm.
Thus there is unity aud harmony wilhout mechanical constraint,
and independent individuality is preserved. In the doctrine of
pre-established harmony, the monad of monads appears as God,
the absolute person in His relation to the world of souls. Each
monad is a potential soul, and unfolds into the highest by its
own activity.
In their freedom the individual monads are the image of the
absolute monad who in turn recognizes himself in them. This
The History of Philosophy. 257
mutual recognition is the highest principle. Independent exist-
ences in complete unity or harmony suggest the idea of the Trin-
ity again, which is evidently the underlying thought in Leibnitz's
system, just as it had been the central principle of the theosophic
systems of his countrymen. Independent persons and yet one
in a mystic sense, is the paradox which when seen in its necessity
becomes the luminous principle that explains all. In opposi-
tion to the sensism of Locke who holds up the principle of pas-
sivity or emptiness of the Ego {tabula rasa), Leibnitz proclaims the
native spontaneity of the intellect and its self-generation of uni-
versal ideas. "Nihil est in intellects quod nonfuerit in sensu" says
Locke. Leibnitz adds "nisi ipse intellectus" and founds the prin-
ciple which through Kant becomes the corner stone of the great
structure of the nineteenth century.
Wolff of Breslau (1679-1754) combined into a system the doc-
trines of Leibnitz with a truly Aristotelian spirit. From his la-
bors arose the Leibuitzo-Wolffian school which prevailed until
the advent of the Critical Philosophy. Wolff made the first re-
duction of philosophy to an encyclopaedic form.
G. Scepticism. — David Hume (1711-1776) is the point of depart-
ure of the chief systems which have appeared during the last
hundred years. His most important earlier years were spent in
France, and his strongest mental tendencies bear the impress of
French culture. Taking the standpoint of Locke that all percep-
tions are either impressions (of the senses) or ideas, he finds all,
ideas reducible to copies of sense-impressions, "they are the faint
images of such impressions in thinking and reasoning." The idea
of cause and effect "is derived from experience, which, presenting
us with certain objects, constantly conjoined with each other-
produces such a habit of surveying them in that relation that we
cannot without a sensible violence survey them in any other."'
His ethical doctrine is that "sympathy of man with man causes;
the approbation of an action performed in the interest of the com-
mon welfare." Xo inference from empirical data to the nature of
the soul or the existence of God is permissible. Hume's influ-
ence on English, French and German thought has been immense,
and is due to his unparalleled clearness of statement, more than
to the essence of his doctrines.
The French philosophy of the eighteenth century was a reac-
tion against church and State. A sweeping movement towards,
X— 17
258 The History of Philosophy.
individualism and scepticism, it rejected all realized forms of rea-
son whether embodied in institutions — the church, the State and
civil society — or existing in a systematic form as theology or phi-
losophy. It placed all validity in the immediate judgment of the
individual, and private opinion was to have all rights except that
of doubting the infallibility of the principle of private judgment.
Bayle, Montesquieu, Voltaire, Kousseau, Condillac, Diderot,
D'Alembert, Robinet, (who anticipated Darwinism and the Spen-
cerian "evolution"), La Mettrie, and Baron Holbach, individually
and collectively attacked every phase of realized intelligence in
the interest of the formal freedom of thought. In France this
movement culminated in political revolution. Germany partici-
pated in it in its own way. Lessing commenced the reaction, and
the war for literary independence of France. But the true reas-
sertion of the German principle of thought is to be found in the
philosophy of Kant, which contains the French negative principle
within it, although annulled and subordinated.
7. Criticism. — With Kant (1724-1804)therefore begins the career
-of the highest phase of. German philosophy. Kant pondered the
scepticism of Hume, and sought a principle elevated above the
•dogmatical stand-point and, for this reason, uuassailable by scep-
ticism. Armed with this, the Teutonic principle should be tri-
umphant over scepticism and abstract revolutionary protest
whether British or French. Indeed it should subsume all nega-
tive positions of doubt or scepticism under a higher principle.
So great a design was to be the fruition of modern philosophy.
On this critical standpoint, securely placed, one shall no longer
dread the polemics of shifting systems. Kant essayed to take
such an inventory of the possessions and capacities of the mind
as would forever set at rest all dogmatic polemics.
Locke's inventory was not exhaustive or trustworthy ; he had
not sufficient power of inward seeing. Kant pierces the obscu-
rity, and beholds the problem of cognition in its entirety. The
inind is both receptive (as regards sensation) and spontaneous or
self-active (as regards the origination of its general forms ; time,
space,, the laws of causality and the other general predicates
which enable the mind to give unity to the multiplicity of its im-
pressions). Its act of judging, i. e. of predicating, is an act of
unifying or bringing a manifold into a unity, and this act is al-
ways an act of reflection : that is to say, it is an act of attention,
not to an outward object, but to the mental activity by which
The History of Philosophy. 259
feeling, sensation and sense-perception are performed. Sensation
or feeling which underlies the perception of objects, is a process and
therefore consists of a series, or succession of acts. Conscious-
ness is able to direct its attention upon this succession in its own
activity, and thus to unite the elements of it, self activity being
the thread connecting them. Thus in sense-perception there is
united a perception of the particular object in the present in-
stant, now and here, with the perception of self (or the thinking
activity). The self is the pure Ego — the most general concept
possible — inasmuch as it involves the subject underlying all pos-
sible modifications of thought. Thus every act of cognition in-
volves the act of reflection, that is to say, the act of self-percep-
tion — and this act is the pure spontaneity of the Ego. This self-
activity which is thus related purely to itself, is the general con-
dition of every act of knowing. Without it there may be feeling
and sensation, or irritability in the organism which may give rise
to impulsive reaction, but there can be no cognition whatever of
the relations of one object to another, nor consciousness of self.
To sum up this doctrine : cognition of relations — hence all gener-
alization, inference or predication — depends upon cognition of
self-activity. The existence of the science of mathematics, con-
taining, as it does, truths relating to the conditions of existence
which are universal and necessary, furnished Kant the clue to
his system. Such a priori knowledge of the conditions of ex-
istence in the outer world proved incontestibly, in his view, the
identity of those conditions with the forms of activity of thinking.
Thus Kant by a critical examination of the mind overthrew at
once the entire fabric of systems founded on dogmatic assump-
tions, or empirical psychology, whether materialistic or idealistic.
To the materialists he showed the spontaneity of the mind as the
logical condition of any perception whatever of the external
world ; the mind gets at the external world only through becom-
ing conscious in itself of the conditions (time, space, causality,
etc., etc.) of the existence of that world. If these necessary con-
ditions were not part and portion of its own essence, it could not
know the world of nature. To the idealists he pointed out the
exclusive application of these a priori conditions to the content
of experience, and demonstrated the futility of attempting to ap-
ply the categories of the understanding to anything transcending
time and space.
This attitude of Kant towards dogmatic idealism seemed hos-
2G0 The History of Philosophy.
tile not only toward the Leibnitz- Wolffian and the Cartesian sys-
tems, but it also seemed to threaten the basis of theology. For
a speculative cognition of God, Freedom and Immortality is de-
nied. All application of the categories to that which transcends
experience is forbidden, as productive only of illusion. This is
the result of the "Critique of Pure Eeason." But in his "Crit-
ique of Practical Eeason," Kant shows that God, Freedom and
Immortality are necessarily postulated by all acts of the Will as
"regulative ideas." Just as all experience presupposes an a pri-
ori activity in the mind, generating the essential conditions of
said experience, so every act of the Will presupposes the neces-
sary existence of God, Freedom and Immortality as its logical
condition. Although we cannot theoretically establish the exis-
tence of these objects which transcend the forms of the theoretic
intellect, Time, Space, Causality, &c, yet every act or deed of
man asserts them. In this doctrine of Kant the meaning and
significance of "theoretical" is limited to the act of subsumption of
perceptions ("intuitions") under conceptions ("or categories.")
With this definition Kant stands upon solid ground. We cannot
perceive immediately objects which transcend the laws of expe-
rience. It would destroy these objects to predicate of them
quantity, quality, causality, and modality. And yet Kant may
be said to have established these objects philosophically. He
analyzed the understanding and found it impossible to derive
those ideas from it; but a similar analysis of the will discovered
them. Surely both of these analytical processes were theoretical.
Why then speak of the illusory nature of a knowledge of God,
freedom and immortality ?
The speculative spirit of Germany, aroused to its utmost in-
tensity by the critiques of Kant, refused to rest satisfied within
the barriers which he had set up. The systems of Fichte, Schel-
ling and Hegel followed as attempts to re-adjust the speculative
attitude of the mind toward the infinite. Kant's influence pene-
trated into every realm of thought, and its effects are discernible
alike in the materialistic and idealistic systems of the day. Even
the greatest work of art of modern times, Goethe's Faust,* por-
trays the collision of Scepticism with institutions and civiliza-
tion — the problem that the French Eevolution suggested. The
result of Faust's investigations is that nothing can be known
-Jour. Sp. Phil., Vol. I., p. 178.
The History of Philosophy. 261
(the conclusion of the Critique of Pure Eeasou) and he turns in
his despair to the Epicurean enjoyment of the world. He finds
however practically (second part of Faust) that the institutions
of society are all needed (conclusion of the Critique of Practical
Eeason) and thus learns through his will the postulates that he
could not establish theoretically.
Distinguished followers of Kant who were not founders of
systems were Eeinhold, Schiller the poet, Schultz, Bouterwek,
Krug, Tennemann, Buhle and others. Distinguished opponents
were Schultze, ("iEnesideinus") and Jacobi. From the latter
sprang Fries, who blended the doctrines of Kant and Jacobi.
The genesis of the Post-Kantian systems may be clearly seen, if
one will bear in mind the fact that Kant obtains his transcenden-
tal ideas (God, Freedom, Immortality) not through an analysis
of the intellect but of the will, and that this may be regarded
still as a theoretical analysis. It will result that his followers
will lay stress on this point. Since each and every act of the will
implies the reality of God, Freedom and Immortality according
to Kant, it will be the attempt of later philosophizing to show
the presupposition of these ideas under the theoretical activity.
For the result of the theoretical investigation is — as Fichte (1762
-1811) shows — that all cognition is a self-activity which peceives
only its own self-activity. This moreover can easily be derived
from the Critique of Pure Eeason. Then it follows that the the-
oretical activity is conditioned by the will, and therefore pre-
supposes the existence of the transcendent objects (God, immor-
tality, &c.) which the will presupposes.
8. German Philosophy After Kant. — Fichte's "Science of
Knowledge " attempts a strict deduction of the pure intu-
itions and categories of the. mind from the principle of the
Ego (self-identity) and under his searching analysis there
disappears all that had remained of the sensuous stand-
point of empirical psychology as developed by Locke and Con-
dillac, and with it the external world of experience likewise van-
ishes as something independent of, or co-ordinate with, the Ego.
The only objective world left to Fichte is the moral world. Ma-
ture almost entirely disappears except as a postulate of moral-
ity. As the will becomes all in all, and clear consciousness alone
is recognized as valid, the one-sidedness of this system produces
the reaction of Schelling (1775-1854) who does justice to the
phase of the world wherein unconsciousness still prevails and
262 The History of Philosophy.
â– wherein the conscious will (morality) has not yet developed.
The philosophy of Schelling consequently lays great stress on
Art (aesthetics), the philosophy of nature, mythology, religion,
and the realms wherein the consciousness of freedom has not as
yet fully developed. While Fichte lays stress solely on the
world of free, spontaneous activity, and accordingly makes eth-
ics the centre of his system, Schelling is always engaged in trac-
ing the self-evolution of unconscious organism, whether in na-
ture or human history. The centre of his system is therefore
Art, wherein the unconscious reaches its completest expression.
His method led him to the study of Theosophy, and through him
the study of Bcehine was revived.
Schelling's school includes the distinguished Theosophist Baa-
der (as has been already mentioned) and the naturalists Oken,
Cams, Oersted, Steifens, Burdach, the theologians Schleiermach-
er, Eschenmayer, Blasche, Goerres, besides Solger, Stahl the
jurist, Schubert the cosmologist, Jacob Wagner, Krause, Esen-
beck, and others.
Unconscious evolution is the opposite of conscious meth-
od. It was quite natural that Schelling's philosophy should
be unsystematic and fragmentary, everywhere throwing deep
glances, but nowhere finding the all-connecting thread which
is seen only by reflection on self-activity and is the acme of self-
consciousness. Hence arose a new philosophy, that of Hegel
(1770-1831) which strove to grasp all the content of nature and
mind with self-conscious method. He undertook to deal with
Schelling's breadth, and reduce it to Fichte's unity and strict-
ness of system. He designed to interpret nature and history in
their evolution by means of a corresponding a priori deduction
or evolution of the ideas of the necessary conditions of reality
in time and space. It was only a further development of the
logical result of Kant's system.
If the mind's own form (time, space, causality, etc.) is the log-
ical condition of all reality in nature and history, then an a priori
evolution of these ideas one from another, if found valid and seen
to be necessary and universal, will likewise prove to be objec-
tive and the law of reality. This is the famous "unity of thou -lit
and being" which is not, properly considered, anything paradox-
ical. For it does not mean that a so-called "mere idea" i. e. a
fancy, or mental image, or arbitrary thought, is objective, but
only that universal and necessary ideas are objective as well as
The History of Philosophy. 263
subjective, and uot only necessities of thought but also necessi-
ties of being. Mathematics enunciates the logical conditions of
the existence of matter and motion. When a mathematical prop-
osition is demonstrated it is seen to be universal and necessary ;.
in other words to be the necessary condition of all existence in
space. Thus the metaphysical ideas of causality, substantiality,,
force, form, the principle of contradiction, etc., are seen to be log-
ical conditions of phenomena in time and space — the a priori
thought being the conditioning form of reality. Kant showed that
these were the necessary subjective forms of experience and
hence of all phenomena that we can know. The entire world 'n
time and space thus necessarily conforms to these ideas. ]STow
of course our psychological evolution of these necessary ideas
cannot be other than the evolution of the conditions of exist-
ence of phenomena in time and space. A denial of this position
can be established only by showing that there are no such uni-
versal and necessary ideas, for to admit them is to admit their
necessary validity as conditions of reality, and such denial would
destroy the science of mathematics. Moreover, it is possible to
show that such denial is inconceivable, and that no one can think
of the opposite of one of these ideas, although he may frame a de-
nial in words.
One may, after the example of Stuart Mill, deny universality
and necessity to the proposition that two and two make four, as-
serting that it may make five in the mind of some being, thus an-
nulling the principle of contradiction. If two and two make five
and "five" is a word signifying one more than four or two more than
three, then two and three are made identical and the principle of
contradiction destroyed. In fact in the very denial of the objec-
tive validity of what is necessary in thought, there is an affirma-
tion of the very thing denied. For in such denial one affirms the
objective possibility of existence under other conditions than
that enunciated in the necessary idea, and the validity of such
affirmation of objective possibility or impossibility is the very
thing which he attempted to deny. The old elenchus attributed
to Eubulides of Miletus, called "The Liar," is the type of this
self-contradictory argument. It asserts a universal negative
which annuls even the formal statement in which it is made. To
say u Xo one ever tells the truth" is to make a negative content so-
general that it contradicts the form of the assertion and thus
.2(34 The History of Philosophy.
proves self-nugatory. If the assertion is true, it subsumes itself
ami thus contradicts itself.
Hegel traversed the entire ground of his system in his first
great work "The Phenomenology of Mind," tracing up the inter-
nal evolution of the great phases of human thought as they had
appeared iu history and showing their connection and logical ne-
cessity. He afterwards unfolded this into (a) Logic, or the Sci-
ence of Pure Thought, unfolding dialectically the definitions and
relations of all general ideas such as quality, quantity, difference,
form, cause, etc. ; (b) Philosophy of Xature including the science
of the conditions of reality in the natural world and their applica-
tion to actually existing things ; (c) Philosophy of Spirit or Sci-
ence of Man as exhibited in human history, including an expla-
nation through the idea of freedom, of all his institutions, family,
society and state, and his systems of art, religion and science; to-
gether wilh an account of the obscure phenomena wherein mind
still struggles impotently under its physical conditions — sleep,
dreaming, somnambulism, insanity, racial characteristics, instinct,
etc.; and the relation of consciousness to mere animal life ; devel-
oping positive grounds for the immortality of the soul.
With Hegel, therefore, German speculation is supposed to reach
the point of complete reconciliation with the world and recogni-
tion of its forms. It would explain history as the development
of conscious freedom ; art as the portrayal of it to the senses ;
religion as the revelation of it in its spiritual relation to the will,
the Christian religion being regarded as the absolute form of re-
ligion. The whole circle, pure thought, nature, spirit, being em-
braced in one system, we arrive at a completion of a cycle of phi-
losophy, corresponding to the encyclopaedic completeness which
Aristotle gave to the science of his time. Subsequent philosoph-
ic activity has been partly a popular restatement of the encyclo-
paedic form of Hegel, partly investigation in special spheres in
accordance with Hegel's dialectic method or criticisms on the
same ; partly a return to the stand-points of previous philoso-
phers.
The most eminent of the school of direct expounders of Hegel
are Marheineke, J. Schulze, Gans, von Henning, Hotho, Forster,
Michelet, Eoseukrauz, AVeisse, Gosckel, Erdmann and Kuuo
Fischer. A school of psychologists has also arisen which ap-
proximates, more or less, in methods the English and Scotch
schools of empirical psychology. Its most eminent names are
The History of Philosophy. 265
J. H. Fiehte, Wirth, Zeller, Ulrici, Bona Meyer, and Liebniann.
Many of these thinkers commenced as adherents of Hegel and
afterwards gradually withdrew their assent from his doctrines
and assumed positions more or less antagonistic to them.
These three phases of the Hegelian dialectic (a) immediate as-
sertion, (6) mediation through grounds more or less foreign to the
subject, (e) self-mediation, through which the transition is made
from the previous idea to the more concrete one which follows it
— furnish the ground of this divergence. Warm adherents like
Strauss and Feuerbach in their first career, dazzled by the pen-
etration of the system into all realms of activity, cling to the di-
alectic with a sort of faith, and seize it as real objective evolu-
tion — a kind of development theory — and do not notice that it ex-
hibits self-annulment of all subordinate ideas and categories in
the ultimate and highest one — the idea — which is the notion of
absolute self-conscious Personality. Accordingly the whole sys-
tem is seized as a necessary evolution whereiu unconscious im-
pulse or principle plays the most important role. Hence with
Strauss and Feuerbach a return is made out of the doctrine of
the transcendence of conscious spiritual personality to that of
Pantheistic genesis and re-absorption of the soul ; and the sys-
tem of Hegel as presented by its author is completely inverted.
Contemporary with Hegel appeared Schleiermacher (1768-1834)
Herbart (1776-1841) and Schopenhauer (1788-1860). Schleier-
macher (incited by Schelliug) attempted to modify the Kantian
Philosophy so as to co-ordinate its realistic and idealistic ele-
ments. He held the objectivity of the categories and allow-
ed validity to feeliug and emotion as of equal rank with con-
scious intellect. Schopenhauer likewise modified the Kantian
doctrine and laid stress on the Practical Reason or the Will as the
transcendent object or "thing-in-itself, " underlying phenomena.
The theoretical facultv is made by him to be subordinate to the
will and a transitory phase of the same. This world is the worst
of possible worlds : a true life in it should be one of strict asce-
ticism.
Herbart went back to Leibnitz through AYolff and influenced
by Kant and Fichte, produced a subtle system of psychology,
partly empirical, partly mathematical, partly metaphysical. His
school has been prolific in distinguished thinkers, whose writ-
ings present a current of doctrine quite in contrast with the doc-
trines of the other schools that proceed from the influence of
2GG The History of Philosophy.
Kant. Of these Beneke (1798-185'4) was the most eminent. He
omitted the mathematical and metaphysical phases of the sys-
tem of Herbart. and added many valuable suggestions on the
subject of the disappearance of characteristics of ideas and their
reappearance in subsequent ideas, thus throwing light on the
unconscious process of thought. With him empirical psychol-
ogy is the basis of all philosophy and metaphysics. Among the
thinkers of the school of Herbart may be counted Drobisch, Ex-
ner, Hartenstein, Steinthal, Lazarus, Waitz, Spir, and others.
The study of Aristotle has been revived in Germany to an ex-
tent almost as great as among the schoolmen ; a circumstance
perhaps due to the influence of Hegel, who said that Aristotle
was worthy of having a special chair devoted. to him in each
university. In the lecture courses for the icinter semester, 1S71-5
there are reported in twenty-nine universities of Germany, nine-
teen special courses exclusively -devoted to some work or works
of xlristotle, besides numerous courses on ancient philosophy, in
which Aristotle constitutes the central figure. Trendelenburg
(1802-1872) is the most eminent of this German Aristotelian
school, and has founded a system in which Kant's doctrines are
modified through those of Aristotle. He adds to the two pure
intuitions of Kant — time and space — motion as a third pure intu-
ition and therewith attempts to explain the difficult problems of
logic and psychology. His attitude towards Hegel is very hos-
tile, especially to the dialectic method. Lotze deserves special
mention for his original modifications of the ideas of Leibnitz
and Herbart.
The present great struggle of philosophic thought in Germany
is to realize in common consciousness the results of the vast sys-
tems of thought built up by its great thinkers, and to find a way
from all other systems, ancient and modern, to these systems. The
immense impulse given to empirical science has had its effect in
withdrawing the attention from psychology and metaphysics.
From the stand-point of physical science, indeed, have arisen
some of the boldest materialists, such as Carl Vogt, Moleschott,
and Biichner, whose principle is well summed up by one of them
in the statement that "Thought is a secretion of the brain, just
as bile is of the liver."
The decay of philosophical systems does not indicate a want
of success on their part. The most successful system is the
most exhaustive and finished one, and its establishment is fol-
The History of Philosophy. 267
lowed by a certain sense of completeness and security which en-
ables investigators to turn their attention to special provinces,,
and elaborate them. This specializing tendency (notably follow-
ing the appearance of Aristotle's encyclopaedic system, and fol-
lowing in like manner that of Hegel in Germany) soon carries
its devotees far away from the central principle of the system,,
and produces very distorted versions of it. Thus it is the very
perfection of a philosophy that does most to produce divergence
among its followers and their successors. This is the explana-
tion of the present aspect of German thought, which seems fast
deserting the great system that arose in the first quarter of the
present century, and likely soon to lose itself in a multitude of
individual points of view, or perhaps to adopt altogether the
stand-point of empirical psychology.
CHAPTER VI. ITALY, FRANCE, ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
(A List of the Principal Philosophers of the Past Century.)
1. Italy. — Among the Italian philosophers after Yico (1668-
1774) who founded the philosophy of history, are to be mention-
ed Galluppi (1770-1816) a psychologist influenced by the critical
philosophy; Eosmini (1797-1855) founder of a new school of
Idealism (also influenced by Kant) ; Gioberti (1801-1852) a Beal-
ist in the scholastic sense of the term, author of a system of on-
tology internally resembling the system of Leibnitz ; Mamiani
(1799 — ) holding the Scottish doctrine of presentative perception
and of intuitional cognition of ideas ; he is at present editor of
La Filosofia delle Scuole Italiane (a journal of speculative philos-
ophy) with a corps of co-laborers including F. Bonatelli, A. Fran-
chetti, F. Lavarino, G. Barzellotti, F. Bagnisco, Luigi Ferri and
others ; A. Vera (1817 — ) the chief Italian disciple of Hegel has
translated many of his works into French and Italian : E. Mar-
iano, B. Spaventa, also Hegelians, Giov. Ventura, the chief repre-
sentative of the scholastics, Giu. Ferrari the positivist.
2. France. — In France, after Condillac (1715-1780) the follower
of Locke, Cabanis (1757-1808) the physiological psychologist
("thought is a secretion of the brain"), Destutt de Tracy (1751-
1836), Laromiguiere developed and modified the system of sensa-
tionalism especially by studying the influence of the will in the
formation of ideas. Eoyer Collard (1763-1845) and Maine de
208 The History of Philosophy.
Biran (1700-1824), the former by the introduction of Scotch phi-
losophy and the latter by a subtle psychological analysis, broke
the influence of Condillac. Mctor Cousin (1792-1867) the eclec-
tic, is the most influential among modern French philosophers.
He adopted the principle of Leibnitz, "Systems are true in what
they affirm, false in what they deny," and illustrated his views by
his writings on the history of philosophy. His disciples, Jouf-
froy (1790-1842), Janet, Eemusat, Bavaisson, Haureau, Damiron
and many others have won distinction at home and abroad. The
Socialists, St. Simon, Fourier, Leroux, have exerted a wide influ-
ence upon the common mind. August Comte (1798-1857), the
founder of the Positivist school, holds the evolutional stand-
point, making human thought to pass through the theological
and metaphysical stages successively before reaching the highest
stage, that of positive science, and laying great stress on the
classification of the sciences in the order of necessary evolution
(a) mathematics, (b) astronomy, (c) physics, (d) chemistry, (e) bi-
ology, (f) sociology ; his system has been supported and promul-
gated chiefly by E. Littre.
3. Great Britain. — The history of British philosophy after
Hume, is (a) that of reaction through the school of empirical psy-
chology : the Scotch school of Thomas Eeid (1710-1 790),who set
up the doctrine of "common sense" and substituted the doctrine
of immediate presentation in sense-perception for that of repre-
sentation (or perception through ideas). Dugald Stewart (1753-
1828), Thomas Brown (1778-1820) and Sir William Hamilton
(1788-1850) are the most important disciples of Beid. The last
named has exerted a wide influence in Europe and America
through his great erudition and his application of it to doctrines
of present interest. His doctrine of the quantification of the
predicate is claimed as a great discovery in logic; his "law of
the conditioned" — that human cognition is equally incapable of
seizing the infinitely great and the infinitely small — has been
adopted by many thinkers, both in the interest of theology and in
the interest of scepticism, (b) The Positivist school of G. H.
Lewes, John Stuart Mill and Herbert Spencer, who write in an
independent spirit, not so much influenced by the method of
Comte as by the general spirit of the movement known as Posi-
tivism, is predominant in England and America. Its chief psy-
chological doctrines rest on the basis of Locke and Hume, with,
in Spencer's system, some tenets borrowed from Hamilton's doc-
The History of Philosophy. 269
trine of the unconditioned. The doctrine of evolution is also
much emphasized by this school, and the writings of Charles Dar-
win have had a wide influence in all fields of scientific investiga-
tion in Europe and America, (c) The influence of Coleridge and
Carlyle in promoting the cultivation of a more spiritual tendency
in speculative and moral philosophy, should be noted. Eecently
an able school of thinkers has appeared, largely influenced by a
study of German philosophy, and many of them are translators
and interpreters of that philosophy, especially the system of
Hegel. T. H. Green, editor of Ilume's philosophical works ; B.
Jowett, translator of Plato ; William Wallace, translator of He-
gel's Logic; J. F. Ferrier, Henry Sidgwick, J. Sibree, Kobert Flint,
S.H.Hodgson, G. C. Robertson and others are to be named. A peri-
odical, "Mind," a quarterly devoted to psychology and philoso-
phy has been started. J. Hutchinson Stirling, the translator
and expounder of Hegel ("The secret of Hegel") has given a
strong impulse to the study of that great thinker.
4. America. — American Philosophy counts Jonathan Edwards
(1703-1758) as its first representative. He was the founder of
New England Calvinism, and is chiefly known for his treatise on
the will. Timothy Dwight, N. W. Taylor, H. P. Tappan, Chas.
G. Finney and others, have discussed the results of his system
with especial view to theology. The so-called "transcendentalist"
school in America arose partly from the study of Kant and his
followers and especially through the study of Coleridge — who
was made known in America through the efforts of James Marsh.
E. W. Emerson, A. B. Alcott, Margaret Fuller, Theodore Parker
and J. F. Clarke were active in founding this school. George
Riphy, one of the editors of The Dial (1812) was instrumental
in introducing Cousin to his countrymen, and the eclectic system
became widely popular, and has exercised a great effect upon
literary and philosophic thought here, down to the present time.
O. A. Brownson, first a disciple of the eclectic system, became a
profound student of Aquinas, and for many years conducted a
journal in the interest of Catholicism and its school of modified
scholasticism. Cousin has found other translators and expound-
ers in C. S. Henry, O. W. Wight and Asa Mahan. Noah Porter,
author of "The Human Intellect," has discussed in a temperate
spirit all of the great problems of Philosophy from the stand-
point of modern empirical psychology. James McCosh, the
ablest of the representatives of the Scotch Philosophy, has pub-
270 The History of Philosophy.
lished ''Intuitions of the Mind," and an "Exposition of the Scot-
tish Philosophy." L. P. Hickok, with great originality and
depth of speculative insight, has written various works bearing
upon rational psychology and cosmology, following in the main
the direction of Kant, but adopting a positive attitude in his con-
clusions. u The Nation," a Avork on the philosophy of politics,
by E. Mulford, and "The Science of Thought," a work present-
ing the Hegelian method of treating logic as a system of psycho-
logical ontology, by C. C. Everett, give the essential views of the
Hegelian school in the form of original able elaborations. A. E.
Kroeger has translated and published many of Fichte's works.
Tayler Lewis in his studies upon Plato, Mark Hopkins in his
moral theories, E. G. Hazard in his profound investigations of
the Will, Francis Bowen in his critical expositions of logic and
the systems of Cousin and Hamilton, W. D. Wilson in his meta-
physical theories, Joseph Haven in his text books on mental and
moral philosophy, are widely known and appreciated.
The most noteworthy writers on the History of Philosophy are
the following: Stanley (date of his work 1655), following closely
Diogenes Laertius; Bayle (Diet. Hist, et Crit., 1697); Brucker
(1767 — his work was abridged by Enfield, 1791) ; Tiedemann
(1797), from the stand-points of Leibnitz and Locke; Buhle
(1804-5), a Kantian ; Tennemann (1819), also a Kantian ; Bern-
hold (1830) ; Bitter (1838) ; Hegel (1842) ; Schwegler (1818— his
work has been translated into English by J. H. Seelye, X. Y.,
1850, and J. H. Stirling, Edinburgh, 1867); Erdmaun (1831-1866);
J. H. Scholten (1861); Cousin "(1828); G. H. Lewes (1846); Zeller
(1844-69); Kuno Fischer (1854-76); Luigi Ferri (1868).
Periodicals devoted to Speculative Philosophy are (1), Zeit-
schrift fuer Philosophic unci Philosophische KritiTc, published at
Halle; (2), Philosophische Monatshefte, published at Leipsic ;
(3), Die Neue Zeit, published at Prague; (4), La Filosofia delle
Scuole Italiane, published at Borne; (5), Mind, a Quarterly Beview
of Psychology and Philosophy, published in London ; (6), Revue
Philosophique, published in Paris.
(271)
HEDONISM AXD UTILITARIANISM.
By John Watson.
A theory of conduct is, or ought to be, the exact counterpart
and reflection of a theory of knowledge. The recognition that
all known objects are constituted by relations to a Eeason that,
however it may change, always remains at one with itself, is al-
ready by implication the complementary conception that all hu-
man actions are originated by the self-same unchangeable Eeason.
The indirect proof of either view lies in the self-con Iradictions
that dog the footsteps of the theorist who tries to explain the
simplest object of consciousness, or the least important act,
without having recourse to the conception of an originative Intel-
ligence. And as human error is to be explained, not as the al>
sence of rational elements, but as a misappreh ension of the mu-
tual relations of those elements, so human guilt consists in self-
identi ficatio n with an object that Eeason declares to be iucompat-
ibTe_withltseIf7 Thus knowledge and virtue, ignorance and vice,
fall into their places as component parts of one comprehensive
structure. Xor is the close fellowship of metaphysical and ethi-
cal speculation less evident when the work of Eeason is over-
looked, than when it is appreciated. Hedonism is as inseparable
from Sensationalism as soul from body : the denial in the sphere
of knowledge of the originative activity of thought, leads di-
rectly in the realm of action to the negation of absolute moral
distinctions. If Thought is purely formal, having no higher task
than that of arranging in an arbitrary order a material passively
apprehended by it, Will must in like manner move this way or
that, as the pleasure imagined to be most preferable impinges
upon it. But the correspondence is still more exact. Sensation-
alism as a philosophical theory exists in virtue of its attempted
reduction of all objects of knowledge to individual feeling. The
supposed improvement cannot be proceeded with, for unrelated
feelings, as they cannot be known at all, are not capable of being-
made a basis of operation from which the reality of knowledge
shall be overturned and the illusion of knowledge put iu its
place; but the impotence of the attempt may be concealed by
the Action of self-association, granted to feeling by a pure act of
272 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
mercy. Experience has thus to be explained as, primarily, the
drifting' together and coalescence of stray impressions under the
guidance of chance, and, secondarily, as the suggested sequence
of an object seemingly permanent and stable, but really fleeting
and evanescent, upon the consciousness of one of the single im-
pressions constituting it. Volition will therefore, by parity of
reasoning, be the association of one feeling with another that has
been suggested by a group of feelings already formed, and action
a rearrangement of one or more such groups. The parallelism
s of Sensationalism and Hedonism is therefore complete. As
knowledge is a sequence of individual sensations, so action is the
customary association of individual feelings of pleasure. The
order of succession is indeed reversed, the group in the one case
going before and in the other coming after; but this makes no es-
sential difference, as in either case nothing is ostensibly admitted
but a succession of individual feelings. It is evident however
that, taken strictly, Hedonism does not account for morality any
more than Sensationalism for knowledge. For if action is the
invariable association of feelings, no other course except that
actually followed is possible. Hence, just as the Sensationalist
identifies momentary sensations with permanent and self-identi-
cal objects, under the disguise of "facts of experience," in order
to explain the possibility of a science of nature, the Hedonist
speaks of "Happiness," which really involves universal relations
to self-consciousness, as if it were synonymous with pleasurable
feeling, and in this way apparently accounts for a right and a
wrong in conduct. And, again, as happiness may be conceived
either as an end which the individual pursues with a view to his
own satisfaction alone, or as that which he regards as best for
the community of which he forms a part, Hedonism may, to
adopt the terms of a recent writer,' be either Egoistic or Univer-
salistic. It is more particularly upon the latter form of the the-
ory, usually called Utilitarianism, that we propose to make a few
remarks ; although what we have to say will apply with equal
force to the fundamental position of the former.
Universalistic Hedonism, or Utilitarianism, maintains that
"right and wrong, as well as truth and falsehood, are questions
of observation and experience."! If this only meant that man
*Sid£wick: "Methods of Erhic-."
|J. S. Mill : "Utilitarianism."
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 273
in a primitive state — the so-called u state of nature " — is destitute
of moral ideas, and that these are slowly and gradually devel-
oped by the interaction of social forces, no reasonable objection
could be made. But much more than this is intended. Some
courses of action, it is implied, give rise to pleasurable feelings
varying in intensity: others to different degrees of pain. Every
man naturally desires to have as much pleasure and as little pain
as possible : and hence virtue is but another name for conduct
that is fitted to produce a maximum of pleasure. Reason, there-
fore, as it does not originate feeling but only contemplates it
when originated, has nothing to say to the Tightness or wrong-
ness of an act. Xo act is in itself, and apart from the pleasure
or pain it is calculated to produce, either virtuous or vicious.
Thj only thing that is or can be desired is pleasure; the only
thing towards which an aversion is felt is pain; and right con-
duct is that which, upon the whole and irrespective of the amount
of pleasure or pain experienced by the individual actor, tends to
an overplus of pleasure; wrong conduct that which results in an
excess of pain. The truth or falsehood of Utilitarianism, there- *
fore, depends. upon its competency to account for morality by a
mere calculus of pleasurable feelings, without the introduction of
elements that feeling in its purity excludes. The choice is not,-
as it is usually represented to be, between the derivation of moral
conceptions from Experience, or their foundation in Intuition ; on
the contrary, it may easily be shown that these rival methods,
however they may pretend to differ, are at bottom beset by es-
sentially the same imperfection. Both alike deny to Reason any
share in the constitution of objects; for although Utilitarianism
affects to obtain all moral distinctions from experience, while In-
tuition claims that right and wrong are given in an immediate
judgment, still the former resolves experience into a series of
l'eelings, and the latter has no test to apply save the variable con-
victions of individuals. To make good its right to exist, Utilita-
rianism must be able to show, not merely that moral conceptions
have grown up in time, and that the virtuous man adopts as his.
rule of life the good of his kind, but that an ethical system may
be raided upon a purely Hedonistic basis. It has to be proved
that, in the words of Bentham, ''pleasure is in itself a good;
nay, even setting aside immunity from pain, the only good: pain
is in itself an evil, and indeed, without exception, the only evil:*'
X— 18
274 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
and that, consistently with this fundamental postulate, legal,
moral and social relations can be accounted for.
Right conduct, then, we are to suppose, is that which tends to
produce the "greatest happiness altogether." "Happiness," in
the mouth of the Utilitarian, does not of course mean a conceiv-
ed end of action, pursued from its adequacy to satisfy the rational
nature of man ; it is simply a syuonyme for a sum of feelings —
" pleasure and freedom from pain," as Mr. Mill says. " Greatest
happiness" will therefore be the largest sum of pleasures that
can in any way be obtained. Are we, then, in weighing pleasures
against each other to take note only of their quantity f or are we
to regard the quality of a pleasure as an essential ingredient in
the estimate ! The latter alternative is openly or tacitly adopted
by all Utilitarians ; and indeed it is impossible to see how univer-
salistic, can otherwise be distinguished from egoistic Hedonism.
Mr. Mill at least is of opinion that "it is quite compatible with
the principle of utility to recognize the fact, that some kinds of
pleasure are more desirable and more valuable than others. It
would be absurd that while, in estimating all other things, qual-
ity is considered as well as quantity, the estimation of pleasures
should be supposed to depend on quantity alone." The " absur-
dity" we willingly concede ; the " compatibility " we deny. For
if the sole end of right action is the production of a maximum of
pleasure, it is manifestly of no importance how the pleasure is
obtained; not the means employed but the end achieved is im-
portant. "All desirable things," as Mr. Mill tells us, "are de-
sirable either for the pleasure inherent in themselves, or as means
to the prevention of pain." But after the exclusion of everything
except pleasure and pain, nothing is left as residuum except
feeling as experienced by the individual subject of it. Xow, feel-
ing as it is to the individual is not transferable: no man can ex-
perience the feelings of another. When therefore we are told
that the true end of action is the production of the greatest
amount of pleasure to men in general, the conception thus sug-
gested is that of a number of isolated individuals, each of whom
is the single subject of feelings that can be felt by no one but him-
self. Thus understood, the pleasurable feelings which have to
be measured against each other, are transient states of con-
sciousness momentarily changing upon the subject of them. Can
we, then, say that pleasures or pains, as mere feelings, differ
from each other in quality? The pleasure incidental to the sat-
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 275
isfaction of appetite, in so far as it is a feeling, is taken out of re-
lation to a permanent subject, and therefore appetite cannot be
conceived as it might otherwise be, as the means of preserving
life. All that can be said of one such pleasure as compared with
another is that it is more or less pleasant. Does the pleasure
arising from the realization of one of the higher desires differ in
kind from a pleasure of appetite ! The satisfaction I derive from
the consciousness of being an owner of property is no doubt of a
different quality from that which attends the gratification of my
lower needs, if I am allowed to think of property as a means of
developing my nature, and of bringing me into beneficial rela-
tions with my fellow men. But by the introduction of such con-
ceptions, an element altogether different from the momentary
feeling of pleasure I experience is introduced. Excluding all the
relations which constitute the peculiarity of the feeling of pro-
prietorship, and contemplating it simply as a transitory state,
nothing can be said of it that is not equally true of the satisfac-
tion of animal appetite, except perhaps that it is a pleasure of
greater intensity. In the same way, not to multiply instances,
the pleasure connected with any social affection, such as benevo-
lence, does not differ except in quantity from the pleasure inci-
dental to the gratification of appetite, or the pleasure derived
from the possession of wealth. Hence the Utilitarian is not enti-
tled to suppose that pleasurable feelings differ in their "intrinsic
nature." It is only by investing feeling with relations of thought
incompatible with its transiency — by covertly bringing back the
conditions of it which are ostensibly excluded — that generic dif-
ferences can be predicated of one feeling as compared with an-
other. To say that one feeling differs from another in kind, is to
employ language the self-contradictory character of which is
concealed because pleasure as a momentary feeling is confused
with a determinate object, conceived as fitted to satisfy a rational
being. The assertion that intellectual pleasures are higher than
bodily pleasures, carries conviction with it only because the one
class is regarded as more compatible with the higher nature of man
than the other. The man, it is implied, who seeks to satisfy
himself with the pleasures of sense, is either ignorant of, or wil-
fully ignores the higher gratification he might obtain through the
exercise of his intellectual faculties. But here the data from
which a generic difference is inferred, are not mere feelings of
pleasure, but pleasure as related to a being who " looks before
270 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
and after," and whose rational nature will not be cheated by an
object utterly inadequate to it. When Mr. Mill tells us that ''it
is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied;
better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied:" he car-
ries our sympathies with him at the expense of his own consis-
tency. For, unless in the fact that a human being converts mo-
mentary feeling into an object of thought, how does he differ
from the pig that finds its complete satisfaction in a sufficiency
of " pig's- wash and ground barley ?" and wherein is the fool in-
ferior to Socrates except in identifying his highest good with ob-
jects incompatible with his own ideal nature f The Utilitarian
has thus to face the dilemma : either pleasures differ only in
A quantity, or pleasure is not the true end of action. To accept
the second alternative is to admit that action is not based upon
feeling at all, but upon that which at once includes aud tran-
scends it, and therefore to admit the failure of Utilitarianism to
account for morality. The question now to be considered is,
therefore, whether quantitative, any more than qualitative, dis-
tinctions belong of right to individual feelings of pleasure.
Eight couduct may now be defined as that which produces the
greatest quantity of pleasure that, by any method of distribu-
tion, can be obtained by a given number of persons. This quan-
tity may be either extensive or intensive; but as extensive quan-
tity is manifestly reducible to a succession of momentary feelings
of indistinguishable intensity, it will only be necessary to con-
sider how pleasures differ from each other in degree. Xow the
assumption that pleasures and pains may be separately summed
up and a balance struck between them, implies that each feeling-
has a fixed and unchanging quantity, that admits of being ex-
pressed in numerical symbols. But is anything more evident
than that the quantity of pleasures or pains is not definite but
infinitely variable ? Are the pleasures of appetite greater or less
in degree than the pleasures arising from the operation of the in-
tellect, or from the exercise of the affections '. The question must
be answered by each individual for himself. The epicure receives
intense pleasure from a rare vintage; to the man of frugal habits
one wine tastes as pleasantly as another. The connoisseur feels
a keen delight in listening to the successful performance of the
music of a master ; the man to whom a line ear and a cultured
taste have been denied is better pleased to hear some simple
melody. There is therefore no fixity in the quantity of pleasure
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. U77
or pain when we compare together men differing in natural or ac-
quired characteristics. But neither is pleasure unvarying in the
same individual at different times. The intensity of a pleasure
changes with one's bodily or mental state : that which in a
healthy condition of mind or body gives intense delight, will in
sickness or mental prostration produce pain rather than pleas-
ure. Pleasures and pains are, therefore, per se not constant
quantities. But this is simply another way of saying that as *
feelings they have no quantity whatever. The only way in
which the intensity of a pleasure can be determined at all is by
bringing it into relation with the circumstances and conditions
under which it originates. We cannot say : " Intellectual
pleasures are superior in intensity to bodily pleasures," without
adding the qualification, " to the man who values the one more
than the other." If we are consistent in excluding all relations
of thought, we can only express the quantity of a pleasure or
pain by the tautology : " This feeling has the degree of inten-
sity which it has." Pleasurable feelings having no quantity, it is
absurd to speak of a sum of pleasures. But even supposing
that pleasures and pains were individually as definite in quantity
as they are variable, we should not be one whit nearer to the
ideal " greatest happiness " the Utilitarian requires to have
granted to him. For however exact and constant may be the
amount of each feeling taken by itself, no synthesis of feelings
can take place so long as no element but feeling is introduced.
Each feeling perishes in the moment of its appearance, and pass-
ing from consciousness ceases to be available as a unit in the
feigned sum of feelings which Utilitarians assume. The only
way in which feelings can be comprehended in one sum is by be-
ing related to a permanent subject of them, and so related, they"
are transmuted by the alchemy of reason and come forth as uni-
versalized feelings, i. e., as a conceived object, with which a ra-
tional being may be supposed without contradiction to identify
himself. A particular feeling cannot be judged of without ceas-
ing to be particular; and it is only by the unwarrantable confu-
sion of pleasure as a mere feeling with an object that gives satis-
faction because it is, rightly or wrongly, conceived as calculated
to satisfy one's spiritual nature, that Utilitarianism seems atfirst
sight so convincing, but is really so inconclusive. Examples of
this identification in the writings of its representatives are abun-
dant, but one instance may suffice. When a difficulty arises as
278 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
to the relative quantity of two pleasures, Mr. Mill tells us that
"the judgment of those who are qualified by a knowledge of
both, or, if t.hey differ, that of the majority among them, must be
admitted as final." Here the contrast between pleasure as feel-
ing, and pleasure as an object of thought, is so plainly implied
that he who runs may read. Mistake as to the quantity of a
pleasure is admitted, and a comparison of various feelings is
stated to be required before the doubtful quantity can be deter-
mined. But, as any one who is careful in the use of his terms at
once sees, the intensity of a feeling of pleasure or pain can nei-
ther be increased nor diminished : its esse, as Berkeley said, is
percipi. When therefore an appeal is made from the narrower
experience of one person to the wider experience of another, the
implication is that pleasures can be said to have a definite quan-
t tity, or indeed any quantity whatever, only as they are fixed by
relations to each other and to a self-consciousness that is present
to all alike. The same tacit assumption of relations of thought
is of course implied in the appeal in the last resort to " the ma-
jority ; " for if this only meant that a greater number of persons
are the subjects of some feelings than of others, it might reason-
ably be doubted whether the feelings of the minority were not
the more correct criterion of the two. The only reason that can
be given for accepting the judgment of the majority is the great-
er probability of a fuller and more accurate comparison having
been made. But fullness and accuracy have no meaning when
applied to mere feelings ; each feeling is to the individual exactly
what it appears to be, and as no feeling can repeat itself, a com-
parison of feelings that shall exclude rational elements is a man-
ifest contradiction. The decision of the majority may be accep-
ted as a rough test of the value of different courses of action —
although a thing is not made right merely because it has a pre-
ponderance of votes in its favor — but only because that decision
'is more likely to be in accordance with the demands of reason.
The quantity as well as the quality of feelings being therefore a
fiction, no further refuge now remains in which the Utilitarian
may conceal the self-contradictory character of his theory. This
conclusion will be strengthened and enforced by a comparison of
the principle of "greatest happiness" with the conception (ff
Duty, which every ethical system must account for on pain of
extinction.
The conception of right and wrong in conduct implies the op-
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 279
position of what is and what ought to be. Any explanation of
human conduct that omits the notion of moral obligation fails at
a vital point, and, however plausible it may be, is beset by some
radical imperfection. Could the notion of duty have originated
at all, upon the supposition that pleasurable feeling is the sole
end of action ? We are not forgetting that the pleasure of which
the Utilitarian speaks is the greatest pleasure altogether, and not
the maximum of pleasure which any individual may secure for
himself. The distinction is of the highest importance; but it has
no force in the present conuection, unless there is first estab-
lished, without the introduction of any element save feeling, such
a radical divergence in the character of different acts as shall
warrant the opposition of moral and natural. ]STow, as has al-
ready incidentally appeared, the Utilitarian is bound to conceive
the aggregate of individuals among whom a supposed sum of
pleasures has to be divided, as independent atoms : no man can
have another's feelings because no man can be another. The vo-
litions, therefore, of each separate individual are determined by
what is to him most preferable. As all Hedonists are forward to
tell us, the will is always governed by motives, and the motive
which prevails is the desired pleasure which seems strongest.
If the " strongest desire " is but another name for that which is
preferred, we have the perfectly innocent affirmation : "A man
always prefers what he prefers ;" a proposition it can be no one's
interest to dispute. Nevertheless, this barren truism is some-
times put forward as if it were a most important discovery. Thus
Bentham tells us that " there is no such thing as any sort of mo-
tive that is in itself a bad one ;" a remark which he expands by
saying that even when " a man's motive is ill-will, malice, envy,
or cruelty, it is still a kind of pleasure that is his motive." This
seems to amount to no more than the assertion, that a man never
prefers what he does not wish ; which may be at once granted,
the important and only important point being, whether the mo-
tive to all actions is a feeling of pleasure or an object constituted*
by reason. The Utilitarian is bound to adopt the former alterna-
tive, and as a matter of fact all Utilitarians do adopt it. The re-
lation of desire and volition will therefore consist in a peculiar
kind of transition from one feeling to another. The feeling im-
agined to be the most pleasant is the most pleasant, for a feeling
exists only as it is felt. ISTo matter, therefore, what the feeling
may be, it is the only one the individual is capable of having.
'280 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
That which he actually does, and that which he ought to do, are
synonymous; or rather the distinction of an "ought" from an
"is" can never present itself at all. Granting, then, that a man
may make the production of the largest sum of pleasure upon
the whole his motive of action, his conduct will not for that rea-
son be in the least degree more praiseworthy than that of the
man who acts from the most selfish of motives. The only way in
which the feeling of another can become a motive of action is by
being imagined as the most pleasurable of a number of compet-
ing feelings present to the doer of the act. But this does not
7 make conduct so determined moral, the individual being incapa-
ble of acting otherwise than he does. He cannot be unselfish
any more than selfish, virtuous any more than vicious ; such dis-
tinctions have here no meaning whatever. Xor is this conclu-
sion avoided by saying that the actions of men can be improved
by the influence of public opinion, education or punishment be-
ing brought to bear upon them. This may account for an altera-
tion in conduct, but it does not make it moral. For as such influ-
ences can only operate upon the self-enclosed individual by in-
creasing or diminishing the intensity of certain feelings, the lat-
ter state of the man will be in no way superior morally to the
first ; volition will still follow the pleasure imagined to be most
desirable just as before. When, therefore, Mr. Mill tells us that
" men often, from infirmity of character, make their election for
the nearer good, though they know it to be less valuable," he
states a fact which, just because it is undeniable, overthrows the
supposed derivation of morality from purely Hedonistic princi-
ples. As objects of desire there is no difference between " near-
er" and "remoter good," when by "good" we are to understand
imagined pleasure ; for as imagined every pleasure is present.
And as that which makes one pleasure "less valuable" than an-
other is its inferior intensity, which is never different from what
it appears to be, we are not entitled to speak of " infirmity of
character" in a morally depreciatory sense. Conversely, neither
the hero nor the martyr is entitled to moral approbation, since
the motive that actuates him is that which to him is the greatest
pleasure of which he is at the time capable, even though it be a
pleasure that the rnajorit}' of men would not in like circumstan-
ces feel.
Strange as this conclusion may seem to be, it is deliberately
kdopted by eminent Utilitarians. Thus Mr. Mill, following l\vn-
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 281
tham, says: "The morality of an action depends entirely upon
the intention — that is upon what the agent wills to do. But the
motive, that is the feeling which makes him will so to do, when it
makes no difference in the act makes none in the morality." At
first sight this seems to be an unqualified affirmation that moral-
ity lies entirely in the act, apart altogether from the relation of
the act to the doer of it. But upon looking more closely we see
that this cannot be what is meant. It will not be held that the
soldier or public executioner is deserving of moral reprobation
for the mere fact of destroying a human being's life, although the
act iu itself does not differ from willful murder. We are to con-
sider the " intention," i. e., whether the deed is attributable to a
given person, or is something with which he has nothing to do.
But the mere fact that an act is mine does not make it either
right or wrong: and when we ask how the act has come to be
mine, the only answer we can get from the Utilitarian is that it
follows the strongest desire. Thus we come back to the old dif-
ficulty, that the act is determined by the most pleasant feeling,
and the feeling is not under the control of the agent. There can
therefore be no propriety in saying that a given act is mine, if by
this is meant that I am responsible for it; take away the motive
and you at the same time destroy the act and therefore the inten-
tion : alter the motive and you also alter the intention. It does
not seem, then, that the mere distinction of motive and intent
tiou will account for the lightness or wrougness of actions. And
in fact Utilitarians virtually admit as much when they judge of
the morality of actions by the amount of pleasure they are fitted
to bring to the majority. While an act must be done intention-
ally before it can have any moral value, it is further required
that it should be in itself of a nature to produce the greatest
happiness of the community. What, then, is the nature of the
connection between an act and its consequences ? The Utilita-
rian, excluding all relations of thought, is bound to hold that it
is simply a uniform sequence between feelings. As, however,
feelings cannot associate themselves, any order among feelings
and therefore any uniformity is inconceivable: and hence we are
compelled to have recourse to relations constituted by thought.
To determine that an act is moral, we must view it, on the one
hand in relation to the doer of it, and on the other hand in rela-
tion to the effects it is fitted to produce upon others. Here,
therefore, we have introduced the complex relations implied in
282 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
the reference of an act to a permanent self that is in essential
relation with other permanent selves ; we have in short gone en-
> tirely beyond individual feelings and based the notion of morality
upon reason. It is unnecessary to show in detail that the same
result is reached by considering the "disposition" or "character"
of a person. If no element save feeling is introduced, the dis-
tinction of a good and bad disposition becomes meaningless,
since by disposition must in that case be understood, simply the
way in which feelings are accustomed to follow each other in
consciousness — a thing over which the individual has no control.
Only in relation to a universal self can we speak of character or
disposition at all; and if, as we are told, a good disposition is
that "bent of character from which useful actions are likely to
arise," we come as before to appraise acts as right or wrong only
as they are related to a self-conscious being, who may identify
his own good with that of others. This conclusion will perhaps
appear more evident by now changing our point of view. Hav-
ing inquired what meaning morality has for the individual, upon
the supposition that the end of action is the greatest happiness
of all ; let us now ask upon what grounds the Utilitarian main-
â– tains that a maximum of pleasure is the true end of action, when
it is granted to him that each individual is ruled solely by the
? desire of pleasure — in other words, what is the proof of Utilita-
rianism.
"No reason," says Mr. Mill, "can be given why the general
happiness is desirable, except that each person, so far as he be-
lieves it attainable, desires his own happiness. Each person's
happiness is a good to that person, and the general happiness
therefore a good to the aggregate of all persons." The inference
here is from what men actually do desire to what they ought to
desire. It therefore carries its own condemnation with it : for
there is no passage from what is to what ought to be without the
introduction of some intermediate conception to bridge over the
gap. Upon examination, this "proof" will be found to be either
tautological or self-contradictory, or a truism, according as we
interpret the ambiguous term "happiness." If by the happiness
each person desires is to be understood "greatest happiness.'" ii
is ;i tautology; for— waiving altogether the objection that there
is such a thing as selfishness— if each man desires the happiness
of the community, it is an identical proposition to say that all
men desire 7 it. Perhaps, however, by "happiness" is meant one's
&
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 283
own pleasure irrespective of, and even in opposition to, the
pleasure of others. This again is palpably untrue, and it is neg-
atived by Mr. Mill himself, when he cites the hero and martyr as
instances of men who voluntarily do without happiness, ''for the
sake of something which they prize more than their individual
happiness." But supposing it true, we have then the inference
that because each man seeks his own pleasure, he should not
seek his own pleasure ; that universal selfishness is a proof of
universal unselfishness. Finally, if " happiness" is to be identi-
fied with the degree of satisfaction that accompanies or rather
constitutes desire, we fall into a truism. Yet this must be what
Mr. Mill means when he says that " desiring a thing and finding
it pleasant, aversion to it and thinking of it as painful, are phe-
nomena entirely inseparable, or rather two parts of the same
phenomenon ; to desire anything except in proportion to the idea
of it as pleasant, is a physical and metaphysical impossibility."
As "desiring a thing" means simply the feeling of desire, it must
be granted that the desire is proportionate to the pleasure, sim-
ply because the desire and the pleasure are one : no matter what
the desire may be, it must be pleasant, for the sufficient reason
that it is desire. If therefore the statement that "each one de-
sires his own happiness" is only the truism that every desire
involves an imagined satisfaction, no proof that the "greatest
happiness" ought to be desired can be extracted from it. It
would seem, then, that, interpret "happiness" as we please, so
long as we assume it to be identical with pleasurable feeling, no
reason can be given why a man ought to seek the " general hap-
piness." Mr. Sidgwick attempts to escape this difficulty by say-
ing that "the fact that 'I am I' cannot make my happiness intrin-
sically more desirable, more fit to be accepted by my reason as
the standard of right and wrong in conduct, than the happiness
of any other person." But does "the fact that 'I am I,' " make
my happiness less desirable? Can any reason be given, from the
nature of pleasure alone, why I should forego my own pleasure
merely in order that the pleasures of others should be increased?
Unless it can be shown that, when a conflict arises between indi-
vidual and general happiness, the pleasures of others ought to
be preferred, it is morally a matter of indifference which alterna-
tive I adopt. The mere universalizing of pleasure does not in
any way alter its essential nature; and unless there is something
in the abnegation of individual pleasure, which renders it moral,,
284 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
proof of the superiority of unselfishness over selfishness is im-
possible. Such proof can only be given by a theory which is
based upon the negation of individual feeling. Xot that all mor-
ality is comprehended in the Stoic's contempt of the natural de-
sires ; the mere negation of passion does little more than explain
the abstract notion of duty, the essential presupposition of right
action. But even to account for the initial conception of moral-
ity is more than Hedonism in either of its forms can do, unless
allowed to make assumptions it is incompetent to verify. If it
were possible for a human being to be what he is, and yet to go
on, without let or hindrance, gratifying each impulse as it arises,
it is inconceivable how the most rudimentary moral conception
should ever shape itself in his consciousness. But because he is
higher than any of his desires, the perceived inadequacy of an
object to satisfy the claims of his reason may become to him the
beginning of spiritual life. The man who prefers intellectual or
aesthetic pleasures to the evanescent pleasures of sense, has per-
ceived the unsatisfactoriuess of one of two courses open to him,
as a means of satisfying his universal nature; and in so far as he
consciously sacrifices the lower, he has begun that process of
self-abnegation that repays itself a thousand-fold in a fuller and
deeper life. The relation is essentially the same when the social
afFections come inlo collision with the self- regarding impulses.
No one can be conscious of selfishness without at the same time
perceiving that the uncontrolled pursuit of his own pleasure con-
flicts with the reasonable claims of others : no man can be unsel-
fish until he recognizes that, if he only chose to give way to the
promptings of his unregeuerate feelings, he might throw off the
burden of obligations "heaped upon him by the higher needs of
others. Here the moral tie lies not merely in identification with
? others, but in a surrender to the faith that is in him, that a uni-
versal end will best realize his universal nature. Such a univer-
salization of feeling by negation of immediate impulse creates a
new and fairer world, from which au infinity of spiritual rela-
tions emanate. The "greatest happiness of the greatest num-
ber 1 ' may be defined to be the end of action, if it means that the
noblest are those who count no individual feeling dear to them,
provided they win their true place in the Universe, and be found
to have the likeness not of the natural man, but of the spiritual.
But Utilitarianism will not give itself up freely and unreservedly
to this faith ; it coquets, now with Hedonism, and now with Spir-
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 285
itualism ; refusing to give up untransformed feeliug, and yet un-
willing to let reason go. It cannot even be defined without con-
tradiction ; for a "universalistic" Hedonism is as unthinkable as
a complex atom. It falls into compromise — the unpardonable sin^
in philosophical speculation. Like those worldly saints who keep
one eye on heaven and another on earth, it makes friends with
the mammon of unrighteousness even while professing to have
a soul scornM of all things base.
The application of the Greatest Happiness principle to the
sphere of subjective morality does not at once do violence to the
convictions of mankind. There is one sphere, however, where
the contradiction inherent in Utilitarianism comes clearly to the
surface. The absoluteness of the moral obligation to respect the
rights of others has so strongly impressed itself on the human
mind, that a shock is felt the moment it is hinted that the con-
ception of Justice is resolvable ultimately into a desire for the
general happiness. It is usually assumed that those acts classed
as just differ in essential nature from those that are only expe-
dient; being right in their own nature, quite irrespective of any
consequences they may have. A contrast so decided the Utilita-
rian cannot admit, without giving up the derivation of morality
from a calculus of pleasurable feelings; and hence the necessity
of a special explanation of the conception of justice. Mr. Mill
devotes a whole chapter to this topic ; attempting to reconcile
the apparent infinity of the claims of justice with the asserted
origin of it in the desire of general happiness. His efforts are
directed to the end of showing that the supposed difference in
kind between acts of expediency and acts of justice is really a
difference of degree, subjective necessity t)eing confused by the
influence of well-known laws of association with objective valid-
ity. That which constitutes the specific difference between jus-
tice and other obligations of morality is the fact that the former
implies a correlative right in some person or persons. Xo one
has a moral right to our generosity or beneficence, because al-
though these are virtues, we are under no obligation to practice
them towards any definite person, nor at any prescribed time.
Justice, on the other hand, implies that there is something which
it is not only right to do, and wrong not to do, but which some
individual person may claim from us as a moral right. This be-
ing the distinctive character of the idea of justice, we can ex-
plain how the sentiment or feeling accompanying it has grown
1286 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
up. The essential ingredients in the feeling are, the knowledge
that there is some definite individual or individuals, to whom
harm has been done, and the desire to punish the person who has
done the harm. This desire is the spontaneous outgrowth of
two natural feelings, the animal impulse of self-defence, and the
feeling of sympathy with those closely connected with us ; both
of which either are or resemble instincts. These impulses men
possess in common with the animals. The superiority of man
lies in the capacity he has of enlarging his sympathy beyond
those to whom it is naturally directed, so as to embrace all hu-
man and even all sentient beings ; and in his more developed in-
telligence, which enables him to perceive that the interest of oth-
ers is also his own interest. The peculiar energy of the feeling
of justice arises from the animal element of retaliation implied
in it ; its apparent necessity from the supreme importance of the
interest it guards — security, the very condition of human happi-
ness. This account of the origin of justice implicitly explains
why there is a moral obligation to practice it. The feeling of re-
taliation in itself has nothing moral in it; it only becomes moral
when exclusively subordinated to the social sympathies, i. e., to
a desire for the general happiness. The moral obligation, then,
to respect the rights of others lies in the fact that in no other
way can the same amount of pleasure be produced, while every
â– violation of justice strikes at the very basis of those interests
which are the very coudition of human happiness.
It must be at once apparent to any one who has got the clue
to the equivoque latent in Utilitarianism that this account of the
origin and binding force of the sentiment of justice involves,
from first to last, a confusion between pleasurable feelings and
objects that reason alone can constitute. It endeavors to explain
in the first place, the origin of the feeling that accompanies the
idea of justice ; and, secondly, the moral obligation to observe
rules of justice. The rights of others ought to be respected (to
take the last point first) because a violation of them tends to
diminish the ideal sum of pleasures the community is entitled to.
The feeling of retaliation has nothing moral in it, but the same
feeling when universalized so as to include an aggregate of indi-
viduals, takes ou a moral hue and becomes a duty. Mr. Mill is
in doubt as to whether this feeling is an instinct or only some-
thing resembling an instinct. If it is an instinct, it cannot in the
first instance be a desire for pleasure, since pleasure must be ex-
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 287
perieuced before it can be imagined as desirable. It may, how-
ever, be said that although it is at first blindly thrown out at an
indefinite object, it afterwards takes the form of an imagination
of pleasure. This assumption must be made, if the sentiment of
justice partly derived from it is to be explained as a generaliz-
ation of pleasure. The desire for one's own pleasure, we are to
suppose, shows itself negatively in resentment against the per-
son who, by harming us, decreases the amount of satisfaction we
should otherwise have had. This natural desire for individual
pleasure becomes moral when it is widened so as to include the
pleasure of the "greatest number." But if there is nothing
moral in the desire of the greatest amount of pleasure one may
secure for himself, how does the mere fact that the desire is for
a maximum of pleasure, to be distributed among an aggregate
number of individuals, alter the essential nature of the feeling ?
The mere diminution of pleasure admittedly does not constitute
injustice, for it is held to be right to lessen the pleasure of the
wrong-doer. If, as Mr. Sidgwick says, the mere' fact that "I am
I" does not make my pleasure of more importance than that of
others, neither does the mere fact that "they are they" introduce
any new element into the calculation, unless it can be shown that
the good of the community is of more importance than the expe-
rience of pleasure by the individual. The inference here again
is, that desire for one's own happiness involves the admission
that desire for the general happiness ought to be the end of ac- /
lion — a conclusion that will not conclude. It maybe replied that
the capacity of sympathy is an essential ingredient in the senti-
ment of justice: that man not only by his intelligence compre-
hends an infinite number of individuals within the area of his
vision, but also appropriates their feelings, making them his own.
But upon the exclusion of everything but pleasurable feeling,
sympathy can only enable the individual to imagine the greater
amount of pleasure that will accrue to a given aggregate of per-
sons by the observance of rules of justice, and the less amount
that will follow their violation; it can afford no criterion of the
Tightness or wrongness of action determined by the desire of
either amount. Introducing no new element, sympathy with
pleasurable feeling does not account for a generic distinction be-
tween just and unjust acts, and therefore affords no reason, to
the man who seeks to gratify his natural desire for the largest
share of pleasure he can in any way obtain for himself, why he
288 Hedonism and Utilitarianism.
should give up part of what he finds pleasant in deference to a
sentiment which he may regard — and which the Utilitarian can-
not prove he is wrong in regarding — as over-refined and unrea-
sonable.
The explanation of this failure to account for any moral supe-
riority of just over unjust acts, is easily seen by an examination
of the Utilitarian account of the origin of the sentiment of jus-
tice. It has already appeared that Mr. Mill hesitates to say
whether the natural feeling of retaliation is an instinct or only
resembles an instinct. This vacillation ,is an unconscious testi-
mony to the intrinsic distinction of an immediate feeling and an
object of reason. The ambiguous term "harm" covers things
that differ not only in degree but in kind. The feeling of resent-
ment may be an "instinct 1 ' when it takes the form of an immedi-
ate impulse to return a blow. Such an impulse, as Mr. Mill
rightly says, is not moral but natural ; it can only be shown to
be right or wrong by being brought into relation with a law that
is expressive of the essential nature of reason. Xow this rela-
tion is tacitly implied when the term "harm" is employed to des-
ignate a wrong which strikes at me, not through my immediate
sensations, but through an object that is mine only because it
has been brought within my consciousness by thought, and has
been made a means of expressing my personality. Mr. Mill,
however, treats intelligent self-interest as if it only differed from
the immediate impulse to retaliate a bodily hurt in the extent of
its range. Eights of property, for example, are conceived simply
as a permanent possibility of securing pleasure, the negation of
which is supposed to call up the instinct of self-defence solely
because the essentials of happiness are endangered. But here
there is implied the permanent relation of an object to a univer-
sal self — a relation which converts an indifferent thing into a
means of expressing personality — and the negative relation of
that self to others. It is neither an unreasoning instinct, nor a
desire for mere pleasure, that is the basis of self-interest, but an
object conceived to embody right through its relation to reason.
It is this latent reference to ;i rational will that makes it possible
for the individual to attach the notion of moral delinquency to
the violation of his own rights by another, or the violation of
another's rights by himself. The obligation to respect rules of
justice implies, as Mr. ^Iill admits, a correlative right in an indi-
vidual or individuals, and such a relation is only possible he-
Hedonism and Utilitarianism. 289
tween persons, each of whom, as rational, conceives of himself
and of others as universal and permanent. When, therefore, we
are told that the ultimate justification of rights lies in their ten-
dency to promote the general happiness, we may admit the state-
ment to be true in the sense that rights, being made for man, ulti-
mately rest upon their capacity of ministering to the spiritual
satisfaction of man. But happiness, so understood, is not pleas-
ure at all. but that "blessedness" which springs from the realiza-
tion of reason by a being who in his essential nature is rational.
And this leads us to remark that in Mr. Mill's account of sym-
pathy, the same covert assumption of elements contradictory of
pleasurable feeling is made, as vitiates his explanation of the na-
ture of self-interest. Sympathy with the pleasure of those rela-
ted to us by natural ties, which is said to be or to resemble an
instinct, is widended so as to embrace one's tribe or country, or
even all mankind. But a mere extension of a desire of pleasure
cannot account for morality, unless upon the supposition that
there is an identification of one's own good with the interests of
other rational beings. The moral element is made conceivable
only because it is assumed that self-sacrifice for the good of oth-
ers is demanded by the very law of man's being. Except as a
relation between persons, rendered possible by the substantial
unity of their nature, the social feelings cannot be shown to be
more praiseworthy than the purely self-regarding desires. And
this recognition of what is involved in the expansion of sympa-
thy enables us to solve difficulties that have baffled all the efforts
at explanation of hedonists: for example, why selfishness should
be condemned as immoral, and enlightended self-love approved as
right ; and why self-sacrifice for irrational ends should be blamed,
while self-denial in the interest of a good cause, such as that of
country or religion or mankind, is praised. So long as no differ-
ence in the objects of desire except degree of intensity is admit-
ted, no liue can be drawn at which selfishness ends and self-love
begins; the limit must be as variable as the changing feelings of
individuals. But when the morality of an act is seen to be con-
stituted by its perceived adequacy to the spiritual nature of man,
self-love is distinguishable from selfishness, as the conscious sub-
ordination of the natural tendencies to rational ends differs from
an immediate surrender of oneself to their influence. Sacrifices
undergone in a bad cause, at the prompting of natural affection
X— 19 .
290 Science in Government.
for others, cannot be opposed to the heroism, philanthropy or
piety, that leads to a negation of individual pleasures, unless on
the ground that reason condemns the one course as a violation of
its own inalienable rights, and approves of the other as a realiz-
ation of itself. Thus the belief of Intuitionism in the absolute-
ness of moral obligations, which Utilitarianism opposes but can-
not overthrow, is established by means of a principle which em-
braces while it transcends the measure of truth appropriated by
either system ; changing subjective conviction into objective ne-
cessity by exhibiting reason as that which realizes itself in the
laws, institutions, social relations and religion of a people. And
this conception of reason alone explains how it is possible for
one phase of civilization to be at once the condition and the
prophecy of the next; how change becomes progress; and how
a moral principle may extend its range and widen its sweep while
its foundation remains unmoved and immovable.
SCIENCE m GOVEKNMENT.
By Theron Gray.
In an endeavor to make a tolerable exhibit of my theme, I
make, first, an
ANALYSIS AND DEFINITION OF FORMS.
1st. Anarchy, (Non-government.) A chaotic commingling of
particles as nomadic human form, void of distinct human per-
sonality.
2d. Monarchy, (Simple Government.) Absolute authority,
operating to hold the particles in tolerable place.
3d. Du-Archy, (Complex Government.) Authority modified
and diversified, with individual rights measurably affirmed, and
personality striving to controvert and subject authority to human
power.
4th. Tri-Archy, (Composite Government.) Authority lodged
Science in Government. 291
in the whole people, institutions subjected in use, and the right
of all to "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness/' affirmed in
theory and attempted iu act.
As no governmental system can be scientifically fulfilled, accord-
ing to its true nature, until it has been consistently developed
and built up upon its principles, this fourth form can only be-
come actual, according to its theory, through a rigid course of
development and structural endeavor accordingly. Only upon
such conditions can it exhibit its true character and excellence as
theoretically involved. When thus matured it presents what
may be termed Hierarchy, or Sacred Government — government
"of, by, and for, the people," scientifically developed and organized
as such.
Let us now consider
HOW THESE FORMS ARE DEVELOPED, AND TO WHAT END.
Anarchy, as basic root or seed-form of all government, must
have a productive root in itself; else no higher form could be de-
rived from it. It is clear enough that the earliest conditions of
the human mind — the most rudimentary human state — must have
been void of institutional methods of any kind, and therefore
without government — anarchically conditioned. The problem that
thence arises is this : What is the inherent projectile power of
such condition, and what its method of operation?
The human mind itself— as the vital power of all movement —
must be the primary power to bring gleams of order out of chaos.
I mean the human mind as creatively constituted and prompted.
Implanted in the human soul, as an unconquerable power, are in-
tuitions of lordship, or magisterial sway, as rightly its own.
Here resides the germ of destiny ; for, in intrinsic nature, man is
the magisterial power in creation, and institutions are, in their
nature, wholly ministerial to him. Man, being destined for the
realization of perfect freedom and power, in perfect order, could
surely find no rest in the freedom of anarchical chaos. The strug-
gles of a freedom that has no law of meum et tuum — no law of
mine and thine — no institutional limitations and definitions of
personal power and rights — but which finds its limitations solely
in the physical power of its competitor, must cry out for some
relief; must struggle for some advanced condition, that minis-
ters somewhat to human interests in protecting the weaker in
292 Science in Government.
their manifest rights, against the aggressions of the stronger.
In obedienee to this ery of the weak for help and protection
against mere physical strength, Divine Providence raises up some
master mind and prompts it to seize upon the elements, and shape
and direct human forces to human ends. Thus, out of anarchy
arises government — human conditions needing, and human power
effecting it. And the form is by necessity that of monarchy, be-
cause of the general inexperience and helplessness. At this pe-
riod no higher form were possible ; for no other could minister to
human needs during those infantile conditions. It is a form born
of the distresses of anarchy; which distresses are felt because of
the incipient operations of divine life in the human soul, prompt-
ing it with constant unrest in any condition short of destined
mastery in full lordship. Thus we see that monarchy, in its pri-
mary state or initial degree, is divinely dictated and accordant
with the rights and, interests of mankind. But as progress, of
whatever nature, involves a fall from primitive excellence into
the devious methods or antitheses of self-assertion or subjective
formation under the guise of transgression, monarchy is sure to
lapse from its first estate of rightly disposed patriarchalism —
service to human needs everywhere — into a system of self-serv-
ing and human oppression. And this is accordant with a most
beneficent economy of Providence. Man as man, is destined to
be more than the dependent child, stupidly reclining upon the
parental "bosom and parental arm for support and protection.
Hence "the maternal breasts become shrivelled and the paternal
arm is withdrawn," in order that he may be pressed to strive for
himself, and so develop a consciousness of power and a sense of
manliness in his own right. He would not duly incline to this if
the patriarchal economy remained fixed in service, and actually
supplied all his natural wants. Thus under the rule of absolute
authority perverted to self-service rather than devoted to public
service, man is pressed forward into the conscious possession of
personal powers and rights which will make himself an intelli-
gent factor in government, and lead him to establish institutions
that will in some measure respond to, and represent, the forces of
a common personality or manhood. And so this conception and
experience of the rights and interests of man as man, begotten
of monarchy as that was begotten of anarchy, projects new in-
stitutional forms better suited to advancing human conditions.
Constitutional government comes thus into play ; and under its
Science in Government. 293
various forms certain compromises are effected. By these man
is admitted as a power in bis own right as man. Still, authority
is largely lodged in institutions under the diction of certain rep-
resentative men and bodies, because the voice of the people is
not yet properly known as the voice of God, and thus to be fully
empowered in human affairs.
And here we find the elements of a conflict more fierce and un-
relenting than aught known before. Man is admitted to promi-
nence on the public stage, and becomes conscious of rights and
powers of supreme moment, and 3'et is not educated to a scien-
tific conception of the laws and methods of final conditions
wherein he is to be fully qualified and thereupon fully endowed.
But as he, in his essential nature is undoubted master, there can
be no abatement of the conflict between him and limitary institu-
tions, till man is fully acknowledged as supreme power and au-
thority by virtue of his manhood, and national organization is
commenced accordantly.
Thus we see that inevitable strife between man and institu-
tions — the conflict between freedom and authority — born of the
practical duplicity everywhere bred and active under duarchal
order, presses man to the assertion of his full magisterial rights,,
and so opens directly into triarchy, as the institutional degree
befitting highest manhood and promising the fruition of man's
hopes by actually making him master of the situation. This
principle of triueism, or composite order in civil affairs, comes to
find enunciation in a general or involved manner, in our national
system, which lodges authority wholly in the people and makes
institutions wholly subservient to their wants. Indeed, it is very
manifest that a nation of sovereign persons, endowed with equal
rights and powers, can only be associated or united in the inter-
ests and pursuits of life in a way to make the national theory a
practical fact, through some composing law of organization, duly
recognized and instituted. Thus the law of universal freedom
and power as basic to "a people's government," carries with it a
demand for a composing or associating law by which these nu-
merous factors shall be harmoniously related. But neither the
one nor the other could by possibility become actual experience
at first. Xeither the freedom and power of the individual, nor
the order and harmony of the public or associate form were pos-
sible to actual experience, till all were rightly conditioned and
properly associated through a long era of qualifying develop-
294 Science in Government.
ment, and the exact adjustment of relations by positive civic sci-
ence. This principle of trineism, or composite order, comes by
regular progressive sequence to be announced, and initial forms
given accordingly ; but they are only initial, and remain to be
organically rendered through the requisite processes of develop-
ment and final embodiment. Full scientific consistency in insti-
tutions must give consistency and permanence of order; hence
the reign of science in government cannot be consummated till
growth or development shall have passed through all its forms
and come to adequate fruition. We see, therefore, that the true
order in human affairs can by no means be directly organized as
actual experience at its birth ; when its principles are first de-
clared in general terms and its initial forms are given. The laws
of dovelopment can in no case be set aside till the full course of
the productive process shall have transpired : wherefore, when
the principle of final order in human affairs is conceived and an-
nounced in general terms, and initial forms are instituted accord-
ingly, another fall is sure to occur, under which man is pressed
to new struggles and toils — to new efforts under the new prob-
lem given — which is a problem of universal adjustment, by which
powers before conflicting and destructive are to become accord-
antly related and truly productive. The problem contemplates
universal reconciliation and marriage of opposing forms and
forces before ignorantly lacerating and destroying each other;
and, through such scientific conjugation, the production of all
forms of beauty and worth.
And such fall, with the struggles for attainment which follow,
is a necessity, because the nature of the human mind is such that
it can intelligently comprehend and appropriate in use only that
which it experimentally unfolds or achieves as if it were solely
through its own resources and native powers. Thus when any
new form is first given as a contribution to supply human needs,
it must proceed to a formative process, true to its designs, in the
hands of man — must be experimentally unfolded and built up in
strict accordance with its true nature as germiually planted at
first ; so becoming intelligently incorporated in experience, and
thus appropriate in use. In no other way can the provisions of
Providence become truly appreciable and actually subserve their
true purpose in experience.
We see, therefore, why it is that, after man is empowered to
see and proclaim the principles of a new order in civil affairs,
Science in Government. 295
there must be a fall or lapse therefrom, whereby the new light
becomes mostly obscured, and solid attainment is only secured
finally through struggles and toils proportioned to the magnitude
of the object. And we see that such conditions must enter into
the developing processes which come variously into human ex-
perience. So, we find the law that rules the composite or final
degree of institutional development to be, in this respect, the
same as that which went before and ruled inferior degrees. And
although man is compelled to light valiantly for advancement
upon any new line in order to win final victory and peace, thus
earning his right by proving himself master, he is sure to march
steadily onward to the end, providing, only, his affections remain
fixed in the purpose to overcome every obstacle and win and hold
the prize partially revealed in the conceptive or initial degree-
In the developing career of the human race the Christian era
gives the final form; wherein man is to unfold and finally organ-
ize, with utmost exactness, all special forms, so that one compre-
hensive system of universal unity shall embrace and operate all
minor forms and powers in the whole system, in perfect divine
order.
As we have seen, every varied conception, as humanity advan-
ces in its great march to destiny, must be humanly wrought out
and converted in use as if man were sole motor and instrument;
"for it is God that worketh in us both to will and to do of His
good pleasure," while man of necessity must feel that he is
working out his own destiny solely by his own exertions. Hence
the fundamental conception of Christendom — the conception and
special revelation of the truth of universal harmony and order
in human experience through the complete marriage of divine
and human, universal and special, public and private, to the ut-
most must be buried and apparently lost, as the seed is buried in
the earth, that it may there take root, shoot forth and grow, and
finally yield its proper stores to the husbandmau. As the ripen-
ed graiu (which through all forms of growth is the only object
and inspiration) remains more or less obscured by the stock and
husk during the various stages of growth, so the Christian life
and truth — the life and truth of universal harmony and order on
earth through the mighty working of God's love and wisdom in
all human forms and uses, have been buried in earthiness and
obscured in growth. So, looking upon the rank stock, we mostly
forget the vital power that at heart throbs and moves towards
29G Science in Government.
the promised issues ; and give little heart, and less intelligence,
to the prayer : ''Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth
as in heaven." While professed votaries of the god-man, we
have come to accept discord and pain as the inevitable lot of man
while in the body, only hoping, at best, for some degree of relief
in the mysterious realms of post mortem existence. Thus the life
and immortality of majestic lordship brought to light by the
Christ, have given place in men's minds to some diluted concep-
tion of existence beyond the grave; and the hope of, and efforts
for, divine order here are mostly abandoned in consequence. In-
stead of believing that the new city is to come down out of
heaven to wed the new earth adorned as a bride for the bride-
groom, we have mostly given over the earth and all that belongs
to it, as hopelessly involved in depravity that makes sin arid
pain a perpetual necessity. But let us awake from our stupor,
to some realizing sense of God's matchless providence in human-
ity as a natural body, and so dispose ourselves to seize the instru-
ments proffered us, by which to work manfully for the end.
Eeturning from this seeming digression, to consider a little fur-
ther the matter of formal development in institutional methods :
We had found the most advanced thought of the age, as fore-
shadowed in our own national theory of freedom, equality, and
unity in citizenship to utmost extent, directly urging the problem
of actual scientific unity in such citizenship, through a corres-
ponding order in civil institutions. Hence we were brought face
to face with the problem whose solution must surely open into
final composite order, as the ripe result of all painful toils in
growth or development.
Here the rude and destructive collisions witnessed on every
hand warn us that we, the American people, must soon solve this
final problem, and through positive social science open into the
inspiring order of man's earthly destiny, or the wheel must again
turn and carry down to the base earth that which was raised so
high in the heavens. Divine Providence commands, and theic is
no possible way of evasion. Perfect scientific adjustment in full
Hierarchal Order must respond and bid the turbulent billows
"peace, be still," else we must go down in a general wreck, to
await a new resurrection to a new effort. It is clear enough that
our national principles of universal freedom and equality had
directly into Hierarchal Order — full scientific organization — but
there are no great leaps in movement, nor overlapping^ in the
Science in Government. 297
line of progress. It is only by a steady course of structural en-
deavor, consistent with both linal end and immediate ends and
needs, that real progress can be made and best results achieved.
Just here arises the danger that perils our own great national
promise. Theoretically, or in its principles, our national system
is perfect. In those principles as first declared in general terms
there is a full accordance with all divine-human order. But for
the full embodiment and actual working of those principles there
were wanting right qualities of citizenship in conditions of in-
trinsic manhood, and, institutional methods competent to invest
and serve in the various operations of such character in citizen-
ship. In short, it presented the principles and seminal form of
true order in human affairs, but was wanting in both human ma-
terial, in quality of manhood, and institutional forms suitable to-
embody and express the same according to best possibilities. In
other words, it was a planting for ripened manhood and equally
ripe institutions, but was only a planting. It involved all that
was essential to the system, but had experienced nothing of the
toilsome evolutionary processes requisite to actualize the same
in evolved conditions accordant therewith. In a word, it was a
beginning of the end, but not the end itself actually attained.
Thus it was a new national order given mankind, — glorious in
its principles — but it must necessarily be developed and organ-
ized upon its principles before it could exhibit the requisite to-
ken of success in a people of true national character and power,
with institutions amply ministering to the wants of such charac-
ter and power. It stood to coming statesmanship, as the plan
and specifications of an edifice stand to the builder, with materi-
als given in their unwrought state. Faithful building of the na-
tion, according to its declared principles and plan, was certainly
as essential to proposed results as such building of the edifice to
the realization of architectural designs. But our statesmanship
overlooked this necessity for national development, and so com-
menced to occupy and use as if it were an accomplished structure
from the first; whereupon the most flagrant wrongs were inevita-
ble. For the methods of structural endeavor in building the
system were entirely unlike the methods of occupancy and use
in the structure fully achieved — which occupancy and use are the
only proper exponents of the nature of the system. Building
must take crude materials and proceed to give them proper form
and final consistency of relation through a long process of well-
29S Science in Government.
directed effort, while occupancy and use consist in the fullest and
freest operations of maturest human power under institutions
equally perfect and adjusted in amplest service to all human
wants. Building stringently commands and subordinates all that
is unformed and out of place, with a view to perfect ends accord-
ing to given des'.gns in use. The structure achieved presents
this consummation of design, aud thus opens fully into the joys
of occupancy and use according to that design.
We have seen that our national design contemplated a com-
monweaLh of character in citizenship, and a commonwealth in
the conditions which result from such exalted worth in human
character. But it was only a design, and could not become an
actual experience excepting through a process of qualifying en-
deavor that would make and fix the requisite conditions.
In overlooking this need of national development upon national
principles, our statesmen made the shocking mistake of trying to
operate the principles of a perfect system with means totally un-
lit : both character in people and conditions of institutional in-
vcsture being so far below the true national standard, that disas-
trous and painful commotions and conflicts were sure to ensue.
Our national experience heretofore has so emphatically verified
this, that master minds have come to regard the manifest princi-
ples of our national system as fallacious and impracticable.
Hence the late Mr. Bufus Choate did not scruple to pronounce
the declaration of principles in our primary instrument, "an im-
practicable mass of glittering generalities."
Mr. Choate had some aptness in logical perception, but very
small philosophic discrimination ; hence he boldly repudiated the
truth in theory, simply because it was perverted by the false in
practice, and so appeared at disadvantage. Practice had surely
failed to realize what that theory affirmed ; and, if that practice
was correct, then, of course, the theory was just what Mr. Choate
assumed. But we have shown that the theory was perfect, as to
all human powers and needs ; appearing at disadvantage solely
because of a wrong course of national conduct, which proceeded
to clutch and convert the promised fruit without first having
commanded the essential conditions of true fruitage. Hence Mr.
Chelate's gross error, and the equal stupidity aud error of thou-
sands now who stand as he did.
Let me now try to outline the consistency of true national de-
velopment under our system ; not simply for the purpose of ex-
Science in Government. 299
hibitiug more distinctly the national misconduct heretofore, but
also to point the way to national recovery through a "new de-
parture" upon strictly national principles.
Under this idea of national development, the demand is that
we shall unfold and qualify character accordant with the national
standard — both as to citizenship and to institutional forms — be-
fore we can safely empower and operate them. Wherefore, we
see that efforts during development must be mainly experimen-
tal, tutelary and educational. And, as the system is one which
embraces every personal factor as an essential integer, this edu-
cational system must provide for all the needs of all citizens
without exception. And it must infallibly hold all, who may be
indifferent or averse, to the right use of such means. The high-
est good of the public or associate form being dependent upon
the best conditions of every individual factor thereof, the public
must suffer no particle to drift away in adverse currents to de-
plete and distract the system. Educational provisions must be
sufficiently broad to meet all the needs of every citizen. The
human form is one of diversified powers. It is a complex of
physical, intellectual, and moral powers ; and until all are devel-
oped in best measure and assured iu true expression, the individ-
ual falls below his true stature, and the associate body in like
manner falls below its best conditions. The public intelligence
and virtue being presumably the better exponents of the public
heeds, (and also of the individual's, they being one in our sys-
tem) must duly provide qualifying means, and sternly hold all
who are wrongly disposed, to the use thereof. Thus, when we
come to build the nation truly in accordance with its principles,
we shall make large drafts upon our public domain in order to
convert it into industrial establishments, so conducted that all
human powers will find due expression and culture. Besides, all
branches of manufactures and mechanics will come to be publicly
organized with the same purpose. Thus, with schools of vari-
ous grades of industry, art, science and philosophy, the varied
genius, taste and skill will be provided for. Then we must "go
out into the highways and by-ways and compel them to come
in." Then "the dreary waste of our slums and stews" will be
carried into new channels which conduct surely to the realiza-
tion of human excellence of power, instead of perversion and
waste. Then will our social cesspools become disinfected, and
the insatiate avarice, which at present finds its victims bred
300 Science in Government.
mostly of helplessness and want, will stand dismayed, crying,
"Alas, alas, that great city! for in one hour is Thy judgment
come ! "
During all these qualifying conditions the public authority
must assume command of all individuals and families that incline
to degrading habits, which tend to undermine the commonwealth,
and hold them to worthy endeavors; even though superficial
views regard such authority as contrary to the personal rights
asserted in our system. During these qualifying conditions, the
individual can rightly have no freedom which tends to subvert
the public interests. All forms of grossness, perversity and
weakness, must be subject to public dictation ; because the pub-
lic wisdom — actuated by the true national designs — is competent
to advance the interests of those in such conditions ; whereas,
they of themselves are totally incompetent. The public is thus
warden or guardian, not to deplete or despoil, but to serve them
far better than they would or could serve themselves. Let there
be kept a clear discrimination of the difference in the requisite
processes of the nation during its structural and constructed
conditions, and it will be clear that the public is not only author-
ized to subordinate and direct, as here argued, but actually
obligated to do so. It is this clamor for personal freedom and
power of the citizen in public affairs, without regard to any pro-
per qualifications in an intelligent and virtuous manhood, that
threatens to annul our national hope and promise ; and we must
begin to stay the bad tide, lest we become wholly submerged. It
is for such reasons that I desired to give some reliable clew to
the matter of government as a positive science — man being con-
stantly objective and institutions subjective — and thence to indi-
cate pending conditions in our own national system. It is be-
cause I would have the national idea duly embodied in institu-
tions, and operative thus to fulfil its promise, that I wanted to
give a valid clew to our national mistake and misconduct, and
show the only true way of recovery and final success.
Manifestly, mere haphazard and confused efforts of current
statesmanship cannot suffice to accomplish requisite resnlts.
Only the vision that is fixed upon and comprehends fundamental
principles, and the practical sagacity which can shape public
methods in strict conformity thereto — both as to developing
means and finally organizing means — can serve the nation truly
in its present perilous conditions. Only a positive science of
Science in Government. 301
government, that shall overlook the whole ground and see clearly
all the needs, ean s.'ive to direct anew and recover the real pow-
ers and energies of the nation and make sure of its final promise.
The hope of the nation is not mainly in the direct augmentation
of its material resources, but in bringing out its latent human
resources, as fundamental to the other. Science in our civil af-
fairs will attend to this, under a true conception as to what con-
stitutes national development. It will show that such develop-
ment consists in the gradual evolution and organization of such
human character and power, and such institutional methods as
will surely set forth the ideas fundamental to our system. It
Mill aim to educate and employ the full power and genius of every
citizen, and make such power and genius the ground of rivalry
between different individuals; thereby displacing the mean and
cruel strife for outward wealth which now degrades and destroys
on one hand, and only grossly aggrandizes the few on the other
hand, who gain its possession. Wealth of character, in true ge-
nius and power, presents the greatest and noblest incitement to
personal activity; especially so under a true national diction
that regards man first, aud his surroundings as only secondary
in importance. Let the aim of the nation be to bring out and
give full expression to Ihese, in all its citizens, and' the inglori-
ous strife now prevalent under the inhuman greed for material
aggrandizement, and which prostitutes citizens and nation at the
same time, would be surely supplanted, giving place to consist-
ent emulation infinitely more potent. But the freedom our states-
men erroneously contemplated, was the freedom for person to
compete with person for greater possession in the external show
of things. It overlooked the fact that a commonwealth of char-
acter and power, according to the measure of every citizen, was
first in order; and this achieved, according to the national idea
and theory, a commonwealth of outward means would surely
follow, making the mean distinctions of present rank of very
trilling account. Development in mere externals — in population,
territory, (jommerce, financial power aud the like, gives no dis-
tinct index of national growth ; for all these are common to every
nation, hence cannot constitute distinctive national development.
Such growth in mere surface conditions has been mistakenly re-
garded as national development, and so absorbed the nation's en-
ergies, and perverted its vision, that true structural methods
were lost to sight, and consequently made no part in the national
302 Science in Government.
conduct. True national growth would have embraced and car-
ried up all such thrift, immensely increased, as auxiliary to con-
sistent life and character in the national genius itself. But with
this present aim alone, which mostly regards gross externals,
and forgets and neglects national soul or genius, all true vitality
is sure to be quenched, and outward body itself go to decay
sooner or later. Let it therefore be urged continually, that the
nation was at first a mere planting of a germ for a new national
order, distinctly unlike those that had been known to history j
that consequently it must be carried through a course of devel-
opment before it could, by possibility, exhibit that order in ma-
ture form; and that such development must be perfectly consis-
tent with the principles announced, and thus proceed with the
intelligent design to effect the involved end in a government ac-
tually "of the people, by the people, for the people"; thus, in
this end, showing a united power of ripest human character, and
a corresponding solidity in institutional methods.
The evils that have arisen under the national misconception
and misconduct are innumerable.
Unregulated diversity, where freedom and power are distribu-
ted to all, as by our system, is fruitful of more disorder and distress
than may easily be named. With the various particles (individ-
uals) empowered and wrangling in innumerable conflicts under
the guise of personal freedom, the evils that ensue are almost
without limit. The national code of principles clearly involves
organized diversity — all individuals actually related in accordant
interests and efforts, co-operating in all worthy endeavors —
"each for all and all for each." Instead of this, we find individ-
uality empowered and basely incited to contests which serve to
distinguish the few with the show of inordinate wealth and lux-
ury, and to debase the many in poverty and distress, or the con-
stant burdens of toils which smother the higher elements of
true character and genius. Instead of the practical co-operation
innate to our system, we find the ruling fact to be, "every one for
self, and devil take the hindmost." The result is, all — higher or
lower — rich, poor, and commoners — are likely to come to the
"evil one" together. The flagrant perversion of the national
genius in these habits of cruel contention, is begetting baseness
everywhere. The more crafty and capable in the common strife
easily defy competition, and distance all in coveted distinctions :
while those less adroit and powerful are pressed along in the
Science in Government. 30$
jam, without freedom or the recognized personality which all so
vitally crave ; and the weaker and lower grades still are practi-
cally trampled down and crushed. And yet easy-going states-
men, civilians, churchmen and all, complacently laud the system
as one under which "all are free to shape their own destiny and
make their own fortune" ; which is all rank mockery, and bitter
as gall to legions who are held, by circumstances, in destitution
and want with an unconquerable grasp. Mere theoretic, unor-
ganized freedou, is of little avail when various obstacles and ine-
qualities of condition cripple the many and hold them to tasks
that bar out the higher human culture needed, and tend to de-
grade and brutify continually. Looking still lower down to see
what comes of these conditions, we find men becoming more and
more daring and reckless in criminal arts and general depravity.
In the general contest for self all will fight as best they can, and
each on his own ground. The more base and inhuman will nat-
urally employ arts and take ground in the contest suited to their
conditions ; determined to dodge the missiles thrown amongst
them by those who, in respectable society, manage to conquer for
themselves and their's more than they can well employ. So
penal and moral laws are losing their restraining power; the
rights of property are fearfully contemned; organized aggres-
sions are added to the weaker endeavors of individual rapacity,
and the very foundations of our disordered order are fast settling
away. The wealthy are thus coming to distresses and perils
which make their conditions less enviable, in many respects, than
those of honest poverty ; for, the hordes of desperadoes, bred by
the national perversions, are coming to make life of little account
when it stands in the way of their designs.
Thus, "we the people" of this nation of vaunted excellence go
on, preying upon and devouring each other, some in one way,
some in another ; each in a way consistent with his peculiar con-
ditions of calling, culture, power, and character ; but all tending
to swell the tumult and discord, where ought to be general re-
pose and harmony.
One of the most deplorable effects of this belligerent state of
the system — this rank national perversion — is, that it distempers
the common mind, infuses in the w T hole body a spirit of reckless
deviltry that amounts to organic insanity. This crops out in
individual deeds like those of Jesse Pomeroy, Evans, the mur-
304 Science in Government.
derer of his little niece, "the dynamite fiend," La Page, and oth-
ers of similar turpitude on every hand.
If we turn to the affairs of civil service and public conduct, we
find like disorders and distresses there prevalent. An unquali-
fied and corrupt ballot carries its power into legislation equally
wanting in character and integrity. Legislation seems to be nei-
ther intelligent of, nor anxious for, the public interests. It is not
a, steady, intelligent consecration of delegated power to common
meeds, and thus a public service, as it surely ought to be under
our system, but is largely a private and partial service. It most-
ly regards immediate aims of party, sect, ring, special enterprise
and private interest, rather than the good of the whole people.
In fact it cannot be relied upon to effect the tolerable aims which
sometimes find expression through the ballot; forcrafty intrigues
•of leaders and lobbyists are found nullifying the people's designs
thus indicated; and, even, usurpations by executive powers and
courts of judicature are sometimes made the instruments of con-
troverting the people's rights and interests. As to the ballot,
there is scarcely the faintest relation between it and the legisla-
tion it purports to effect. The relation of the lobby to legisla-
tion is far more clear, although it tries to veil itself. So, we see
special designs and interests mostly attended to, while public in-
terests get only meagre recognition and less embodiment. Self-
service, contravening the general good, everywhere rules and
supplants the weaker efforts towards public service. Hence here
again are strife and conflict on every side. Special aims in spe-
cial interests are not only thus pitted and potent against public
interests, but they are also impelled, by the same motive, to per-
petual strife between themselves ; making intrigues, plots and
counter-plots, in furtherance of base selfishness, legitimate con-
duct, to common regard : the victor being honored with applause
and the vanquished contemptuously derided.
In view of the failure of legislation to organize the enterprise
and power of the whole people in orderly production and distri-
bution of abundant wealth in supplies of every kind, the people
betake themselves to side-shows, with hope of relief. Hence
arise Labor-reform movements, Protective Unions, Granger
Leagues, mutual guarantee organizations, and all manner of com-
binations designed to fortify special effort and interest. In truth
these confiicts and collisions are almost without limit, and are
bound to become more numerous and violent so long as the na-
Science in Government. 305
tion is operated in direct controversion of its real character.
Even the ravages of extreme Communism cannot be averted if
present methods are continued. It is a most shocking anomaly
that exhibits capital and labor in an open fight under onr system,
and the military called out to prevent riot and destruction. One
step more in this direction, and Communism takes the field with
an intent which, if realized, would carry us back to the dead
level of anarchical chaos ; for there is no other issue to Com-
munal aims, however generously inspired its immediate designs .
may be in some respects. Let the leading intelligence of the na-
tion become aroused to a conception of the real needs, and thence
become united to initiate and carry forward measures surely con-
sistent with the national genius, and the shadows of Communal
night will never cast their gloom over this fair land; for then the
light of a new day will steadily open upon us, and finally warm
and illumine with the steady glow of Hierarchal Order; which in
its nature is as opposite to Communism as mid-day is to midnight.
Notwithstanding the present drift of the nation into diversi-
ties so appalling and painful, it were well now to understand that
the prevalent clamor of pulpit, press, and rostrum, for reforms,
and honest manly conduct, is perfectly impotent to effect desiredv
results. The difficulty is not superficial, but basic ; not in branch
and fruit, but at the very root; as I have constantly shown.
There we must go to produce right flow and quality of sap, when
fruit and foliage will be all right. The evil is not in parties and
persons (excepting as instruments) but in those deeper condition &
which sway and pervert both parties and persons to basest lusts
and fratricidal deeds. Hence there is not the slightest ground of
hope for remedy in any change of parties and persons ; no hope
for remedy of real evils. And those who spend their energies in
denunciations and clamors in this direction, only prove thereby
the shallowness of their vision and worthlessness of their efforts..
Resort to new parties and men for public place and power ; load
down the gallows and prisons with the criminals of to-day, and,
the same perverting powers that were the inspiration of the olcli
misdeeds, will produce a new crop of the same nature, from the
new planting, in other parties and persons.
No doubt different parties are actuated by different aims ; some
more and some less generous and humane; but none will much
mitigate present evils, nor do aught to make the true national
X— 20
306 Science in Government.
designs actual, except by new conceptions and a new departure
upon strictly national grounds — a departure clearly comprehend-
ing the verities involved by the system, and aiming steadily to
embrace and consistently realize all in the structure perfected.
Conceptions and endeavors of this nature will not anticipate
such results short of several generations of clear scientific effort;
hence will not look for final fruits before the normal harvest
time. They will daily ply themselves to the uprooting of weeds
and other obstructions, and to the due nurture of the crop in
fresh appliances according to the needs, looking only for a slow
and steady growth, nor expecting ripe fruit on the appearance of
bud or blossom.
Scientific vision and effort will not be impatient of results ; for
they not only know what are the proper means for the time being,
but they also know what are the right results, as related to final
results. Thus true national endeavor will grapple resolutely
with present resistent forces, knowing how they are to be man-
aged to right purpose, rejoice in every step taken, and through
the rapt vision of positive science, will see in the mellow hues of
the harvest time the bending sheaves of ripened grain in amplest
abundance. The worker under the inspirations of such vision
will never falter because he may not actually enter into the har-
vest. As one "in the spirit of the Lord's Day" he is moved with
delight and vital energy e^-en though he knows that neither his
children nor children's children may be parties in the joys of full
achievement. Let us therefore endeavor henceforth to give our
best thought to the true problems of the day, and resolutely
"lend a hand" in the work of preparation for full scientific recon-
struction.
Lest the spirit of my essay seem ascetic and querulous, I
would here protest that I only criticise to cure. Eight estimates
are truly indulgent and conservative of all human force, however
harmful the evils that come of it ; knowing that perversions and
wrongs are rooted more in the head than in the heart. Primary
aspirations are right, for they are obedient to man's constant in-
tuitions of lordship. The conditions and methods by which
those aspirations are expressed are largely wrong; whence come
the numerous jolts, afflictions, and horrors of our present expe-
rience. It is, therefore, a better understanding of commanding
methods that I urge ; insisting, meantime, on the wrong of pres-
ent methods, and citing some of the evils they beget, in order to
The Basis of Induction. 307
make a call for reform in new qualifying methods more effectual.
And I would have it understood that the true end of all tute-
lary authority in government is the ultimate supreme authority
of science in full hierarchal order, wherein man is constantly
magisterial jind institutions perfectly ministerial.
THE BASIS OF IXDUCTIOX.
[Thesis Sustained Before the Faculty of Letters, in Paris].
By J. Lacheliee.
Translated from the French by Sarah A. Dorset.
Induction is the operation by which we pass from the knowl-
edge of facts to that of the laws which govern them. The pos-
sibility of this operation is doubted by none ; and yet on the
other side it seems strange that some facts, observed in a time
and place thus determined, should suffice to establish a law
which may be applicable to all places and to all time. The best
experience teaches at most only how phenomena connect them-
selves under our eyes ; but that they should connect themselves
in the same manner always and everywhere — that, no experience
can teach us, and yet we do not hesitate to affirm this. How is
such an affirmation possible, and upon what is it founded ? This
is the question, equally as difficult as it is important, which we
mean now to essay to solve.
Apparently the most natural solution consists in pretending
that our mind passes from facts to laws by a logical process,
which does not confound itself with deduction, but which rests
as deduction does upon the principle of identity. Without doubt
a law is not logically contained in any portion, be it small or
great, of the facts which it regulates ; but it seems as if it might
be contained at least, in the whole of these facts, in their totality
— and we might even say that it does not in reality differ from
this totality, of which it is only the abridged expression. If this
308 The Basis of Induction.
should be so, induction might be subject to some practical diffi-
culties, but it would be in theory the simplest thing in the world.
It would suffice to form, by force of time and patience, a com-
plete collection of facts of each species. These collections once
made, each law would establish itself by the institution of one
term for several, and would then be above the shadow of all con-
testation.
This opinion seems to be that of Aristotle, if we judge him
according to the celebrated passage of the Analytics, where he
represents induction under the form of a syllogism. The ordi-
nary syllogism, or at least that of the lirst form, consists, as
everybody knows, in the application of a general rule to a par-
ticular case ; but how is this rule to be demonstrated, when it is
not itself contained in a still more general rule ? It is here that
intervenes, according to Aristotle, the inductive syllogism, whose
mechanism he explains by an example. It is proposed to dem-
onstrate that animals without galls live a long time. We know,
or are instructed to know, that man, horses and mules, are the
only animals without galls, and we also know that these three
sorts are long lived animals. We can reason therefore thus :
Man, the horse, and the mule, live a long time. Now, the only
animals without galls are man, the horse and the mule, therefore,
all the animals without galls are long lived.
This syllogism is irreproachable, and does not differ essen-
tially from ordinary syllogisms of the first form ; but it differs in
matter, in that the middle, instead of being a general term, is a
collection of particular terms. Now it is precisely this difference
which expresses the essential character of the inductive conclu-
sion ; because this conclusion consists, contrary to the deductive
conclusion, in drawing from the complete collection of particular
cases a general rule, which is only a resume of the whole.
Whatever may be the bearing of this passage, it is easy to
show that laws are not for us the logical result of a simple enu-
meration of facts. In truth, not only do we not hesitate to ex-
tend to the future laws which would represent at most under this
hypothesis the totality of past facts ; but a single fact carefully
observed appears to us a sufficient basis for the establishment of
a law, which at once embraces both the past and the future.
There is then no conclusion properly so called, from facts to laws;
hence the extent of the conclusion will exceed, and in most in-
stances exceeds infinitely, the premises. Otherwise each fact is
The Basis of Induction. 309
contingent, considered in itself, and any sum of facts, however
great, presents always the same character. A law, on the con-
trary, is the expression of a necessity, at least presumed ; that
is to say that it carries with itself the sequence that a certain
phenomenon should follow or accompany such another, if al-
ways understood that we are not to take a simple coincidence for
a law of nature. To conclude then from facts to laws, would be
to conclude not only from the particular to the universal, but yet
more, from the contingent to the necessary; it is therefore im-
possible to consider induction as a logical operation.
As to the authority of Aristotle, it is much less decisive upon
this point than it appears at first to be. It is evident, in fact,
that Aristotle did not seriously admit that man, the horse and
the mule were the only animals without galls, nor that it was
possible in general to arrange a complete list of facts, or of indi-
viduals of a determined species ; the syllogism which he de-
scribes supposes therefore, in his thought, a preparatory opera-
tion, by which we tacitly decide that a certain number of facts or
of individuals may be considered as representatives of an entire
species. Xow it is evident from one side that this operation is
induction itself, and from the other that it is founded not upon
the principle of identity, since it is absolutely contrary to this
principle to regard some individuals as the equivalent of all. In
the passage cited, Aristotle preserves silence upon this operation ;
but he has described it in the last page of his Analytics, with a
precision that leaves nothing to be desired. "We perceive," he
says, '•individual beings, but the object proper to perception is
the universal, the human being, and not the man called Callias."
Thus from the avowal even of Aristotle, we conclude not from
individuals to the species, but we see the species in each individ-
ual : the law is not for us the logical content of the fact, but the
fact itself, seized in its essence, and under the form of universal-
ity. The opinion of Aristotle upon the passage of the fact to
the law, that is to say, the essence itself of induction, is then di-
rectly opposed to that which we are disposed to attribute to him.
We are thus obliged to abandon the proposed solution, and to
recognize that induction is not founded upon the principle of
identity: this principle is, in truth, purely formal, that is to say,
it truly authorizes us to announce under one form, what we have
already announced under another, but it adds nothing to the con-
tents of our knowledge. We have need, on the contrary, of a
310 The Basis of Induction.
principle in some sort material, which adds to the perception of
facts, the double element of universality and necessity, which ap-
pears to us to characterize the conception of laws. To deter-
mine this principle we shall make now the object and end of
our researches. .
The existence of a special principle of induction has not escap-
ed the notice of the Scotch school ; but this school does not ap-'
pear to have clearly seized the character and the value of it:
"In the order of Nature," says Eeid, "that which shall come, will
probably resemble what has already come, under similar circum-
stances." This declaration is inexact, and "probably" is super-
fluous. For it is perfectly certain that a phenomenon which pro-
duces itself under certain conditions, will produce itself continu-
ally, whenever all these conditions shall be reunited afresh. It
is true that the vulgar deceive themselves nearly always about
these conditions, and that science itself has great difficulty to
assign them exactly; from thence it comes that our attempts are
so often deceived, and that we know perhaps no law of Nature
which does not suffer from some exceptions.
In fact, induction is always subject to error ; in law (droit) she
is absolutely infallible. For if it is not certain that the condi-
tions which determine to-day the production of a phenomena,
will determine it to-morrow^ the foresight founded upon an im-
perfect knowledge of these conditions would not even be proba-
ble. Eoyer Collard is more happy when he founds induction
upon two judgments, of which one announces the stability and
the other the generality of the laws which govern the Universe :
but scarcely has he posited this double principle, before he com-
promises it, or rather destroys it by the strange commentary he
adds to it. According to him, in truth these two judgments are
neither necessary nor evident by themselves ; the stability and
generality of the laws of Nature are a fact for us, which we be-
lieve because it is so, and not because it would be absurd or im-
possible for it not to be so. But then who guarantees for us the
existence of this double fact ? Is it universal experience, or may
it be, by chance, an induction anterior to that which it is % requi-
site to explain? No, replies Eoyer Collard, it is our nature her-
self. It is difficult to imagine a more complete confusion of ideas.
Our nature cannot instruct us a priori of a fact of experience ;
now outside of the experience of facts, there are for us only the
truths of reason, of which the opposites are absolutely impossi-
The Basis of Induction. 311
ble. A judgment which is empirical, without being nevertheless
necessary, is a veritable monster, which has no place in human
intelligence. Eeid seems to doubt his own principle. Eoyer
Collard does not hesitate to pronounce, himself, the condemnation
of his.
An illustrious savant of our day has formulated the fundamen-
tal axiom of Induction, in saying, that among living creatures as
well as among bodies of dead matter, (corps brut), the conditions
of existence of all phenomena are determined in an absolute
manner. This expression is as just as it is precise, and explains
perfectly hoAV our minds can pass from facts to laws ; for if each
phenomena produces itself under conditions absolutely invaria-
ble, it is clear that it suffices to know what these conditions are
in any case, in order to know by that only, what they should be
in all. Only there is perhaps in nature room to distinguish two
sorts of laws; the one applies to simple facts, as that
which states that two equal and opposed forces will form
an equilibrium ; the others on the contrary announce between
phenomena relations more or less complex, as that which declares
that among living creatures the like will engender like. Nothing
is less simple than the transmission of life, and it is certain that
the formation of a new being demands a concourse of a prodigious
number of physico-chemical actions. It is certain also that these
actions do not always act themselves in the same way, because
sometimes monsters are born from them. Now if we know only
a priori that the same phenomena takes place under the same
conditions, we should confine ourselves to affirming that the pro-
duct of each generation will resemble its authors, if all the con-
ditions requisite are reunited ; and whenever we pronounce con-
trarily, in absolute terms, that like engenders like, we evidently
suppose, in. virtue of some other principle, that all the conditions
are reunited, at least in the majority of instances. It is this sec-
ondary principle which M. Claude Benard has, in some sort,
personified in physiology, by calling it the directing or organic-
idea (idee directrice, ou orgaiiique) ; but it appears equally indis-
pensable in brute matter as in organized beings. There is not,
in fact, a single chemical law, which does not suppose, amidst the
sensible phenomena whose relations it proclaims, the interven-
tion of insensible phenomena whose mechanism is absolutely
unknown to us ; and to believe that this mechanism will act al-
ways in a way to produce the same results, is to admit in nature
312 The Basis of Induction.
the existence of a principle of order which watches, as -we may
say, over the existence of chemical species, as well as over that
of living species. The conception of the laws of nature, with
the exception of a small number of elementary laws, seems to be
founded, therefore, upon two distinct principles : one in virtue of
which the phenomena make a series in which the existence of the
antecedent determines that of the successor ; the other in virtue
of which these series make in their turn, systems, in which the
idea of all determines the existence of the parts. Now a phe-
nomenon which determines another in preceding it, is what has
been called from all time an efficient cause, and a whole which
produces the existence of its own parts is, according to Kant,
the true definition of a Final Cause. We are able to say then, in
one word, that the possibility of Induction rests upon the double
principle of Efficient Causes and Final Causes.
So far we have limited ourselves to the search after the prin-
ciple in virtue of which we pass from the knowledge of facts to
that of laws. Now that we think we have found it, it is needful
to establish that this principle is not an illusion, but may con-
duct us to a veritable knowledge of Nature. In a word, it is
necessary that the establishment of the fact should follow the
demonstration of the law. To demonstrate a principle may seem
in truth rather a bold enterprise, and it is one which the Scotch
Psychology has not accustomed us to undertake. They say, not
without appearance of reasonableness, that proof cannot go as
far as the Infinite, and that we must indeed come to a certain
number of truths absolutely first, which are the basis even of
our thought, aud which impose themselves upon us in virtue of
their own self-evidence. But without speaking of the difficulty
which one has always found in determining the number of these
first truths, what right have they to affirm that a proposition ab-
solutely denuded of proofs, is a principle which expresses the
constitution of the mind and of things, and that it may not be a
pure prejudice the result of education and of habit! They al-
lege the impossibility in which we are of conceiving the contrary
of these truths ; but the question is always that of knowing if
this impossibility belongs to the nature of things or to the sub-
jective disposition of our thought; and the skeptics of to-day
reply reasonably, that there has been a time when nobody be-
lieved that the earth turned around the sun. Without doubt it
is absurd to suppose that principles may resolve themselves into
The Basis of Induction. 313
other' more general principles which may serve them for proofs;
for, either this resolution would go on to infinity, and the demon-
stration of principles would never be achieved, or it would end in
a certain number of undemonstrable propositions, which would
then be the veritable principles. But it is not necessary that all
demonstration should proceed from the general to the particular;
for even when the knowledge is most general in all, it remains
still to be explained how this knowledge is found in our minds,
and to be established also that it represents faithfully the nature
of things. Xow there is a means of resolving these two ques-
tions at once. It is to admit that our thought begins only in
generalities and abstractions ; and to seek, on the contrary, the
origin of our knowledge in one or more concrete and singular
acts, by which the thought constitutes itself by immediately
seizing the reality. Either our science is but a dream, or the
principles upon which it is founded are in their turn the expres-
sion of a fact, which is the fact even of the existence of the
thought. It is then in this fact, and not in a primitive axiom,
that we should essay to solve the principle upon which Induc-
tion rests.
It remains now to learn in what this first step consists, by
which the thought enters into commerce with reality ; and we
are not able, it seems, to represent it to ourselves except iu two
ways, since contemporaneous philosophy admits only two defini-
tions of reality itself. Either, in fact, reality consists exclusive-
ly iu phenomena, and all knowledge is in the last analysis, a sen-
sation ; or reality is, in some sort, divided between phenomena
and certain entities inaccessible to our senses, and in these cases
human knowledge ought to burst forth at once from the sensible
intuition of phenomena, and by a sort of intellectual intuition
of these entities. We will go on then, aderpirately, in demonstra-
ting the principle of Induction — from Experience, strictly so-
called, to the intuition of things in themselves (choses en soi) ;
and it is only in the event of discovering that neither of these
two "ways will lead us to the conclusion sought for, that we will
deem ourselves authorized to try a third way.
II.
It is not necessary that we should essay to make for ourselves
an empirical demonstration of the principle of Induction. This
demonstration has already been given by Mr. Stuart Mill in his
314 The Basis of Induction.
System of Logic, and as we could not possibly hope to do this
better than be has done it, we will content ourselves with the
examination of this. We must recognize in advance that an en-
terprise of building upon sensible experience a proposition which
pretends to -the title of a principle, does not promise great chance
of success, in spite of the skill of Mr. Mill ; but the demonstra-
tion, even if insufficient, of a principle, after making all allowan-
ces against it, is of more value, and attests a thought more phil-
osophic than the complete absence of all demonstration.
For the rest, it is easy to infer that the principle demonstra-
ted by Mr. Mill is not precisely that which we formulated above,
and presents neither exactly the same* elements nor the same
character. Eigorously speaking, there should be no more ques-
tion in the philosophy of experience, of efficient causes than of
final causes. For, if our senses do not teach us that a series of
phenomena may be directed to a certain end, neither can they
teach us any more, that each term in the series exerts upon the
succeeding one any influence whatever. There is nothing to be
astonished at in Mr. Mill's keeping absolute silence upon the
finality we believe that we have discovered in phenomena; but in
what sense can he say that one phenomena is cause of that which
follows it, and thus found Induction upon what he calls the Law
of Universal Causality? There is here a singular compromise
between the exigencies of his system and the scientific tendencies
of his mind. For, on one side he rejects as an illusion, all idea
of a necessary connection, and in consequence all true causality :
and, on the other, he does not hesitate to preserve the word and
up to a certain point, the thing, in admitting between phenomena
an order of succession absolutely invariable. Which constitutes,
in fact, the most inflexible Determinism. He does not fear ex-
tending the empire of Determinism even so far as the human
will ; but he assures us at the same time that he does no wrong-
by this to free will, since the causes of our actions limit them-
selves to preceding them invariably, without exerting upon them
any real influence. As to the character of the principle of In-
duction, there is evidently nothing in experience which could
teach him that all phenomena should or must have an invariable
antecedent, and his law of causality can only be the expression of
a fact; but, fact or law, as it may be, what must we think of the
universality which Mr. Mill attributes to it? We find here a
second compromise stranger than the first, between the needs of
The Basis of Induction. 315
science and the logic of Empiricism. The law of causality is
valuable, not only for our planetary system, but also for the
group of stars of which our sun forms a part ; it will be still in
vigor nut only in a hundred thousand years, but according to ap-
pearance, in a hundred million years ; but beyond these limits,
it may well be, that it will have the fate of the particular laws
for which it serves as a basis, and that phenomena may succeed
each other — as Mr. Mill expressly says — at hazard — that is an
order of succession, contingent and limited to the phenomena
upon which our thought can exert itself reasonably. Behold
here definitely, all that the principle includes whose demonstra-
tion remains for us to examine. This demonstration seems to be
very simple. "We only know facts immediately, and the sole
means through which we can distinguish general truths from
these facts (that may be contained in them) is induction ; the
principle of induction then must be in itself the result of an in-
duction, without there being a circle to apprehend in this. In
fact, there are two sorts of induction ; the one is the scientific in-
duction, which consists in erecting into a law one single fact, well
instanced, and which supposes evidently that every fact is the
expression of a law ; the other is vulgar induction, which pro-
ceeds by a simple enumeration of examples, which supposes
nothing before itself, and which consequently may very justly
serve as a basis for the principle which serves in its turn to jus-
tify the first. It is true that since Bacon, this latter form of in-
duction is abandoned as a process without value ; and it is cer-
tain that it wants in confidence when it concerns particular laws
of nature, because here the enumeration can never be complete,
and one hundred examples confirming it does not exclude the
possibility of one hundred contrary examples. But it is not the
same when it concerns the law of Universal Causality. As there
is not a single case in which it may not be applicable, there has
not been a single fact, since man has watched Xature, which is
not called upon either to confirm or contradict it ; and as it has
been confirmed by all without being contradicted by a single one,
it rests upon a complete enumeration, and possesses an irrefrag-
able certitude.
If there is not a circle in this demonstration, there is at least a
begging of question so manifest, that it is necessary to look
twice before attributing it to a mind so penetrating as that of
Mr. Mill. The enumeration of examples, they say, is never
310 The Basis of Induction.
complete for the particular laws of nature, Is it any more so for
the laws of Universal Causality ? Can we assure ourselves that
this law may never be contradicted, even within the limits already
so narrow, of human experience? Have not men believed a
long time, following Mr. Mill himself, in a sort of partial
and intermittent reign of chance ? But in all these cases, the enu-
meration which he speaks of can only affect the past ? Now it
is needful to know whether the law of causality is valuable for
the future, since this law should serve as a foundation for Induc-
tion, and that induction consists practically in a conclusion from
the past to the future. We establish to-day a relation of succes-
sion between two phenomena, and we wish to know if the same
relation will occur to-morrow. Yes, they say to us, because the
phenomena have observed until now an absolutely invariable or-
der of succession. But who knows whether they will be able to
preserve it to-morrow ? And if the particular laws of nature
have need of being guaranteed by the law of universal causality,
in what superior law shall we search for the guarantee of this
law itself?
But we take ill, perhaps, the thought of Mr. Mill. He has not
perhaps believed that the inference of the future from the past,
illegitimate and impossible in itself, in each particular case, be-
comes possible and legitimate in virtue of a general rule, founded
itself upon a similar inference. He is persuaded, on the con-
trary, that man makes the induction spontaneously, and without
the aid of any principle. He declares expressly that the law of
universal causality, far from preceding in our minds the partic-
ular laws of nature, follows and supposes them ; and it is from
these laws themselves that it draws, according to him, the au-
thority which it needs in order to guarantee them. The sponta-
neous inductions which would suggest to the first men the regu-
larity of the most ordinary phenomena, would not inspire them,
really, with more than a mediocre confidence. They might be-
lieve, without being very sure of it, that all fire would burn and
that all water quenches thirst; and when they are advised to
reunite all these provisional laws under a common title, they
have believed, without being more sure of it, that general phe-
nomena are subjected to laws. But their confidence accrues nat-
urally in the measure that experience confirms the result of their
first inductions; and every fact which comes to confirm a par-
ticular law, deposes by that much in favor of the law of caus-
The Basis of Induction. 317
ality, which gathers thus to herself many favorable testimonies,
as there are others collected. There is therefore nothing aston-
ishing in that this law finishes by being invested with an absolute
certitude, whilst others only attain by themselves to a degree of
probability more or less elevated ; and it is quite simple also that
this certitude would react, in some sort, upon each one of these
particular laws, of which the law of causality is at once the
resume and the sanction. The principle of induction reposes
then, neither upon a sterile accumulation of past facts, nor upon
a system of laws capable of sufficing to themselves ; it is the last
utterance of a spontaneous induction, whose results, more or
less probable whilst they remain isolated, become certain in be-
ing concentrated in a single one. It is the key to the arch
which crowns and sustains at once the edifice of science.
Thus understood, the theory of Mr. Mill contains neither cir-
cle nor a begging of the question (petitio principii); bat it reduces
itself to two arbitrary suppositious, of which the second is (what
is more important) contradictory. ^Ye do not see, to begin, how
the result of spontaneous inductiou, only probable, if you choose,
in all that touches upon the particular laws of nature, can be-
come certain when it concerns the law of universal causality.
This law, it is said, governs so many phenomena, and therefore
it is confirmed by experience more often than all the rest put to-
gether. Admit that the probability of induction increases by
virtue of success and in ratio of it, the number of proofs of caus-
ality favorable to the law, will always be finite, and therefore not
able to clear the infinite distance which separates probability
from certainty. To say that this law succeeds in all cases, is the
abuse of an equivocation ; because this expression can only be
extended evidently to the past, and in order that it may include
all cases without restriction, it would have to be certain that
there would be no more facts ever to come, and consequently no
further inductions to make. In the second place, what is this
spontaneous induction, and what place does it occupy in a sys-
tem where experience is presented as the unique source of our
knowledge ? Is it then one and the same thing to observe the
production of a phenomena, and to judge that the same phe-
nomena will reproduce itself in the same circumstances ? But
this is not all: in supposing that from the first observa-
tion (for the hundredth will not teach us any more on this
point) men have a right to conclude from the past to the
318 The Basis of Induction.
future, bow is it that this conclusion was only proba-
ble at first ? From two things come really one ; eitber at tbe mo-
ment of tbis first observation, tbeir minds contain notbiug more
tban tbe perception of an exterual fact, and tbere is notbiug in
tbis perception wbicb could suggest the ligbtest anticipation of
tbe future : or, to tbis perception they add, drawing apparently
from their own recesses, the conception of a durable nexus be-
tween phenomena, and this couceptiou, as all a priori judgment,
had an absolute value, which the ulterior results of experience
can neither add to nor diminish.
Tbere is a means of escape from all these embarrassments ; but
as this means is not expressly indicated in the work of Mr. Mill,
we can only propose it, without knowing whether the illustrious
author would have consented to subscribe to it. Suppose first, that
induction (spontaneous) is not a judgment declared by our thought
upon the objective succession of phenomena, but a subjective
disposition of our imagination to reproduce them in the order in
which they have struck our senses. It may be granted without
overleaping the limits of Empiricism, that this disposition, at
first purely virtual, would develop in us under the influence of
our first sensations ; and we conceive at the same time that, fee-
"ble in its debut, it would be incessantly fortified by the invaria-
ble order in which all our sensations follow each other. Suppose
in tbe second place, that probability consists for us in a powerful
habit of tbe imagination, and certainty in an invincible habit :
the passage from probability to certitude has no more, in its turn,
anything of the inconceivable, provided that we do not attach too
absolute a sense to the word invincible, and that we acknowledge
tbat our belief in universal causality, founded on a prodigious
number of impressions (confirmatory), may be shaken in the
course of time by a repeated shock of contrary impressions.
Logic in this case has nothing more to say ; but what becomes of
the science, that is to say, the objective knowledge of nature ?
Will Mr. Mill say that he does not admit tbe vulgar distinction
between nature and our thought, that is to say, between the sys-
tem of our sensations and a system of tbings in themselves (cho-
ses en soi) ? But that which holds the place of nature in his doc-
trine, is our actual sensations, and not their traces wbicb tbey
leave after them in our imaginations. Tbey are these sensations
and not their images, between which science ought to establish the
.connection and foresee the return. ]STow because we have adopted
Anthropology. 319
the habit of associating- iu a certain order the images of our past
sensations, does it follow that all our future sensations should
follow in the same order? This interior nature, whose course
does uot order itself according to the play of our imagination,
does it not escape from us in the same way as the external nature
in which the vulgar believe ? And the sequel of this theory — is
it not pure skepticism, which destroys all reasonable foresight,
and leaves us only a mechanical prudence like that of animals t
For the rest, whether Mr. Mill desires it or no, it is certain
that skepticism is the natural fruit, and the ever renewed
fruit of Empiricism. If nature is only for us a series of impres-
sions, without reason and without connection, we can readily es-
tablish these, or rather submit to them at the moment they are
produced ; but we can neither predict, nor even conceive the fu-
ture production of them. That which Empiricism calls our
thought, by way of opposition to nature, is only a whole of en-
feebled impressions which survive of themselves ; and to search
for the secret of the future in that which is the vain image of
the past, is to undertake to discover in a dream what will happen
to us during our waking hours. We wish to settle induc-
tion upon a solid basis. Do not let us search for her longer in a
philosophy which is the negation of science.
[To be concluded in the October number.]
AKTHKOPOLOGY.
Translated from the German of Immanuel Kant, by A. E. Kroegeh.
CONCERNING THE FIVE SENSES.
§13. Sensuousness in the faculty of cognition — the faculty of
representations in contemplation — comprises two parts : Sense
and the power of imagination. The former is the power of con-
templating in the presence of the object; the latter is the power
of contemplating also without that presence. But the senses are
320 Anthropology.
again subdivided into external and internal senses (sensus extcr-
nus, internus) ; the former being those in regard to which the
human body is affected by bodily things, whereas by means of
the latter he is affected through his mind. It is to be observed,
however, that the latter, as a mere faculty of perception (of em-
pirical contemplation) must be distinguished from the feeling of
delight and disgust, — that is, from the capability of the subject to
be determined through certain representations in the preserva-
tion or the renewal of the condition of those representations —
which feeling might be called the inner sense (sensus interior).
A representation through our senses, of which we become con-
scious as such, is called specially sensation, when the sensation
attracts at the same time attention to the condition of the sub-
ject.
§14. We inay divide primarily the senses of our bodily sensa-
tion into the vital sense (sensus vagus) and the organic sense
(sensus Jixus), and as we meet these senses only where nerves
are found, into those which affect the whole system of nerves,
and those which affect those nerves only, which belong to a cer-
tain member of the body. The sensations of warmth and cold,
even when produced by the mind, through sudden hope or fear,
for instance, belong to the vital sense. The shudder, which runs
through men at the notion of the sublime, and the shivering
wherewith nurses scare children to bed late at night, are of the
latter kind; they penetrate the body as far as there is life in it.
But of the organic senses we cannot well count more nor less
than five in so far as they relate to external sensations.
Three of these, however, are more objective than subjective;
that is, they contribute more as empirical contemplations, to the
cognition of the external object, than they excite the conscious-
ness of the affected organ. But two of them are more subjective
thau objective ; that is, our representations through them con-
tribute more to enjoyment than to a cognition of the external
object. Hence in regard to the former, we can only come to an
agreement with others, but in regard to the latter — although the
same external empirical contemplation and the same external
connection may take place — the mode in which the subject is af-
fected thereby may be very different.
The senses of the first class are those of touch (tactus*. sight
(visits), and hearing (auditus). Those of the second class are the
sense of taste (gustus), and that of smell (olfaetus); both being
Anthropology. 321
purely senses of organic sensation, that is, entrances prepared
by nature for the animal, in order to enable it to distinguish ob-
jects.
Concerning the Sense of Touch.
§15. The sense of touch lies in the finger-tips and their nerves
(papillae) in order to discover by touching the outside of a
solid body its peculiar form. Mature seems to have given this
organ to man alone, in order that he may form a conception of
the form of a body by touching it at all sides ; for the feelers of
the insects seem to have in view' rather the discovery of the pres-
ence of an object than the discovery of its form. This sense also
is the only one of immediate external perception. Hence, while
being the most important and the safest to teach us, it is also the
coarsest sense, since the matter, of the form of which we desire
to become advised, must be solid. (We do not speak here at all
of the vital sense, whether the surface of a body is soft or rough;
still less, whether it is warm or cold to the touch.) AVithout this
organic sense we should not be able to form a conception of any
bodily form. Hence the two other senses of the first class must
be originally related to this sense, in order to make empirical
knowledge at all possible.
Concerning the Sense of Rearing.
§16. The sense of hearing is one of the senses of merely medi-
ated perception. Through the air which surrounds us, and by
means of which a distant object is made known to us, and which
is put into motion by means of our organ of voice, the mouth,
men can most readily and perfectly place themselves in com-
munion of thoughts and feelings with each other, especially if
the sounds, which one person makes the other hear, are articu-
lated, and in their proper connection constitute a language. The
sense of hearing does not furnish us with a notion of the form of
the object, and the sounds of the words do not present us imme-
diately with an image of the object; but for that very reason,
and because they are nothing iu themselves, — at any rate no ob-
jects, but at the utmost only internal feelings — they are the most
appropriate means of designating conceptions; and people who aro
born deaf, and hence must also remain dumb, i. e., without a Ian-
X— 21
322 Anthropology.
gnage, can never arrive at any higher stage Ihan aii analogy of
reason.
But so far as the vital sense is concerned, this sense is indescri-
bably, vividly, and variously moved, and also strengthened by
music, as a regular play of the feelings of hearing ; music being
thus, as it were, a language of mere feelings, without any concep-
tions. Here the sounds of words are tones ; and these are for
the ear precisely what colors are for the sight ; a communication
of feelings in the distance, in a space to all who move in that
space, and a social enjoyment, which is not lessened by the fact
that many participate in it.
Concerning the Sense of Seeinq.
§17. The sense of sight is also a sense of mediated sensation
through a moved matter called light, and which is sensible only
to a certain organ, the eye. This moved matter is not, like sound,
a mere undulatory motion of a fluid element, which expands
itself in space in every direction, but is an exudation, by means
of which a point in space for the object is determined, and by
means of which the Universe becomes known to us in so immeas-
urable a degree, that — especially in regard to self-luminous stars,
and in comparing their distances with our standards here on
earth — we get wear}- over the vast series of numbers, and have
cause to be astonished almost more at the tender sensitiveness
of our eye in beholding such weakened impressions, than
at the vastness of the Universe itself; especially when we add
to it the microscopic world, as shown, for instance, by the infu-
soria.
The sense of sight, although not less dispensable than that of
hearing, is nevertheless the noblest; since it is of all our senses
the most removed from the sense of touch, as the most limit jd
condition of our perceptions, and since it not merely contains
the largest numbers of those perceptions in space, but also feels
its organ the least affected — since otherwise it would not be mere
seeing; and since, therefore, in this respect, it comes nearest to
a pure contemplation of the immediate representation of the given
object, without an}- mixture of perceptible sensation.
These three external senses lead us through reflection to a rec-
ognition of a thing outside of us. But if the sensation gets so
Anthropology. 323
strong- that the consciousness of the movement of the organ
grows stronger than that of the relation to an external object,
in that case external are changed into internal representations.
To perceive the smoothness or roughness of a surface in touch-
ing an object, is something quite different from obtaining a knowl-
edge of the external form of a figure by that means. In the
same way, if some person, for iustauce, speaks so loud that one's
ears ache on account of it; or if some one steps suddenly
out of a dark room into bright sunshine and winks his eyes, in
that case the latter becomes blind for a few moments, through a
too strong or too sudden illumination, and the former becomes
deaf through the screeching voice. That is to say : both per-
sons^ by reason of the violence of their sensuous perceptions,
acquire no conception of the object. Hence their atten-
tion is directed solely to the subjective representation, that is,
the change of the organ itself.
Concerning the Senses of Taste and Smell.
§18. The senses of taste and smell are both more subjective
than objective ; the former in that the organs of taste, the tongue,
the gums and the throat are touched by the external object; the
second in that we inhale along with the air the exhalations of
foreign substances, though the exhaling object may be at a dis-
tance. They are closely related to each other, and a person who
lacks the sense of smell, has also, as a rule, only a coarse taste.
We may say that both organs are affected by salts (solid and
volatile) the one kind of which must be dissolved in the mouth by
a fluid, while the other requires to be dissolved through the air,
which fluid or air must penetrate the organ, in order to affect it
by the peculiar sensation they create.
[324]
BOOK NOTICES.
The Religious Sentiment, its Source and Aim: A Contribution to
the Science and Philosophy of Religion. By Daniel G. Brinton,
A. M., M. D. New York : Henry Holt & Company. 1876. (Price,
$2 50. For Sale by Gray, Baker, & Co., St. Louis).
In whatever he writes, Dr. Brinton exhibits breadth of view, singu-
lar acuteness of perception, and an unusual command of literary form.
After " The Myths of the New World," it is gratifying to receive the
above work, indicating as it does the probable devotion of a life to
the elucidation of the ethnological phases of religion. Only the con-
verging of all the rays of the mind upon one focus, and long-continued
application, are of avail in the production of great books. But the
mind in collecting its rays must do this from the uttermost breadth
of culture. A Leibnitz, an Albertus Magnus, or a Lessing, has so
conducted his studies that every department of human knowledge
throws light upon every other. Again, when the individual scholar
lives in an organized community of scholars, such division of labor is
possible, and such recombination of special results that wonderful
completeness ot insight may be reached, and in a comparatively short
time. Such division and recombination of labor is realized in Ger-
many more than elsewhere. The inter-relation ot its fifty universi-
ties, constituting a single system, has produced this state of coopera-
tion in the realm of scientific research for a hundred years. Constant
cooperation, and the reference of each author to the labors of all
others, have caused a certain conciseness and technical style of writ-
ing among German professors that renders it extremely difficult for a
foreigner to avail himself of their labors until after years of study,
as it were, upon their entire literature. A brief word or phrase
('• Ding an Sich" or " IdentitM" or " Bejlexions-Bestimmung" or
" Monad " or " Logos ") suggests the entire argument of an "epoch-
making" book, or even a whole cycle of discussion, out of which
grew a complete literature relating to the subject. This is the
famous so-called "technic" of German books — not as is usually sup-
posed, a "technic" arbitrarily adopted by the individual without the
formal sanction of the community of scholars with whom he worked,
but a conventional technic that received the sanction of the literature
growing up around the theme. Without such conventional technic,
more or less transitory in its designations, any literature on a theme is
impossible. He who would study a given period of our political his-
tory would have to learn the current technic of the newspapers — the
presuppositions of such words and phrases as " Credit Jlobilier,"
" Reconstruction," " Green-hack," " Tariff," 1 &c, &c.,— before he
Book Notices. 325
could make any progress in gaining an insight into the political issues.
Such hooks as Creuzer's Symbolikund Mythologie, Schleiermacher's
Beden ueber Beligion, Pfeiffer's Deutsche MystiJcer d. 14 Jahrhun-
derts, Sprenger's Das Leben tind die Lehre des Mohammad, Erd-
mann's Bhilosophie des Mittelalters (in his Grundriss), serve as ex-
amples taken from an immense number of works that combine the
labors of thousands of scholars, silent as well as speaking. Such a
work as Overbeck's Geschichte der Griechischen Blastik combines
not only all the labors of preceding and contemporary authors, but
also the hints and suggestions obtained from the thought and re-
searches of troops of students who have studied under his direction
during the quarter of a century in which he has been professor at
Leipsic. It is sometimes forgotten that all memorable books carry
with them technical words and phrases, and that each one of these
may have been the centre of great battles. Aristotle's vovs TrotrjriKds
and vovs ira$7]TUios (in his De Anima) are phrases about which the
most important of all philosophical and theological disputes raged for
at least fourteen hundred years. Without these, where were Neo-Pla-
tonism, or Arabian Pantheism, or the four centuries of scholastic
philosophizing? It was not the mere words that caused these disputes,
but the seizing and defining of important thoughts by these words. The
active and passive intellects— whether only the former is immortal or
whether both are separable from the body — what momentous issues
hinge on these questions ! With Alexander of Aphrodisiasand Aver-
roes, the human personal existence perishes with the body — the pure
intellect alone being immortal, and the individualizing characteristics
being derived from the body, upon the death of the latter all con-
scious individuality ceases. (Even our author, Dr. Brinton, returns
to this question again and again, as e.g., p. 270, where he places the
immortality in the intellect, exclusive of sensation, and speaks lightly
of the " dogma that every man has an indestructible, conscious soul.)"
If personal existence closes with the death of the body, it was quite
distinctly perceived by the Schoolmen that Christianity is in great
error, and if the truth becomes known it must shortly cease as a
world-religion.
In his seventh and concluding chapter Dr. Brinton treats of " The
Momenta of Religious Thought," first showing what may properly
be called "Historic Ideas in Religious Progress," and their perma-
nence in relation to their truth and to consciousness. " The percent-
age of true concepts which makes up the complexity of a historic idea
gives the principal factor towards calculating its probable recurrence.
A second factor is the physiological one of nutrition itself." Defec-
tive cerebral nutrition, according to him, tends to cause a disappear-
ance of a " historic idea." He finds the historic ideas in religious
progress to be three in number: I. The Idea of the perfected indi-
vidual. II. The Idea of the perfected commonwealth. III. The Idea
326 Book Notices.
of personal survival. " These have been the formative ideas in the
prayers, myths, rites and religious institutions of many nations at
widely separated times."
The ideal of individual perfection was placed in physical strength, in
such gods as Allah, Eloah, Hercules (Melkarth), Thor, and others. In
Greece it became physical symmetry or the beautiful in art, as in
Apollo and Aphrodite. The latest form of this worship is the ideal
of culture of which Goethe is high priest. "Self-government founded
on self-knowledge wards off the pangs of disappointment by limiting
ambition to the attainable. The affections and emotions, and the
pleasures of sensation as well, are indulged in or abstained from, but
never to the darkening of the intellect. All the talents are placed at
usury ; every power exercised systematically and fruitfully with a
consecration to a noble purpose." The failure of this idea in its first
phase of brute force is accounted for by the theory of Novalis: " The
ideal of morality has no more dangerous rival than the ideal of phys-
ical strength, of the most vigorous life. Through it man is trans-
formed into a reasoning beast whose brutal cleverness has a fascina-
tion for weak minds." The aesthetic ideal fails because its spirit is
repose, whereas that of true religion is active struggle to eliminate
imperfection. The culture-ideal tends to exclusiveness and isolation,
and to the destruction of the very root of all religion — the feeling of
dependence (as Schleiermacher makes it).
The idea of the perfected commonwealth "lies at the basis of all
theocracies, forms of government whose statutes are identified with
the precepts of religion." "Certain national temperaments tend to
individualism, others to communism." "The ideal of the common-
wealth is found in those creeds which give prominence to law, to eth-
ics, and to sentiment, the altruistic elements of mind." Like the idea
which tends to independent individuality, this idea which tends
to the absorption of the individual in organized iustitutions has its
imperfections. Our author finds that this phase carried to its extreme
tends to destroy all religion, inasmuch as its supreme principle is au-
thority, and is thus antagonistic to the search for the true. The utter
surrender of the intellect to authority, is not only destructive of indi-
vidual power of thought, but of all morality — in that morality de-
mands personal responsibility and individual conviction.
In the idea of personal survival, or the immortality of the soul, Dr.
Brinton finds "the main dogma in the leading religions of the world
to-day. In Christianity, Islamism, and Buddhism, the three religions
that embrace three-fourths of the human race, with trifling excep-
tions," this doctrine of immortality of the individual is the "main
moment." The ills of life however great, and its pleasures as well,
sink into insignificance before the faith in a future eternal life. It is a
singular fact that the three religions which make this idea their ecu-
Booh Notices. 327
tral thought are the three proselyting religions of the world. " The
central doctrine of the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth, the leading
impulse which he gave to the religious thought of his age, was that
the thinking part of man survives his physical death, and that its con-
dition does not depend on the rites of interment as other religions
then taught, but on the character of its thoughts during life here."
" The Christianity preached by his immediate followers was not a
philosophical scheme for improving the race, but rested on the histor-
ical fact of a transaction between God and man, and while they con-
ceded everlasting existence to all men, all would pass it in the utmost
conceivable misery, except those who had learned of these historical
events, and understood them as the church prescribed."
" I have called this idea a new one to the first century of our era,
and so it was in Europe and Syria. But in India, Sakyamuni, proba-
bly five hundred years before, had laid down in sententious maxims
the philosophical principle which underlies the higher religious doc-
trine of a future life. These are his words, and if through the efforts
of reasoning we ever reach a demonstration of the immortality of the
soul, we shall do it by pursuing the argument here indicated : 'Right
thought is the path to life everlasting. Those who think do not die.'
Truth alone contains the elements of indefinite continuity ; and truth
is found only in the idea, in correct thought."
"A man's true ideas are the most he can hope, and all that he should
wish, to carry with him, to a life hereafter."
" While the religious doctrine of personal survival has thus a posi-
tion defensible on grounds of reason [N. B.] as being that of the inhe-
rent permanence of self-conscious truth, it also calls to its aid and in-
definitely elevates the most powerful of all the emotions, love. This, as
I have shown, is the sentiment which is characteristic of preservative
acts."
"A Supreme Intelligence, one to which all truth is perfect, must
forever dwell in such contemplation. Therefore the deeper minds of
Christianity define man's love of God, as God's love to Himself."
This is an apparent reference to Spinoza's Ethics (Part. V., Prop.
XXXVI) : " The soul's intellectual love towards God is itself God's
love wherewith God loves Himself, not as God is infinite, but in so far
as God can be explained by the essence of the human soul considered
sub specie aeternitatis ; in other words, the intellectual love of the
soul toward God is part of the infinite love wherewith God loves
Himself."
After this, one is surprised to meet the following :
"Attractive as the idea of personal survival is in itself, and potent
as it has been as a moment of religious thought, it must be ranked
among those that are past. While the immortality of the soul retains
its interest as a speculative inquiry, I venture to believe that as an
idea in religious history, it is nigh inoperative ; that as an element in
328 Booh Notices.
devotional life it is of not much weight : and that it will gradually
become less so, as the real meaning of Religion reaches clearer inter-
pretations."
What this "real meaning of Religion" may be we ask the author,
and look carefully to his remarks in the sequel. The influences, he tells
us, that are daily leading to the devitalizing of the doctrine of immor-
tality, are not brought about by the opponents of religion, by materi-
alistic doctrines, but ai-e owing to the development of the religious
sentiment itself— a development which, he predicts, will ennoble its
emotional manifestations and elevate its intellectual conceptions. But
in enumerating the main agents of religious development, he men-
tions (1) recognition of the grounds of ethics (i. e., the discrimination
of the grounds of ethics from those of religion, and the separation of
the two) ; (2) the recognition of the cosmical relations (i. e., of the in-
significance of the earth as a cosmical body, and consequently the ab-
surdity of the accepted Christian eschatology) ; (3) the clearer defin-
ing of life (i. e., as a result of physical force, and the recognition of
mind "as a connotation of organism"); (4) the growing immateriality
of religious thought (i. e., the elimination of egoism from it through
the loss of the expectation of future life). Our author, it is seen,
deals in paradoxes : for while denying that the changes in religious
views are owing to "materialistic doctrines," he proceeds to enume-
rate as the main agents of religious development precisely the cardi-
nal doctrines of materialism, but does it with such coolness and can-
dor and with such apparent regard for the "supremacy of the reli-
gious sentiment," and such faith in its ultimate triumph, that one
almost suspects him of covert sarcasm.
He says, regarding the second " main agent" : " The extent and du-
ration of matter, if they indicate any purpose at all, suggest one in-
comparably vaster than this; while the laws of mind, which alone
distinctly point to purpose, reveal one in which pain and pleasure
have no part or lot, and one in which man has so small a share that it
seems as if it must be indifferent what his fate may be. The slight-
est change in the atmosphere of the globe will sweep away his species
forever."
Regarding the closer definition of life as a main agent in religious
development, "but," as he sajs, "at the expense of the current no-
tions of personality," he remarks: "True thought alone is that
which does not die. "Why should we ask for more ? What else is
worth saving? Our present personality is a train of ideas base and
noble, true and false, coherent through the contiguity of organs nour-
ished from a common centre. Another personality is possible, one of
true ideas coherent through conscious similarity, independent of sen-
sation, as dealing with topics not commensurate with it. Yet were
this refuge gained, it leaves not much of the dogma that every man
Boole Notices. 329
has an indesti uctible, conscious soul, which will endure always, no
matter what his conduct or thoughts have been." "Not only has the
received doctrine of a soul, as an undying something different from
mind and peculiar to man, received no support from a closer study of
nature, — rather objections amounting to refutation, — but it has react-
ed injuriously on morals, and through them on religion itself."
In conclusion he says : " Where are we to look for the intellectual
moment of religion in the future ? " * * * * " The religious
sentiment has been shown to be the expression of unfulfilled desire,
but this desire peculiar as dependent on unknown power. Material
advantages do not gratify it, nor even spiritual joy when regarded as
a personal sentiment. Preservation by and through relation with ab-
solute intelligence, has appeared to be the meaning of that Move of
God ' which alone yields it satisfaction. Even this is severed from its
received doctrinal sense by the recognition of the speculative as above
the numerical unit)' of that intelligence, and the limitation of person-
ality which spiritual thought demands. The eternal laws of mind
guarantee perpetuity to the extent they are obeyed— and no farther.
They differ from the laws of force in that they convey a message
which cannot be doubted concerning the purport of the order in na-
ture, which is itself 'the will of God.' That message in its applica-
tion is the same which with more or less articulate utterance every
religion speaks Seek truth : do good. Faith in that message, con-
fidence in and willing submission to that order, this is all the religious
sentiment needs to bring forth its sweetest flowers, its richest fruit."
"Such is the ample and satisfactory ground which remains for the
religion of the future to build upon. It is a result long foreseen by
the clearer minds of Christendom. One who more than any other
deserves to be classed among them, writes* : 'Resignation to the will
of God is the whole of pietv,' &c."
If we interpret one statement by another we are left to believe that
religion as Dr. Brinton understands it, does not involve an eternal re-
lation of conscious man to conscious God, but rather a relation of the
conscious man to his own final annullmeut in unconsciousness. His
" resignation to the will of God " is therefore meek submission to the
fate of annihilation, since mind is a connotation of organism. If how-
ever we believe that self-conscious personality is the highest princi-
ple in the universe and that man is formed in its image, the otherwise
glittering generalities of religion assume a more concrete signification,
and one that is accordant with the sentiments of the soul, and quite
different from that indicated in this book. That the current doc-
trines of physiological psychology are utterly incompatible with
the spiritual views of the Christian religion, we may be assured.
* Joseph Butler, Lord Bishop of Durham.
330 Booh Notices.
Buddhism, and indeed all true Orientalism, fails to reach the concept
of personality, and is hence more in accord with modern materialism
than with Christianity.
That Dr. Brinton, though standing - in advance of the thinkers of the
physiological school, has conceded too much to their conclusions seems
evident. While he is a thorough Spinozist in system, perhaps he un-
derstands too literally the Spinozan repudiation of free will — the same
being a reaction against the tenets of Duns Scotus and Occam, and their
followers, who held the tenet that truth depends upon the arbitrary
will of God. The necessity of Beason is a necessity of freedom, inas-
much as truth is that which is in and for itself, and not fixed or lim-
ited by alien constraint. The mutual recognition of God and man as
portrayed in the fifth book of Spinoza's Ethics, and his third species
of knowing (sub specie aetemitatis) which he identifies with love,
warrants us in interpreting his doctrine as spiritual instead of fatal-
istic. The same ambiguity in regard to the perishing of individu-
ality is found in Aristotle's De Anima, which led to the diverse com-
mentaries of Alexander of Aphrodisias and Themistius, and to the
opposite interpretations by Albertus Magnus and Averroes.
That psychological evolution in man is a progressive emancipation
or disenthrallment from corporeal sensation, involves of course the
appearance at everv step of the corporeal as a real conditioning factor
in the process. A study of this factor is by all means important, but
no study of it can ever discover facts that transcend this limit : in
other words, no facts have been or can be found, that imply the cor-
poreal factor to be the creative cause of mind rather than the restrict-
ing limitation to its form of manifestation. Mind is self-activity,
and in the corporeal it reveals this through and by means of a con-
trary and refractory medium.
Looking at absolute self-consciousness as that on which all depends
and toward which all aspires, we as self-conscious beings may rejoice
in the fact that we participate in the ultimate form of being. We
may energize to complete in ourselves and make real all the potenti-
ality of consciousness, thereby elevating ourselves to the Divine in
progressive degrees of adequateness.
While Dr. Brinton's book exhibits everywhere wide scholarship and
a judicial tone of mind, its author fails to reconcile the two sides
which he presents. He states the materialistic side with greater clear-
ness and definiteness ; the spiritual doctrines are vaguely asserted or
implied, and left without other support. The pathological phases are
treated with the greatest ability. AVhile he pulls up wheat and
tares alike in his endeavors to separate the transient from the perma-
nent in religion, yet the general effect of the book will be valuable as
holding back alike the naive materialist from his rash conclusions,
and the intrepid dogmatist from his indiscriminating defense of deli-
Book Notices. 331
nite physical theories, because tradition has attached them to the
mode of presentation of great religious truths.
Transcendentalism in New England: A History. By Octavius Brooks
Froihingham. New York: G. P. Putuain's Sons. 1876. For sale
by Gray, Baker & Co., St. Louis. Price, $2 50.
Among the many worthy attempts to gather up the threads of the
significant movements that have had their origin and development
within this Nation during the century just completed, there is none
more commendable than the one above named. All things must be
studied as processes of evolution if they are to be understood. Seen
in the perspective of its history each thing first becomes intelligible.
What are the spiritual impulses and combinations that have sunk to-
gether into the present result of our National character ? What social
and political embryonshave quickened-the whence of their parentage?
What religious revolutions — what literary epochs, have transpired?
The old-time precept "Know thyself" means, as Carlyle tells us,
"Know what thou canst work at," and the introductory chapter to
this self-knowledge is an initiation of the individual into the history
of his kind — what his fellow men, his species, his kith and kin have
worked at. If the stock from which I spring has done these deeds,
there is so much of promise and potency in each scion of that stock,
and thus in me : Knowledge of one's kind is self-knowledge.
The so-called transcendental movement in New England seems to
ha^e been a sort of struggle for literary independence rather than a
philosophical or even religious movement. Emerson, writing the in-
augural address of the editors of The Dial to the reader, in 1840, says:
" The editors have obeyed, though with great joy the strong current of
thought and feeling, which, for a few years past, has led many sincere
persons in New England to make new demands on literature, and to
reprobate that rigor of our conventions of religion and education
which is turning us to stone, which renounces hope, which looks only
backward, which asks only such a future as the past, which suspects
improvement, and holds nothing so much in horror as new views and
the dreams of youth." He describes the spirit of the time as casting
its light, for each individual, " upon the objects nearest his temper
and habits of thought ; to one, coming in the shape of special reforms
in the state ; to another, in modifications of the various callings of
men, and the customs of business; to a third, opening a new scope for
literature and art ; to a fourth, in philosophical insight ; to a fifth, in
the vast solitudes of prayer. It is in every form a protest against
usage, and a search for principles."
Whether its friends or its enemies gave to the movement the name
of "Transcendentalism" is not told ; but it is generally agreed that the
appellation is misleading, inasmuch as it suggests the doctrines of
332 Bool: Notices.
Kant as the creed of the school, while in fact the Kantian critiques had
very little to do with it. Put the ahove quotations from Emerson
clearly enough paint the tendency of the so-called transcendentalists
to come out from or to reform existing institutions, creeds, and prin-
ciples. In the Dial for July, 1842, the editor speaks of the name "Tran-
scendentalism," which "by no very good luck, as it sometimes appears
-to us/' had been applied to the "more liberal thought of intelligent
persons in our time." He quotes a Calvinist as claiming of Trinita-
riauism that its whole system is transcendental ; " The sinfulness of
man involves the supposition of a nature in mpn which transcends all
limits of animal life and of social moralities." " The mystery of the
Father revealed only in the Son as the Word of Life, the Light which
illumines every man, outwardly in the incarnation and offering for
sin, inwardly as the Christ in us, energetic and quickening in the in-
spirations of the Holy Spirit, — the great mystery wherein we find re-
demption, thus, like the rest, is transcendental." The Calvinist goes
on to blame the Transcendentalists so-called, not for excess but for
defect : " they do not hold wild dreams for realities ; the vision is
deeper, more spiritual than they have seen. They do not believe with
too strong faith ; their faith is too dim of sight, too feeble of grasp,
too wanting in certainty. I regret that they should ever seem to un-
dervalue the Scriptures." A Quaker is further quoted as claiming the
identity of Transcendentalism with the doctrines of George Fox : "It
is very interesting to me to see, as I do, the essential doctrines of the
Quakers revived, modified, stripped of all that puritanism and secta-
rianism had heaped upon them, and made the foundation of an intel-
lectual philosophy, that is illuminating the finest minds and reaches
the wants of the least cultivated."
In December, 1840, Emerson delivered his lecture on Transcenden-
talism, in which he says: "What is popularly called Transcendental-
ism among us, is Idealism ; Idealism as it appears in 1840. As think-
ers, mankind have ever divided into two sects, Materialists and Ideal-
ists ; the first class founding on experience, the second on conscious-
ness ; the first class beginning to think from the data of the senses ;
the second class perceive that the senses are not final, and say the sen-
ses give us representations of things, but what are the things them-
selves, they cannot tell." And again : " You think me the child of
my circumstances: I make my circumstance. Let any thought or
motive of mine be different from that they are, the difference will
transform my whole condition and economy. I — this thought which
is called I, — is the mould into which the world is poured like melted
wax. The world is invisible, but the world betrays the shape of the
mould. You call it the power of circumstance, but it is the power
of me." Again : " Transcendentalism is the saturnalia or excess of
Faith ; the presentiment of a faith proper to man in his integrity, ex-
cessive only when his imperfect obedience hinders the satisfaction of
Book Notices. 333
his wish." "This way of thinking falling on Roman times, made
Stoic philosophers ; falling on despotic times made patriot Catos and
Brntnses ; falling on superstitious times, made prophets and apostles ;.
on popish times, made Protestants, and ascetic monks, preachers of
Faith against the preachers of Works; on prelatical times, made Pu-
ritans and Quakers; and falling on Unitarian and conservative times,
makes the peculiar shades of Idealism which we know." " The Ide-
alism of the present day acquired the name of Transcendentalism from
the use of that term by Immanuel Kant of Koenigsberg, who replied
to the skeptical philosophy of Locke, which insisted that there was
nothing in the intellect which was not previously in the experience of
the senses, by showing that there was a ve>'y important class of ideas
or imperative forms, which did not come by experience, but through
which experience was acquired; that these were intuitions of the
mind itself; and he denominated them Transcendental forms."
If the transcendental movement be made to include the tendency to-
wards the form of practical protest — demanding reform in State,
church, the callings and occupations of men, the customs of business —
as Emerson sums it up: "in every form a protest against usage, and a
search for principle" — it was a very wide-spread movement — extend-
ing far beyond the limits of New England, and is still productive of im-
portant results in social and political directions.
At bottom this protest against institutions however, has its root in
the literary and scientific instinct. Man's great want is to portray his
life to himself. Aristotle's designation of him as a "symbol-making
animal" has been often quoted. Portrayal implies clear consciousness
of the lineaments or characteristic features. Human institutions are
at once the product and the revelation of humau nature, and this art-
impulse aiming at self-knowledge and self-portrayal must occupy itself
with human institutions. Insight is the perception of what is neces-
sary and universal in things — it is the perception of their essential na-
ture. What is essential or necessary can be discovered in no other way
than by testing, a priori or a posteriori, the reality by successive
omission or change of its various phases — i. e., by the test of abstrac-
tion. When it is discovered that neither omission nor change can
transpire without destruction of the object considered, an insight is
obtained — the mind no longer depends on the external tradition of the
reasonableness of an ordinance but sees that reasonableness itself. It
is a change from dead formality, mechanical prescription — to living
thought, to intelligent endeavor.
Hence in its general aspect Transcendentalism is a literary move-
ment — the result of which has been to remove every phase of life from
the region of dead use-and-wont, and place it under the form of con-
sciousness and spontaneity.
It is evident that to any movement of this kind there are incident
various degrees of negation — iconoclasm and sacrilege. When the
334 Bool- Notices.
activity of thought awakens, its first deed is a challenge to reality. It
generalizes, omits the accidental. Successively its attitude must he
negative to all the facts of life ; it strives to think away, or ahstract
from, the family, civil society, the State, art, and religion. Its Tran-
scendentalism consists in the assertion of its own self-determination —
of its own fieedem to create its world of institutions, arts and usages.
The original sinfulness of Transcendentalism consists in its confu-
sion of the concrete and abstract self-hoods — of the finite and infi-
nite Egos — of caprice and rational will — of selfishness and duty — of
opinion (dotja) and rational insight [eTna-^jiri). The continuance of
the transcendental process gradually cures itself— eliminates the mere
individualism and fortifies the personality, i. e., replaces what is par-
ticular and accidental to the individual man with what is universal
and of the substance of all men. This achieved, the Transcendental-
ist becomes a defender of institutions as they are, and may even go
to the extreme of conservatism. As Goethe describes him : "He can
now do even the humblest work allotted to him with quietness and
utter content, feeling all the time in him its oneness with the greatest
work which falls to man."
Mr. Frothingham, without dispute, has done right in making Emer-
son the prophet of this movement. He alone of all saw the end from
the beginning, and therefore never participated in any of the merely
negative excursions of the Transcendentalists. In his lecture on "The
Conservative" (at Boston, December, 1841,*) he sets forth in his mas-
terly and inimitable style the positive good which institutions actually
give to man in return for what they seemingly deprive him of. If the
institution of property seems to deprive the individual of his birth-
right to a piece of land to live on, yet in turn it has preserved for him
all the rational culture of the race — "libraries, museums and galleries,
colleges, palaces, hospitals, observatories, cities — Rome and Memphis,
Constantinople and Vienna, and Paris, and London, and New York."
It has summed up for him the total net product of mankind — of his
larger self-hood — the "Grand Man," of whom he, the little man, is the
potentiality — and thus presented to him a revelation of himself such
as the Ages only could make. Without the help of this revelation he
would inevitably be a savage — with its aid he can become a civilized
human being within a score of years, achieving thereby what required
many thousands of years for his race to accomplish. Such is the vir-
tue of vicarious atonement.
Mr. Frothingham's own life has peculiarly fitted him for .the task of
writing this volume, so far as external surroundings are concerned.
His personal acquaintance with the representative names in Transcen-
dentalism, his own participation in it, and finally his finished scholar-
*The Dial, Vol. III., p. 1S'J-1!)2.
Book Notices. 335
ship are all in his favor. Perhaps in his book we miss something of
the enthusiasm that would come from an author who had brought
away the great treasure of his life from the school of thought he is
describing ; or some of the interpretative criticism that we could rea-
sonably expect from one who had been initiated into the transcenden-
tal technique. At all events we feel as if the object portrayed by Mr.
F. was not quite properly focused before our eyes, and the conse-
quence of it is an imperfection in definition. However this may be,
he has brought together very suggestive materials and made a book
that cannot fail to be interesting and instructive to all earnest readers.
Even if one is unwilling to accord its author the position of adequate
critic, he must concede the great merit of its literary composition,
and the wealth of material presented. It must be stated, too, that he
does not attempt so much a criticism as an historical picture.
After discussing Transcendentalism in its beginnings in Germany, its
development under Kant, Jacobi, Fichte, Schelling and Hegel; its the-
ology and literature : s wrought out by Schleiermacher, Goethe, Rich-
ter, and others; its advent in France under Cousin, Constant, Joufl'roy,
and in England under Coleridge, Carlyle and "Wordsworth, Mr. Froth-
ingham comes to New England and discusses the peculiar and original
phases which Transcendentalism assumed there, and describes its
practical and religious tendencies. After this preliminary he consid-
ers its representative names, beginning with "Emerson the Seer," and
following with "Alcott the Mystic," "Margaret Fuller, the Critic,"
"Theodore Parker the Preacher," "George Ripley theMan of Letters,"
and closing with "minor prophets," and a glance at the literature of
the movement.
In his list of representative names one is surprised not to find that
of Henry Thoreau, who is certainly one of the most eminent repre-
sentatives of the movement, so far as his permanent influence on
American literature is concerned.
In conclusion we repeat our sentiment that in this our centennial
account of stock in hand, it is excellent to be told of this move-
ment that has "affected thinkers, swayed politicians, guided moralists,
inspired philanthropists, created reformers."
La Filosofia delta Scuole Italiane, Bivista Bimestrale contenente
gli atti delta Societk promotrice degli studj filosofici e letterarj.
Boma. 1874-75.
Vol. IX., Part 1 — Contents— (I). Transactions of the Society for
the Promotion of the Study of Philosophy and Literature. (2). New
Prolegomena to all Present and Future Systems of Metaphysics, by T.
Mamiani. (3). The Form of Philosophical Thought and the Platonic
Ideal of Philosophy, by L. Ferri. (4). Philosophy of History : The
336 Boole Notices.
Empire and the Kingdom of Italy, by D. Carutti. (5). Reply to the
Letter of Count Mamiani to Prof. Bertini upon his Critique on Reve-
lation, by G-. M. Bertini. (6). Bibliography. Foreign Philosophical
Journals. Recent Publications. Part 2. — Contents— {I). Transactions
of the Society, &c. (2). Moral Science in France, by L. Ferri. (3).
The Ethics of Spinoza, part fourth, of the Relations between Matter
and Spirit, by S. Turbiglio. (4). Upon the Doctrine of Berkeley, by
Collyns Simon. (5). Critique on Revelations — reply to the letter of
Bertini, by T. Mamiani. (6). Philosophy of Religion, critique on rev-
elation, by T. Mamiani. (7). Bibliography Recent Publications.
Part 3. — Contents — (1). Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). Con-
cerning the Theory of Perception, letter to Count Terenzio Mami-
ani, by F. Bonatelli. (3). Letter replying to Prof. Bonatelli upon the
Theory of Perception, by T. Mamiani. (4). Italian Philosophy Ap-
plied, bv T. Mamiani. (5). Principles of Practical Philosophy accord-
ing to Prof. Ulrici, by L. Ferri. (6). Bibliography. Foreign Philo-
sophical Reviews. Recent Publications.
Vol. X., Part 1. — Contents — The Religious Question in Geneva, by
G. B. Gandolfi, (2). The Philosophy of Religion, appendix to the
letter of Mamiani in repty to Bertini. (3). Upon the Religious Ques-
tion, a letter to Count Terenzio Mamiani, by A. Tagliaferri. (4). The
Doctrine of Love according to Plato, by L. Ferri. (5). Bibliography.
Part 2. — Contents — (1). Transactions of the Society, &c. (2). The
Moral Problem according to Spinoza, by S. Turbiglio. (3). Philoso-
phy of Religion, by T. Mamiani. (4). A Chronicle of the Philosophi-
cal Press, by G. Barzellotti. (5). The new Fancies of Justus the
Cooper, edited for the first time with a continuous commentary, by a
Della-Crusca academician, by T. Mamiani. (6). Bibliography. Re-
cent Publications. Part 3. — Contents— (1) . The Moral Problem ac-
cording to Spinoza, by S. Turbiglio. (2). New Fancies of Justus the
Cooper, edited, &c, dialogue second, by T. Mamiani. (3). Essay
upon the Ontological Function of the Ideal Representation, by F.
Bertinaria. (4). The Italian Philosophy Applied, by T. Mamiani.
(5). Bibliography. The Religious Question of Geneva, Correspond-
ence by G. Gandolfi. Recent Publications
M. J. H.
Note by the Editor.— In the " Outline History of Philosophy," printed
in this number, on page 270, omission was accidentally made of the title of
Ueberweg'a History of Philosophy, to the excellent translation of which by
Professor Morris (N. Y., 1872). the author is mostly indebted for the material
of his summary.
THE JOURNAL
OF
SPECULATIVE PHILOSOPHY.
Vol. X. October, 1876. No. 4.
THE BASIS OF INDUCTION.
{Thesis Supported Before the Faculty of Letters, in Paris].
By J. Lachelier.
Translated from tbe French by Sarah A. Dorsey.
III.
It is strange that the school of M. Cousin should have, in gen-
eral, considered the principle of induction as primitive and irre-
ducible. For the doctrine of this school upon substance and its
causes, should offer, it seems to us, an easy means of explanation.
If, in truth, phenomena are sustained and produced by entities,
abstracted from the vicissitudes of sensible existence, what would
be more natural thau to search in the uniform action of these en-
tities, the reason of the constant succession of phenomena ?
And what more satisfactory than to attach the principle which
serves as a basis for science to that which is regarded as a basis
of metaphysics and of the supreme law of thought? In this
school the principle of induction is formulated ordinarily, by say-
ing that there is order in nature : but there is not given perhaps
a sufficiently precise idea of this order. Do they wish to say
X— 22 "
338 The Basis of Induction.
that the elementary phenomena which compose the hidden woof
of things (la frame cachee des choses) are connected by virtue of
an inflexible mechanism, which mechanism ought either to main-
tain or subvert the exterior and apparent order of nature ? Do
they mean to say, on the contrary, that nature is engaged in
maintaining the harmony of beings, the distinction of species, or-
ganizations, life, and the means, in short, which she ought to
take in order to attain to this 1' In a word, is order in the means
or in the results ? This question will no longer be doubtful if one
consents to attach the idea of this order to the doctrine of sub-
stance and causes. It is believed, generally, that the number of
these entities is equal to that of the constant groups of phenom-
ena that we call beings ; and their presence appears indispensa-
ble above all in organized beings, for which they are a principle,
at one time both of unity and of action. Their function is not
then to connect each phenomenon to a preceding one by the tie
of a blind necessity, but rather to co-ordinate many series of
phenomena following one law of agreement and of harmony ; if
these are not final causes in the sense of Aristotle and of Kant,
they are at least causes which act for ends. The conception of
universal order is then according to this doctrine, exclusively tele-
ological. Xow if it is important to men in power, to count upon
the regularity of phenomena more or less complex, upon which
their preservation depends, the proper object of science, that which
she pursues to-day more ardently than ever, is, on the contrary,
to determine the elementary conditions of these phenomena. She
has need then of a principle which will guarantee to her the re-
lations of causes to effects, rather than those of means to ends,
of a principle of necessity rather than of harmony. If each
sensible individual is the work of a thiug-in-itself, (chose en soi),
which employs his wisdom to conserve it, it suffices to establish
by a superficial observation the ordinary results of this secret
labor: but it is absurd to follow from experience to experience a
mechanism of phenomena which will only serve to fetter it, and
in which it will vanish even as far as the distinction between in-
dividual beings. The principle of universal order, thus under-
stood, is the formal condemnation of science, properly so called.
Whatever may be the insufficiency of this principle, it is inter-
esting to examine if the metaphysic of the school which has
adopted it offers it at least a solid foundation. The difficulty
does not consist in deducing the notion of universal order from
The Basis of Induction. 339
that of things-in-themselves: For, besides that this latter notion is
vague enough, all that one believes that he knows of the mode
of existence and action of things is so fitted to explain the main-
tenance of an exterior order in nature, that we are tempted
rather to see in it an ingenious hypothesis than a principle cer-'
tain in itself. But this is not understood in this manner, and the
existence of thin gs-!n- themselves is regarded as the corner stone,
and nearly as the whole edifice of metaphysics. Let us see how
it is proved, and if indeed it is proved.
The moat simple process, if not the most sure, is tolnvoke in
favor of this existence, the witness of common sense. Can any
one conceive, it is sometimes asked, a property which does not
reside in a substance, an event which ;nay not be determined
by a cause? Certainly not: but it is important to know what
common sense means by cause or substance. All the world be-
lieves that an odor comes from an odoriferous body, and that a
a savor belongs to a sapid body : but we should profoundly as-
tonish a man, a stranger to philosophic speculation, if we assur-
ed him that this body which strikes his eye and which resists his
effort, is itself only a superficial indication of an entity which
can neither be seen nor touched. Substanee, for the vulgar as
for the savant, is synonymous with matter ; and the conviction
that all reality is material is so profoundly rooted in most men,
that only moral or religious reasons can decide him to make an
exception in favor of the human soul. As to the word cause, it
signifies for them one phenomenon which determines another ;
they are not of the opinion of Mr. Mill, who admits only a rela-
tion of succession, without any real influence, between phenom-
ena, but they are still further off from believing that phenomena
appear or disappear at the will of mysterious beings, armed with
a sort of magic wand. Even examples which they use react
against this doctrine, because, when a man has been assassinated,,
justice searches for the immediate cause of this event in the mo-
tion of a weapon pushed by a hand, and it is frightened from the
pursuit of an entity which it would have small chance of catch-
ing. If one dared to speak in the language of Kant to common
sense, we might say, that it believed firmly in substances and in
phenomenal causes, but that it had not the slightest suspicion of
noumena. If we should renounce the construction of common
sense upon a question which is after all strange to it, there only
would remain, it seems, for us to sustain that we know substan-
340 The Basis of Induction.
ces and causes by an immediate intuition, analogous to that of
sense ; for to say we know because we do know without explain-
ing how, is to avow that we know nothing and have nothing to
say. If we have no intuition of these entities, we have no idea
of them, and the word which designates them has no sense ; the
affirmation of their existence even is without foundation, and the
necessity which is alleged can have only a subjective and illu-
sory character. We must leave to the Scotch school these veri-
ties of air, which impose themselves upon the mind in virtue of
pretendecKevidence; and it is perhaps because the doctrine of
substances and causes has for so long a time preserved this ab-
stract form among us, that it has been judged useless to, resolve
the principle of universal order into a principle which had not
any more solid foundation. On the other side, we must acknowl-
edge that intuition, to which recourse has been had equally, has
not so far furnished us with notions that are very precise upon
the nature of these entities and upon the manner in which they
operate. All that is known upon this latter point is that they
develop or manifest themselves, that is simply to say that they
contain the reason of sensible appearances; and, as to the first,
not only is their essence still unknown, but their number even is
so illy fixed, that one often employs the words substance and
cause in the singular number ; as if a phenomenon could be pro-
duced by the general idea of the cause, or as if all the
phenomena were the immediate effect of a single and infinite
cause. But if intuition scarcely teaches us anything about the
substance and cause of a given phenomenon, it is still less fitted
to teach us that all phenomena must have a substance and a
cause; because it can have respect only to a determined object,
and the intuition of a principle, outside of all actual application,
is a contradiction in terms. The existence of a thing-in-itself out-
side of a phenomenon, even if it were given to us to perceive it,
would be for us only a particular and contingent fact ; and if
all things should appear either in succession or at once before
the eyes of our intelligence, this experience of a new kind would
ouly reveal to us a universal fact, not a necessary truth. It is
then useless to attempt to found metaphysics upon what is call-
ed the principle of substance and the principle of cause ; because
if knowledge of things-in- themselves is intuitive, it cannot be cloth-
ed with the form of a principle, and if it is not, it cannot pretend to
any objective value. Lately the influence of Maine de Biran has
The Basis of Induction. 341
given birth in the school of M. Cousin to a middle theory, equal-
ly distant, it is believed at least, from an abstract dogmatism and
from what may be called the empiricism of pure reason. According
to this theory,and contrary to the primitive doctrines of the school,
we seize immediately, not by reason but by consciousness, a sub-
stance and a cause, which is ourselves ; and the office of reason
limits itself to giving to this primitive knowledge a universal and
necessary form, in revealing to us that the x>henomena which are
strange to us, have not less need of substance and cause than
those of which we are the subject. But whether the operation
of reason may be either primitive or secondary, it imports equally
for us to prove that this operation is legitimate ; and if it is de-
manded of us by what right we extend to all phenomena the con-
ditions of existence of some, we have always to return to the one
idea, whether it may be of a science without assignable origin,
or whether it may be an intuition like that which is regarded as
the exclusive privilege of consciousness. On the other hand,
there may be raised some doubts upon the reality, or at least
upon the extent of this privilege ; and without contesting the
original character of the notion of Ego, (moi) it is permitted to
demand of one's self whether consciousness puts us in presence
of a substance and a cause, in the sense in which these words are
taken — that is to say — of a thing-in-itself, distinct from internal
phenomena. It does not appear that we are well convinced of
this — after all, since the spirituality and immortality of the soul
are still continually established by arguments which this hypoth-
esis, if it be verified, render absolutely worthless ; and if it is in-
contestible that the Ego concentrates in its unity and enchains in
its identity all diversity submitted to consciousness, perhaps it is
just to see in this unity and this identity only the formal condi-
tions of consciousness itself, and not the attributes of a substance
charged to explain the apparition of it, and to guarantee the du-
ration of it. It is not doubtful that our actions proceed freely
and immediately from our faculty of willing ; and from another
point, if, as Leibnitz and Kant have taught, the succession of our
internal states is not submitted to laws less rigorous than those
of physical phenomena, we must acknowledge that we do not find
within us, anymore than outside of us, the trace of that absolute
initiative which seems to characterize the action of a supra-sen-
sible cause. But let us admit that we have consciousness of
such an initiative. Is it then upon this model that causes distinct
342 The Basis of Induction.
from us must be conceived, and are we able to confide the care of
maintaining the order of nature to entities endowed with a lib-
erty of indifference '?
A later and profound modification of the doctrine of substances
and causes consists in substituting for these two words that of
Force, and of saying that we perceive immediately, by a sort of
special sense, the conflict of our forces with the external forces.
The fact is certainly established, but it is also certain that con-
tent with establishing the fact, the principle is not demonstrated :
For the sense of which mention is made truly does teach us that
our movement is produced by a force, and even makes us indi-
rectly recognize the action of another force in the resistance we
meet : but this sense is evidently powerless to teach us that all
the movemeuts which are executed in the Universe are produced
or arrested by similar forces. Still more, when they speak of
forces as things in themselves, we figure to ourselves under
this name. I know not what sort of spiritual beings each
one of whom is charged with the impulsion of the movement,
whether it may be of a living body or of an inorganic mass : now
this is a supposition which is not only gratuitous, but which is
absolutely rejected and contradicted by experience. It may be
said that a star in motion is animated by a single force, but it is
absurd to represent this force as a simple and indivisible being :
For if this star breaks into many fragments each of which
continued to go on in its own orbit, we are obliged to ac-
knowledge that the total force which animated it is decomposed
into as many partial forces as there are fragments to impel. We
know that our muscular effort can, under the influence of our
will concentrate itself in oue single effort, but we do not know if
it proceeds from one single focus, or rather we do certainly know
the contrary: because while a part of this- energy remains sub-
missive to our control, another part may determine, in some one
of our members convulsive movements which do not in them-
selves differ from voluntary motions. Thus not only is there
nothing which authorizes us to affirm that the Universe may be
a system of forces, but the existence of our own force, in the
sense in which the word is taken, is an unsustainable fiction.
Force is no more a thing-in-itself, than extension from
which it is, for the rest, inseparable, and the particular sen-
sation which attests its presence in us, does not lift us one single
step outside of or beyond the sphere of phenomena. Only when
The Basis of Induction. 343
we are limited to saying that phenomena repose upon a sub-
stratum inaccessible to sense, if they do not give us a precise idea
of that substratum, we are left at liberty at least to conceive it at
our will, or rather are determineed almost irresistibly to look for
the type in our own thought. When we believe on the contrary
that we seize immediately this substratum in each voluntary effort it
is declared without circumlocution that the tendency to movement
proceeds only from itself: The chimerical entities in which it
is essayed to realize it, do not linger, but vanish away and leave
us definitely in presence of a pure phenomenon charged with
explaining itself and also all others. A Metaphysic which looks
for its sustaining point {point tfappui) in experience is very near
its abdication in the hands of physical science.
The doctrine of substances and causes and that which recog-
nizes nothing beyond phenomena is shipwrecked then equally
upon the problem of Induction, but from different reasons". Em-
piricism attempts vainly to settle itself upon the solid but too
narrow ground of phenomena: The contrary doctrine, giving a
larger basis to this principle, builds upon empty air, and does
not succeed in establishing a necessity of thought, whilst think-
ing it satisfies it. Substances aud Causes are only a desideratum
of the Science of Nature, a name given to the unknown reasons
which maintain the order of the Universe, the enunciation of a
problem transformed into a solution by an artifice of language.
Of the two paths we have followed so far, and between which
our choice seemed limited, neither have conducted us to any
goal : Does there exist a third ? Where shall we find it ?
IV.
However embarrassing this question may appear at first view,
our hesitation cannot be long, because we have absolutely only
one part to take. Outside of phenomena and in default of dis-
tinct Entities there remains only the thought itself: It is then,
in the thought, and in its relation with phenomena, that we
should search for the basis of Induction. But before attempting
a solution of this kind, let us essay to give a precise idea of it,
and to dissipate in advance, the prejudices or hindrances it may
awaken.
There are only three modes, possible in which principles
may be presented, because there are only three modes of
conceiving reality and the act by which our minds enter into
344 The Basis of Induction.
commerce with themselves. , We may admit with Hume and Mr.
Mill that all reality is a phenomenon and that all knowledge is in
last analysis, sensation : principles, if there may be question of
principles in such an hypothesis, will then be only results, the
most general results, of universal experience. We may suppose
with the Scotch school and Mr. Cousin, that phenomena are only
the manifestation of a world of Entities inaccessible to our
senses: and in that case the principal source of our knowledge
ought to be a sort of intellectual intuition, which would disarm
at once and reveal to us, the nature of these entities and the ac-
tion which they exert upon the sensible world. But there is a
third hypothesis which Kant introduced into philosophy and
which merits at least to be taken into consideration : it consists in
pretending that whatever may be the mysterious basis upon
which phenomena rest, the order in, which they succeed each
other is determined exclusively by the exigences of our own
thought. The most elevated form of our knowledge is, in this hy-
pothesis, neither an intellectual intuition nor a sensation, but a
reflection, by which the thought seizes immediately its own nature
and the relation it holds with phenomena: it is from this relation
that we are able to deduce the laws which it imposes upon phe-
nomena, and which are nothing less than principles.
It will be said that this- hypothesis is absurd and destroys it-
self, since each phenomenon can not obey as many' different laws
as there are distinct thoughts : but it is easy to reply, that here
we consider only the faculty of thought in the mind, and that
faculty is acknowledged to be identical in all, by the world.
When we suppose, for instance, that principles exist in them-
selves, and outside of all thought or at least beyond the thought
of all who inhabit a world like ours, we suppose that all thoughts
like ours are equally capable of understanding these principles :
It is not therefore wronging their unversality to seek a basis in
the very faculty through which they are known. But, we shall
be asked, how can we deny that the existence of principles may
be independent of our consciousness, or how shall we conceive
that the thought may be able to modify, in some measure the
nature of its objects? It is true, that there is nothing impossi-
ble in a principle's or a thing in general's existing outside of all
commerce with our minds : but it will be granted to us, at least,
that it is impossible for us to know anything about it, since a
thing begins to exist for us only at the moment in which our
The Basis of Induction. 345
minds enter into intercourse with it. We willingly grant upon
our side, that the existence of principles is independent of our
actual knowledge, and that they do not cease to be true because
we cease to affirm them internally : but it suffices for that that
there should be a reason which will determine us to affirm them
every time that we do think of them, and that this reason may
be found in our own faculty of knowledge or in things external to
our minds. In short we do not pretend that thought can
modify by an arbitrary intervention, the nature of its ob-
jects : We assert only this, that in order that these objects
should exist for us, they should possess in themselves a nature
which would render possible the exercise of the thoughts. It is
true, that it remains to know, whether thought is an empty ca-
pacity, which may be filled indifferently by all sorts of objects,
or if the knowledge which we have of phenomena supposes one
or several conditions upon their part : but we could not deny at
least that in this latter case, these conditions ought to constitute,
for all the phenomena, with which we have any business, the
most inflexible of laws.
But the hypothesis which we propose is not only admissible
in itself: it is the only admissible one, because it is the only one
which permits us to comprehend how we can know a priori the
objective conditions of the existence «of phenomena. We may
speak, it is true, of innate consciousness, which presents itself
to our minds under a universal and necessary form : but it can
not be proved that this consciousness connects itself with its ob-
jects, and that it is a true knowledge, and not a vain dream. To
say that there exists a sort of pre-established harmony between
the laws of thought and those of reality is to resolve the ques-
tion by the question itself : How, indeed are we able to know
that our knowledge accords naturally with its objects, if we do
not already know both the nature of the objects as well as that
of our intellect"? It is needful therefore to recur to the direct
intuition of reality, of which at least no one will contest the ob-
jective value: but whether this intuition bears upon simple phenom-
ena, or upon things-in-themselves, it is equally certain that it can-
not serve as foundation for principles, that is to say for universal
and necessary knowledge. Things-in-themselves,which become ob-
jects of intuition for us, would be, in fact, only the phenomena of
themselves: We might very well say what they were at the instant
of appearance, but we could not question what they might be
34G The Basis of Induction.
every where and always, nor above all could we declare what
they could, or might not be. But if the conditions of the exist-
ence of the phenomena are the conditions of the possibility of
thought, we come easily out of this embarrassing alternative :
because on one side, we can determine these conditions absolutely
a priori since they result from the nature of our mind itself;
and we can not doubt on the other hand, that they apply to the
objects of experience, since, outside of these conditions, there
is for us neither experience nor objects.
Now, how does this hypothesis, if we must call it so, permit
us to render account in particular, of the principle of induction ?
We believe that we should resolve this principle into two distinct
laws : one, according to which all phenomena is contained in a
series, where the existence of each term determines that which
follows it ; the other according to which all phenomena is com-
prised in a system, where the idea of the whole, determines the
existence of the parts. These are the two laws which it is need-
ful to establish by showing that if they do not exist, human
thought would be impossible : We shall begin with the first of\
these.
The first condition of the possibility of thought is evidently
the existence of a subject which distinguishes itself from each of
our sensations : For if these sensations existed alone, they
would entirely confound themselves with the phenomena, so that
there would remain nothing that we might be able to call our-
selves or our thought. The second is the unity of the subject
in the diversity of our sensations, as well simultaneous as suc-
cessive : because a thought which was born and which perished
with each phenomenon, would be for us only a phenomenon
itself, and we should have need of another subject in order ot
gather all these scattered and ephemeral thoughts into the unity
•of a real thought. Xow, how can these two conditions be filled,
or how can they represent to us the unity of the subject think-
ing and the relation it sustains with the diversity of its objects ?
Shall we say that the subject is a substance, of which the phe-
nomena, or at least the sensations which represent them to us,
are the modifications ! Xo, because, after the idea we usually,
form of substances they only manifest themselves by their modi-
fications, and cannot, in consequence, be distinguished from them
as a subject from an object. Shall we say that we are ourselves
in our own eyes, a phenomenon, or rather a durable act, that of
The Basis of Induction. 347
voluntary eflbrt, which opposes itself by its duration, and by its
active character to the passive and ephemeral modes of our sen-
sibility ? No, because this effort which renews itself at every
awakening, or rather at every siugle instant, and which is proba-
bly only a bundle of actions exerted separately by every
one of our muscular fibres, does not present the character
of absolute unity which appears to us indispensable to the
subject of consciousness. Shall we search for the unity of
this subject in that of a thought turned in upon itself,
which contemplates itself outside of time and of all sensible
modification ? This hypothesis satisfies better than the preceed-
ing, the two conditions which we laid down above ; but it seems
to us still further removed from satisfying a third condition,
which is nevertheless inseparable from the two others. We have
indeed established, that sensations without subject and without
connection cannot constitute of themselves any consciousness :
but it is evident that consciousness does not anv more consist in
the solitary action of a subject shut up in itself, and external in
some sort to its own sensations. It does uot suffice therefore, to
explain in a more or less plausible manner, how we are able to
have consciousness of our own unity : it is necessary to show at
the same time how this unity manifests itself, without dividing
itself, in the diversity of our sensatrons, and thus constitutes
a thought which is uot only the thought of itself, but still more,
that of the Universe. Now this is evidently impossible, if the
subject thinking is given to itself by an act independent of all
sensation and purely special : because not only could this simple
and durable act, have not possibly anything in common with the
multiple and successive acts which are related to phenomena,
but we have no reason to believe that two functions, so strange
on} to the other, could be exercised by the same mind. The
thought would find itself placed then before -its own existence
as an insoluble enigma: because it could only exist if our sensa-
tions were able to unite themselves in a subject distinct from
themselves, and a subject which distinguished itself from thj3m,
would seem by that, incapable of uniting them. There is however,
a means of escaping from this difficulty, and there is only this
means : It is to admit that the unity which constitutes us, in
our own eyes, is not that of an act but that of a form, and, in-
stead of establishing amongst our sensations an external and
factitious connection, to say that it results from a sort of affinity
348 The Basis of Induction.
and of cohesion natural to these sensations themselves. Now
the relations natural to our sensations among themselves can be
only those of the phenomena to which they correspond : The
question then of knowing how all our sensations unite them-
selves in a single mind, is precisely the same as that of know-
ing how all the phenomena compose a single Universe. It is
true that this latter unity is easier to admit than to comprehend :
How, indeed, can several things, of which one is not the other,
and which succeed each the other, form one thing ? Why an in-
finite number of phenomena, of which each occupies a distinct
place in time and space, should be in our eyes elements of a sin-
gle world, and not of as many distinct worlds as they are different
from each other is difficult to explain. Is it because these places,
however different or distinct they may be between themselves,
belong all to one single time and one single space ? But what
prevents our saying that space ends and begins with each of
these bodies or rather atoms which occupy it, and that time dies
and lives again at each vicissitude of the movements it meas-
ures ? Space and time, iu spite of the perfect similarity of their
parts., are notiu themselves one unity but on the contrary, an abso-
lute diversity : and the unity which we attribute to them — far
from serving for a basis for that of the Universe, can only repose
itself upon the internal links of the phenomena which fill them.
The question reduces itself then to the discovery of what makes
this relation : and we are only able it seeins, to represent to our-
selves under this title an order of succession and of concomit-
ance, in virtue of which the place of each phenomenon
in time and in space may be assigned by relation to all
the others. But always unity which results from such
an order is still only a unity of fact, of which nothing
guarantees to us the continuance : and we cannot even say
that simple relations of time and place establish between
phenomena, a veritable unity, in as much as these relations
may vary at every instant, and that the existence of each phe-
nomenon rests not only distinct, but still independent from that
of others. It is not then in a contingent relation, but iu a neces-
sary connection, that we might be able to find at last the unity we
look for: because, if the existence of a phenomenon is not only the
constant sign, but still more, the determining reason of the other.
these two existences are only then, two distinct moments of one
existence, which continues itself by transforming the first phe-
The Basis of Induction. 349
nonienon into the second. It is because all these simultaneous
phenomena are, as Kant has said, in a reciprocal action, univer-
sal, that they constitute one single state of things, and that they
are the object of a single thought upon our part ; and it is because
each one of these states is only, in some sort, but one new form
of the preceding, that we are able to consider them as the suc-
cessive epochs of a single history, which is at once that of
thought and that of the Universe. All phenomena then, are
submitted to the law of efficient causes, because that law is the
only basis that we can assign to the unity of the Universe, and
that this unity in its turn, is the supreme condition of the possi-
bility of thought. But the law of efficient causes not only ren-
ders possible our knowledge of phenomena ; It is also the only
explanation which we can give of their objective existence, and
that existence furnishes a new demonstration consequently of it.
We can not seriously doubt that sensible things exist in them-
selves, and continue to exist after we have ceased to feel them ;
and, on another side, we cannot understand that there can be a
color without an eye to see it, a sound without an ear to hear it,
and, in general a sensible phenomenon outside of any modifica-
tion of our sensibility. It has been believed that the existence of
the world might be assured by concentrating it, in some way,
entire, within the phenomenon of resistance : but this phenome-
non is as relative to what is called justly, the sense of effort, as
the other qualities sensible to our other senses ; and, if it has
the privilege of making us know the distinction of our body
from other strange bodies, it certainly has not that of surviving
itself or of guaranteeing to us, that these bodies and ours will
continue to exist, when we cease to have consciousness of their con-
tact. We may say, at the risk of not comprehending it ourselves,
that existence does not belong precisely to phenomena, but to
the substances in which they reside. But, whether we grant
to skeptics that phenomena vanish with our sensations, and, in
that case, it is useless for us to preserve pretended entities,
which are for us, as if they were not; or whether we hold
with the vulgar, that the visible sun loses nothing of its bril-
liancy in quitting our horizon, it is then equally indifferent
whether its disc subsists in itself, or reposes upon an entity inac-
cessible to our gaze. Perhaps by the substance of the sun,
one means not, an entity distinct from the visible sun, but the
enduring existence which we attribute to the sun itself, and which
350 The Basis of Induction.
one wishes to distinguish from the passing impression which he
produces upon our senses : but we find ourselves then in pres-
ence of the difficulty itself, which it is attempted to solve, aud
which consists in comprehending how a pure phenomenon can
exist in itself and independent of all sensation. For the rest, we
shall find looking closer at it, that such an existence is not seri-
ously admitted by any one: because, when we speak of a phe-
nomenon which produces itself in the absence of all sensible
existence either we deprive it of the form under which it offers
itself ordinarily to our perception or we become ourselves, in de-
spite of our own supposition, the imaginary spectators. We might
be able, then, it seems, to limit ourselves, to the recognition that
phenomena, or, what is the same for us, our own sensations pos-
sess, beyond their actual existence, a sort of virtual existence,,
that is to say, that, even when we do not experience them, we
might experience them, if we were placed in convenient condi-
tions of time and place. One might be able even to suppose,
with Leibnitz, that no phenomenon is absolutely excluded from
our consciousness, and that not only the smallest parts, or the
most distant parts, of the Universe are represented in us by some
insensible perceptions, but that the past and the future are in
some sort present to us, whether it be by the traces of past per-
ceptions which mingle with our actual perceptions, or whether it
be by the germ of future perceptions which an eye more piercing
than ours might be able to discover in these very perceptions.
We should make then, out of our own thought, according to an
expression dear to Leibnitz, a Universe in abridgment; and we
should be equally removed from the vulgar prejudice which
places sensible things outside of all sensibility, and from the
sceptical paradox which admits nothing beyond the grossest aud
most pronounced sensations, always, however, if we should suc-
ceed in procuring thus a sensible, sort of existence for the world,
we must acknowledge that this existence is still altogether sub-
jective and relative to our individual sensibility : because we can
not deny that common sense compels us, to distinguish sensible
things not only from our actual sensations, but to detach them
entirely from ourselves and to assure to them an existence abso-
lute and independent from our own. Shall we say, with Leibnitz,
that there exists an infinity of minds, each one of whom represents
the same world to himself but under a differing point of view.' Bui
minds which represent bodies, are not bodies ; and otherwise,
The Basis of Induction. 351
since we have any business only with our own representations^,
how shall we be able, not only to establish, but even to suspect,
that there exist other minds outside of our own ? For the rest,
whatever the system may be, that is adopted we can never go
outside of ourselves ; we must then either shut ourselves up in
a subjective idealism, very nearly related to scepticism at its best,
or find in ourselves a basis capable of supporting at one time,
the existence of the sensible world, and that of other minds.
Xow what can there be in us, which does not depend upon us,
and which represents or rather which constitutes, an existence
distinct from our own ! This cannot be the phenomena them-
selves, which are only, at least for us, our own sensations. It is
not their juxtaposition in space and their succession in time, since
time and space seem to be only the forms of our own sensi-
bility, and that it is impossible to assure ourselves that they may
be anything else: but, if the place of each phenomenon in space
and in time appears to us so determined by those which precede
or which accompany it, that it is impossible for us to remove the
thought of them, this necessary determination is doubtless some-
thing distinct from ourselves, since it imposes itself upon us, and
it resists all the caprices of our imagination. Will it be said,
that this necessity resides itself in us, and that it is not less rela-
tive to our understanding than the phenomena themselves to our
sensibility? Let there be shown to us then an existence, or in
general, a truth pure from all relation to our thought : but let us
be permitted to say, in the meantime, that we are, in so much as
we are individual, only the whole of our sensations and that a
necessity of which our sensations, as such, caunot render any
account, constitutes by that itself, an existence as distinct from
our own as one could reasonably demand. It is not because we
feel certain phenomena, one after the other, that they necessarily
link themselves in a chain, but, on the contrary, it is because
they should develop themselves in a necessary order under the
point of view which is special and particular to them : and, as
soon as we recognize that the series of our sensations is only a
particular expression of universal necessity we conceive at the
least, the possibility of an infinity of analogous expressions, cor-
responding to as many points of view possible upon the Uni-
verse. The necessary determination of all phenomena is then at
once for us the existence even of the material world and the only
foundation that we can assign for that of other minds ; and if
352 The Bans of Induction.
one should prefer, in spite of all, to admit without proof exist-
ences absolutely external to our own, it is easy to show that one
has more to lose than to gain by the change. The supposition of
such existences has in truth, nothing impossible in itself: but if
it is demanded what they are for us, it will be found that since
they are situated outside of us, they can be given to us only by
some impression they exert upon our intelligence : they will then
only appear as a modification of ourselves, and will become ab-
solutely subjective precisely because it is wished that they
should be absolutely objective. An existence is only objective
for us when it is given to us in itself, and it cannot be given to
us in itself except it leaps in some sort out of the bosom of our
own existence : between the subjective idealism of Hume and
the objective idealism of Kant, it is for common sense to choose.
As to the rest, if the law of efficient Causes explains at once
our own knowledge of phenomena and the existence which we
attribute to them, these two things are strictly united, and can
only form in reality one thing. The property of thought is in
reality, to conceive and to affirm the existence of objects : and
it is evident that a thing can exist for us, at least, only when it
is of the number of objects of thought. But thought is nothing
in its own eyes outside of the necessity which constitutes the
existence of phenomena. How otherwise would it have con-
sciousness of them, if it is substantially distinct from them, and
how will it represent this necessity itself, if not as a sort of blind
thought pervading the things ! We do not kuow either what may
be the existence of a thing-in-itself nor what conscious-
ness we may be able to have of ourselves iu another life : but
in this world of phenomena of which we occupy the centre,
thought and existence are only two names of the universal and
eternal necessity.
V.
Not only does the law of efficient Causes result a priori from
the relation of thought with phenomena, but this law permits
us to determine in turn, by a new deduction the nature of phe-
nomena themselves.
It is evidently necessary that the laws should be applied to
phenomena, since otherwise they would have no signification;
and this application could take place only by a simple act of
thought, which conceives each law in perceiving the phenomena
The Basis of Induction. 353
it governs. But, for this act to be truly simple, it is necessary
that it should consist in seizing under two different forms, one
only and the same thing , it is needful that the law should be
only the abstract expression of the phenomena and that the
phenomena should be only in their turn, the concrete expression
of the law. Now this correspondence between phenomena and
laws may be established in two ways: either, the conception of
laws is determined by the perception of phenomena, or it must
be on the reverse, the peception of phenomena which governs
the conception of laws. We proceed in the first manner when
we say, for instance that heat expands bodies; For we then only
announce under a general form, what our senses have already
represented to us in one or several particidar cases. But it is
not the same when it concerns the universal connection of
causes and effects : We conceive here the law before having
perceived the phenomena, and it is the secondaries who are in
some sort made to furnish us with the sensible representation
of the first. It is necessary then that we perceive even in the
diversity of phenomena, a unity which links them together : and,
since the phenomena are a*diversity in time and in space, it is
necessary that this unity should be that of a diversity in time
and in space. Xow a diversity in time is a diversity of states :
and the only unity which can conciliate itself with this diversity
is the continuity of a change, of which each phase differs only
from the preceding by the place which it occupies in time. But
a diversity in time and in space is a diversity of states and of
positions altogether ; and the unity of this double diversity can
be only a continuous and uniform change of position, or in a
word a continuous and uniform movement. All phenomena then
are movements, or rather one movement which follows the same
direction and with the same rapidity as far as possible, what-
ever may be the laws according to which it may transform itself,,
and whatever may have been upon this point the errors of the
Cartesian mechanism. But what Leibnitz has never contested
with Descartes, and what seems to us above all contest is,,
that all, in nature, ought to be explained mechanically. For
the mechanism of nature is, in a world subject at once to the
form of time and space, the only expression possible of the
determination of thought.
Doubtless, we do not perceive movements only, but also col-
X— 23
354 The Basis of Induction.
ors, sounds, and all which it is agreed to term the secondary
qualities of matter: but we must not confound simple appear-
ances which exist only in our sensibility, with veritable phe-
nomena, which can alone pretend to a subjective existence. The
phenomena in truth, should offer to us, in their diversity even,
a sort of realization of the unity of thought : and this unity
can not realize itself except in a homogeneous diversity, which
may be, so to speak one in power, as that of time and space.
Secondary qualities on the contrary are of a heterogeneous di-
versity, which has by itself or in itself nothing in common with
that of time and space : because color is only extended through
accident, and we cannot say that it augments or diminishes, when
the surface it covers becomes larger or smaller. We can not
admit either that these qualities have duration in themselves :
because we cannot measure directly, either the time during which
each one of them affects our sensibility, nor that which passes in
the passage of a sensation to another sensation entirely differ-
ent. But if they do not appear to us under the form of space
and time, they are nevertheless given to us in space and time :
and it would be impossible to render an account of the place they
occupy in them, if no link attached them to a phenomenon which,
alone, tills by itself both the one and the other. The perception
of these qualities is then only, as Leibnitz believed, the confused
percption of certain movements ; and if they cannot give place
for a direct and express knowledge, nothing prevents us from
seeing in them, the object of an indirect and in some degree a
virtual knowledge. If they are not phenomena, they are at least
well founded appearances, and not vain dreams ; They exist,
not in themselves, but in movement, upon which they rest, and
which they follow faithfully in all its vicissitudes : they are in
us by themselves and outside of us by what they express. The
movement is the only veritable phenomenon, because it is the
only intelligible phenomenon; and Descartes was right in saying
that every clear idea, was a true idea, because the intelligibility
of phenomena is precisely the same thing as their objective ex-
istence. But there ought to be something true, even in the most
obscure modes of our sensibility : because there is no place in
our thought for an absolute illusion, and nothing of that which
is given to us, can be absolutely excluded from the sphere of
thought and from that of existence. The secondary qualities
are in some sort, the matter set at a distance, (matiere eloignee) of
The Basis of Induction. 355
existence and of thought : between the absolute diversity of this
matter and the absolute unity of its form there must be an in-
termediate, and we find this intermediate, in the continuity of
force.
If all, in nature, should be explained mechanically what becomes
of spontaneity of life and the liberty of human actions ! Must
we subtract from the law of mechanism a considerable part of
phenomena, or hold with Descartes, that beasts have no souls,
and with Leibnitz, that our own movements are executed no
otherwise than those of the magnetic needle ? This is the
double question which remains for us to examine now.
We cannot misunderstand the harmony which sustains the life
whether it be of plants or of animals; It is required now to
know whether this harmony is a simple result of general laws
of motion, or if it is the work of a special agent, distinct from
each organism and subject to laws exclusively teleological.
Now this latter hypothesis seems to us, independently of all
a priori consideration absolutely inadmissible. We can at first
raise some difficulties upon the number or the division possible
of these agents in plants, and in those of animals, who multiply
themselves by a sort of budding out. We can demand in general,
whence they come, whether they are created ex nihilo at the
moment of each generation, and how they perish in spite of their
simplicity, when the body which they animate comes to be dis-
solved. We can still further recall the provisional character of
the explanation of vitality, and the ground upon which they
have yielded, and upon which they continue to yield every day
to mechanical explanations ; but we will content ourselves with
demanding from the partisans of this hypothesis how they prove
what they advance, and by what sign they are able to recognize,
in the formation and play of an organ, the intervention of an im-
material agent. Whatever opinion one may adopt upon the cause
of vital phenomena, one cannot deny that these phenomena may
be in themselves movements : The question is reduced to know-
ing whether all these movements are connected in virtue of
laws of mechanism, or whether some begin and stop, changing in
swiftness and direction, without being determined in these by
other movements. !N'ow how shall we penetrate profoundly
enough into the structure of living beings, to assure our-
selves that a suitable movement, which produces itself suddenly
in a portion of their body, is not the consequence of impercepti-
35G The Bans of Induction.
ble movements which execute themselves first in the parts of this
part? How shall we ever undertake such a research if we think
that the division of these parts may go, and without doubt does go,
as Leibnitz believed, into the infinite? More, it is impossible to
accord to a spiritual agent the least influence upon vital move-
ments without investing it, in regard to these movements, with a
true creative power ; for not only he could not suspend them
without, annihilating them, or without impressing upon the same
parts, an unequal and inverse movement, which as Descartes has
said, is the direction of the motion and is inseparable from the
motion itself; this agent then could not change the direction of
an organic motion without replacing it by another, or at least
without producing a movement in a different sense, which would
combine itself with the first. Now a creative power is, in its na-
ture itself, absolutely illimitable. Behold therefore in the Uni-
verse as many sources of motion as there are living beings, and
sources of which each can produce an infinite quantity. From "
whence comes it then that the quantity of motion, in consulting
experience only, does not vary in the Universe ? From whence
comes it that our forces are so limited, and what hinders us, as
Leibnitz asked, from leaping beyond the moon ? From whence
comes it, that they are so soon exhausted, and that they have
need of being incessantly repaired by slumber and food ? From
whence comes it that each soul is so slow T in constructing the
body it inhabits and so prompt to let it perish ?
The hypothesis of a spiritual agent, exclusively determined by
final causes, seems above all, difficult to conciliate with the
anomalies and the disorders which the organs and functions of
living beings, often present. It is indeed impossible to hold
seriously that this agent does its best to maintain harmony
in the organism, but that all its good will is shipwrecked, as it
were, against the blind power of matter: because there is no
agreement nor possible conflict between material molecules
which can only preserve or transmit a finite quantity of motion,
and a spirit capable of creating at every instant an infinite quan-
tity. We must then place within this spirit himself, the cause
which limits or alters the action which he should exercise upon
the organism. It would have to be said that there are ignorant
jsouls, who confound the traits of the type they are charged to
realize, and feeble or perverse souls who after having achieved
their work, neglect to preserve it, or even take pleasure in hast-
The Basis of 'Induction. 357
erring its ruin. jSTow it is difficult to conceive how a simple being,
who tends naturally to produce a certain effect, can encounter in
itself an opposed tendency, or at least an insurmountable obsta-
cle : and it must be conceded that things pass then in the soul,
no otherwise than they would pass in the body, if the greater
part of the organic movements tended in themselves, to accom-
plish themselves in the most convenient order, although this
concert was destroyed in part by some irregular movements.
But if the simplicity of this hypothetical being, seems comprom-
ised by aberrations and failures, that we are forced often to at-
tribute to him, is it easier to conceive, even when we regard its
action in the most wise, and sustained manner ? It is necessary
in truth, that it should represent itself under some form, and the
system of organs that it constructs and the sequence of move-
ments that it impresses upon them : it is necessary then that it
should include in its pretended simplicity a precise diversity
equal to that of the organism, and also a consciousness more
or less obscure of this diversity : therefore what does it
serve, and why, if we must admit such a consciousness
should we not place it in the organism itself? In short, how is
the plan after which it works, formed in the intelligence of this
being ? This plan, cannot be the work, either of his will, or even
of the will of a stranger : because this will must have been di-
rected by an anterior plan, which would suppose in its turn an-
other will, and so on to infinity. It must be therefore that the
plan of each organism should be formed in itself, before all re-
flection and all knowledge : it must be that the materials of this
ideal organism, at first scattered aud without form, should be
assembled and polished in virtue of laws which are apparently
inherent in them : but what prevents us then from saying as
much of the real organism, and what is there absurd in explain-
ing the formation of the body by a mechanism which ends by
compelling us to transfer it to the soul ? That this mechan-
ism may be, in some sort, penetrated with final causes, is what we
do not dispute, and is indeed what we reserve to ourselves to dem-
onstrate later. We wish only to establish that nothing author-
izes us to realize this purpose or design in a special agent subtract-
ed from the general laws of matter and of motion. There remain on-
ly then, the actions of man which seem to derogate from universal
mechanism ; and it is needful for us to take our part of this de-
rogation, if there is no other way to save freedom in the sense in
358 The Basis of Induction.
which it is bound to the fulfillment of the moral law; because we
are bound by this law itself, to believe that we possess all that is
requisite to fultill it. But perhaps it is not necessary in order
that we should answer for our actions, that there should be in
the time preceding them, any reason which determined them;
and it seems not less conformed to common sense, to explain in
some sort historically, an action which may be guilty, than to
condemn it in the name of conscience. All know how Kant es-
sayed to put reason in accord with itself on this point, by plac-
ing moral liberty in a sphere superior to that of time and phe-
nomena; and inasmuch as the falsity of this hypothesis has not
been demonstrated, it will be permitted to us to examine whether
our actions, considered as simple events, and an abstraction be-
ing made of their moral character, obey or not the general, laws
of nature.
Now if we refuse to vital spontaneity the power of modifying
the movements which are executed of themselves in our organ-
ism, it is clear that the same reasons ought to prevent our grant-
ing this to our will ; and the external mechanism of our actions
would not be the object of a single doubt, if internal experience
did not pronounce, according to some philosophers, in favor of a
liberty of indifference absolutely irreconcilable with this mech-
anism. The question reduces itself then to knowing whether
we will without motive, or what amounts to the same thing,
without taking account of the motives which solicit our will;
and it is easy to show that upon this point the pretended decis-
ion of internal experience is contrary, not only to the supreme
law of all experience, but still more to the facts acquired by an
attentive observation. Xo one believes, in fact, or dares to pre-
tend that a wise man, on an important occasion, will take indif-
ferently the part he judges to be the better, or that which seems
to him the worse ; and it would be a waste of our time to weigh,
in such a case, whether the for and against (pro and con) of our
deliberation was an affair of pure curiosity, and that it ought not
to exert any influence upon our conduct. We are reduced then
to cite the example of those who act from caprice, as if their
vanity and their idleness were not for them the most powerful of
interests; insignificant actions are assigned to us, which we ac-
complish almost mechanically, and it is asserted that we are de-
termined in these without reason, because we do not observe the
reasons which do determine us. It is certain that a man who has
The Basis of Induction. 359
need of a guinea, and whose purse is filled only with pieces of
this nature, will take at hazard the first one his fingers may en-
counter; but place only two guineas upon a table, and try to se-
lect one of them without motive; or lift up your hand, as Bos-
suet proposes, and see whether, in virtue of your free will, you
can incline it to the left or to the right. Will it be to the right I
Xo, because that movement will probably appear to you the most
natural. It will then be to the left .' Xo, because you have now
a motive in avoiding the right. It will tend then to return to the
right, but it is clear you have not advanced in this ; and the ques-
tion might remain lingering and hanging, if fatigue did not cut it
suddenly short during a moment of distraction, in favor of the
most comfortable movement.
It is sometimes said that if free will did not exist, all human
life would be upset ; but it seems that a liberty of absolute indif-
ference, which would leave us without any hold upon the will of
our kind, and would make of their future conduct an enigma to
which they would not themselves have any key, would be more
likely to produce the effect spoken of. It would not suffice to
recognize that men ordinarily decide after certain motives, if we
have no reason to think that these motives will decide them still
upon given occasions ; and it would be impossible to form the
least conjecture upon this point, if their decision was not subjec-
ted to laws absolutely certain in themselves, however uncertain
may be the knowledge we have of them. We are doubtless very
far from being able to calculate the conduct of a man with the
same precision as the path of a star; but there is also no pro-
portion in the difficulty of these two problems, since this
conduct is determined not only by inclinations whose relative
strength varies from one instant to another, but yet more by the
reflections which contribute to put them in play, and whose cir-
cle may extend to the infinite. It is none the less true that a
mediocre knowledge of the character of a man and of the cir-
cumstances in which he is placed will suffice ordinarily for us to
judge without great danger of error, of the part he will take ;
and the influence which men exercise over each other, whether
in private or public life, depends in great measure upon the sa-
gacity which they may exhibit in this way, and which for some
men seems almost to be a sort of infallibility. But there is still
another case in which it is given to us to understand almost cer-
tainly of the will of our kind ; it is where we operate, not upon
360 The Basis of Induction.
individuals but upon masses, and where we endeavor only to de-
termine a certain number of actions of a certain nature, whatever
may be otherwise in particular those who are to accomplish them.
It is thus that a skillful merchant is able to assure to himself a
constant number of buyers, of which each one is personally un-
known to him, and when he sells his business to another, he
values in money not only the merchandise that is in his store,
but still more the good will presumed, of these unknown persons
who come to seek his merchandise. These calculations, in
which human will is treated almost like a physical agent, have
doubtless something in them humiliating to our nature; and nev-
ertheless they are'not only indispensable in our private transac-
tions, but they have become, above all in our day, under the
name of statistics, one of the principal elements of the science of
government. There is a statistic of production and exchange,
according to which political economy seeks the means proper to
increase the wealth of nations ; there is even a statistic of crime,
upon which penal legislation ought to be regulated, in order to
establish a sort of balance at each epoch, between the violence
of passions which menace public security, and the degree of fear
necessary to restrain them. What is there then surprising in
that our actions obey externally a physical mechanism, since hu-
man society is founded upon a moral mechanism, which each one
of us, in his sphere, finds it necessary perpetually to know and
to manage the secret springs of?
A whole of movements, of which no external cause comes to
modify the direction and swiftness, whether it be of living bod-
ies, whether it be even of those in which intelligence is joined
to life, such is then the sole conception of nature which results
from what we know, so far, of the essence of thought. This con-
ception, if it should be exclusive, would be a sort of idealistic
materialism ; but we should not forget that it responds only to
one-half of the principle upon which reposes our knowledge a
-priori of nature, and we must go now to seek its completion in
passing frorn the consideration of efficient causes to that of final
causes.
(To be Concluded).
[361 j
FRIEDKICH EDTJARD BEXEKE'S EDUCATIONAL
PSYCHOLOGY.
Translated from the Fourth Volume of Richard Lange's Revised edition of Dr. Karl
Schmidt's History of Pedagogics, by Louis F. Soi.dan.*
Iii his Psychology Beneke starts from the fundamental idea — de-
rived from careful observation, that the soul is not a simple
being, but that it consists of a multitude of simple powers or
faculties. These however are quite different from what had been
before considered elementary faculties. Beneke divides them
into elementary faculties such as are born with us and may
become subject to continual development, and into developed fac-
ulties that are formed out of the primary faculties, which have
grown under the influence of the external world and by their own
inner activity, and then exist as "formations" (i. e., as representa-
tions, concepts, desires, feelings, judgments, acts of the will, &c.)
If we have been in the habit of ascribing to man one imagination,
one memory, one reason, one will, these terms must be considered
as mere abstract names like the terms forest, mankind, &c, in
which the particular (trees, men) is comprehended. This abstract
unity was taken by Psychology as single powers; what was homo-
geneous in regard to form was taken to be one. But, says Beneke,
experience teaches the opposite. We see that the same person
knows how to do a certain thing very well, but is a very poor
hand at some other; or that he has a powerful will in one direc-
•■Friedrich Eduard Beneke was born in Berlin the 17th of February, 1798.
He was a pupil of the Friedrich Werder Latin High School when he enlisted
as a volunteer to take part in tbe German war of independence, in 1815. In
181G he attended the University of Halle for the study of theology ; he went to
Berlin in 1817 to devote himself principally to the study of philosophy under
Schleiermacher. In 1820 he became connected with the Berlin University as
teacher (" privat docent"). In 1822 his lectures were prohibited by the gov-
ernment, which caused him to go to Gottingen in order to teach there. When
that prohibition had tacitly been removed in 1827, he returned to the Univer-
sity of Berlin, where he was appointed professor extraordinarius, and after 1841 '
received a salary of 200 thalers a year. Having not been well for some time,
he was seized in 1853 with insomnia. On the first of March, 1856, he dis-
appeared suddenly, and on the fourth of June, 1856, his body was found in the
water.
362 Beneke > 8 Educational Psychology.
tion, and a very weak one in another. How can you make this
agree with the theory of one understanding, one will?" The same
is true in respect to memory. One and the same person can re-
member subjects of a certain kind easily and perfectly, but he can-
not remember names ; or, if his memory should happen to excel
equally in regard to names, he is perhaps not able to remember
numbers. Whence these different kinds of memory S If mem-
ory were but one power, the same person would remember all
things with an equal degree of perfection. Antiquated psycho-
logical views hold that memory is substance, while the concept is
the accident, i. e., that memory is the permanent principle, the
reservoir, which receives into it the changing concepts. The new
(Beneke's) psychology shows beyond contradiction, that memory
does not exist at all as something outside of the concepts, but in
and with them only, as their attribute, or more distinctly speak-
ing, as their inherent principle of stability.*
Every concept that vanishes from our consciousness exists with
more or less force in the inner (unconscious) life of the soul : this
is memory, and memory is naught but that. Each "formation" or
product of this kind, which in this manner continues an uncon-
scious existence, Beneke calls a "vestige" or "trace." Erom this
follows that there can be no general, formal culture,! no general
culture of the memory, of the understanding. Eormal culture does
not extend beyond the subject or study that is taught, it does not
affect the mind in general. The committing to memory of Latin
words, for instance, does not give culture and power to the mem-
ory in general, but merely as far as the faculty of learning words
is concerned. In the same way mathematical instruction culti-
vates perception and judgment in regard to mathematical matters
only. Whereas memory exists merely as something inherent in
*Concepts when they arise show a certain power to continue to exist, a cer-
tain tenacity of life. They continue in existence in the mind and may be call-
ed into consciousness. This inherent attribute of each concept, says Beneke. is
what is called memory. — TV.
fFormal and material culture are words but too well known in German ed-
ucational writings and polemics. Material culture means the fact knowledge
gained by instruction, formal culture the training which the different faculties
of the mind receive by education and in the acquisition ot knowledge. We
usually call material culture knowledge, and formal culture discipline of the
mind, or culture. — Tr.
Beneke' s Educational Psychology. 263
the "vestiges or traces of concepts" as their principle of stabil-
ity, how can the power gained in regard to the concepts of Latin
words become in any way useful for the remembering of physical
perceptions, or the perception of plants, of men J ? And whereas
judgment depends on concepts, the power gained in the direction
of judgment by the acquisition of certain concepts, cannot go be-
yond the special contents or the subject matter of such concepts.*
And so with all the rest.
In the construction of his pyschological system Beneke con-
siders everything genetically ; he explains that all mental activi-
ties, for instance, imagination, conception, syllogizing, inclina-
tions, originate in sensuous formations. Sensuous perceptions
furnish the material for the imaginative representations and for
the concepts relating to the external world ; these concepts again
are the basis for judgments, syllogisms and for all the combined
mental activities ; inclination, likes and dislikes have their roots
in the sensuous formations of pleasure and pain (or displeasure.)
Whatever has come into the mind from the external world can
be separated in consciousness from what is internal, so that the
purely psychical elements can come into our consciousness by
themselves, and by this process of abstraction arise the purely
mental formations, as for instance the concepts, to think, to im-
agine, to will, to remember, etc. Still perception is not a simple
element; the simplest elements are the sensuous impressions. A
being that has only these, as the infant in the first period of his
life, is incapable of distinct perception and still more of observa-
tion. Frequent reproduction of like sensations, that continue as
vestiges or 'traces' and unite according to the law of the mutual
attraction of the similar, is required in order to potentiate sensa-
tion and to raise it to a perception. The same process is necessary
to potentiate the like parts of perceptions, in order to elevate
them into concepts and finally by a like manner the similar ma-
terial in lower concepts is potentiated and raised to a higher
concept. From this the reason becomes manifest why the scien-
tist, the chemist, the physician perceive and observe more
*The position Beneke takes is simply this : You cannot gain general culture
from the study of special sciences. The culture which a person gains is cul-
ture in the science he studies, bat not culture in general. A good arithmeti-
cian has certainly acquired strength by his mathematical work, but it is
strength in regard to arithmetic merely, not mental strength in general. — Tr.
264 Beneke's Educational Psychology.
acutely and clearly than a person without special training in as
much as the former does not see through his eyes merely ; his sense
of sight is assisted by his concepts.
The primary faculties which we possess at our birth, are void
of objects, but not absolutely void for all that. They contain a
greater or less degree of vigor (ability to retain impressions)
vivacity (lively impulse for action) and a healthful susceptibility
or irritability for impressions. These innate qualities, which in-
here in those primary faculties, as well as those that arise at a
later time, constitute a significant content of these faculties even
before they are developed.
The primary faculties, being connected with the physical or-
gans of the body without losing their character of being purely
mental powers, are divided into several higher and lower classes
into which they grade themselves systematically on the basis of
their relative vigor, forming thus what is called the higher and
lower senses of man ; in this expression the physical side of
man's nature (the organs) is not yet considered.*
The primary faculties are graded according to the remaining
two qualities (i. e. vivacity and irritability in regard to impres-
sions), but this gradation is not the same in different persons, it
is unequal. Sight is the strongest faculty in man, almost as
strong is the faculty of hearing. The faculties of taste, smell,
touch and the vital faculties constitute the lower senses, for they
are not in as high a degree capable of holding and retaining what
they have grasped, as the faculties of seeing and hearing, and
hence no one .can recall (reproduce) the impressions of the for-
mer as vividly as he can those of the latter at any time.
The physical organs of sense have merely the function to assist
the psychical primary faculties when they receive impressions
(irritation). For this reason they should be in a healthy state.
In the continuation of the process by which sensations are ideal-
ized so that they can enter the soul, the primary faculties are no
longer in need of the external organs. A person may have be-
come deaf or blind, but whatever has been developed in his mind
retains its untrammeled activity (in thinking, imagining, judging,
willing). The muscular forces are purely physical forces which
*It is important to notice that Beneke recognizes the spiritual element in
perception ; the organ of sense is capable of physical sensation, but mind is
necessary to raise a mere sensation to a perception.— 7V.
Beneke's Educational Psychology. 365
however stand in the closest connection with the psychical fac-
ulties.
The first development of the mental senses is caused, accord-
ing to constant experience, by impressions from outside which in
Beneke's Psychology are called irritations or excitations. There
are not two persons in whom this development takes place in the
same way, for there are two causes that prevent this. In the
first place the primary faculties, although they are everywhere
graded into higher and lower faculties, are not found with ail
persons to possess the same degree of vigor. Some people have
for instance a very strong power of sight, others less so. In the
second place, no two human beings possess the same power of
being affected by external influences (or the same amount of irri-
tability), even if they have grown up together. This causes
great diversity aud difference in the development of individuals.
Irritations or excitations occur with different ratios of inten-
sity or force ; and there are five principal grades or degrees
which frequently, however, pass over into each other almost im-
perceptibly. The excitations or irritation as affecting the prima-
ry faculties can be (1) insufficient, (2) adequate, (3) abundant, (I).
gradually becoming too strong, (5) being'too strong suddenly.
From the first (insufficient irritation) results the sensation of dis-
pleasure, from the second (adequate irritation) the sensation that
leads to distinct perception, from the third (abundant irritation)
the sensation of pleasure, from the fourth (gradually excessive irri-
tation) the sensation of surfeit or satiety and aversion ; from the
fifth (sudden excessive irritation) the sensation of pain. Hence
each of these sensations is two-fold : it consists of faculty and
irritation, and the faculties are developed in a different way by
each sensation. The primary faculties are strengthened by the
second class of sensations more than by the third : in the first
class they experience a relaxation, in the fourth they suffer a
gradual and in the fifth a sudden overstrain and hence are weak-
ened. Whatever has become a clear concept by the accumula-
tion of a number of "vestiges" or "traces," (impressions received
into the memory) has its origin in the second grade of irri.ation
or excitation as given above, i. e., only irritations that are neither
too strong nor too weak, but simply adequate, lead to a clear con-
cept. Mental formations or products that fill us with dislike and
repugnance must have their origin in the first, fourth or fifth de-
gree of irritation or excitation (i. e., in insufficient, gradually exces-
366 Beneke > 8 Educational Psychology.
sive, and suddenly excessive irritations.) Whatever mental pro-
duct assumes the form of desire has its origin in the third kind
of irritation or excitation (abundance of irritation). In a healthy
state the soul desires only what pleases it, and it is adverse to
what gives it displeasure or tones down its faculties. Whatever
presents itself on the neutral ground between pleasure and dis-
pleasure, is conceived by the soul in the form of thought or rep-
resentation. The soul is neither attracted by it as by the im-
pressions of pleasure nor repulsed as in the case with objects
that cause displeasure, surfeit or pain. The impressions pro-
duced by the second kind of irritation or excitation and worked
into concepts and judgments by the mutual attraction of what is
similar, make man a theoretical or thinking being ; but he becomes
a practical or acting being by the impressions that find their
source in the other degrees of irritation. The mental formations
or products that cause pleasure or displeasure (the "affectives"
or "appreciatives") give the impulse for activity or passivity,
both being regulated by the accompanying concepts. Even a
mere sensation may make itself felt as an impulse ; by the accu-
mulation of vestiges or traces which the repeated impulses
leave in the mind, the impulse developes into desire or aversion
and in the continuation of this process of development these ele-
ments change into inclinations, which in a still higher stage are
called propensities, passions or even vices. Volition we call a
desire that is connected with a series of concepts, in which we
already anticipate that we shall obtain what we desire, because
these concepts tell us that the means for the attainment of the
desired end are within our power.
The sentiments are not independent or fundamental formations
or products, in the way that concepts, desires and aversions are.
Sentiments are caused by the fact that two different fundamental
formations or products may arise side by side in our conscious-
ness, by which their difference, their distance from each other be-
comes manifest. This manifestation is and is called sentiment.
Hence sentiments may be simple or compound.
From the affections which are the class of formations or pro-
ducts to which the sentiments or feefings belong, arise the con-
cepts of affection by the law of the mutual attraction of the
homogeneous and, like the concepts of representation or thought,
become transformed into judgments and syllogisms. This process
consists simply in this, that in each judgment the corresponding
Beneke's Educational Psychology. 367
thought-concept (Begriff) arises in our consciousness and connects
itself with the image-concept (Yorstellung). Thus the judgment
is cleared from its subjective character, inasmuch as a thought-
concept is a clearer psychical formation than the products from
which thej' have arisen, because it is a psychological law that if
like impressions unite in our mind they assume a clearer shape in
our consciousness.
According to Beneke the soul is altogether a spiritual being.
He proves that even the primary faculties (the sensuous faculties)
arc Spiritual in their elementary shape. They bear in them-
selves the germ of consciousness, which develops into actual con-
sciousness under the exciting cause of external irritations. By
the accumulation of mental vestiges or traces according to the
principle of homogeneity, this germ grows into clearer and more
perfect consciousness in the shape of perceptions, concepts, ideas,
syllogisms, judgments, &c. Thus problems are solved which
could never be explained by the old psychological doctrines, for
instance, why certain concepts never arise, as in persons born
blind the concepts of light, day, color, or with persons born deaf,
the concepts of music, sound, noise, harmony. These concepts
cannot arise because the sensuous-spiritual primary faculties
cannot develop in these persons. What we call the faculty of
understanding is a natural consequence of our having concepts,
and of the clearness of consciousness inherent in them ; for the
expression : I understand this, is but another form for : This is
clear to me. Hence there can be no understanding of anything
unless we have the requisite concepts, and these will be missing
in the cases referred to, since their source, the primary faculties,
could not receive any culture, because the diseased organ refuses
its co-operation. Persons who are born blind, obtain the
power of sight after the cataract has been removed by successful
operation. They learn to see by degrees, and the concepts of
color, day, &c. arise in them. Understanding, therefore, is the
result of concepts, and these again are formed by the mutual at-
traction of the homogeneous elements in our perception. Hence
the faculty of understanding does not create the concepts, as it
is simply their result. In the lower senses we never obtain very
clear concepts, but we do in the higher senses, those of sight and
hearing. Taste and smell recur to consciousness in a very indefi-
nite, obscure, and vague way. From this follows that conscious-
ness as it exists in our concepts, and in a modified way and lim-
368 Beneke' 8 Educational Psychology.
ited extent in onr perceptions lint's its origin in the greater vigor
of the higher senses ; this quality of onr senses is therefore the
main souree of consciousness. For this reason animals, even
those that show the highest organization, possess no clear devel-
oped consciousness, although they have the same senses as man,
and frequently exhibit in them a greater susceptibility to irrita-
tions, and greater vivacity. But their senses lack human vigor
entirely; compared with those of man they are altogether lower
senses. Hence even the most intelligent animals have merely a
kind of analogon to the human understanding. Whatever has
made an impression on them is retained in a very inefficient man-
ner. These statements show that there is no ground for the accu-
sation of materialism which has been brought forth against Ben-
eke ; with him even the sensuous is of spiritual character, and it
has the name "sensuous" for the sole reason that it is capable of
receiving external impressions. The primary faculties are spir-
itual-sensuous faculties ; they are not physical but psychical
powers in elementary form. In Dressler's essay : "Is Beneke a
Materialist?" the supposed materialism of Beneke has been thor-
oughly refuted.
The value of the pedagogical results of Beneke's Psychology
should not be underestimated. True enough it is that Pestaloz-
zi's system of instruction already required the teacher to appeal
to the senses of the pupil by beginning instruction with the training
of the perceptive powers. But Pestalozzi's adherents have never
considered the question sufficiently how much the value of their
method depends on the manner in which it is applied. Beneke
demands with good reason that care must be used in regard to the
very first impressions on the infant soul, as all future develop-
ment depends on the sensuous beginning. (On this observation
he bases his argument in favor of the corresponding views and
demands of Friedrich Froebel). "Guard the weak faculties
against all injury by excessive irritation or excitation, but look to
it that the first perceptions are of sufficient copiousness, variety,
vigor, vivacity and freshness. Do not present too many nor too
few impressions to the child ; do not hurry it from one impres-
sion to the other for by such a method the child will be prevented
from observing and perceiving objects properly. Neither pic-
tures nor models but the objects themselves are the best illustra-
tions at the beginning: for they impart the freshest impressions
and lead to vivid and vigorous perceptions. Memory should not
BeneWs Educational Psychology. 369
receive training by mere words when objects are concerned, nor
should it receive a kind of general training - , but should be trained
on definite objects that are to be remembered. Similar principles
are valid in respect to the training of the understanding. The
perfection of the faculty depends on the degree of perfection
with which the particular image-concept was formed originally
and is retained. Perfection of the power of understanding is
dependent on the growth of sensuous perception, sensuous atten-
tion and on the development of memory and imagination. For
this reason nothing is more injurious to the culture of the faculty
of understanding than a careless and vague manner of perceiv-
ing and observing. As the thought-concepts originate in image-
concepts, in which the dissimilar elements are obliterated (a pro-
cess which is called abstraction) the educator should take care
that the child receive a copious number of these fundamental
image-concepts. The more numerous they are, the more homoge-
neous elements they supply and the clearer will the thought-con-
cept be in our consciousness. Hence we must patiently await the
growth of these original image-concepts and avoid leading the
child prematurely to deal in abstractions. The sooner perceptions
are used for the formation of abstractions, the less fact material
for abstraction can be collected. Soon the latter will be ex-
hausted and further progress crippled. Let children remain
children. It is nature's will that at the beginning the sensuous
element preponderates in the young humau being, that afterwards
reproductive intelligence, and lastly productive intelligence, ex-
perience their principal development. This order should not be
disturbed by the educator. In regard to the training of charac-
ter and of the feelings we meet in Beneke ? s philosophy with
similar practical results. Absence of moral dimness and weak-
ness is the basis of all that is good in man. Practical virtues can
be reduced to six classes. (1) General vigor of the practical
mental formations or products. (2) Agreement of inclination and
interest with the true value of things. (3) Proper extent and
limitation of inclinations or interests and their harmonious agree-
ment. (4) Clearness, firmness, connection and culture of the prac-
tical faculties. (5) Copiousness, correctness, refinement in the
acquired trainiug of such series of image concepts as relate to
the finding of adequate means for any definite aim. (6) Training
and culture of the faculties for action so that the} 7 result in suf-
X— 24
370 Beneke's Educational Psychology.
fieient skill and useful habits. A thoroughly vigorous training of
the soul may be regarded as the basis of all other virtues. We
can educate a powerful will to the extent only in which we can
keep the soul free from hurtful and confusing impressions. There
is nothing more injurious to a vigorous development of the will-
power than obscure and confused image-concepts or expectations :
we should be careful to guard the child against these. Avoid
the growth of all strong, violent and lasting desires and appe-
tites by satisfying every needful demand of the child which is
natural and not excessive. Above all other things let the educa-
tor guard the child's soul against envy, jealousy and similar pas-
sions as they arise even iu the youngest child by unreasonable
preferment of, praise of, and rewards or presents to, other children.
If we give to the child an occupation adequate to his powers,
if we abstain from useless commands and prohibitions, if we are
careful not to cause wants and desires that cannot be gratified, if
we banish from education all petting that is at once effeminating
and weakening, there will be no obstinacy. Should it make its
appearance nevertheless, punishment ought to be inflicted, but
there must be no scolding nor subsequent ill will or resentment
on the part of the educator.
If tendencies to recur often to certain classes of frequent
image-concepts of pleasure and desire, combine and unite
in the mind, we call this an inclination. In case these ele-
ments that produce inclinations are very strong and numer-
ous, we call their result propensities and passions. "There
is nothing innate in the human soul except the general character
of the primary faculties, i. e. a certain degree of susceptibility to
irritations or excitations, vivacity and vigor. 7 ' The same is true
in regard to the moral principle and the appreciative faculty by
which the mind judges of right and wrong, good and evil. As
the moral code of law is not given to the mind originally, no con-
sciousness of its value exists in the young mind, nor is there any
estimation of the Good before the development of the soul has
reached the point which is requisite for the growth of such mor-
al inclination or appreciation. Hence, educational science must
suggest the following as the task of moral education. (1) To
cause and favor the development of the higher moral apprecia-
tions or estimations in regard to all the conditions aud all activi-
ty of life that are based on these appreciations. (2) To keep
under the right control the development of the lower moral ap-
Benches Educational Psychology. 371
preciations or estimations, so that they do not arise too frequently
and become too strong.
As regards religious culture, less depends on comprehension
of its principles than on their harmony with the higher moral
and psychical needs, on enthusiasm, devotion, strength and char-
acter. As these can be gained by a great number of "vestiges"
or ''traces" only, religious training must begin with the ear-
liest childhood. In religious instruction prudence and care is
necessary in regard to whatever is yet removed far beyond the
feeling of the child, because otherwise mistaken views and prej-
udices may arise that will last through life. The positive char-
acteristics of the different forms of religions should not be
presented in the earlier period of youth nor should any stress be
laid on the contrast in which one form of religion stands to oth-
ers. True religious culture must be built on a deep foundation
in the innermost heart, it must be strong enough to give to the
human being character and strength of resistance when the world
surrounds him on all sides with its allurements or attacks. This
strength can be acquired by a great variety of adequate vestiges
or traces only. Mere instruction is insufficient. The principal
condition is that the soul of the educator himself be filled and
animated with the religion he teaches. He must carefully select
the time when the child may be expected to be most susceptible,
and should guard against connecting the conception of God with
the sensation of fear. True religious belief will be acquired only
when all the surroundings of the child religiously co-operate.
Instruction, says Beneke, deals almost exclusively with image-
concepts and the acquisition of skill ; education, however, con-
cerns itself principally with the training of the feelings and the
formation of character. Both should pass over into each other
continually : education must work for instruction. Without
attention, for instance, instruction cannot be successful. In the
same way instruction that deserves its name should serve the
purposes of education. The distinction between formal and ma-
terial culture is void : There is neither purely formal nor purely
material culture ; each mental vestige or trace of instruction is at
the same time mental power. Neither is the distinction between
studies that teach practical knowledge and studies that give ideal
culture or mental discipline a valid one. Culture-studies impart
knowledge as well as the others, although the knowledge may be
of a different kind, and ideal culture is certainly practical in at
372 Bencke's Educational Psychology.
least one respect, as it gives mental training that may be utilized
in any practical activity.
The principal rules for instruction are : 1. Instruction must
find the conditional factors for its future educational results in
the soul. Hence instruction should be connected, continuous and
unbroken. It should begin with the particular or with whatever
presents itself immediately to external or internal perception.
Thus, for instance, arithmetic should not begin with the abstract
number but with objects, grammar with examples from which
rules and definitions may be derived, moral or religious instruc-
tion with immediate feelings.
2. The several factors in instruction must be made to lend their
co-operation in as perfect a way as possible. In order to cause
the image-concepts required by the study to rise iu the soul it is
advisable to have but a single principal study taught for some
length of time. The pupil should be made to prepare the les-
son ; he may assist weaker pupils in their work or instruct them.
The teacher should manifest love for his work, earnestness and
thoroughness, should not withhold warm praise when he notices
the progress of his pupils, should point out the usefulness of the
study and should make instruction as interesting as possible.
A study should neither be too difficult nor too easy, should not
overcrowd the pupil with facts, should require self-activity and
give information not merely for the wants of the school room,
but for life. The subject matter of instruction, says Beneke, is
taken partly from the external, partly from the internal world.
The image-concepts of the external world rest on the basis of
sensuous perception ; those of the inner world on the basis of
the perception of consciousness. The most concrete perceptions
of the external world we find in purely descriptive geography
and astronomy, in purely narrative history, in as far as it relates
to the external world. A half abstract view of the external
world is contained iu natural history and philosophy and chem-
istry and a highly abstract view in geometry and arithmetic.
The inner world appears in the most concrete representation in
language, more abstractly in grammar, still more so in logic,
psychology and in the science of morals and religion. External
skill and dexterity may be considered first in respect to the sup-
port which the psychical element receives from the physical, and
next, in how far the physical is made to serve the development
of the psychical in its relation to the external world. To the
Beneke's Educational Psychology. 373
fi rst class belong calisthenics and gymnastic exercises, to the
second penmanship, reading, drawing, painting, music, &c. In-
st ruction in language is, according to Beneke, the central point
of all instruction. We have to distinguish in it four elements :
1. The acquisition of language as such. 2. Communication of
mental combination by language. 3. The practice by which the
pupil learns to use his vocabulary for the expression of thought
with certainty and skill. 4. The acquisition of clear and con-
scious knowledge of the relations and forms of mental develop-
ment : their comprehension in a special kind of image-concepts and
thoughts — i. e. grammatical instruction in the widest sense of the
term. Of these elements the child when he enters school
brings with him a more tolerably complete preparation for his
mother tongue than for any other part of the study of language.
The new knowledge that the school is to furnish in this study is
instruction in the visible characters of written language, and
their synthesis in orthography. The mental associations that
have instinctively beeu formed in regard to language have to be
analyzed and their rational basis be brought to clear conscious-
ness. This method of instruction in the mother tongue that
begins with analysis is peculiar to it and distinguishes it from
the instruction in other languages, where instruction must begin
with the particular and use synthesis to rise to more complex
forms.
The means for instruction in orthography (spelling) are the
analysis of words, etymological explanations, practice in the use
of words, copying, comparison of the copied words with the orig-
inal, reading during which attention is paid to the spelling. In
teaching grammar to children belonging to the higher classes of
society, it is not necessary to go beyond the general logical basis
of the science ; but with children from the lower classes of life
instruction in grammar must go further and present to them a
great many examples of correct writing and speaking, &c. The
aim of all instruction should be productivity in the mother
tongue ; all other instruction should be brought into immediate
connection with instruction in language. In instruction in for-
eign languages both the audible characters or expressions and
their connections with the ideas for which they stand must again
be learned; hence by this the mind receives culture also in this
direction. The intellectual horizon grows very much wider, and
we are more thoroughly freed from the narrow view by which
374 Beneke's Educational Psychology.
our form and expression of feeling', conceiving and thinking, have
appeared as the only possible and necessary ones ; by stripping
ourselves from the one-sidedness which is the unavoidable conse-
quence of isolation, we train our mind into a many-sided suscep-
tibility and versatility.
Ancient languages afford the highest culture of this kind. In
studying them the pupil assimilates the views and modes of
thought which underlie these writings, and by admitting into his
soul these ideas, he gives to his mental development such a
breadth, to his mental power such a versatile and many-sided
culture as cannot be imparted by the study of any modern lan-
guage.
Instruction in history is the complement of that in language,
inasmuch as it presents psychical effects and phenomena ; an-
other complement is found in instruction in morals and religion.
While instruction in history lies more in the field of conception,
of logic and aesthetics, morals and religion deal more with the
training of the emotions and of character. Mathematics is an
invaluable study for formal culture on account of its clearness,
thoroughness, the stringency and the objective character in
its scientific construction; to this may be added its material im-
portance and extensive use in life, and the fact that it governs in
the highest degree most of the other sciences, and hence must be
considered an essential element of human knowledge in general.
The natural sciences and geography are of less educational
value, for with the exception of the part in which they admit of
the application of mathematics, they require no intellectual ac-
tivity beyond the formation of groups or series of image-con-
cepts. The acquisition of talent for the latter, however, is not
without importance, when we consider the value of the habit of
grasping external phenomena with wide-awake readiness and en-
ergy.
The only kinds of skill and dexterity that are of relatively
high value are those that are purely the manifestations of phys-
ical strength, and those that express certain activities of our
emotional nature. While the former are important for the bod-
ily health of the child, the external activity which is symbolic of
certain intellectual and emotional processes, such as Ave find it in
declaiming, gesticulation, singing or music in general, in draw-
ing, in the manual production of form of any kind, is of great
importance in the culture of intellectual faculties as well as in
Beneke's Educational Psychology. 375
the training of emotional nature and character. But whereas
their higher development requires certain special talents, it can-
not be made subject of instruction in general.
These studies, taking them as a whole, are of different impor-
tance to the different kinds of schools. The different kinds of
schools and institutions of learning are conditioned, on one hand
by the nature of the human beiug, and on the other by circum-
stances and the requirements of life. In the common school
those are educated whose calling it will be to operate with the
physical world by their physical strength. Hence it might be
said that the preparation for their calling lies beyond the limit of
school instruction. But granting that the pupil's vocation re-
quired his physical powers exclusively, they are not to work as
pieces of machinery, but as human beings, that is, with conscious
understanding. The pupils, moreover, as human beings, will
stand also in other and higher relations to mankind. Hence we
must initiate them, as far as time and circumstances permit, into
the intellectual progress of their surrounding world. Such in-
struction need not go beyond the immediate surroundings, nor is
it necessary to lead to fundamental causes even in this. Hence
there is no need for teaching any language in the common school
except the mother tongue, and instruction in the history and ge-
ography of foreign nations should and must be limited to a most
general outline.
The pupil of a grammar school or "Keal-schule" [English high
school] may be supposed to find his future calling in an activity
that deals not with the intellectual but with the physical
world; but this activity is an intellectual one. Inasmuch
as the pupils will have to deal with the physical world,
they must be made acquainted with its objects and laws ;
in as far as the pupils 1 activity is to be intellectual,
we must make them feel at home in the intellectual world
also; they are, however, not to be led to the fundamental,
philosophical, and historical presuppositions. It is sufficient to
make accessible to them the nearest or immediate culture, that of
the present day, such as can be gained from the study of modern
languages and modern history. The fundamental idea of the
Latin high school or the academy (German Gymnasium) is the pre-
paration for some intellectual activity in regard to the intellectual
world. The main study in schools of this kind is that of ancient
languages, not for their sake, but as means for the before men-
37G Beneke's Educational Psychology.
tioned end. No important province of human knowledge or ac-
tivity must remain entirely unknown to the pupils of a school of
that order, as they are expected to acquire the highest culture,
and general directive ability. They should obtain a general
knowledge of the material sciences and mathematics, and should
study the elements of the science of morals and religion. By
these studies the faculties of the pupil should receive sufficient
training, to form a basis upon which the college or university
can build the superstructure of the highest culture available in
our times.
The psychological and pedagogical views of Beneke have
found favor with many German teachers, but have not attracted
so much the attention of philosophers. Mr. Dressier was the
first person who called closer attention to it, by a popular trea-
tise: "Beneke on Psychology as a natural science." F. TTeber-
weg also assisted in the attempt to obtaining recognition for
Beneke's Psychology and Pedagogics by the essay "The Devel-
opment of Consciousness by the Teacher and Educator." Among
other writings of this- class the following may be mentioned:
Otto Boerner "The Science of Consciousness in its Didactic and
Pedagogical Applications,''' and "The Freedom of Will, Respon-
sibility and Punishment in their Fundamental Principles," and
especially the works of Fr. Dittes, which are so very suggestive
for teachers: "The Human Consciousness, its Psychological
Explanation and Educational Training ;" "The Principle and
Educational Importance of ^Esthetics ;" "Religion and Religious
Training ;" "The Natural Science of Morals and the Art of
Moral Training ;" "Treatise on Ethical Freedom with Special
Reference to the Systems of Spinoza, Leibnitz and Kant." The
work that did most for the propagation of Beneke's psychology
is "Dr. F. C. Beneke's New Psychology, presented to the friends
of Objective Truth in a popular form" by Dr. G. Raue, Professor
of the Medical Academy of Philadelphia, fourth enlarged and re-
vised edition by Joh. Gottl. Dressier, Principal of Normal School
in Bautzen, (Published in Mayence, Germany, 1868). A transla-
tion of this book into the Dutch language appeared in 1859.
There have been many opponents to Beneke's Psychology, as
might be expected. Karl Schmidt finds fault with it because it
is the product of self-observation, which in itself is always of
very doubtful success. "Self-observation" says Wait/ "is al-
most impossible, because our life is subject to continuous chang-
Benekefs Educational Psychology. 377
iug a ud flowing. By far the greater part of the changing states
of the mind can neither be produced nor retained at our will.
The statement that we can observe our mental self involves an
error of observation, as every state of the soul loses intensity
when the soul is at the same time observing it. For the mind
must split itself into two parts in this process, it canuot sink it-
self altogether in an activity, if it wants to observe this activity
at the same time. But how can such an unavoidable error of ob-
servation be corrected? The state of the soul must have weak-
ened to a certain degree before it lays itself open to observation.
In the strictest sense self-observation is impossible, because the
observation of a psychical state, or the occupation of the soul in
its contemplation is a new state of the soul that succeeds the
one that is to be observed. Hence this second and the subse-
quent state of the soul would have to be observed again, to know
the totality of the phenomena that arise in the soul." "'As long-
as Beneke' 7 — says Schmidt — "besides observing the activity of his
own soul observes that of others, this observation is one belong-
ing to natural science, but he leaves this basis the moment
he deals exclusively with self-observation and assumes that
whatever belongs exclusively to him, to his inner life is true in
general of the soul-life of all human beings." Beneke's adherents
maintain in opposition to this objection that every mind un-
biased in the observation of mental phenomena will find confir-
mation of Beneke's view in himself and others : that the practical
teacher in particular has the opportunity almost every hour to
observe how souls will obey if treated according to the princi-
ples of the "new" psychology.
Schmidt says furthermore : "Beneke did not recognize the
emotional and volitional nature in its true principles. Hence in
the development of the pupil he does not know how to make use
of all the elements of culture which religion contains. Hence,
he does not recognize the full educational import and value of
natural sciences : he sees in them merely groups and series of
conceptions. Xor has education the power which Beneke at-
tributes to it : according to him all the faculties and gifts which
a pupil may have by nature consist of the ability to receive and
retain sensuous perceptions and sensations, to group and sepa-
rate them according to similarity and dissimilarity, &c. And
lastly Beneke errs in his view of the essence of education, when
he says that the aim of education is to raise untrained reason to
378 Beneke's Educational Psychology.
a state of training- and culture and to elevate the pupil to the
position occupied by the educator. This is, as Graefe says, the
very excess of egoism, and as G. Baur remarks, the pupil re-
mains without any divine impulse and education without a divine
aim." In answer to this the adherents of Beneke's psychology
reply that the founder himself acknoAvledged that his work as
well as any other work of human hand was capable of improve-
ment. They think on the other hand, that Beneke's system is
beyond all doubt the most perfect one ever set forth in Psycholo-
gy or Pedagogics. The formerly obscure doctrine of the emo-
tions is elucidated and the principle of religion is more clearly
explained than had been the case before. The distinction be-
tween education and instruction is more sharply defined than was
possible previously, and the success of practical education is
better secured on the basis of this "new" psychology than ac-
cording to to the principles of the old science.
Gieseler raises the following objections to Beneke's system
(Diesterweg's Bheinische Blaetter, Xovember — December 1861) :
According to this psychology the human soul is an absolute void
out of which the primary faculties emerge continually like the
unrestrained arms of a polypus to grasp things, to hold more or
less of what has been grasped, to utilize into new strength the
nourishment that has been greedily devoured, and at the very
last all this is barely fused together into the common stock of
general consciousness. These primary faculties are to be homo-
geneous and to condition all knowledge, otherwise they cannot
be the original principle; they must not have any positive con-
tent in order not to exclude the universal validity of his natural
law. Except a formal difference of these primary faculties (in
regard to vigor, vivacity and susceptibility) no gift or disposi-
tion that is born with us is admissible, no natural talent, no in-
nate ideas, no ethical tendency. But can any educator close his
eyes against the very contrary experience ! Are there not tal-
ents that develop from the very beginning in a definite and lim-
ited direction ? If Beneke's views were true and if these talents
consisted merely of a greater vigor &c. of the primary faculties,
would it not follow that these talents should manifest themselves
not in a definite direction but in a wider sense as general talent ?
Does not a definite predisposition manifest itself in the child's
inclinations ? Whence, otherwise, the well known psychological
fact that kleptomania develops in persons whose previous condi-
Beneke' s Educational Psychology. 379
tion in life makes another explanation impossible? Has not
every educator frequent opportunities to observe, that of two
children, one like a bee gathers nought but honey from even a
poisonous plant, while the other will find but the poison even
under the most wholesome influences. The infinite variety of
dispositions and inclinations which are found even in little chil-
dren cannot be explained by the theory of a mere formal differ-
ence of primary faculties. Our decision about the question of
natural talents has a far higher significance in another respect.
If there is any principle in man that is divine, free, eternal, it
must be something original that is born with us. If the higher
spiritual wants, views and aspirations, the ideas of the true, the
good and the beautiful, the religious and moral sentiments and
free will are merely the products of a fortunate combination of
psychical forms, then Benekemay be right in saying that the sole
distinction between the human and animal souls lies in the rela-
tive vigor of the primary faculties. The ethical principle accord-
ing to Beneke is shown to be the highest good by means of our
appreciative faculty. But this does not explain how even a child
may have the feeling of duty, the sense for the ethical command-
ments, as with him the appreciative faculty could not have devel-
oped itself for want of any empirical basis that determines ethi-
cal value. But we know how frequently this ethical judgment
is found in children in its purest form. It is likewise inexplica-
ble how it is possible to gain such a normal basis or scale for
moral estimation or appreciation, of which Beneke says that it
underlies all ethical feeling, without having these feelings first.
Conscience is said to be the feeling that our action varies from
the estimation of right which is valid for all human beings. But
how can we obtain this consciousness of universal validity with-
out previous ethical feeling. If right ethical estimation depends
on the higher or lower development of our psychical faculties it
remains inexplicable how by wrong doing that injures others the
development of our own is lessened or interfered with. Perhaps
by the formation of other groups of emotional concepts ? But
such formation would presuppose sympathetic sentiments, which
must be innate as they cannot be accounted for by natural devel-
opment.
The attribute of novelty, which Beneke's psychology claims
for itself, is not admitted by the adherents to Herbart's doc-
trines. J. W. Xachlowsky in the "Magazine for Exact Phiios-
380 Beneke's Educational Psychology.
ophy" Kays: ''If Beneke says that the 'new' psychology stands
so high above all former knowledge of the soul, that it can
hardly be called the same science, it becomes an indispensable
duty to examine in how far Beueke's psychology may claim the
credit of being a novelty. Can Beueke's principles be said to be
new ? Not at all for Herbart advanced the idea long ago, that
the soul was a simple being and hence could not have a plurality
of faculties, dispositions, powers, nor any innate ideas, catego-
ries, tendencies &c. — whatever of this is found in the grown soul
is of temporal origin. Hence he deemed it necessary to inquire
into the elements of the life of the soul. He did not assert this
merely but demonstrated it sufficiently by means of metaphysics,
experience and mathematics, and applied it many times in his
educational writings before Beneke published his psychological
work. Herbart has the merit of stringent consistency ; for it is
not he that ejected the abstract faculty of the soul from his sys-
tem on one side to allow the concrete primary faculty to steal in
on the other, as is the ease in Beneke's system. Beueke's meth-
od is neither new nor is it the method of natural science in the
proper sense. Herbart, however, long before Beneke, examined
the forces that influence the soul in an empirical way and exhib-
ited fully and exactly the laws according to which they work in
his 'Statics and Mechanics of the Mind' in the mathematical
way in which scientists pursue their investigations.
"Beneke instead of entering upon the details of the phenomena,
deals with vague generalities. Instead of considering the true
active forces, the elements of psychical life, he falls into a quite
unlogical dualism and attempts to talk us into a belief into 'two
species of elements,' (the primary faculties and the irritations)
but fails to supply the necessary, close connection between the
knowledge derived from inner experience and the explanatory
hypothesis. Is Beneke's philosophy new in its results % Just
as little. The loudly announced "highly important disclosures"
are after all merely formal distinctions in many cases, and we
find in the end that we have received new words instead of new
ideas, nor are we in any way satisfied with the result presented
to us. According to Beneke the soul appears (1) as an altogeth-
er immaterial being, consisting (!) of certain primary systems
which are not merely in themselves but also among themselves
a unit and form one being. (2) As a sensuous being, i. e., the
primary faculties of the soul are susceptible of certain impres-
Benches Educational Psychology. 381
sions from without by irritations, which are seized by these fac-
ulties and retained by them. On the distinction between man
and animal Beneke says 'We can express this distinction best
by ascribing to the former a spiritual sensuousness.' Whoever
can accept such assertions as new disclosures or as disclosures
at all, is easily satisfied as far as speculation is concerned.
Neither are Beneke's Fundamental processes of psychical devel-
opment new." In many places we find rather weak reminiscen-
ces of (Herbart's) "threshold of consciousness, the weakening
and strengthening of susceptibility, the impulse toward equilib-
rium, fusion, complication of image-concepts, apperception &c."
But all these are so defaced and tarnished by the slime from the
bottom of the 'primary faculties' that a distinct outline cannot
be discerned. The great fault of these primary faculties, their
obscurity, aye, their utter inconceivability become most obvious
when we speak of their application. We are told that for each
successive sensation a special primary faculty is consumed in
such a way that each new sensation of this kind requires the
re-formation of a new corresponding primary faculty. But al-
though we are told that one of these primary faculties is consumed
every time in this process, every mental trace or vestige (i. e.,
the reproduction of a former sensation) is to consist of two ele-
ments, the primary faculty and the irritation. (!) From this it
appears as if the former had been consumed and were uncon-
sumed at the same time. The adhesion of the irritations to the
primary faculties ; the mutual permeation of the two species of
elements which is sometimes very complete and lasting and at
other times less so, the loosening and falling off of the irritations ;
and last but not least the connection into which the primary facul-
ties enter with the other mental formations — all this let him under-
stand who can. Beneke talks continually about natural laws
and natural science, but ignores and almost abominates the nat-
ural sciences, especially physiology even in questions where it is
indispensable to psychology (as in the theory of sensation &c).
Judging from all this we may in regard to the main principles
venture to assert without any scruples : Whatever can be
maintained of this 'new' psychology is not new and whatever is
new cannot be maintained."
The adherents of Herbart's as well as those of Beneke's Psy-
chology admit that the system to which they give the prefer-
ence is as little free from blemishes and faults as another human
382 The Idea of Mind.
work. The veil which surrounds the mysterious Image at
Sais — our Psyche — has not been altogether lifted. Since this
Psyche appears, as far as we know, to be the highest develop-
ment of existence, its entire unveiling would be equivalent to the
solution of the world-problem, a solution iu which we shall hard-
ly succeed here in our sublunary sphere." It cannot be doubted
however that education has been benefited much by both Her-
bart's and Beneke's doctrines. The earnest study of such
thought-systems frees the spirit and elevates the practical activi-
ty of teacher and educator from routine work and pedantry to
the dignity of an artistic and creative worker. It supplies the
fixed fulcrum for the lever of education. The question that re-
mains is : on what ground is there more firmness, assurance and
fertility. Karl Schmidt finds Beneke's unquestionable merit
mainly in his doctrine of the relation of concept-series and his
critique (based on Herbart) of the psychical faculties as taught
by the Psychology and Pedagogics of his time.
THE IDEA OF MIND; OE, THE INTEENAL PHENOM-
ENOLOGY OF MATTEE.
By Charles Theodore Bayrhoffer.
In a former essay (Journal of Spec. Phil., No. 37, Vol. VII.,) I
have shown that matter, or the extended, sensible substance, is
the chain and interaction of monads or simple selfs. These mo-
nads are the many primitive points or limitations of the one uni-
versal whole of being. The many or the multitude of uuits can
never be created by a single universal unity, nor the universal
unity by the many monads, because either of these ideas involves
a logical contradiction, inasmuch as every side of the whole, the
multitude and the universal unity, to create or generate the other
one, must presuppose the other one. The absolute unity must be
self-contradictory, to create the many. It must be the one and
not the one, the negation of the one; and to be this negation, the
The Idea of Matter. 383
negation must all the time be preiupposed in the unity, else its
simple positivity could never become negated. Now the negation
of the one is the many. Therefore the many are presupposed. The
absolute unity never could be living, creating, if it were not
primitively a self-interacting unity of being, i. e., a chain of units.
In the same manner the many units must presuppose the universal
unity, to become united they must primitively be in continuity
or for each other. An empty, absolute space, dividing and unit-
ing the units, is a self-contradictory nothing. Therefore the Ab-
solute is the eternal, uncreated, infinite whole of eternal differences,
which absolutely posited are simple units, inasmuch as all com-
posite units presuppose simple units. Substance, being, can be
nothing else than uncreated self, and all relations, forces,
phenomena, are nothing else than the interactions of selfs'.
So we must say : there is one universal centre, one totality
of a multiplicity of centres. The multiple real centres are the
monads, the one ideal centre is the contiguity and continuity, the
shining into each other, of the monads. The monads we call
living units, inasmuch as they are affected by mutual negation,
representation, and self-conservation.
Now I call matter the immediate existence and process of the
monadical totality. So the Absolute is the material Universe,
which is, so to say, the eternal kaleidoscope, of primitive matter.
Therefore matter is the system or articulation of monads, simple
substances, and consequently there is no phenomenal (by the sen-
ses perceived or perceivable) matter, which is not self-articulated.
In and with the continuity, mutual negation, representation and
self-conservation, the monads are necessarily for and against each
other shining or phenomenal units, that is reflexes, reflecting units.
forces. Now the mutual representation is a shining of other
monads in every monad. , The other monads are positive nega-
tions, limitations of every monad. But this limitation is posited
in the simple unity of the monad, is therefore a negation posited
from without and reflected in the simple unity, in the self. So it
is a self-determination in the self, an inner particularity deter-
mined or necessitated from without in the identical unity. The
unit becomes a shining, a force, an irritation, a positive negativ-
ity, a living point. That shining has therefore its origin in an
affection of the identical universal simple self from without, and
this affection of the simple units is a perception of another one,
& sensitivity in the largest sense of the word, another one posited
384 The Idea of Matter.
in the first one as a negation, and a negation of the negation, that
is a self-radiation. For the reflex in the simple unity can be noth-
ing else than an inner determination, that is a perception, a repre-
sentation, an ideality, a finding of an externality, a negation in
itself. That reciprocal perception is the root of all nature.
the intelligence, as the primitive unitary force and the uni-
versal germ of all manifold forces of matter. There is no
force at all in nature but has primitively sprung from self-
determination necessitated from without. Therefore matter as
the system and interaction of monads cannot at all exist, cannot
be thought existing, without mind in the largest sense of the
word, without the reciprocally percipient monads. The monads
I call living in the largest sense of the word, inasmuch as they
are, by interdependence, intelligent units, sensibilities which are
moving to and fro by impulses from sensibility, representation of
an externality in the unit. We shall see the necessity of these
impulses and self-movements. First I must here expressly state
that this universal intelligence of all ultimate parts of nature is
not and cannot be immediately the feeling-unity, or the conscious-
ness of animals or men, but that this latter intelligence, called
mind in a specific sense, is only the highest reflex-form, that is
the internal phenomenology of universal mind in the centralized
nervous system of the animal organism. We shall see that the
concrete self of man (and animal) is not bound to one central mo-
nad in a system of monads, as is imagined by Leibnitz and Her-
bart, but that the same is the concentrated or centralized univer-
sality of a democratic republic of sentient molecules.
We saw that the first result of united monads is a mutual per-
ception or sensitivity. Now this sensitivity implies a real con-
tradiction (not a logical contradiction — an internal antithesis that
impels it to dissolution, an ideal to be realized, not a logical ab-
surdity which only destroys the thought) in every self. Because
the absolute uncreated self is affected and negatived or limited
by other selfs, is the sensatiou of negation by other selfs. So it
becomes in consequence of that contradiction of its simple unity
and of the negation of the same in the perception of the other
one, the impulse to annihilate the other one by absorption into
itself, to dissolve the same into itself. So the monads are seeking
themselves mutually, moving to each other to penetrate them-
selves — attraction of the monads. But inasmuch as they go to-
gether, the negativity becomes more intense, because being, self,
The Idea of Mind. 385
cannot be annihilated, but they have the sensitivity through
which they become annihilated by the other one. So to preserve
themselves the movement at last becomes negative, they move
again from each other, they are flying themselves — repulsion of
the monads. But they are living, excited, enhanced by and
through each other, and seek to preserve their vitality, which
they have only through the other one. Therefore as the line of
repulsion widens and their natural negation becomes weaker, they
return again to each other ; move together. So they are in con-
tinuous oscillating movement, and their movement is in reality
their eternal contiguity. Their being-together is this positive-
negative process, and can in no other manner be thought or im-
agined. So the monads are the eternal sentient impulses realized
in process of movement, forces of uniting and flying each other,,
attraction and repulsion, selfs living in conflict ; and the spaces
and times between them are the shining products of the conflict-
ing monads. And these forces and self-movements of the mo-
nads are the fundamental energy of every natural phenomenon,
in the smallest molecules and in the largest bodies and their in-
teraction.
I suppose, then, that the Universe is the eternal product of
contiguous interacting simple elements of being, the eternal mo-
ments or differentials of the eternal whole; that all these real
differentials as simple units are of identical nature, and that they
, are equivalent centres of equal definite, minute, shining or spatial,
spheres, spheres of mutual representation and movement, which
are at the same time dynamical extensions, and indivisible in
themselves and from the centres. They are the centres contem-
plated as interacting spheres, as minute dynamical indivisible
spaces, because in no other maimer can we represent to ourselves
their interaction, their oscillation and self-conservation in mutual
inter-penetration. They are thus the centres involved in a pure
dynamical retherie sphere. In so far the centres and the spaces
are immaterial, indivisible, and matter is the chain of these centre-
spheres, composed by and divisible into the same as the differen-
tials and integrals of matter. If the distances of the spheres:
are transgressed, the centres are without immediate interaction*,,
their point of perspective vanishes. Notwithstanding there is
no absolute vacuum in the Universe, because all vacuities are
tilled in the moment they arise by the equilibrium of the totality
X— 25
380 The Idea of Mind.
of monads. So all monads are interlinked, cither immediately or
mediately, and all movement and formation is a movement and
formation in the whole. But the monad can in many grades im-
mediately be united with another one and with many other ones,
bo that their connecting spheres are more or less inter-pene-
trating. That is the origin of the different species of primi-
tive molecules with their different physico-chemical qualities and
quantities. The so-called chemical atoms in reality are mole-
cules, and the atom in the strictest sense is the monad. By the
eternal primitive differences and their evolution in the self-cou-
claded or self-terminated whole, as we saw in the former essay,
the totality of monads becomes articulated into partial, equal or
different wholes, mechanico-chemical molecules, and their syn-
theses and analyses iu concrete bodies become articulated into
the heavenly bodies and the heavenly sether, and the heavenly
bodies into the elements, minerals, plants and animals ; *and in
aud with them the specific forces of gravitation, cohesion, elas-
ticity, light, heat, electricity, magnetism, feeling, idea, will evolve
in the specific forms of aether, gaseous fluid, and fixed bodio
and their compositions. All the partial wholes are connected
organs of the universal whole (the Universe), which is in
eternal synthetico-analytical circular motion, progression and re-
trogression. The theory that the Universe might die by universal
equilibration of heat, and similar thoughts, are only one-sided
empirical reflections, which are a priori refuted by the necessary
eternality of the differentiating living whole. The difference in
the whole is eternal, and so the process goes on in all infinity.
AH equilibration is only relative and goes over into new differ-
ences. The Universe is au eternal seeking and striving.
jSTow the Universe, the total system of progressing and retro-
gressive system, iu every progressing or articulating period and
jfart is a progression from the external phenomenology of the
sensitive impulses, or the construction of unconscious (by-the-
Benses-intuited) nature, to an internal phenomenology of the
same, or the construction of feeling and conscious systems. In
go-called unintelligent nature the primitive power is the same as
in. intelligent nature. The universal forces of the monads in in-
teraction, as we have seen, are nothing else than perception and
impulse. But in unfeeling and unconscious nature these primitive
forces continually evanesce or dissolve themselves in movements
and constructions of sensible, extended, or external forms. Sensi-
The Idea of Mind. 387
bility and will, therefore, are so to say sleeping powers, through
the entire body. Their living is their dying, their dying their
living. The souls, the selfs of nature die in externality, in eon-
tinuous movement and external equilibration. Therefore if there
shall be feeling and conscious organisms, there must be a reflect-
ing of the moving and constructing power out of movement into
itself, the intelligence must persist, continue itself in moving
and constructing, a part of movement must be metamorphosed
into feeling. So the external phenomenology becomes internal
phenomenology, an ideal world, or internal shining (manifestation)
in the body. That has been done by the highest act of nature
in the animal organism. In it the intelligence, the ground of
phenomenal matter and nature, has itself become phenomenology,
has become MIND.
Xow we must remember that all nature is a continuous concat-
enation of the monads from within, that is by sensitivity and re-
action in contiguity and continuity. All bodies, material forms,
are not only external juxtapositions of dead atoms, merely driven
together from without, (which would involve a knot of logical
contradictions), but penetrations of the monads by their central
spheres, their infinitesimal shinings or dynamical extensions, and
so they are definite cohesions from within. They live mutually
in each other. And as the parts of matter, in consequence of
their immediate and mediate penetration, create from within an
•external central point of equilibrium, that is, a point of gravitation
and oscillation, attraction and repulsion of the mass; in the same
manner the sensations and impulses are connected and become me-
diated through the impenetrating, external shinings (manifestation)
of the monads, and are born as feeling and volition in an inner, con-
crete, central point. Generally the inner shinings are not only
the forces or inner sources of motion and life, but are the forces
returning to themselves through the outward shining, through
the spheres of space and time, or of movement. Therefore the
inner shining presupposes the outer shining, and the point of
inner gravitation the outer point of gravitation. In this manner
the whole of inner shining is nothing else than the continuous
returning of the forces out of movement into themselves, and the
continuation of their reflexion without instantly dissolving itself
again into movement. It is therefore an irritation of the shining-
centre, without movement or outward reaction, the objectivity
made internal, the primitive sensibility realized as in part a self-
388 The Idea of Mind.
reflexion or a merely internal excitation of a living equilibrium of
forces, but in a presupposed movement or external form of shin-
ing.
Now such a state can only exist in concrete or total bodily
forms, in equilibrated forms of mechanico-chemieal molecular
syntheses, which at the same time are highly irritable, and really
irritated from without. And these irritations must be centralized
in a concrete point of inner gravitation, where all interpenetrate
and find their ultimate reflex, and may return outwards
in movements. This centralized internal shining of a bod-
ily system, which presupposes the material organism and there-
fore all nature, is the only reality of Mind as a feeling and con-
scions centre of sensation and will-reaction. The mind abstract-
ed from nature, isolated, presupposed, is nothing, a chimera. But
the unconscious mind of the interacting monads is the inner life
of all nature, and is the very mind which becomes feeling and
conscious by reflection. The universal mind of nature becomes
the soul and mind of animal and man, in specific, individualized,
organic forms.
If we take the word "Nature" in the broadest sense, all the
Universe is nature, and mind is only its blossom. If we take Na-
ture only as material phenomenology, as objective or sensible ex-
ternality, it is opposite to mind, and mind exists only by trans-
formation of nature into subjective ideality. But under all cir-
cumstances mind is mediated by nature or matter, is an evolution
in and out of nature. Therefore nature is the real presupposi-
tion of mind, which, vice versa, as potency and pure internality,
as the pure force of perception and impulse of the monads, is
the real presupposition of nature. Mind in the strict sense is
the self-reflection of universal intelligent power, this power shin-
ing for itself, (appearing to itself ) the objective form made sub-
jective, the mind awakened.
Let us now see in what manner nature itself effects its meta-
morphosis into ideal life, into mind.
Our own self-consciousness and the feelings, sensations, ideas,
and volitions contained or included in the same, and on the other
side, our manifestations of the inner life in external shillings,
must be our starting point. In this manner we grasp to-
gether all real life which represents similar manifestations, that
is all animal organisms. In the same time we analyze the animal
organism, and try to state the specific organic mediations of
The Idea of Mind. 389
mind. So we conclude iu an indisputable manner that the imme-
diate ground or basis of mind is contained in the nervous system,
but only iu so far as the same lives by continuous interaction
•with the other systems of animal organism, and further with the
total outward world. By inner experience and by experiments,
this fact is proved. Therefore we must conclude : in the living
nervous system of the animal organism has been reached that
form of nature in which the internality, the perception of all na-
ture not only is dissolved in movement, but has returned into
itself, and has become a free shining force contained in matter, a
higher reflexion or poteuce of material force itself. Up to the
animal organism nature is an evolution, which is wholly spent in
motions and mechanical forms, which indeed all are teleological,
inasmuch as they are all equilibrating systems of monads, mole-
cules, concrete bodies in the parts and in the whole. The most
essential specifications of the whole are the different chemical
atoms and their aggregation in the different so-called elements.
All the chemical atoms are the closest systems of monads. Every
kind of atom is a definite molecule of monads, united in a defi-
nite number and form, in a mathematical equilibrating necessity.
Therefore all atoms of the same kind are identical, can replace
each other. These primitive concrete individuals are confined in-
tellectual forces, total systems, which against other such systems
move and oscillate as wholes, as concrete centralized individuals.
• The different kinds of atoms are all opposite individualities, polar
toward each other, aud uniting by polarity to equilibrate them-
selves create the chemical syntheses, and the syntheses of syn-
theses, every time becoming weaker cohesions. Now the bio-
plasm and the nervous system created out of the same is a con-
nection and series of molecules composed of four and more kinds
of atoms, not, I suppose, in simple electrical antitheses, but in
one continuous circle of equilibration of the individual atoms.
So is posited a continuous (by-many-opposite-individuals-imme-
diately constructed) circle of force in every bioplastic molecule,
and there is a system of such molecules every time creating new
similar molecules out of the outer world, centralizing in the same
time and differentiating in specific organic forms. In the primi-
tive organic molecule the antithetic atoms, neutralized by third
ones, &c, can never quite dissolve the antithesis iu movements
and form, but part of the force remains nuequilibrated, that is,
remains sensitiveness and impulse, but such a one, that it has a
390 The Idea of Mind.
shining, the other part of sensibility resolved into impulsive
movement, in itself. As this part of liberated force the bioplas-
tie molecule is the real possibility of feeling, of ideas, the ab-
stract universal ego. But only through a system of such mole-
cules and a continuous differentiation in spaee and time from
without, and a centralization of the differences in a central part
of the nervous system, the real possibility of mind becomes feel-
ing and conscious self, most perfectly evolved in the brain of
man. The free sensibility becomes an organism in itself, reflect-
ing the bodily organism.
The nervous system pervading the total organism is the organ
of the free sensibility. It is a system of central ganglions, to
which and from which radiate centripetal and centrifugal nerve
filaments, collecting and dissipating the forms of movement,
which become feelings and volitions in the centre of the ganglion.
Now there are lower immediate and higher mediate centres. And
in the same time as in the former the excitation of the centre from
without, dissolves or dissipates itself in the reaction of outward
movement (reflex-movements,) the same in the latter continues as
undissipated and in part free force, that is as a feeling, which may
dissipate itself by the correspondent impulse, the will as the dis-
charge or release of the feeling. And inasmuch as the moleeules
of the ganglions and the ganglions themselves all are bound to-
gether to a chain, and communicate by filaments with the various
forms and movements of the objective inner and outer world, the
differentiations of the nerves in the total central organ, the brain,
are series of central affections bound together to one articulated
but coherent life, which again concentrates in one unique concrete
centre, where all affections interpenetrate from all sides,
and so create an (in space and time) undivided and indivisible
centre of feeling and free impulse, the living and ever evolving
ego. So the real ego is not bound to one monad, but an inner cen-
tralized phenomenology of a chain of monads. Therefore it is di-
visible in space and time and subject to dissolution by the separa-
tion of the organic constituent parts. In this manner a homogea-
eous feeling subject, like a polypus, may become separated into
many parts, every one of which may now be a separate individ-
uum by creating a new centre in itself. Even the human ego by
disease of the brain may become separated into two or more egos,
like its plastic matter into many germs of new individuals. In-
deed the real human self is a centralized democratic republic of
The Idea of Mind. 391
particular minute selfs, for example of a seeing, a hearing r a
smelling self, &c., all interpenetrating in one ego. And even the
molecules and atoms of the nervous system, namely of the gan-
glions and the central ganglion, may by degrees by-and-by change,
without separating the unity of the ego, because all new moments
are immediately metamorphosed into the form of the ego. Tbe
ego is a phenomenology of united forces or monads, not one mo-
nad. So it is mortal, and becomes annihilated by organic dissolu-
tion, as a human society would become annihilated by separation
into individuals without a central power. And like the human
society the ego is all the time an evolving self, a new one and an
old one.
Now we call objectivity the antithetical external positing of
other being by sensitive feeling and conscious being or subject.
Objectivity is the positing of external phenomenology by the
ego. In this manner to every monad and every individual monadi-
cal system, the whole Universe, as antithetical, is its object. It is
so posited by the subject because it is the limitation of the sub-
ject and is tainted with this external limit. As pure natural force
it reacts against the limit by movement, attraction and repulsion,
seeking and flying. But so soon as the perception of the other
one, of the external, becomes a free returning force, the object,
by whatever mediations, becomes ingrafted into the perception
and is now posited as an internal image, as an idea, in the largest
sense of the word, and this image, created by the specifications
of the nervous oscillations, becomes the internal object of the
subject, the feeling and conscious ego. This identical ego is the
concrete, extended interacting point, a nervous central point of
the many nervous excitations, in which point the excitations from
all sides interpenetrate in a miniature form, one in the same time
distinguished and undivided, in a similar manner as in the germ-
point of every organism, the total individuality of the parent is
posited as natural force in miniature. And inasmuch as the inner
movements of the nervous system and specially of the brain, be-
co*me so to say daguerreotypes, inclinations or dispositions of
movement, and stay in the brain, they may from within be re-
newed as images of the ego (memory and phantasy). In tbe
consciousness of man the ego, that is the individualized subjec-
tivity of nature, has become a free antithetical reflexion, so that
the world of images becomes a free object of analyzing conscious-
ness, and an analytico-synthetical world of notions or concep-
392 The Idea of Mind.
tions. That is the reign of intellect, by which nature may be-
come teleologically reconstructed, and a world of art rise over
nature. The highest form of that intellect is speculative science,
comprehending the Universe as the eternal manifestation of ab-
solute being.
But let us understand : free intelligence is nothing else than the
primitive intelligence returning to itself out of motion and nature.
The moving power itself has been metamorphosed into idealism,
into mind. Therefore the idea is mediated by movement and
bodily form. Part of movement continues, part is transformed into
idea. With the centres of the nervous system the reflex move-
ments are connected naturally, and the sensitive centralization
dissipates again into outward movement (nerves of sensation and
motion). In the highest centre the immediate dissipation is
•checked, because part of the moving power is transformed into
feeling power. In this manner for example the thinking of the
movement of my right hand is nothing else than the moving or-
ganism of this hand reflected into the brain, where the moving
nervous filaments have their last issue. But the thinking or im-
agination of such movement is the cancelling of the same, is its
transformation into idea in the brain. Now the ego, the univer-
sal individuality of idealisation, comprehends this particular idea
of hand movement in itself, and this is by nature at the same time
the impulse to movement, only momentarily, checked. But the
ego may intensify this impulse, that is may metamorphose the idea
of the same into impulse, and so become volition, and its conse-
quence is the annihilating of the check, and the dissipating of the
idea into movement of the hand. Only by continuous returning
into idea the same continues, is all the time born anew. The dis-
solving of the idea is not effected by the idea of the volition, but
by the transformation of the idea into will, by the free discharge
<of the idea. Here we have a real, not a chimerical self-emission
of the idea (see Hegel). The impulse of motion is primitively
the emitting of perception, of sensitivity, the reactiou of the
monad. The voluntary motion is the free reaction of free per-
ception by metamorphosis of idea into impulse, by transforma-
tion of the inward tendency into outward tendency. It makes
no difference what is the motive of this transformation: for ex-
ample, it may be to get nutriment. The natural power of reac-
tion all the time is presupposed in the nervous and muscular sys-
tem. In the feeling centre this reaction is partially cancelled by
The Idea of Mind. 393
metamorphosis of the impulse of movement into idea. In this
manner it cannot break through the limit. But by free emission
or externalization of the idea the same becomes realized.
Therefore mind indeed is a metamorphosis of natural forces,
and the voluntary motion a re-metamorphosis of mind. It is a
mistake of Huxley and other men of scieuce, to think that sen-
sation and motion does not fall into the mutual correlation and
metamorphosis of forces. Indeed the motion always dies in sen-
sation, and the sensation in motion, but both become resuscita-
ted. But animals and men are not thereby mere organic machines
or automata, in which besides the mechanism of motion there
lives an ego or an ideal system, not coming out of and not dis-
charging into the former, coining out of nothing and going to
nothing, or perhaps coming out and going into the — TJnknoicable.
Mind is the last metamorphosis of nature, but is antithetic to the
total immediate external phenomenology of nature as the inter-
nal phenomenology of the same, an ideal world in the natural
world, a total ideal reconstruction of the latter, bound to the
same primitively by perception and Impulse as the sources of all
natural phenomena. The perceptive and impulsive ;r\onad, me-
diated by outward shining (nature), has become inward shining
(mind).
And now we understand Hegel's articulation of philosophy
into logic or abstract idea, nature, and mind, as a circle of the
idea returning into itself through the mediation of externality.
Hegel's Logic, which at the same time is metaphysic, is an obscure
intermixture of logic, metaphysic, and science of knowledge.
Therefore the absolute idea, the final result of logic, is affected
with ambiguity. It may be either the highest form of human
cognition, or the metaphysical objective principle, and as the lat-
ter it may be either an impersonal absolute principle, or even the
personal God, before the creation of the Universe. It is well
known that the disciples of Hegel quarreled and disputed over
the proper meaning of Hegel, and divided into right and left
wings. The right wing supposed the "absolute idea*' to be the
veritable Christian premundane personal God, and. the free self-
externalizing of the idea to be the creation of nature or the mate-
rial universe by God. The left wing declared the absolute idea
to be no God, but only the highest stand-point of thinking, and
this impersonal thinking, this abstract principle, to beat first the
self-manifestation in nature, and then returning to itself in mind,
394 The Men of Mind.
so that really the human mind is the only mind, and philosophy its
highest, all-knowing stand-point. Then the Christian religion is
only the most perfect image of the true philosophy, only an uu-
scientific creed, which must dissolve itself into philosophy. The
truth is that Hegel thought, in an obscure manner, a universal
ideal ground of the Universe, which as such ground (not imme-
diately) is personal mind; but that this ideal ground, the sub-
stance of the thinking mind, at first evolves itself as nature, or
as externality, as an external shining ; and that thirdly the ideal
ground conquers its own externality, and so becomes the real
human mind, whose absolute universality is seen in religion, and
at last in speculative philosophy, the absolute thinking which
thinks itself. If we now transform Hegel's logic into the theory
of speculative cognition, in which human cognition becomes
raised to the cognition of the absolute principle of the Universe,
all ambiguity vanishes. And in this manner we come to the
CONCI/USION.
There is an eternal uncreated principle, the whole (totality) of
monadical selfs living by interaction. Living signifies reacting
against each other by perception and impulse, universal intelli-
gence. The process of this eternal interaction is the Universe.
Immediately it is confined to the form of external shining, (mani-
festation), a material Universe, pure nature. But by this process
itself, it liberates the internality, and so becomes in living organ-
isms an internal shining, a reproduction and reconstruction of in-
telligence, the feeling and conscious mind. Therefore nature and
mind are identical, are one and the same substance, but in antithet-
ical and convertible forms. Nature generates mind, the true in-
ternality of nature, by liberating its ideal source. And mind
reverts to nature by art, a second nature. Therefore the laws of
nature and mind are identical, but shining (manifested) in anti-
thetic form, the inner discharging itself in space and time, and
space and time reflecting themselves into the inner. So the
antithesis of nature or matter and mind is fundamentally cancelled,
because each transforms itself into the other. That was the
ever-recurring idea of Schelling, Hegel, and Goethe, the identity
of the inner and outer being, of na*ture and mind as two forms
and sides of the same substance, so that all the time and every-
where mind is in nature, and nature in mind, on the one side
under the exponent of matter, on the other side under the ex-
ponent of mind.
[395]
SHAKESPEARE'S TROILPS AND CRESSIDA.
By D. J. Snider.
The frame-work of this drama is the the Trojan war. It has
nearly the same limits as the Iliad ; for it presupposes the quar-
rel of Achilles and Agamemnon and the withdrawal of Achilles
till the death of his friend Patroclus, when he again goes into
battle and slays Hector. Many Homeric incidents and motives
are retained, while inanv are introduced which would have made
the old Greek bard stare with wonder. The famous heroes of
the Iliad are brought before us, but we can hardly recognize them
in their modern shape ; the beautiful plastic outline is not lost
but is subordinated to the inner element of character. The
statue is transformed to flesh and blood. Shakespeare has taken
these antique ideal forms and poured into them the subjective
intensity of the modern world. This is the greatest and most
enduring ground of interest in the present drama. The old
Greek hero is now moved not by the god from without, but by
himself from within, the divine influence is transmuted into his
own intelligence. Ulysses, the favorite of Minerva, no longer
meets the goddess upon the highways and addresses her in famil-
iar accents, but communes with his own spirit. In other words,
the ancient Epic has changed into the modern Drama. The mean-
ing is the same both in Homer and in Shakespeare, but how dif-
ferent is the form ! Yet it must not be forgotten that the outside
is Greek though the inside is Anglo-Saxon : the Hellenic mould
is always visible, though it is not the sole nor even the most
prominent object of interest.
The contrast is certainly striking, and is often so incongruous
as to convey the notion of a humorous purpose. In the mouths
of these old Homeric personages the Poet has placed the most
abstract statement of what may be called his philosophy, that is
to be found in any of his works. His views of society, of life,
of institutions, are here expressed in a language as direct and
definite as that employed bv the thinker trained to the use of the
abstruse terms of the schools. What these principles are, and
their influence upon his literary activity, will be discussed fur-
ther on. The reflections are mainly political, but are sometimes
390 Troilus and Cressida.
psychological, and show a mind most subtly scrutinizing its own
processes. Those who hold that Shakespeare was the supreme-
ly unconscious poet, would do well to study this play till they
understand it, if indeed it can be fully understood without some
philosophical culture and knowledge.
But the strangest and most incongruous element which is fois-
ted into this old Homeric company is the manners of chivalry.
It amounts to downright burlesque, and such beyond any doubt
it was intended to be by the author. The best passage for illus-
trating this phase of the drama is the challenge borne by iEneas
from Hector. All the heroes seem to be transformed into
medieval knights, each one of whom is ready to prove the
supreme beauty of his mistress by ordeal of battle. The climax of
humor is attained when the aged Nestor, who has lived three
generations of men, comes forward and offers to demonstrate to
Hector by proof of arms, "That my lady was fairer than his
grandam." The principles of honor, valor, love, hospitality,
with which these personages are endowed, give to the whole ac-
tion the pleasing aroma of the Middle Ages. The reflective ele-
ment before mentioned, which was injected into the characters of
the old heroes, is serious rather than humorous, but the chival-
rous element is purely humorous, and turns them all into
Don Quixotes. With Shakespeare the age of chivalry is past,
and it is with him an object of ridicule as much as with Cervan-
tes. The hoary shapes of antiquity he thus places in a modern
institution, which however was alreadv worn out in his own time
and laughed at by the whole world.
Such is the Homeric group which is introduced into the pres-
ent drama, but there is also another set of persons here whose
principle and whose actions are unknown to the Iliad. Love is
now the main business, not war. The legend of Troilus, Cres-
sida and Pandarus is the creation of the later romancers, which
was grafted on the old story of Troy. It portrays the struggle
of the tender passion in one of its phases, the fidelity of man
and the falsity of woman. The burning intensity, the fierce con-
flicts, the supreme power of love, find their expression in this
part of the fable, which is indeed »a later development of human
spirit. Still the relation between the two groups must be traced:
the Trojan war was caused by the faithlessness of a woman whose
restoration is demanded by the Nation ; the refusal calls out the
heroes who are seeking to bring her back by force. Female inti-
Troilus and Or ess Ida. 397
delity is the theme ; in the one case it involves the Family mere-
ly, but in the other case it involves the State. Helen and Cres-
sida therefore resemble each other ; both perform the same deed,
though in different relations which also produce different re-
sults.
Such are the two threads running through the play; they may
be named according to their leading tendency the love-thread and
the war-thread ; though parallel in action, in thought the first is
the source of the second. The movements also are two, the di-
vision being manifest not only by a difference in principle, but
also by a difference in merit. The first movement in general
passes from strife and separation to unity. The parted lovers
are brought together by the mediation of Pandarus, and are
made happy by mutual vows of devotion. In Troy the division
of opinion which previously existed is healed ; in the Greek host
the angry Achilles is wrought upon by the cunning of Ulysses,
and seems to resolve to take part again in the war ; thus the hos-
tile armies come to internal harmony preparatory to the external
struggle. The second movement portrays the passage from un-
ion to disruption and conflict. The lovers on the one hand are
torn asunder by an unforeseen occurrence; Cressida proves faith-
less, and thus the bond of emotion is broken. The combat on
the other hand arises between the two hostile forces, after many
fluctuations, Hector, the Trojan hero, is slain, his countrymen
cease from their attack and retire to the city ; things are left as
they were before. The negative termination of the play is strik-
ing; Troilus and Cressida ar,e separated, and the foes still con-
front each other with warlike preparation.
Taking up the love-thread and following it through the first
movement, we observe that the divine passion has been already
excited in the bosoms of the lovers, and moves on speedily to its
fruition in the betrothal. Troilus is first introduced to us: he is
still young and impulsive, he is completely swayed by his strong
and intense emotions. He has met the fair Cressida, though the
circumstances are not told ; at once we see him literally con-
sumed with the sacred flame. She dances before his mind con-
tinually, sighs burst forth unbidden from his heart, every duty
or purpose is swallowed up in the whirlpool of his passion. Such
is the lover pure and simple, the Borneo of the world. But
Troilus has another trait which gives him dignity and elevation
of character, and which stands in the most direct opposition to
-398 Troilus and Cressida.
his absorption in his feelings. He is a man of action, a warrior
second only (if not equal) to Hector, and a patriotic defender of
his country. But these two elements of his nature are now in
deadly struggle, in his own breast is the conflict between Love
and War. Honor and ambition call him to the field, where the
destiny of Fatherland is being decided. But passion has seized
him in its firmest grasp, its supremacy is declared in the very
first line of the play, where, after arming himself for battle, he
calls out
" I'll unarm again ;
Why should I war without the walls of Troy,
That find such cruel battle here within ? "
Such is the first triumph of Love over the bold warrior, it has
tamed him till he is "weaker than a woman's tear," — which, not-
withstanding the contemptuous expression of Troilus, is an in-
strument of considerable power. But uow there is another com-
bat which he has to wage, fierce, incessant, lachrymose. The favor
of the fair Cressida seems very uncertain, her uncle cannot wind
up the negotiation with sufficient speed. Troilus therefore feels
in his heart that most painful of all pangs, the pang of unrequi-
ted love. Still he has hope, though he is very impatient, and
Pandarus keeps alive his imagination by recounting the charms
of his beautiful mistress. At last the mediator brings about
their meeting ; Troilus is all fervor and passion, he makes the
first declaration of devotion, which is followed by that of Cres-
sida. Open, sincere, even unsophisticated is the youthful suitor,
the best model of the love-hero that Shakespeare has left us.
His emotion is so pure, intense and direct that its beauty has no
flaw, while at the same time his character rises out of a mere
emotional existence into the region of the noblest manly activity.
It is true that love asserts its mastery for the time being, still it
does not quench his zeal for his country. But now, as the con-
flict within him is soothed to repose by his union, Troilus will be
himself again if jealous Fate will but refrain from interference.
Such good behavior, however, can hardly be expected of it in a
drama. Let the reader, with gloomy foreboding, await the out-
come of the story a few pages ahead.
Pandarus has been just mentioned as the mediating power be-
tween the two lovers. His function is not very important, since
both the man and the woman are touched with a mutual passion,
Troilus and Cressida. 399
which is sufficient to bring them together without any assistance.
Pandarns is rather a busy-body, active yet harmless. He is cer-
tainly not a villain, the alliance which he seeks to bring about is
worthy, his means can hardly be condemned by the rigid moral-
ist, though his jokes are a little too free for the modern ear.
Assuredly the odious word "pander," which is supposed to be
derived from his name, cannot justly be applied to his conduct in
this drama. Moreover his understanding is not strong; the art-
ful Cressida stands far above all his schemes and makes fun of
him, though he is able to exercise a good deal of control over
the ardent and simple-hearted Troilus. His name has brought
upon him a legacy of abuse which his deed in no sense justifies.
There is not an enterprising mother in the land who does not do
as much without a breath of condemnation.
Cressida receives after Troilus a visit from the industrious
match-maker,who tries to excite her love and admiration for the
youthful hero in every manner possible. The name of Troilus is
continually introduced in the conversation ; his beauty, intellect,
youth, are the themes of great praise, but it is his valor which is
the main subject of laudation. The famous heroes of Troj T are
made to pass in review one after another, the noble Troilus is
superior to them all, even Hector is no exception. But the adroit
Cressida listens to the encomiums bestowed by her uncle, with a
complete penetration of their object, parrying his questions, tor-
menting him with a feigned opposition, uttering words of detrac-
tion against Troilus, indulging in the most wanton jests ; in hue
she teases her dear uncle to desperation, and conceals from him
completely her real feelings and purposes. He confesses that he
cannot understand her, while she probes him to the bottom by
her blunt words : "You are a bawd." Her character comes out
plain in this interview, she is shrewd, witty, and wanton, no per-
son of the calibre of Pandarns can touch the depths of her mind;
the cool understanding effectually controls the emotions.
â–ºSuch a woman is now 10 be seen in love; for she all the time
has cherished a secret affection for Troilus. ^Yhat will she turn
out to be ? Her admiration is genuine, in her monologue in
which she has no motive for concealment, she says that she sees
in the actual Troilus a thousand fold more "than in the glass of
Panda r's p raise may be." But feeling must be suppressed, she
therefore does just what might be expected, she refuses subordi-
400 Troilus and Cressida.
nation to love. Her argument is without the trace of passion,
and is directed against passion :
" Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing
Men prize the thing ungained more than it is (worth) —
Achieved, (we), men still command; ungained, beseech ;
Then, though my heart's content firm love doth bear,
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear. "
That is, consummation, dampens ardor, suspense keeps it alive.
Led by this specious reasoning, she intends to keep under the
rising flame, and make the true love of her devoted suitor her
sport and his instrument. of torture. The emotion which she
feels must be concealed, and converted to a means for some other
end besides mutual union. She is the intellectual coquette.
The fundamental distinction between the characters of Troilus
and Cressida is now apparent. The man resigns himself to his
love, many great interests are pressing him but they are brushed
aside, his sacrifice is complete. But the woman subordinates her
love to her understanding, to her planning and scheming, she
refuses the absolute surrender to the feeling of Family. She
therefore must be declared to be untrue to the deepest principle
of her sex. Her falsity hereafter is aderpiately motived by this
single trait ; love, devotion to the one individual, is not the con-
trolling impulse of her nature. But we must advance to the next
stage: the good offices of Pandarus bring about 
